Europe's Last Summer (32 page)

Yet Berchtold was right to ask, as he did when he saw the Chancellor's message: "Who rules in Berlin—Moltke or Bethmann?" One cabled war while the other cabled peace. In any event, Bethmann was too late. His cable arrived hours
after
Vienna, responding to Moltke, ordered full mobilization.

Earlier that day, in London, Grey had asked the German ambassador to come by to see him. The foreign secretary and Lichnowsky conversed as old friends, but in contemplating the outbreak of a European war, Grey "did not wish him to be misled by the friendly tone of our conversation—which I hoped would continue—into thinking that we should stand aside" and that "I did not wish to be open to any reproach from him that the friendly tone of all our conversations had misled him or his Government into supposing that we should not take action."

In diplomatic language, this threatened war. But Grey knew that, at least for the moment, his government was not behind him on this.

It was in the course of this conversation with Lichnowsky that Grey made his own halt-in-Belgrade proposal, which was so similar to Kaiser Wilhelm's. When Lichnowsky reported this to him, the Kaiser commented: "We have been trying to accomplish this for days, in vain." He did not know that Bethmann and Jagow had undercut him in Vienna on July 27 and 28, and that the proposal had been urged seriously only for hours, not days.

Lichnowsky reported that London was firmly convinced that "unless Austria is willing to enter upon a discussion of the Serbian question a world war is inevitable." In Grey's view, "If war breaks out it will be the greatest catastrophe that the world has ever seen." The Kaiser's comment on this was that it would be England's fault; all
Britain had to do was give the word, he said, and France and Russia would quiet down and there would be no war." "England
alone"
he wrote, "bears the responsibility for peace and war."

"It is one of the ironies of the case," wrote Asquith to his friend Venetia Stanley, "that we being the only Power who has made so much as a constructive suggestion on the direction of peace, are blamed by both Germany and Russia for causing the outbreak of war. Germany says: 'if you say you will be neutral, France and Russia wouldn't dare to fight,' and Russia says: 'if you boldly declare that you will side with us, Germany and Austria will at once draw in their horns.' Neither of course is true."

That day the cabinet approved issuing a general alert, which was sent to British bases around the world. Various and extensive precautions were taken. In technical terms, the "War Book" was opened by the secretary to the Committee of Imperial Defence. Yet most cabinet members intended to keep Britain out of the conflict.

Winston Churchill feared that opinion in the cabinet and in the governing Liberal party was still inclined to neutrality. Secretly he sent word to his closest Conservative friend,
F. E. Smith, asking him to sound out his party's leadership on the possibility of forming a coalition government supported by pro-intervention Liberals—in all likelihood a minority within their own party—and all Conservatives. Smith undertook to speak to the other party leaders when he was scheduled to see them two days later for a country weekend.

Churchill had more pressing concerns. As First Lord of the Admiralty, he worried that the navy was vulnerable to surprise attack. He wanted to move the fleets to their wartime stations in the well-protected north. But, he later recalled, he did not want to ask cabinet approval for such a move, which might be construed as provocative. Instead, he went to see the Prime Minister with his proposal, and decided to construe a sort of grunt from Asquith as approval.

The move was made in secrecy, and the crucial part of the journey to safety took place at night—in Churchill's account, "as darkness fell, eighteen miles of warships running at high speed and in absolute blackness through the narrow straits, bearing with them into the broad waters of the North the safeguard" of Britain's forces.

Paris.
Jean Jaurès, pacifist idol of the
French Left, was assassinated by a nationalist fanatic. For more than a week, Jaurès had been praising the efforts of the Poincaré-Viviani government to keep the peace. Unexpectedly his death unified the country behind its government.

Berlin.
At a late hour—indeed, close to midnight—Bethmann summoned the British ambassador,
Sir Edward Goschen, to his residence. The Chancellor asked Goschen to transmit an offer to London: if Britain agreed to remain neutral in the war that might soon commence, Germany would respect the independence and integrity of Holland, and would not seek to acquire French territories—a pledge from which the French colonies were excluded. Goschen did convey the message to the Foreign Office, where it was received the following morning and angered Grey when he read it.

CHAPTER 37: JULY 30

France's Ambassador Paléologue in St. Petersburg has been blamed for years by historians—wrongly, we now believe—for having failed during the night of July 29–30 to notify his government that Russia was mobilizing. Research by
Jean Stengers has shown that the Russians—distrusting Paléologue—did not tell him. When France
did
learn of the impending move, it was too late to stop the Russians.

Thursday, July 30, was a day that many historians later were to regard as fateful, and it began badly. The night before, the German government, belatedly falling in with the Kaiser, had sent a message to Vienna telling Austria-Hungary to accept the halt-in-Belgrade formula for pulling back from war—either that or lose Germany's support. But Berchtold claimed to be unable to give a reply for the time being. It was especially frustrating because, as Wilhelm noted, Germany, Britain, and Russia all seemed to agree on the halt-in-Belgrade proposal.

Wilhelm felt discouraged. News reached him that Austria-Hungary was willing to hold talks with Russia; "all too late, I fear" was his comment. "Begin! Now!" he exclaimed. Interpreting such remarks, in his own fashion, Bethmann urged Berchtold to at least go through the motions of seeking a peaceful settlement, for otherwise—if Vienna said no—Bethmann argued, "It will hardly be possible any longer to place the guilt of the outbreak of a European war on Russia's shoulders." The Kaiser was attempting to mediate an end to the crisis only because "he could not refuse to do so without creating the incontrovertible suspicion that we wanted war." He added that if "Vienna declines everything, Vienna will be giving documentary evidence that it absolutely wants a war . . . while Russia remains free of responsibility. That would place us, in the eyes of our own people, in an untenable position."

Meanwhile the Kaiser was enraged by the response his
mediation efforts were receiving in St. Petersburg because he misunderstood what was happening. At dawn he awakened to find a message from Nicholas informing him that Russia had ordered the partial mobilization decided upon on July 25: the mobilization in four districts facing Austria-Hungary. According to the Czar, "the military measures which have now come into force were decided five days ago." They were, in other words, the measures Russia's Council of Ministers had envisaged but not immediately adopted when informed that Vienna had rejected Serbia's partial acceptance of the Austrian ultimatum. Russia had stood still ever since, giving negotiations a chance. These were not
new
measures or additional measures; they were the only measures Russia had taken—and they had
just
been taken. Mobilization was only about to begin.

Wilhelm misunderstood. He believed the Czar was informing him that Russia had been
mobilizing for five days, and therefore was ahead of Germany, which was still hanging back. "So that is almost a week ahead of us," protested the Kaiser. "And these are supposed to be of defense against Austria, who is not attacking him!!! I cannot commit myself to mediation any more, since the Czar, who appealed for it, has at the same time been secretly mobilizing behind my back." To Nicholas's plea, "We need your strong pressure on Austria," Wilhelm scribbled, "No, there is no thought of anything of that sort!!!"

The Czar, according to Wilhelm, "has simply been acting a part and leading us up the garden path!"—leading the Kaiser to conclude: "That means I have got to mobilize as well!"

But the Kaiser later replied in a civil tone to the Czar. Wilhelm said: "I have gone to the utmost limits of the possible in my efforts to save peace. . . . Even now, you can still save the peace of Europe by stopping your military measures."

The German ambassador in St. Petersburg warned the Czar that mobilization by Russia would bring about German mobilization. In this, the German government was overreacting. Russian mobilization did not pose the deadly danger that German mobilization would. For Germany, mobilization meant war; for Russia, as its government explained to the Germans, it did not. "Russia's armies," as an academic authority recently has pointed out, could "remain mobile behind their frontier almost indefinitely." And the German government really knew that.

St. Petersburg.
Sazonov telephoned the Czar to ask for an immediate appointment. He then traveled to Tsarskoe Selo, the Czar's palace, where he solemnly advised his monarch that war had become unavoidable and that general mobilization was required. Reluctantly, the Czar agreed and Sazonov gave the necessary orders.

The German military plenipotentiary at the St. Petersburg embassy reported: "I have the impression that they [the Russians] have mobilized here from a dread of coming events without any aggressive intentions and are now frightened at what they have brought about." To Kaiser Wilhelm, that apparently had the ring of truth. "Right, that is it" was his comment.

The Czar, reacting to the Kaiser's messages, rescinded full mobilization. He ordered his generals to swing back to partial mobilization. What next? The Russian Council of Ministers did not meet, but individual leaders offered their views to their sovereign. There were persuasive voices on all sides. Sazonov joined with the generals to urge a general mobilization, which the indecisive and unhappy Czar, changing his mind again, finally ordered. The Russian army's chief of staff famously said, "I will. . . smash my telephone" so that he could not "be found to give any contrary orders for a new postponement of general mobilization."

Bethmann understood that Russia's move was no cause for alarm. He told the Prussian State Ministers that "although the Russian mobilization had been declared, her mobilization measures cannot be compared with those of the West European states . . . Moreover Russia does not intend to wage war, but has only been forced to take these measures because of Austria."

The German and Austrian chiefs of staff were in touch with one another, and Moltke cautioned the impatient Conrad: "War must not be declared on Russia." Instead the two German-speaking empires should "wait for Russia to attack."

Meanwhile Bethmann was arguing for postponement while Moltke, who had tended toward postponement half of the time that week, reversed himself. Now Moltke suddenly was in favor of going ahead. "His changes of mood are hardly explicable or not at all," noted a disgusted Falkenhayn.

By the evening, the Kaiser had learned of Grey's warning to the German ambassador in London the evening before. Grey, speaking only for himself, gave his opinion that if France were endangered, Britain would intervene. Since it was widely known in government circles that Germany, in the event of war against Russia, planned to attack and crush France first before turning around and invading Russia, Grey was saying that England would support its fellow Entente powers, Russia and France, against the Triple Alliance powers, Germany and Austria. Once again the Kaiser exploded in rage. "Irresponsibility and weakness are to plunge the world into the most terrible war, aimed in the last resort at ruining Germany," he claimed. "For no doubt remains in my mind: England, Russia and France . . . are in league to wage a war of annihilation against us, taking the Austro-Serbian conflict as a pretext . . . the stupidity and clumsiness of our ally has been turned into a noose for our necks. . . . And we have fallen into the snare."

London.
The keenly awaited debate on Ireland, scheduled to be held in the House of Commons in the afternoon, was expected to lead to a civil war in Britain. But earlier in the day the Opposition's leaders met with Asquith and reached agreement to show a united front in view of European dangers. This was a turnabout too fast for the rank and file to grasp.
Violet Asquith, the Prime Minister's daughter, along with her stepmother, Margot, attended the Ladies' Gallery of the House, and found it "packed with expectant and excited women" who gave "a gasp of astonishment" when the Prime Minister rose to speak of postponing the
Irish debate. "These words produced bewilderment in the Ladies' Gallery," noted Violet. "Many of its occupants had been busily engaged in preparations for the impending civil war—attending Red Cross classes, rolling bandages and making splints and slings, etc. One Ulster matron Lady M. (whose figure was particularly well adapted for the purpose) was reputed to have smuggled rifles galore into Belfast under her petticoats." They were aghast at the news of postponement and uncomprehending.

Paris.
Back from their long voyage, and not yet caught up on all the news of what had happened during their absence, France's leaders attempted to apply the brakes to fast-moving events. With President Poincaré's approval, Prime Minister Viviani cabled to the Russian government cautionary advice: "in the precautionary measures and defensive measures to which Russia believes herself obliged to resort, she should not immediately proceed to any measure which might offer Germany a pretext for a total or partial mobilization of her forces." France itself pulled back its armed forces six miles from the Franco-German frontier.