“In conclusion Count Tisza pressed my hand warmly, and said: ‘Together we shall now look the future calmly and firmly in the face.’” (‘Well, a real man at last!' wrote the Kaiser.)[355]
“I have my doubts,” wrote Sir Arthur Nicolson, the head of the British Foreign Office, on July 9th, “as to whether Austria will take any action of a serious character, and I expect the storm will blow over.”[356] England knew that Austria could do nothing without German consent, and since Germany had restrained Austria for the past two years, there was no reason to suppose that she would encourage her now. On July 17th Lloyd George made a speech at the Mansion House, urging disarmament, declaring that the international situation had been more serious in 1913 and assuring his audience that “you never get a perfectly blue sky in foreign affairs.” Even as late as July 20th Sir Edward Grey was taking an optimistic line. Everything, he told the German Ambassador, Prince von Lichnowsky, would “depend on the form of satisfaction that Austria demanded, and… he hoped that the quarrel might be settled and localised, for the idea of a war between the great powers of Europe must be repelled under all circumstances.”[357]
Lichnowsky was deeply worried. He knew that Austria’s demands would be framed to provoke a conflict; indeed, members of the Austrian Embassy in London were talking most indiscreetly. The Ambassador, Count Mensdorff, predicted the complete dismemberment of Serbia, with part going to Romania, part to Bulgaria, and a slice to Austria itself. On the 16th Lichnowsky had taken his career in his hands and written Secretary of State Jagow a long letter asking bluntly what Germany hoped to gain from supporting Austria in such a hazardous undertaking. Personally, he did not believe that the smashing of Serbia would end the aspirations of the Slavs in Austria; in fact he thought that an Austrian invasion would only fan the flames of Slav nationalism throughout the Balkans and make the problem more acute.
“There may be,” Jagow replied on the 18th, “different opinions as to whether we get all our money’s worth from an alliance with that ever increasingly disintegrating composition of nations beside the Danube, but you will undoubtedly agree with me that the absolute establishment of the Russian hegemony in the Balkans is, indirectly, not permissible, even for us. The maintenance of Austria, and, in fact, of the most powerful Austria possible, is a necessity for us both for internal and external reasons. That she cannot be maintained forever, I willingly admit. But in the meantime we may perhaps be able to arrange other combinations.”[358]
Prince Lichnowsky’s anxiety was justified, for on July 22nd Sir Edward Grey received a telegram from the British Ambassador in Vienna forecasting that Austria’s ultimatum to Serbia would be framed deliberately to provoke war. The Foreign Secretary was deeply perturbed. He called Lichnowsky and gave him a coldly polite warning. Britain, he said, would try to restrain Russia if Austria’s demands were moderate, and reconcilable with Serbian independence. He trusted that Germany would see that this was so. “I meet with the expectation,” Lichnowsky telegraphed unhappily to Berlin, “that our influence at Vienna has been successful in suppressing demands that cannot be met. They are counting with certainty on the fact that we shall not identify ourselves with demands that are plainly intended to bring on war, and that we will not support any policy which makes use of the murder at Sarajevo merely as an excuse for carrying out Austrian desires in the Balkans, and for the annulment of the Peace of Bucharest.”
Lichnowsky’s dispatch was re-telegraphed to the Kaiser. When the latter read Grey’s courteous, double-edged observations he reacted with angry excitement that was sharpened by fear. Influence Vienna? “Why should I do any such thing?” he scribbled.
“None of my business! What does ‘cannot be met’ mean? The rascals have added murder to agitation and must be humbled. That is a tremendous piece of British insolence. I am not called upon to prescribe a la Grey to His Majesty now to preserve his honour! So that he will see that I am not fooling. Grey is committing the error of setting Serbia on the same plane with Austria and other Great Powers! That is unheard of! Serbia is nothing but a band of robbers that must be seized for its crimes! I will meddle in nothing of which the Emperor is alone competent to judge! I expected this dispatch, and am not surprised by it! Real British reasoning and condescending way of giving orders, which I insist on having rebuffed! William I.R.”[359]
The Emperor then instructed his military aide to telegraph his comments to Berlin. This was done on the night of the 23rd. Earlier that same evening the Austrian ultimatum was presented at Belgrade.
The Kaiser’s cruise on board the Hohenzollern now became a nightmare. His absence from Berlin, due entirely to Bethmann-Hollweg’s insistence that his presence would only excite European opinion, suddenly was unbearable to him. He was furious at his Chancellor for not supplying him with a general appreciation of the situation, and even worse, for neglecting to send the text of the Austrian ultimatum. Although the note was delivered on the evening of the 23 rd, with a forty-eight-hour limit attached, he only learned the details from the Norddeutsch News Agency on the evening of the 25th. The main points demanded severe penalties for anyone working for the disintegration of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy; the suppression of all hostile propaganda with particular emphasis on the schools; the disbandment of the Pan-Slav society “Narodna Odbraus”; the disclosure of hostile remarks made by highly placed Serbian officials; the dismissal of Austrian and civilian officials indicted by Austria; and the permission for Austrian agents to take part in fighting propaganda, and for conducting the judicial search for members of the conspiracy that led to the assassination. The demands meant nothing less than the establishment of a police state in Belgrade dedicated to fighting the Pan-Slav movement which was the breath of life to Serbia.
William II, however, professed to be delighted by the vigour of the Austrian note; when he received a report from Belgrade telling him that the “energetic tone” of the Austrians was “absolutely unexpected by the Serbian Government,” he wrote in the margin: “Bravo! One would not have believed it of the Viennese Government.”[360]
That same day, the 25th, the Emperor received many more dispatches, forwarded from Berlin, reporting the reaction of the great powers. He was in a highly excitable mood, pacing the deck, talking endlessly, then breaking off to seize a newly arrived communication and disappearing into his cabin where he could study it and write his comments in the margin. He was like a man possessed. In order to stifle his mounting anxiety he adopted a protective bravado that was impervious to outside reason. “Sir Edward Grey,” telegraphed Lichnowsky from London, “was evidently greatly affected by the Austrian note, which, according to his view, exceeded anything he had ever seen of this sort before… Any nation that accepted conditions like that would really cease to count as an independent nation.” (“This would be very desirable,” wrote the Kaiser. “It is not a nation in the European sense, but a band of robbers!”) “…The danger of a European war, should Austria invade Serbian territory, would become immediate… What Sir Edward Grey most deplored, beside the tone of the note, was the brief time-limit, which made war almost unavoidable. He told me that he would be willing to join with us in pleading for a prolongation of the time-limit at Vienna, as in that way perhaps a way out might be found… He further suggested that in the event of a dangerous tension between Russia and Austria, the four nations not immediately concerned — England, Germany, France, and Italy — should undertake to mediate between Russia and Austria.” (“Superfluous,” wrote the Kaiser, “as Austria has already made matters plain to Russia, and Grey has nothing else to propose. I will not join in it unless Austria expressly asks me to, which is not likely. In vital questions and those of honour, one does not consult with others.”)[361]
Other dispatches written on the 24th were forwarded to the Kaiser on the 25th. From Paris came Ambassador Schoen’s statement: “…the view is held here that Austria-Hungary would do well, in case Serbia might not agree to all the demands at once but should wish to discuss individual poi
nts, not to refuse…” (“Ultimata are accepted or not!” wrote William II. “But one does not discuss any longer! Thence the name.”) And on the other side of the margin: (“It is rubbish clad in stately phrases.”)[362]
The report which annoyed the Kaiser most of all, however, came from Tschirschy in Vienna. “Count Berchtold requested the Russian Charge d’Affaires to call on him in order to make exhaustive explanations of Austria-Hungary’s position with regard to Serbia.” (“Absolutely superfluous,” exploded the Kaiser. “Will give the impression of weakness and the impression of an apology, which, in connection with Russia, is unconditionally false and must be avoided. Austria has her good reasons, has made a move on the strength of them; now it cannot later be made the subject of a quasi-decision!”) “Austria,” Berchtold told the Russians, “would not lay the least claim to any Serbian territory…” (“Ass! She must take back the Sanjac, else the Serbians will reach the Adriatic.”) “He, Berchtold, was far from wishing to upset the balance of power either in the Balkans or in Europe… the monarchistically ruled nations should show a solid front in their united opposition to the Serbian policy conducted with revolver and with bomb.” (“That will come entirely of its own accord, and must come. Austria must become preponderant in the Balkans as compared with the little ones, and at Russia’s expense; otherwise there will be no peace. Feeble!”)
Was there ever any possibility that German policy, which did not seek to avoid an Austro-Serbian conflict, but merely to localise it, could succeed? On the twenty-third of July Lichnowsky had written from London that “localisation in the event of a passage of arms with Serbia belongs in the realm of pious wishes.”[363] And a few days later Sir Arthur Nicolson had observed to his colleague in St. Petersburg that “localising the war merely means that all the powers are to hold the ring while Austria quietly strangles Serbia. This to my mind is quite preposterous, not to say iniquitous.”[364]
Yet the Kaiser clung to the view that the Czar would not intervene on the side of “regicide that Russia and France were not ready for a war; and that Britain would urge moderation in order to preserve the status quo. Even the violent reaction of the Russian Foreign Minister, M. Sazanov, when he read the Austrian ultimatum, did not serve as a warning. Sasanov greeted his Assistant, Baron Schilling, at the Foreign Office with the grim pronouncement “C’est la guerre Europeanne;” and when the Austrian Ambassador, M. Szapary, arrived to explain the ultimatum, he said excitedly: “The fact is you want war, and have burned your bridges.” Szapary insisted that Austria was a peace-loving country only acting in self-defence. “One sees how pacific you are now that you are setting Europe on fire.”[365]
In the afternoon Sazanov received the German Ambassador, Pourtales. When the latter urged that the Austro-Serbian conflict be “localised” Sazanov, “who was very much excited and gave vent to boundless reproaches against Austria-Hungary, stated in the most determined manner that it would be impossible for Russia to admit that the Austro-Serbian quarrel could be settled between the two parties concerned.” He waved aside Pourtales’s assertion that Austria merely wished to “chastise” Serbia. “First Serbia will be gobbled up,” he said, “then will come Bulgaria’s turn; and then we shall have her on the Black Sea.” He ended by saying: “Austria is seeking a pretext to gobble up Serbia; but in that case Russia will make war on Austria.”[366]
A report of this conversation reached the Kaiser on the 25th, and when he read the last sentence he wrote, in Berlin slang: “Well, come on then.”[367] That same evening he learned that Austria had rejected Serbia’s reply as unsatisfactory, that diplomatic relations had been broken off, and that both countries were mobilising. He instructed the Hohenzollern to head for home (despite Bethmann-Hollweg’s efforts to keep him away) and issued an order to the German Fleet, part of which was scattered in Norwegian waters and the other part anchored in Norwegian ports: “Coaling to be hastened. Fleet to be held in readiness to run out.”
Bethmann-Hollweg was alarmed by the Emperor’s action. His policy was based on presenting Germany as a disinterested partner; he not only had prevented the Kaiser from returning to Berlin but Admiral von Tirpitz, General von Moltke, and many other high-ranking officials as well. He was frightened that changes in Germany’s fleet movements might destroy the innocent picture he was eager to maintain. He telegraphed the Kaiser that although His Majesty had given the order to the fleet “on the strength of a Wolff telegram,” he would like to point out that “the British Navy is taking no unusual measures of any sort…” The Kaiser was enraged by the reference to the Wolff telegram. “Unbelievable assumption,” he wrote on the margin. “Unheard of! It never entered my mind!!! On the report of my Ministers about the mobilization at Belgrade! This may result in mobilisation by Russia; will result in mobilisation by Austria… I am not accustomed to undertake military measures on the strength of a single Wolff telegram but on that of the general situation, and that situation the civil Chancellor does not yet comprehend! When Russia mobilises my fleet must be ready in the Baltic, so it is going home. W.”[368]
The Chancellor’s priggish, soothing attitude continued to be annoying. “I think that our attitude must be calm and aimed at localisation,” he wired the Emperor the following day. “Calmness is the first duty of a citizen,” jeered William. “Keep calm… only keep calm! But a calm mobilisation is something new indeed.”
The Kaiser’s sense of danger was more acute than Bethmann-Hollweg’s, for when the Russian Foreign Minister, M. Sazanov, read the Austrian ultimatum he asked the Czar to call a Crown Council. This was held on the 25th, the same afternoon that the Hohenzollern headed for home. The Austrian ultimatum was due to expire in a few hours and the Russian generals were in a state of excitement; they were sure that Austrian troops would stream into Serbia when the time-limit expired. One officer looked at his watch at six o’clock and said: “The cannon on the Danube will have begun to fire by now, for one doesn’t send such an ultimatum except when the cannon are loaded.” (This officer had not made allowances for Austrian inefficiency; although the Austrians intended their ultimatum to provoke a conflict the fact was that they would not be ready to send their army into Serbia for another two weeks.)
Those present at the Crown Council were unanimous in their opinion that it was politically and morally impossible for Serbia to be crushed, but they disagreed on the steps to be taken. The generals wanted the Czar to sign a general mobilisation order, but M. Sazanov did not want a European war if he could avoid it, and insisted that every effort should be made first to make Austria capitulate by diplomacy; he therefore managed to persuade the Czar to sign an order for “partial” mobilisation only, which meant calling up the army corps in the southern districts, and even this was only to go into operation if Austrian troops crossed the frontier. The generals were horrified at this decision for the army blue-print did not allow a partial mobilisation; the plans had been drawn up for a general mobilisation or nothing, and if they were altered the result might be widespread confusion. Nevertheless M. Sazanov got his way, but in order to placate the generals the Czar also agreed that the “Period Preparatory to War” should secretly be put into immediate operation. This meant cancelling all leave, manning the frontier posts, breaking up the summer camps, “shoeing the horses and locking up the spies.”
There is little doubt that when the Kaiser arrived back in Potsdam at noon on July 27th he was still angry with his Chancellor. However, there is no truth in Bülow’s story that Bethmann-Hollweg met him at the station and offered to resign; and that the Emperor replied: “You have cooked this broth; now you can stay and eat it.” Until now the Kaiser had not been critical of the way his Chancellor had handled the situation, but he was irritated by his patronising manner; by his insistence that so many important officials should remain away from the capital; by his ignorance of military matters; and most of all by his reluctance to consult his sovereign. Furthermore, the Kaiser had an uneasy feeling that Bethmann-Hollweg lacked the quickness and th
e skill to grasp the full implications of what he was doing or to adapt himself to new developments as they arose.
Bethmann, on the other hand, was alarmed by the Kaiser’s sudden appearance. He let the British Embassy know, through Jagow, that the Emperor’s return was regretted for fear it might “cause speculation and excitement,” but that it had been taken on “His Majesty’s own initiative.” What he really feared was that the Kaiser might inflame the situation by some reckless move.
Consequently, when Bethmann attended a meeting at Potsdam in the afternoon of the 27th, at which the Kaiser, General von Moltke, and Herr Jagow were present, he took pains to give the Emperor a sanguine picture. The Serbian reply was said “to agree to almost all the Austrian demands;” and although Austria had rejected it because it did not acquiesce in “unconditional acceptance,” Russia was about to enter into direct talks with Vienna in the hope of reaching a compromise on the one or two remaining points of issue. Meanwhile Britain, France, and Italy were all showing a strong desire for peace. And as Austria had stated categorically to Russia, only yesterday, that she had no territorial designs on Serbia, he was sure that the policy of “localisation” was succeeding.
Bethmann also showed the Kaiser a telegram from London in which Sir Edward Grey once again suggested a meeting of ambassadors, representing Britain, Germany, Italy, and France, to be held in London. Lichnowsky’s telegram was couched in strong words. The only possibility of avoiding a general war lay “in the acceptance of Sir Edward Grey’s proposal to hold a conference a quatre here;” and “the localisation of the conflict as hoped for in Berlin was wholly impossible and must be dropped from the calculations of practical politics.” Lichnowsky ended on a personal note. “I would like to offer an urgent warning against believing any further in the possibility of localisation, and to express the humble wish that our policy be guided solely and alone by the need of sparing the German nation a struggle which it has nothing to gain from and everything to lose.”[369]
The Kaiser Page 37