United Kingdom at Rotterdam and the Texel, and, it was calculated, with a slight pecuniary advantage. Practically the entire cost of the war had been borne by England.
Looking back upon this sad page of history—sad for Englishmen—some future Thucydides will pronounce that the decree of Providence was not undeserved. The British nation had been warned against the danger; it disregarded the warning. In the two great struggles of the early twentieth century, in South Africa and the Far East, it had before its eyes examples of the peril which comes from unpreparedness and from haphazard government. It shut its eyes to the lessons. Its soldiers had called upon it in vain to submit to the discipline of military service; it rebelled against the sacrifice which the Swiss, the Swede, the German, the Frenchman, and the Japanese made not unwillingly for his country.
In the teeth of all entreaties it reduced in 1906 the outlay upon its army and its fleet, to expend the money thus saved upon its own comfort. The battalions, batteries, and battleships sacrificed might well have averted invasion, indeed, have prevented war. But to gain a few millions, risks were incurred which ended ultimately in the loss of hundreds of millions of money and thousands of lives, and in starvation for myriads of men, women, and children.
As is always the case, the poor suffered most. The Socialists, who had declaimed against armaments, were faithless friends of those whom they professed to champion. Their dream of a golden age proved utterly delusive. But the true authors of England's misfortunes escaped blame for the moment, and the Army and Navy were made the scapegoats of the great catastrophe.
That the Army Council and the Admiralty had been criminally weak could not be denied. Their weakness merely reflected the moral tone of the nation, which took no interest in naval or military affairs, and
