Never perhaps in history has the world seen so great an exhibition, as at the outbreak of this war, of the murderous and corrupting power of the organised lie. All Germany outside the governmental circles was induced to believe that the war was a treacherous attack, plotted in the dark by "revengeful France, barbaric Russia, and envious England," against the innocent and peace-loving Fatherland. And the centre of the plot was the Machiavellian Grey, who for long years had been encircling and strangling Germany in order at the chosen moment to deal her a death-blow from behind. The Emperor, the princes, the ministers, the bishops and chaplains, the historians and theologians, in part consciously and in part innocently, vied with one another in solemn attestations and ingenious forgeries of evidence; and the people, docile by training and long indoctrinated to the hatred of England, inevitably believed and passionately exaggerated what they were told. From this belief, in large part, came the strange brutalities and ferocities of the common people of Germany at the opening of the war, whether towards persons who had a right to courtesy, like the Ambassadors, or a claim on common human sympathy, like the wounded and the prisoners. The German masses could show no mercy towards people guilty of so hideous a world-crime.

And now comes evidence, which in normal times would convince even the German nation, that the whole basis of their belief was a structure of deliberate falsehood; which shows that it was the Kaiser and his Ministers who plotted the war; while it was England, and especially Sir Edward Grey, who strove hardest for the preservation of peace.

It is the evidence of the German Ambassador in London during the years 1912-1914, Prince Lichnowsky, corroborated rather than confuted by the comments of Herr von Jagow, who was Foreign Minister at the time, and carried further by the recently published Memoranda of Herr MÜhlon, one of the directors of the Krupp armament factory at Essen. One could hardly imagine more convincing testimony. Will the German people believe it? Would they believe now if one rose from the dead?

We cannot yet guess at the answer. Indeed, there is another question which must be answered first: For what motive, and with what possible change of policy in view, has the German Government permitted the publication of these papers and the circulation of Lichnowsky's Memorandum as a pamphlet at 30 pfennig? Do the militarists think their triumph is safe, and the time come for them to throw off the mask? Or have the opponents of militarism, who seemed so crushed, succeeded in asserting their power? Is it a plan to induce the ever docile German populace to hate England less?

It must be a startling story for the Germans, but for us it contains little that is new. It is an absolute confirmation, in spirit and in letter, of the British Blue Book and of English books such as Mr. Headlam's "History of Twelve Days" and Mr. Archer's "Thirteen Days." Prince Lichnowsky's summing-up agrees exactly with the British conclusions: The Germans encouraged Count Berchtold to attack Serbia, well knowing the consequences to expect; between the 23rd and 30th July they rejected all forms of mediation; and on the 30th July, when Austria wished to withdraw, they hastily sent an ultimatum to Russia so as to make withdrawal impossible (pp. 39-40). A ghastly story of blindness and crime; but we knew it all before.

Equally interesting is Prince Lichnowsky's account of the policy of Germany and England before the war. He confirms our knowledge of the "sinister vagueness" of German policy in Morocco, the steady desire of England to come to an understanding and of Germany to elude an understanding. As for our alleged envy of German trade, it was in English commercial circles that the desire for an understanding with Germany was strongest. As for our "policy of encirclement," it was the deliberate aim of our policy, continuing the line of Lord Salisbury and Mr. Chamberlain, to facilitate rather than hinder the legitimate and peaceful expansion of a great force, which would become dangerous if suppressed and confined.

The test cases were the Bagdad Railway and the Portuguese Colonies. We agreed to make no objection to Germany's buying them when Portugal was willing to sell; we agreed in the meantime to treat them as a German sphere of interest and not to compete for influence there. We agreed, subject to the conservation of existing British rights and to certain other safeguards, to the completion of the great railway from the Bosphorus to Basra, and to the recognition of the whole district tapped by the railway as a German sphere of interest. The two treaties, though completed, were never signed; why? Because Grey would sign no secret treaty. He insisted that they must be published. And the German Government would not allow them to be published! To Lichnowsky this seemed like mere spite on the part of rivals who grudged his success, but we see now that it was a deliberate policy. The war-makers could not afford to let their people know the proof of England's goodwill.

Lichnowsky was a friend of England, but he was no pacifist or "little German." His policy was to favour the peaceful expansion of Germany, in good understanding with England and France, on the seas and in the colonies. He aimed at "imperial development" on British lines; he abhorred the "Triple Alliance policy" of espousing Austria's quarrels, backing Turkey against the Balkan States, intriguing against Russia, and seeing all politics in the terms of European rivalries with a background of war. His own policy was one which, if followed loyally by the German Government, would have avoided the war and saved Europe.

There are one or two traits in Lichnowsky's language which show that, with all his liberality of thought, he is still a German. He accepts at once, on the report of a German secret agent, the false statement that Grey had concluded a secret treaty with France. He mentions, as if it were a natural thing, the strange opinion that the Standard was "apparently bought by Austria." He describes Mr. Asquith as a pacifist and Sir Edward Grey as both a pacifist and, ideally and practically, a Socialist. One must remember the sort of views he was accustomed to at Potsdam.

There can be no doubt that Lichnowsky was deliberately deceived by his Government, and not much that he was chosen for his post in London with a view to deceiving us. These things are all in gospel according to Bernhardi. Lichnowsky himself was both an honest and an able diplomatist, and there is the ring of sincerity in his words of self-reproach: "I had to support in London a policy the heresy of which I recognised. That brought down vengeance on me, for it was a sin against the Holy Ghost."

If Grey, in the tangle of terrific problems that surrounded him, ever erred, his sin was not against the Holy Ghost. The attack made on him at the outset of the war by Radical idealists was easy to confute. If ever a statesman strove, with due prudence, for peace, for friendship between nations, for a transformation of armed rivalries into cordial and democratic understandings, our great English Minister was that man. He was accused as a maker of secret treaties; and we find him all through the times of peace, and through all times when choice was still possible, a steady refuser of secret treaties. He was accused as a seeker for territory; and we find him, both in war and peace, steadily opposing all territorial aggrandisement. Such was the policy approved by the leaders of both English parties before the war.

It is an attack from the other side that now reaches him. If the war had been short and successful, this would not have occurred. But a long and bitter and dangerous war of necessity creates its own atmosphere, and the policy that was wisdom in 1913, when the world was at peace and our relations with Germany were improving, strikes us now perhaps as strangely trustful and generous. Yet, if we try to recover that mental calm without which the nations will never till the end of time be able to restore their wasted wealth and rebuild the shattered hopes of civilisation, I think most Englishmen will agree that Grey's policy was, as we all thought it at the time, the right and the wise policy. To let all the world know that we would never join in any attack on Germany, but would never permit any attack on France; to seek to remove all causes of friction between England and Germany, as they had been removed between England and France and between England and Russia; to extend the "Entente Cordiale" by gradual steps to all nations who would come into it, and to "bring the two groups of Europe nearer." This was the right policy, whether it succeeded or failed; and it will, in spirit at least, some day be the right policy again.

No Englishman, I think, will regret the generous courtesy which sent off the German Ambassador with a guard of honour, "like a departing sovereign." No one will regret our Prime Minister's silent tears when the war became inevitable, or Grey's conviction that it would be "the greatest catastrophe in history"—not even if mad German militarists drew the conclusion that the only motive for such grief must be the fear of defeat. For my own part I am glad that, at the last interview with Lichnowsky, Grey assured him that, if ever a chance came of mediation between the combatants, he would take it, and that "we have never wished to crush Germany."

Surely, even now in the crisis of the war, it is well to remember these things. The cleaner our national conscience the keener surely will be our will to victory. The slower we were to give up the traditions of generosity and trustfulness that came from our long security the firmer will be our resolution to hold out, through whatever martyrdom may be yet in store for us, until we or our children can afford once more to live generously and to trust our neighbours. In the long run no other life is worth living.

G. M.