Germany. There is no evidence to show that the French are prepared to reciprocate in kind. Never without a touch of Quixoticism in their composition, the British people have read into the entente meanings and obligations that its framers never contemplated. The French, more emotional on the surface, but infinitely more prudent and restrained at heart, while not less cordially in favour of the entente, have not yet translated it, even subconsciously, into a definite policy.

In these extraordinary and indeed unparalleled circumstances one can appreciate, without necessarily endorsing, the standpoint of those who argue that the time has come when all uncertainty should cease, and when clear and formal expression should be given, in terms of politics, to what is at present an alliance of sentiment. The relations between Great Britain and France that now exist constitute a strong fact, but it is a fact of which the consequences are confused and the scope indefinite. It is agreed on all hands that we cannot continue to hold our old position of neutrality in European politics, and to declare ourselves equally indifferent and equally sympathetic to both the Dual and the Triple alliances. Events have forced us to throw in our lot with the former, while disclaiming, and disclaiming sincerely, any hostility to the latter. But how far our adhesion carries us, and what precisely it involves, is unknown. "Any support we would give France or Russia in times of trouble," said Sir Edward Grey on November 27th, "would depend entirely upon the feeling of Parliamentary and public opinion here when the trouble came. Could anything be more nebulous and incoherent? That we should not be a party to any movement of aggression against Germany, that both France and Russia would quickly drop the entente if it were to be used as a means of embroiling them with their formidable neighbour, may be laid down as axiomatic. But on the other hand "the feeling of Parliamentary and public opinion" during the last few years appears to have virtually charged itself with the responsibility of defending France against anything it considered an "unprovoked" onslaught from the German side. The discretion, the moral saving-clause, hinted at in the adjective "unprovoked," would not, I imagine, prove a very steady barrier at a time of crisis. Nothing is more hopeless or, as a rule, more irrelevant, than to attempt to decide, when two nations are at war, which of them "provoked" it; and in the present temper of our people you simply would not get them to believe that any outbreak of hostilities between France and Germany had not been engineered and brought on by the latter Power. In a very cogent article published on November 25th, the Spectator sensibly threw overboard all such nice calculations and

abstractions, and placed the whole question on the basis of broad national interests and the enduring law of self-preservation. "Looking at the matter in the coldest light," it asked, “can we afford to let France be overwhelmed? Unquestionably we cannot, for if France were overwhelmed our position as regards Germany would be utterly intolerable"; and it justified our recent diplomacy by reference to the "simple principles crystallised in such homely phrases as "Never let yourself be taken in detail"; "Our turn will come next"; "If you must fight, fight at an advantage"; "Get help in a struggle and avoid isolation." The application of these principles is, of course, altogether independent of whether France at any given crisis was "right" or "wrong," the aggressor or the attacked; and their acceptance binds us unescapably to go to her aid whenever and however her security is menaced. The advocates of a definite Anglo-French alliance have, therefore, a measure of reason when they urge that, such being the facts, they ought to be embodied in a political compact, if only because, whether so embodied or not, they will continue to exist, and will have to be faced. The alternatives, they insist, lie between prolonging a situation full of vagueness and reducing it to coherence and precision. In their view such an alliance as they favour would add nothing to the responsibilities which selfinterest has already compelled us to shoulder voluntarily, while by defining them it would, in fact, tend to lessen them. In the place of a dubious and unlimited liability we should then have a liability that could be measured and prepared for; in the place of uncertainty we should then have something fixed to go upon; and in the place of the present one-sided arrangement under which we regard ourselves as bound to render France the greatest service that one nation can ever render another while France remains unconscious of any reciprocal obligation, we should then have a more equitable and business-like compact. There would never— so the contention runs-have been any Morocco crisis at all had Great Britain and France formally proclaimed their resolve to lend each other physical, as well as diplomatic, support in carrying out the purposes of the Agreement of 1904 at the time it was concluded.

None the less I am convinced that the wiser and better course is. to let things remain as they are. No defensive alliance between England and France could possibly entail the same equality of risk so long as Germany is France's immediate neighbour, and exposed to a land attack, and so long as Germany is separated from us by the element in which we still remain supreme; and the calculating and prudential spirit of French statesmanship, which is perfectly satisfied with reaping most of the advantages while incurring few of the responsibilities of the entente, would accord

ingly shrink from any such compact. An Anglo-French Alliance, moreover, would goad all Germany to madness, remove the last doubt that it was the supreme aim of our policy to hem her in, and drive her to stake everything on an immediate effort to break through the cordon. That there has been on the part of our rulers a deliberate intention to give an anti-German point to British diplomacy I do not believe. But that they have had the appearance of doing so, and that the various agreements they have concluded with France, Russia, and Spain have been welcomed by British opinion, not as aimed at Germany, but as, at the least, a precaution against Germany, is hardly to be denied. An AngloFrench Alliance would effectually rob Downing Street of its last pretence that, in seeking to make an end of the insensate. antagonisms that had for so long kept England and France, and England and Russia apart, it was not also moved by a desire to diminish Germany's preponderance and handicap her freedom of action; and by doing so it would inflame German sentiment against us to boiling point. It seems therefore preferable to go on as we are, and in the situation in which we find ourselves, with all its perils, incongruities, and haziness, rather than attempt the desperate venture of mending matters by imparting to them a sharper edge. But I wonder if the masses of our people altogether realise what the situation actually is, and how far they have pondered all that is involved in the enterprise of upholding France in a war with Germany, and whether they are quite aware that Great Britain is reverting to the principles and activities of the Palmerstonian era, and is intervening in the affairs of Europe precisely at the moment when her military resources, compared with those of her possible antagonists, are most manifestly inferior, and whether they have made the necessary connection between our entente with France and the prodigious expansion of German sea-power.

German sentiment at this moment is passionately embittered against us, and I fear some time must pass before opinion cools. Yet it is not too optimistic to hope that the recent crisis may ultimately prove to have cleared the air. It has had at any rate two momentous results. In the first place a Morocco settlement has been reached which has all the appearance of being durable. The chief source of overt contention between France and Germany, and therefore between Germany and England, has thus been removed, and the condition laid down six years ago by Sir Edward Grey that the state of Anglo-German relations depended upon the state of Franco-German relations in all matters coming under the agreement of 1904, is now at last fulfilled. In the second place both the German Government and the German

people are now apprised of the construction placed by us upon the entente with France. It has been borne in upon them that we regard it as committing us to the maintenance of the security and integrity of the French nation, and that upon that version of its obligations we are prepared to act. The discovery cannot have been welcome to Germany, but it at least reveals the worst that she has to expect from Anglo-French co-operation. Nothing, it is true, changes so swiftly as the face of international politics. It is only a dozen years or so since Mr. Joseph Chamberlain launched what seems to us now the well-nigh incredible proposal for an Anglo-German-American alliance against Russia. The wisest actor in foreign affairs, and the wisest commentator on them is, as a rule, he who refrains from looking far ahead. But even bearing all that in mind, it is still permissible to point out that, so far as anyone at present can foresee, Great Britain will not hurriedly change her view of the obligations imposed on her by the Anglo-French entente and by her own interests, and that the preservation of French independence is a fixed object of British policy. With that fact Germany will naturally make such terms as she thinks her own interests require. She may accommodate herself to it, or she may decide to challenge it, but so long as she recognises that it is a fact, something is gained, she knows where she stands and where we stand, and the uncertainty which more than anything else breeds suspicion is resolved. I do not, therefore, regard it as too sanguine to hope that from now onwards Anglo-German and Franco-German relations may slowly but perceptibly improve.

There remain, however, two other causes of a possible AngloGerman rupture. The first, though it is a favourite topic with a certain class of British publicists, may be very briefly dismissed. It is concerned with Germany's supposed ambition to annex or bring forcibly within the sphere of her influence Holland, Denmark, or Belgium. As to that, it will be enough to say that the Germans are not madmen, that they have no desire to face all Europe in arms, and that the chances of their being carried away by the very dementia of jingoism are so remote and intangible that they may safely be left out of the present discussion. A far more formidable menace to the prospects of Anglo-German goodwill is the growth of German sea-power. On that head a few statements may be ventured. First, Germany has as good a right to have a large navy as we have to have a larger one. Secondly, the German navy will never equal our own any more than the British army will equal the German army. Thirdly, its growth will, none the less, make it increasingly difficult for us to maintain the two-Power standard. Fourthly, a turn of the

diplomatic wheel may leave the balance of European sea-power in German hands. Fifthly, the rivalry will continue without pause or abatement; no agreement to limit armaments is possible because Germany will never bind herself to accept a permanent and static inferiority at sea, and no other basis is compatible with British needs; we shall soon find a hundred million sterling a year being spent on naval preparations on the two sides of the North Sea. Our policy under these conditions should surely be to say little, to see everything, and to provide all possible guarantee-first, by maintaining our supremacy at sea, and, secondly, by maintaining friendly relations with the Powers without whose co-operation an anti-British coalition would be impossible. Above all, let us stop railing, combine vigilance with courtesy and foresight with perspective, recover something of our famous commonsense, carefully estimate such dangers as may threaten, and face them like men and not like peevish and credulous children. It is as certain as anything can be that Germany will not attack England any more than England will attack Germany. The real peril in the naval situation is that the two nations, while forging these tremendous weapons, should continue to glower at each other in mistrust and ill-will, that fears and suspicions should accumulate and deepen into passionate hatreds, and that the strain on the national nerves and temper should precipitate by itself a violent collision. There are many ways in which England might show ill-will towards Germany, but there are not, unhappily, many ways of showing goodwill in a material form. Nobody dreams of sacrificing the French entente, or of handing over British Possessions, or of putting pressure on any of the British Dominions in the matter of their fiscal arrangements in order to conciliate Germany. On the other hand, as Sir Edward Grey hinted on November 27th, circumstances are easily conceivable in which Great Britain would not only not obstruct but would gladly forward a redistribution of some of the European holdings in Africa in a way acceptable to German interests. As much, I think, may be said of German expansion in Asia Minor; there is no real reason-or there will soon be none-why we should not view it as favourably as Germany has always viewed our policy in Egypt. Good sense, good manners, and a greater willingness than we have yet shown to consider Germany's needs and aspirations, would go a long way in timeproviding, of course, we maintain Free Trade-towards restoring sanity, if not cordiality, to Anglo-German relations. SYDNEY BROOKS.