July 1914: Countdown to War (48 page)

Now that the war with Russia was on, Germany needed all the help she could get, and Turkey—sharing borders with both Russia and British Egypt—was ideally placed to give it. At four
PM
on Sunday, 2 August, Wangenheim and the Ottoman grand vizier, Said Halim Pasha, signed a secret alliance treaty valid until the end of 1918, under which Germany pledged to defend Ottoman territory in exchange for a Turkish engagement to declare war on Russia if she attacked Germany, according to the same
casus foederis
that applied to Austria-Hungary. It was not as great a coup as British neutrality would have been, but it was something.
*

M
EANWHILE THE GEARS
of Germany’s mobilization were cranking methodically into motion. Shortly after midnight on Sunday, 2 August, German troops had entered Luxembourg over the bridges at Wasserbillig and Remich. They proceeded to secure the principal rail lines, which were, by treaty, under German management. No resistance was offered, although Prime Minister Paul Eyschen of Luxembourg wired a formal protest to Berlin at eight
AM
Sunday. A series of telegrams was now dispatched from the Wilhelmstrasse to Paris, London, and the Hague, explaining the action as a precautionary measure “to secure the railways under our management from French attack.” To Eyschen, the Germans further claimed that they had reports of hostile French maneuvers on Luxembourg’s soil (he swiftly denied that this was true, as it was not). Berlin even requested
that France’s minister to Luxembourg be expelled. Eyschen complied, although clearly under duress.
⁵

On the French-German frontier between Strasbourg and Metz, the situation remained murky. Both Joffre and Moltke, with an eye on London, had issued orders that troops were not to cross the frontier or fire first, but rumors were running rife about border incidents. The French embassy in London, for example, protested to Grey that “20,000 German troops have invaded France near Nancy.”
⁶
The Germans, for their part, reported that French aircraft were bombing “the environs of Nuremberg,” that a French cavalry patrol had crossed the frontier, that two French saboteurs had been caught trying to blow up a tunnel, and that a French pilot had been shot down on German territory.
⁷
Almost none of these reports was true.

Even if they had been true, they likely would not have swayed British opinion decisively. In the cabinet, all eyes were fixed on the Belgian frontier, which German troops might, or might not, cross en route for France.
*
Belgium’s own army had already begun mobilizing three days earlier, as if in defiance of all the powers. By Friday, the Meuse bridges had been wired for destruction; by Saturday, the fortress city of Liège had been armed, and the eastern viaducts and tunnels, facing German Trier and Aachen, were wired for demolition. While Belgium’s mobilization was theoretically a “call-up without deployment,” targeting neither France nor Germany, reports that the Germans had invaded Luxembourg, which reached the Belgian foreign ministry at six
AM
Sunday, were alarming. Germany’s minister
in Brussels, Klaus von Below-Selaske, was asked for an explanation. His answer was not entirely reassuring: “Your neighbor’s roof may catch fire but your own house will be safe.”
⁸

Noninterventionists in England keenly hoped that this would remain true. Despite the dramatic events of the past few days, many Britons remained complacent on Sunday morning, happy in their ignorance. Owing largely to Sir George Buchanan’s lazy reporting from St. Petersburg, the picture even cabinet insiders had of events in Europe was murky and incomplete. True, Buchanan had wasted no time reporting Germany’s declaration of war on Saturday night, but he had neglected to mention that Russia had provoked this by ordering general mobilization on Thursday (and the Period Preparatory to War five days before that). The French, too, were deliberately misinforming London about such matters as the ten-kilometer withdrawal. On Saturday, Poincaré had gone so far as to tell Sir Francis Bertie, in what was almost certainly a conscious lie, that “the Emperor of Russia did not order a general mobilization until after a decree of general mobilization had been issued in Austria” (in fact, Russia’s had preceded Austria’s by twenty hours; her mobilization against Austria herself had preceded Austria’s general mobilization by
three days
).
⁹
With such a distorted picture of events, it is understandable that no firm policy had been decided on in London.

Yet, in light of the successful French and Russian manipulation of British opinion, the cabinet, surprisingly, was still leaning against intervention. As Prime Minister Asquith wrote on Sunday morning, “a good 3/4 of our party are for absolute non-interference at any price.” Grey confronted one Liberal MP and demanded what he would do if Germany invaded Belgium. “She won’t do it,” was the reply. Grey: “I don’t suppose she will, but supposing she does.” “She won’t do it,” came again the reply, like a metronome. Preoccupied with Ireland, ill-informed
about events on the Continent, most Liberals did not want to hear about obligations to France, much less to Russia. Even Asquith, despite his Francophile sympathies, assured the German ambassador on Sunday morning that, although much would depend on what happened in Belgium, “we had no desire to intervene.”
¹⁰

At the same time, Paul Cambon was meeting with Sir Edward Grey. Presenting a report from Viviani of the German invasion of Luxembourg, the ambassador demanded that Grey use this in the cabinet to make a case for intervention. To his disappointment, not even this news could sway His Majesty’s foreign secretary. The integrity of Luxembourg, Grey argued, was upheld “collectively” by the powers in the Treaty of London of 1867, whereas England had guaranteed Belgium “severally and individually” in the 1839 treaty. So the cases were different. After hearing Grey’s latest elliptical sophistry, Cambon unburdened himself to Henry Wickham Steed, the foreign editor of the London
Times
: “I do not know whether this evening the word ‘honor’ will not have to be struck out of the English vocabulary.”
¹¹

As if channeling the French ambassador, the Conservative opposition goaded the Liberal cabinet in a similar manner Sunday morning. Bonar Law, Unionist leader in the Commons, and Lord Landsdowne, on behalf of the Lords, issued a declaration that “It would be fatal to the honour and security of the United Kingdom to hesitate in supporting France and Russia at this juncture.” As if to offer help, but with an obvious hint of menace in the direction of wavering cabinet Liberals, they added that “we offer our unconditional support to the Government in any measures they may consider necessary for this object.”
¹²

The cabinet was bitterly divided when it met at eleven
AM
. The sense of occasion was tremendous. If meeting on Saturday was rare, convening on a Sunday was almost unheard of; no
one could even remember the last time it was done. With Germany and Russia at war, and France and Germany poised on the knife’s edge, it seemed imperative to declare a policy of some kind. And yet Asquith knew that there was “a strong party . . . against any kind of intervention in any event,” led by Lord Morley’s Little Englander faction and the Right Honorable John Burns, president of the Board of Trade. Lloyd George, the chancellor of the Exchequer, was still wavering, although he seemed to be leaning toward Morley’s faction. On the other side, Churchill was poised to resign if the cabinet dithered any longer, with Bonar Law and the Conservatives cheering him on from the sidelines, ready to form a new government if this one fell. “We are on the brink of a split,” Asquith would write after the midday session.
¹³
Churchill himself was convinced the government would fall, with a majority resigning over any nudge in the direction of intervention. “The grief and horror of so many able colleagues,” he recalled, “were painful to witness.”
¹⁴

To postpone an open breach, Grey made his case as gingerly as possible. He denounced the hypocrisy of the Central Powers, which had foiled his mediation efforts (the lack of positive responses to them from France or Russia was not mentioned) and “marched steadily to war.” Grey avoided, as he had all week, any discussion of Russia’s secret early military preparations or of the fact that St. Petersburg had been the first power to mobilize (if he had believed Bertie’s Saturday report, Grey may have erroneously thought the Austrians had mobilized first). He reminded his colleagues that, owing to joint agreements with Paris, France’s navy was concentrated in the Mediterranean, with the British fleet covering the Channel. The French had, in effect, left their northwestern coast undefended against the Germans. When these agreements had been negotiated by Grey and Cambon in 1912, Morley and the Little Englanders had insisted that this engagement was not “based on
any agreement to cooperate in war.” Now they realized—as, surely, they should have known all along—that this was
precisely
what the agreements had intended to bring about. For what was the purpose of dividing the oceans into spheres of naval coverage if not to ensure cooperation in wartime? At last, Grey had found the issue on which to make or break the cabinet. “If the Channel is closed against Germany,” he argued, “it
is
in favor of France, & we cannot take half measures—either we must declare ourselves neutral, or in it.” If it was neutrality, then Grey would resign; if not, then he expected other resignations. He therefore “asked for a sharp decision.”
¹⁵

He did not quite get it. Around two
PM
, just as everyone was getting hungry, the cabinet agreed on a compromise that would allow it to adjourn for lunch. Even Morley was forced to admit that “we owed it to France” to defend the Channel. And so Grey was authorized to tell Paul Cambon that “if the German fleet comes into the Channel or through the North Sea to undertake hostile action against French coasts or shipping, the British fleet will give all the protection in its power.” The statement was conditional enough not to break up the cabinet, although it did prompt one resignation. With what Morley described as “remarkable energy, force, and grasp,” Burns of the Board of Trade insisted that a guarantee to defend the French coast was “neither more nor less than a challenge to Germany, tantamount to a declaration of war against her.”
¹⁶
This, indeed, was the French ambassador’s own interpretation of Grey’s statement. As Cambon wired to Paris: “in truth a great country does not wage war by halves. Once it decided to fight the war at sea it would necessarily be led into fighting it on land as well.”
¹⁷

The true implications began to sink in among the remaining noninterventionists over lunch. Lord Morley dined with Lloyd George and Sir John Simon, the attorney general. The overall sentiment, Morley recalled, was that “Burns was right”:
the cabinet “was being rather artfully drawn on step by step to war for the benefit of France and Russia.” Together, the men agreed to make a stronger stand when the cabinet reconvened at six thirty
PM
. Burns, having agreed at Asquith’s insistence to attend despite his resignation, would strengthen their hand.
¹⁸

Despite growing opposition, Asquith and Grey did not back down. Having already won everyone but Burns over to a naval commitment to defend the French coastline, they now pressed for armed intervention if the Germans violated Belgian neutrality. To keep the waverers on board, Grey agreed to make the case for belligerence in the Commons on Monday only if the Germans committed a “substantial violation” of Belgium, not merely a crossing of the small corner of Belgian territory that abutted Luxembourg. Implied, although not directly stated, was that Britain would intervene only if the Belgians themselves offered resistance to a German invasion. As Asquith put it, Britain could hardly be “more Belgian than the Belgians,” going to war with Germany if Brussels did not.
¹⁹

Opinion was far from unanimous. Morley threatened to follow Burns and resign. Sir John Simon complained that “the Triple Entente was a terrible mistake. Why should we support a country like Russia?” To Grey’s warning that France would be overwhelmed if Britain stayed out, Lloyd George retorted, “How will you feel if you see Germany overrun and annihilated by Russia?”
²⁰
As the cabinet broke up for the evening, the government seemed ready to fall. British belligerence hung by a thread.

E
VEN AS THE
B
RITISH CABINET
was debating what to do in case the Germans violated Belgium, Klaus von Below-Selaske was en route for the Belgian Foreign Ministry to propose that she do so. At 2:05
PM
, Jagow had wired, ordering him to open the sealed envelope sent to him several days previously. Dressed
up with specious warnings that the French were preparing to attack Germany by way of the Meuse River valley, the note demanded that Belgium answer within twelve hours—by 8
AM
Monday—whether she would resist the movement of German troops through her territory. While “intending no acts of hostility towards Belgium,” and promising to evacuate her territory “as soon as peace is concluded,” the note stipulated that, if opposition were encountered, it would be met by force.
²¹
The ruse was transparent. It was an ultimatum.

The Belgian cabinet met at nine
PM
, presided over by King Albert himself. It faced a dreadful dilemma. Submitting to the German ultimatum would forfeit national honor. And yet Belgium had but six infantry and one cavalry divisions to face the might of Germany—possibly as much as several dozen divisions. Of course, once the Germans invaded, Belgium might count on French and possibly British aid, but this would likely come too late to affect the outcome. King Albert was himself convinced that “our answer must be ‘no,’ whatever the consequences. Our duty is to defend our territorial integrity.” But he realized that a hostile German invasion would bring devastation upon his people. It was hardly the kind of decision one wanted to rush into. At ten
PM
, most cabinet members were dismissed and the military chiefs called in for their input. While there remained considerable debate over the plan of deployment, opinion on the ultimatum was unanimous: the answer could only be no.
²²