July 1914: Countdown to War (25 page)

Hearing this, Dobrorolskii was perturbed. Mobilizing against Austria-Hungary alone and not Germany, he told his boss, was “folly.” The army’s current Plan 19 required mobilization against Germany and Austria simultaneously, with no variant separating the two. Moreover, Dobrorolskii explained, it was “physically impossible” to mobilize effectively against Austria without extensively using the Warsaw railway hub. Were a mobilization to exclude Poland, it would be possible to attack Austria only via a tiny sliver of Galicia or by way of Romania, which was clearly out of the question. Deploying against Austria via the Warsaw hub was unavoidable, but doing so would inevitably alarm German commanders in East Prussia, defeating the point of a “partial” mobilization.
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Just as Kokovtsov had said in 1912, “a mobilization remained a mobilization,” no matter what Sukhomlinov or Sazonov wished to call it. Yanushkevitch, a recent appointee as chief of staff, may not have understood this fact. Still, as a subordinate officer, Dobrorolskii agreed to do what he was told, in so far as it was possible.

Because Sazonov was a civilian, it is possible that he was just as ignorant as Yanushkevitch about the strategic implications of “partial” mobilization. There is evidence, however, that suggests otherwise. The foreign minister had been present at the emergency Ministerial Council meeting in November 1912, when Sukhomlinov had presented his partial mobilization plan. He had heard the war minister explain it, and he had then heard Kokovtsov dismiss it on the grounds that, because the Germans would see through it (“a mobilization remained a mobilization”), it could not but lead to a European war. Sazonov, true to
his reputation for hesitation, had voted with the chairman. He had even chimed in that Russia should never order even a partial mobilization without consulting first with France. This crucial exchange, prefiguring the current policy dilemma with uncanny precision, had taken place less than two years ago. Unless his memory had failed him completely, Sazonov must have been thinking of it now, as he asked the army to order partial mobilization against Austria. This time, unlike in November 1912, Sazonov had personally consulted with France—indeed with her entire civilian government—the previous day and in the three days before that. He therefore felt confident of French support in case Russia’s “partial mobilization” led to war, a prospect that, judging by Schilling’s remark to Bark, Sazonov viewed as unavoidable.

Still, to make extra sure of France, the foreign minister visited the French embassy to lunch with Paléologue and Britain’s Ambassador Buchanan, who was keen to learn what France and Russia were up to. Sazonov declared unequivocally, Buchanan reported, that “the step taken by Austria meant war.” He informed the Briton of the full agreement on Balkan questions reached by France and Russia at the summit. Paléologue affirmed this heartily, promising that “France would not only give Russia strong diplomatic support, but would, if necessary, fulfill all the obligations imposed on her by the alliance,” shorthand for mobilizing against Germany. Would His Majesty’s government, Sazonov asked Britain’s ambassador, “proclaim their solidarity with France and Russia”? Buchanan, to the Russian’s disappointment, was unable to do so. Britain, he declared, “had no interests in Serbia, and public opinion in England would never sanction a war on her behalf.” To this, Sazonov objected that “the Serbian question was but part of [the] general European question and that we [i.e., the British] could not efface ourselves.” Seeking clarification as to what the Russian
meant by this, Buchanan asked Sazonov point-blank: “If [Austria-Hungary] took military action against Serbia, did Russia propose to declare war on her?”

Here Sazonov hedged. Nothing, he assured Buchanan, would be decided until the Council of Ministers met that afternoon. In turn, no policy would be formally enacted until the ministers presented their recommendations to Tsar Nicholas II at Tsarskoe Selo the next morning. But there was no doubt where Sazonov stood. The foreign minister himself, Buchanan reported to Grey, “thought that at any rate Russia would have to mobilize.” This was not what anyone in London wanted to hear.

Trying to slow down the doomsday machine, Buchanan asked that France and Russia help pressure Vienna into extending the ultimatum deadline, before Russia took any warlike measures. Revealingly, it was France’s ambassador, and not Sazonov, who shot down this idea as a fantasy. “Either Austria was bluffing,” Paléologue opined, “or had made up her mind to act at once.” So belligerent was the “French Ambassador’s language,” Buchanan informed Grey, “that it almost looked as if France and Russia were determined to take a strong stand even if we refused to join them.” Sazonov’s tone he found somewhat milder than Paléologue’s, but no less worrying. Russia’s foreign minister, Buchanan reported, warned him “that if war did break out, we [i.e., Britain] would sooner or later be dragged into it, but if we did not make common cause with France and Russia at the outset we should have rendered war more likely, and should not have played a
beau rôle
.” With these forceful words, Sazonov returned to Chorister’s Bridge, leaving Britain’s ambassador in little doubt as to Russia’s seriousness of purpose.
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A
T THREE PM
, the Council of Ministers convened for a special session that lasted nearly two hours. With Kokovtsov out of the picture, and the new chairman, I. V. Goremykin, largely
a figurehead, it was Sazonov’s show. If Agriculture Minister Krivoshein and the other belligerent “Germanophobes” had any doubts that the foreign minister would stand firm against Austria, he dispelled them immediately. The current crisis, Sazonov told everyone, was a long time in the making. “There were deep-seated causes of conflict,” he said, “between the Central European powers and those of the Entente.” Russian weakness in recent years had provoked Germany’s aggressive behavior. Austria’s ultimatum to Serbia was only a “pretext that would enable her [i.e., Germany] to prove her superiority by the use of force.” Russia, Sazonov concluded,

Krivoshein was impressed. Supporting Sazonov’s line, he declared that “public and parliamentary opinion would fail to understand why, at this critical moment involving Russia’s vital interests, the Imperial Government was reluctant to act boldly.” If Russia did not take a strong stand this time, the government—if not the whole Tsarist regime—would collapse in the face of public contempt for her weakness.

Krivoshein’s argument, recalled Bark, “made a profound impression on the Cabinet.” The ministers resolved to issue a stern public warning to Vienna that Serbia’s fate “could not leave Russia indifferent.”
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The real business, however, had been conducted beforehand by Sazonov. The ministers were presented with five policy resolutions. The first two were fairly innocuous, although cleverly contrived. In the first, Russia promised to work with the other powers to request that Austria extend the ultimatum deadline—notwithstanding the fact that Sazonov and Paléologue had just told Buchanan that this was impossible. In the second, Russia advised Serbia to announce that she would not resist any Austrian invasion, but would rather entrust her fate to the Powers. Considering that Russia had just shipped arms to Belgrade at Pašić’s express request, this was curious advice—but it made good diplomatic sense. So long as Britain and other neutral powers believed Russia—and Serbia—to be acting in moderation, they would see Austria-Hungary and Germany as the powers disturbing the peace.

The last three resolutions, all secret, were more serious. The third said that the army and navy chiefs, Yanushkevitch and Grigorevich, would ask the tsar, at a formal Crown Council at Tsarskoe Selo the next day, to approve “in principle” the mobilization of the four military districts of Kiev, Odessa, Moscow, and Kazan (a partial mobilization “against Austria alone”), along with the Black Sea and Baltic fleets (interesting, in that Austria-Hungary bordered neither body of water). The fourth resolution authorized the army to begin stockpiling supplies necessary for war. Finally, the fifth resolution stipulated that state funds were to be repatriated from Germany and Austria-Hungary.
¹⁰

Although these resolutions were, formally, put up for vote in the Council of Ministers and then subject to a possible veto from the tsar at the Crown Council, Sazonov would not have written them up if he was not confident they would be approved. Yanushkevitch, indeed, had already begun preparing a “partial mobilization” directive before the ministers met—on the foreign minister’s direct orders. Bark, too, had already begun
repatriating funds from Germany simply on Sazonov’s say-so. To no one’s surprise, Sazonov’s resolutions passed unanimously, making their approval by the tsar a foregone conclusion.

Having won over the ministers to a secret “partial mobilization,” Sazonov returned to his office around six
PM
. Serbia’s minister to Russia, M. Spalaiković, was waiting for him, first in line to learn what had been resolved by the Council. Spalaiković’s instructions from Pašić (still campaigning at Nish) were to inform Sazonov that the Serbian army was in no state to resist an invasion by Austria-Hungary and to ask, in light of this information, what Russia advised Belgrade to do. In a telegram to the tsar, Serbia’s Prince-Regent Alexander had been more submissive still, promising that Serbia would agree to all terms of the ultimatum “whose acceptance shall be advised by Your Majesty.” Whatever the truth about the war-readiness of Serbia’s army, the stance in Belgrade was clear: Serbia would do whatever Russia advised.
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Sazonov’s advice was firm. Somewhat to Spalaiković’s surprise, Russia’s foreign minister told him not to comply with the ultimatum. As a show of good faith, he advised that Serbia declare acceptance of the more inoffensive clauses. She must not, however, accept articles 5 and 6, which related to the participation of Austrian officials “in the suppression of the subversive movement” and in the prosecution of accessories to the Sarajevo crime. These clauses, Sazonov told Spalaiković, infringed on Serbian sovereignty. Publicly, as resolved in the Council of Ministers, Russia’s foreign minister advised that Serbia “make a declaration and allow the Austrians to enter Serbia without putting up any resistance.” Privately, however, Sazonov assured Spalaiković that “Serbia may count on Russian aid.” While we do not know how explicit Sazonov was in conversation with the Serbian minister about the form this “aid” to Serbia might take—whether, that is, he informed Spalaiković about the impending partial mobilization—Sazonov’s message
to Belgrade was still clear:
*
Serbia should make a show of moderation but not yield. If it came to war, Russia would fight on her behalf.
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At seven
PM
, Spalaiković left Sazonov’s office, making haste for the telegraph office so he could report to Belgrade. On his way out, the Serb ran into Count Pourtalès. Since the morning, Germany’s ambassador had been demanding an audience to discuss Russia’s response to the Austrian ultimatum; he had been put off on the grounds that Sazonov was busy assembling the Council of Ministers. Now, to his consternation, Pourtalès learned that the foreign minister had met with Spalaiković first. He would have been more disquieted still had he known that Sazonov had lunched with the French and British ambassadors. Seeking an indication as to Russia’s response to the ultimatum, Pourtalès told Spalaiković that Germany hoped to “localize” the Austro-Serbian dispute. “Localization” was a loaded word, of course: the German line, established by Foreign Minister Jagow and Chancellor Bethmann, was that Austria should have a free hand to settle accounts with Belgrade without the other powers butting in. Spalaiković would have none of this. The Austrian ultimatum, he warned Pourtalès, was already a “European question.”
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Germany’s ambassador had little more luck with Russia’s foreign minister. Despite what must have been an exhausting day, Sazonov was sharp. Rejecting the case Pourtalès presented for “localization,” the Russian pointed out that the Austrian ultimatum began by invoking the promise Serbia had made to recognize Austria’s annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina in a declaration of 31 March 1909, the idea being that this solemn promise had been broken. This Serbian declaration, however, had
been made “in deference to the advice of the Great Powers”—not simply to Austria-Hungary. Moreover, just that morning Austria’s ambassadors had presented the ultimatum to all signatory powers of the 1878 Treaty of Berlin, which had underwritten Serbia’s 1909 declaration (because the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina revised that treaty). Sazonov had not pointed this out to Ambassador Szapáry during their morning audience, in part because he had not yet had time to read through the text of the ultimatum. Now that he had, he was able to poke a large hole in the Austrian case for localization. Szapáry recognized as much as soon as Pourtalès reported his conversation to him. Sazonov, Szapáry informed Berchtold in an urgent telegram sent later that evening, “had unfortunately found grounds for his objection in our own note.”
¹⁴

The Russian was still not finished. He was unconvinced, he told Pourtalès, by the so-called proofs that Vienna had linking Serbia to the Sarajevo crime. He dismissed the German’s invocation of the monarchical principle, saying that “it had absolutely nothing to do with the present case.” Working himself into a rage, the Russian began “indulging in the most extravagant accusations and imputations against the Austro-Hungarian Government.” At last Pourtalès interrupted him, objecting that the Russian “was speaking under the sway of his blind, relentless hatred of Austria.” Without losing his temper, Sazonov replied that “hatred was not in my character. It is not hatred I feel for Austria, but contempt.”