July 1914: Countdown to War (39 page)

Whatever the root of the kaiser’s reasoning, it was sound. Just hours after he wrote this, Consul Brück’s Wednesday telegram from Warsaw arrived, reporting that “Russia is already fully in a state of preparation for war. . . . The troops ranged against Germany are assembling between Lomza and Kovno along the Niemen, while those ranged against Austria are assembling at Lublin and Kovel.” All this had transpired before Tsar Nicholas II had, under pressure from his own military chiefs, ordered general mobilization on Wednesday night (before changing his mind based on an erroneous reading of a telegram from Potsdam). The kaiser’s judgment of the nature of Russia’s secret mobilization accorded well with the facts—better than did the wishful thinking of his chancellor, who had trusted Sazonov’s word.

As was so often the case in their difficult relationship, the chancellor and the kaiser were not on the same page on Thursday morning. After receiving Lichnowsky’s telegram containing
Grey’s veiled threat from London, Bethmann had begun favoring a diplomatic solution overnight, even as his sovereign, receiving the tsar’s inadvertently revelatory telegram, had resolved to jettison diplomacy and mobilize. As soon as the chancellor forwarded Lichnowsky’s telegram to Wilhelm at midday, however—with the accompanying commentary about the need to force Austria to the negotiating table—the kaiser backed down. He and Bethmann composed a reply to the tsar’s telegram that contained (at the chancellor’s insistence) no suggestion that he was going to abandon his “mediatory role,” much less mobilize against Russia. Instead, Willy sought to clear up the apparent contradiction that Nicky had asked him to clarify in his earlier telegram of Wednesday night. His chancellor, the kaiser explained, had simply told Pourtalès “to draw the attention of your government to the danger and grave consequences involved by a mobilization; I said the same in my telegram to you.” He then reminded the tsar that

The last loaded line, which stated flatly that Russia bore sole responsibility for “Peace or War,” was likely Bethmann’s idea. The chancellor, with a keen eye on British opinion, had been focused for days on putting the onus for starting the war on Russia. Even though Grey had dashed his hopes of British neutrality,
Bethmann still needed to foster the appearance of Russian responsibility so that Germany’s powerful Social Democrats would support the war if it came. He would not be doing his job as chancellor if he did not do this.

The line was not all politics, however. As the kaiser’s latest telegram pointed out, Russia’s own government had announced that she had mobilized against Austria. According to the terms of the Austro-German alliance, this in itself could be a
casus foederis
for war, as Moltke had pointed out in his memorandum to Bethmann: “unless Germany means to break her word and allow her ally to succumb to Russia’s superior strength, she must also mobilize.” On Wednesday night, the chancellor had overridden this argument with Moltke and Falkenhayn, clutching desperately to Sazonov’s questionable assurance that Russian mobilization “did not mean war.” Both Sazonov and Tsar Nicholas II had then provided strong evidence that this claim was bogus when they inadvertently revealed that Russia had resolved to mobilize against Austria five days earlier and that this mobilization, once underway, “could not be reversed.” And yet even now that Russia’s warlike intentions had been exposed by her own sovereign and foreign minister, even now that Grey had dashed Bethmann’s hopes of British neutrality, the chancellor did not invoke the
casus foederis
for German mobilization or even premobilization, as, by every possible right, he could have. Bethmann, facing the ruin of his policies, wanted to give Russia one last chance to back down. So, too, did the kaiser, who, entirely in character, following an outburst of belligerence had lost his nerve as soon as the dogs of war began seriously howling.

Moltke, losing time vis-à-vis Russia’s mobilization with every passing hour, was not so sanguine. True, he had yielded to Bethmann on Wednesday, whereas Falkenhayn had pressed strongly for the declaration of
Kriegsgefahrzustand
. As late as Thursday morning, Moltke even told Captain Fleischmann, the
Austrian liaison officer at the German General Staff, that “Russia’s mobilization is not yet a cause for mobilization. Not until state of war exists between Austria and Russia. . . . Do not declare war on Russia, but await Russia’s attack.”
⁴

Around midday on Thursday, 30 July, however, Moltke made a dramatic shift toward belligerence—dramatic enough that, at one
PM
, he barged into a meeting with the chancellor at the Wilhelmstrasse uninvited.
⁵
While Moltke himself never explained exactly what it was that changed his mind, it was almost certainly his receipt of the same two telegrams—from Pourtalès and the tsar—that had set off Kaiser Wilhelm II. Even more than his sovereign, Moltke was floored to learn that Russia had begun preparing for war five (now six) days earlier. That fact helped to explain why German army intelligence that day had concluded that Russia’s Period Preparatory to War was “far advanced.” Compounding his sense of panic on Thursday, Moltke learned from Vienna that Conrad “intended to adhere rigidly to Plan B”—that is, mobilize solely against Serbia and not against Russia. With Russia having just admitted to having long since begun her mobilization against Austria—and, to all appearances, mobilizing secretly against Germany as well—Moltke was confronted with the prospect that the Russians could concentrate all their forces against Germany and overwhelm the German 8th Army, which, according to the latest German war plan, would alone defend East Prussia.
⁶

We do not know exactly what was said at the one
PM
meeting at the Wilhelmstrasse, but it is clear that Moltke, in his new state of mind, asked the chancellor to proclaim
Kriegsgefahrzustand
immediately. Bethmann, still clinging to his “Halt in Belgrade” initiative, refused. The Austrian military attaché, Lieutenant-Colonel Bienerth, whom Moltke summoned immediately following his meeting with Bethmann, found the chief of staff “extremely agitated, as I had never before seen him.” As Bienerth reported to Conrad, “Moltke said that he regards the
situation as critical if the Austro-Hungarian monarchy does not mobilize immediately against Russia [that is, abandon Plan B and activate Plan R].
Russia’s announced declaration concerning mobilization she has ordered
makes necessary countermeasures by Austria-Hungary and must also be cited in the public explanation. . . . Standing firm in a European war is the last chance of saving Austria-Hungary. Germany will go with her unconditionally.”
⁷

Moltke’s clearly insubordinate message to Conrad has sometimes been seen as the moment when the “politicians” lost control of events and the “military men” took over. His intervention certainly undermined Bethmann’s last-ditch efforts to get Berchtold to accept diplomatic mediation. As Berchtold himself asked, upon learning of Moltke’s instructions from Conrad, “Who rules in Berlin, Moltke or Bethmann?”
⁸

The fact remains, however, that Moltke did not get his way on Thursday. He failed to achieve either of his two principal goals: (1) getting Germany’s chancellor to proclaim
Kriegsgefahrzustand
, so as to belatedly catch up to everyone else’s war preparations; or (2) convincing Conrad to abandon Plan B and concentrate Austria’s forces against Russia. Moltke had gummed up the works of his chancellor’s diplomacy, but then Bethmann had done the same to Moltke’s efforts to influence the military odds in Germany’s favor. The real failure on Wednesday was the kaiser’s. As sovereign, he should have butted heads together and forged a common imperial policy between his army chief of staff and his chancellor. The deeply worrying overnight news from Russia had jolted him awake briefly, before he retreated into his usual nerve-wracked passivity.

I
N THEIR OWN WAY
, France’s civilian leaders were just as flummoxed as Germany’s by Russia’s early mobilization. Wednesday night, Ambassador Paléologue had been informed straightaway of the tsar’s decision for general mobilization. Nikolai Bazili, director of the Chancellery (or political department) of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, had run back and forth between Chorister’s Bridge and the French embassy to impart the critical information personally. The reason he returned to Chorister’s Bridge from the embassy accompanied by Paléologue’s secretary, Charles de Cambrun, was significant: in order to foil German surveillance, it had been agreed that telegrams to Paris announcing general mobilization would be sent with Russian ciphers (which were tougher to crack than the French ones). As Bazili explained his task to Yuri Danilov, architect of Russia’s mobilization Plan 19 against the Central Powers: “M. Paléologue had of necessity to communicate this news to Paris immediately, not being able to wait until the following morning, when the [general mobilization] order was to be published; but at the same time we had to keep the news hidden from our enemies.”
⁹
The original message that Bazili encoded for Paris had contained the phrase “and secretly to commence general mobilization” (that is, to commence it on Thursday, 30 July, as originally resolved), only for the French embassy secretary to delete it after learning that the tsar had changed his mind. Instead, the Russian-encrypted telegram, wired to Paris at one
AM
, spoke only of the partial mobilization of “thirteen corps destined to operate against Austria.”
¹⁰

Paléologue has come in for a good deal of criticism for his role in urging on Russia’s secret war preparations without authorization from Viviani and Poincaré, as in his vow given on Tuesday, when they were still at sea, of “the complete readiness of France to fulfill her obligations as an ally.”
¹¹
Likewise, he has been faulted for deliberately misleading them about the critical events of Wednesday, 29 July. Certainly, in order to fulfill his primary duty as intermediary for the Franco-Russian military
alliance, the ambassador should have informed Paris that the tsar had decided on general mobilization, even if he later changed his mind.

It would be going too far, however, to claim that Paléologue was acting as a free agent. He and General Laguiche had kept Army Chief of Staff Joffre and War Minister Messimy fully informed about Russia’s Period Preparatory to War since the weekend, and there is no reason to doubt that they, in turn, had fully briefed Poincaré—who took a greater interest in military matters than Viviani—upon the president’s arrival in Paris on Wednesday. As for his tacit endorsement of Russia’s move from partial to general mobilization, Paléologue was acting on the express instructions of France’s General Staff (if not also its civilian government) to discourage any Russian tendency to mobilize against Austria alone, as he confessed in a postwar interview.
¹²
In his communications with the Quai d’Orsay about Russian mobilization measures, the ambassador was indeed being cagey—but with good reason. Whenever it would come, the announcement of general mobilization was so explosive that Paléologue had been ordered by the Russians not to use his own cipher, ostensibly in order to keep German cryptographers in the dark. But then Paléologue, like Sazonov, was keeping a watchful eye on British opinion as well—and on Viviani, whom he knew to be far less fervently committed to the Franco-Russian cause than Poincaré. The longer he could delay news of Russian mobilization from reaching policymakers in London—and his own wavering premier—the more difficult it would be for them to stop it.

Sazonov was just as careful in informing Paris about Russia’s mobilization. In his own message to Ambassador Izvolsky (copied also to Ambassador Benckendorff in London, which required still more deftness of tone), Russia’s foreign minister hinted only obliquely at the drama that had transpired on
Wednesday evening in Petersburg. “The German ambassador,” Sazonov wrote, “informed me today of the decision of his government to mobilize its forces if Russia did not cease her military preparations. As we are unable to accede to Germany’s desire, it only
remains for us to hasten our armaments and regard war as imminent.
”
¹³

Izvolsky recognized the significance of this cryptic, but suggestive, message as soon as he received it at just past two
AM
on Thursday, 30 July. At once he sent his secretary to the Quai d’Orsay for urgent consultations, while ordering Count Ignatiev, Russia’s military attaché, to deliver Sazonov’s message to the French War Ministry on Rue Saint-Domingue, with urgent instructions that the war minister be awakened with the news. For good measure, Ignatiev went over to Messimy’s house, in full dress uniform, to demand how France would respond to Russian partial mobilization. Izvolsky then personally delivered Sazonov’s telegram to Premier Viviani, waking him up in the process. Messimy, in turn, phoned Viviani, finding him awake but not in a good mood. “Good God!” the premier exclaimed. “These Russians are even worse insomniacs than they are drinkers.” Viviani then roused Poincaré. The president, recognizing the gravity of the moment, dressed quickly and summoned Viviani and Messimy to the Elysée Palace at four
AM
.
¹⁴