The Kaiser

by Virginia Cowles

  The Czar sat silently staring into space, and could not bring himself to speak the decisive word. After an hour General Tatishchev said: “Yes, it is hard to decide.” In a burst of irritability the Czar said: “I will decide,” and immediately gave the order for general mobilisation. Sazanov hurried to the telephone, notified General Ianuschkevich and said: “Now you can smash the telephone. Give your orders, General, and then — disappear for the rest of the day.”[395]

  If England had retained control of the crisis, the world war might have been avoided. The truth was, however, that Sir Edward Grey misjudged the situation in Berlin, just as Berlin had misjudged the mood in London. “My reading of the situation at the time,” he wrote in his memoirs, “was that Austria had gone recklessly ahead against Serbia, believing that the history of the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina would be repeated… When Austria found that the parallel of 1909 was not to be repeated and that things were serious, she began to try and get out of it. Germany then precipitated war and told Austria that, as an Ally, she could not get out of it… it seemed impossible to come to any other conclusion. That was, then, to me, the true account of how war was brought about.”[396]

  Notwithstanding his suspicions, if Sir Edward Grey had been a more decisive personality and had refused to abandon the driver’s seat he might have secured a peaceable solution. Both sides recognised England as the key country. If Grey had warned Russia not to mobilise until every hope of mediation was exhausted, and Austrian troops actually began to cross the Serbian frontier, the war would have been postponed until August 12th as that was the earliest date by which Austrian mobilisation could be completed. Germany had moved from localisation to mediation in four days; would she have moved from suggesting mediation to commanding it in another four days? The answer is hidden from us. Certainly on July 30th, when Russia was about to explode in flames, there was little sign of it. That afternoon, when the Kaiser read the message from the Czar which ended: “We need your strong pressure on Austria to come to an understanding with us,” he scribbled: “No, there is no thought of anything of that sort!!!”

  One thing, however, is certain: that unless Germany had dropped persuasion for compulsion and made it clear to Austria that the terms of the alliance would not operate unless she agreed to mediation, Vienna would not have given in. Berlin’s urgent entreaties fell on completely deaf ears. When the German Ambassador presented Bethmann-Hollweg’s strongly worded plea to Count Berchtold at lunch-time on the 30th he wired Berlin that “the Minister, who listened pale and silent, while it was read twice… said at the conclusion that he would report to the Emperor at once about it.” However, the official documents show that the impression he gave was deceptive; when he had his audience with Francis Joseph immediately after luncheon (at almost the same moment that Sazanov was pleading with the Czar for general mobilisation) he expressed himself in complete accord with Field-Marshal Conrad von Hotzendorf the Austrian Chief of Staff. Together they secured the Emperor’s agreement on two points: (a) that the war would be carried out against Serbia, and (b) that general mobilisation would be declared on August 1st. Berchtold’s conciliatory talk with the German Ambassador in the morning, which gave the Kaiser the impression that Austria would agree to the “Hostage Plan” and abandon the idea of dismembering Serbia, was merely a ruse to keep Germany quiet until it was too late for interference.

  Why was Austria so recalcitrant? After years of being referred to as a weakling Austria was thrilled by her own spirit. When she broke off relations with Serbia Vienna burst into a frenzy of joy, and huge crowds roamed the streets all night singing patriotic songs. Even the old Emperor, so timid at first, was now so buoyed up by the warm response of his people that he was not even deterred by a personal telegram from the Kaiser asking him earnestly to reconsider his decision. Indeed, the tables had been turned so completely that now the Austrians were beginning to jeer at the Germans for having cold feet. “While the Emperor, Francis Joseph, at this hardest moment in his life, was taking with deep solemnity and calm resolution the step whose heavy consequences were as clear to him as its inevitability, it seemed as if the Emperor William was thinking of retreat…” wrote Field-Marshal Conrad von Hotzendorf. The General therefore decided to put general mobilisation a day ahead in order to forestall any weakening.

  Meanwhile, in Berlin, General Moltke, the Chief of the General Staff, was having a fierce argument with Bethmann-Hollweg. Moltke was a nephew of the great commander who had won fame in the Franco-Prussian war, but he had little in common with his uncle except for his name. He was a nervous, diffident man; when the Kaiser offered him the post of Chief of Staff in 1906, upon Count Schlieffen’s retirement, he had shrunk from the responsibility, and begged Prince Bülow to dissuade the Emperor from pressing the appointment on him. “I lack the power of rapid decision; I am too reflective…” But the Kaiser would not listen and for eight years Moltke had fulfilled his tasks with conscientiousness. He was adequate enough in ordinary times but when a crisis blew up he was tortured by uncertainty. Now he was convinced that war was coming, and was in an agony of fear lest the German Army should be caught at a fatal disadvantage. For the past thirty-six hours he had been urging the Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg to declare a state of “Threatening Danger of War,” but they refused on the grounds that it might jeopardise negotiations. On the night of the 30th, the same night that Russia ordered general mobilisation, Moltke panicked and took matters into his own hands. He feared that Austria’s delay in mobilising against Russia would leave Germany to bear the brunt of the Russian attack, so he wired Vienna: “Stand firm to Russian mobilisation. Austria-Hungary must be preserved. Mobilise at once against Russia. Germany will mobilise.”[397] At the same time the Austrian military attache telegraphed Field-Marshal Conrad von Hotzendorf: “Moltke said that he regards the situation as critical if the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy does not mobilise immediately against Russia… Decline the renewed advances made by England for the maintenance of peace. The standing firm in a European war is the last chance of saving Austria-Hungary. Germany will go with her unconditionally.”[398]

  Count Berchtold was holding a meeting of ministers when Conrad von Hotzendorf entered the room with these telegrams. When the Count read them he exclaimed in surprise: “Who rules in Berlin? Bethmann or Moltke? He then turned to his colleagues and said: “I called you together because I had the impression that Germany was drawing back; now I have the most satisfactory assurances from the highest military authority.”

  Who ruled in Berlin? Moltke or Bethmann or the Kaiser? The truth was that no one ruled in Berlin.

  At seven that evening, while Berchtold was holding his council, the Kaiser received an alarming dispatch from Count Pourtales in St. Petersburg. It did not mention the order for general mobilisation — for news of that decision did not reach the outside world until the next day — but referred to the partial mobilisation of which the Czar had already informed the Kaiser by telegram. Sasanov had told the German Ambassador that Russia’s military measures could not possibly be retracted and “he was not to be diverted from the idea that Russia could not leave Serbia in the lurch.”

  The interview with Sazanov had such a menacing tone that all William’s optimism melted away. Now he was fully aware that the drama was reaching its terrible climax; but it was not Russia that drew forth his wrath, nor Austria, nor France. All his bitterness was directed at Britain. Britain was the key to the situation; she could have restrained Russia if she had wished; she had deliberately trapped and betrayed him. In a flood of fury and self-pity he poured out his heart. “England, Russia and France have agreed among themselves… after laying the foundations of the casus foederis for us through Austria… to take the Austro-Serbian conflict for an excuse for waging a war of extermination against us. That is the real naked situation slowly and cleverly set going by Edward VII and… finally brought to a conclusion by George V. So the famous encirclement of Germany has finally become a fact, despite every effort of o
ur politicians and diplomats to prevent it. The net has been suddenly thrown over our head, and England sneeringly reaps the most brilliant success of her persistently prosecuted purely anti-German world policy against which we have proved ourselves helpless, while she twists the noose of our political and economic destruction out of our fidelity to Austria, as we squirm isolated in the net. A great achievement, which arouses the admiration even of him who is to be destroyed as its result! Edward VII is stronger after his death than I who am still alive! And there have been people who believed that England could be won over or pacified, by this or that puny measure!!!… Our consuls in Turkey and India, agents etc. must fire the whole Mohammedan world to fierce rebellion against this hated, lying, conscienceless nation of shopkeepers; for if we are to be bled to death, England shall at least lose India. W.”[399]

  The certain news of Russia’s general mobilisation did not reach Berlin until noon on July 31st. Although General Moltke was now frantic, Germany still did not order general mobilisation, but instituted a “Threatening Danger of War” period, while Bethmann-Hollweg telegraphed Count Pourtales in St. Petersburg to inform Russia that unless she halted her mobilisation Germany would take retaliatory measures. This message was transmitted to M. Sazanov at midnight. He did not reply to it, and at 5 p.m. on August 1st the Kaiser ordered general mobilisation. An hour later Count Pourtales called on M. Sazanov to hand him a declaration of war. Three times the German Ambassador asked the Russian Foreign Minister if he could not give him a favourable answer to his request of the night before, and three times Sazanov answered in the negative. “In that case, Sir,” said Pourtales, drawing a document from his pocket, “I am instructed to hand you this note.” The Ambassador then walked to the window and wept, saying: “I never could have believed that I could quit St. Petersburg under such conditions.” He embraced M. Sazanov and departed.

  In the late afternoon of August 1st Germany and Russia were at war and France was mobilising. But the drama only now was approaching its climax, for the eyes of Europe were on England, the country that would tip the balance one way or the other. Was William II right in his fears, or would England remain uncommitted as Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg still hoped? At 5 p.m. a sensational telegram arrived in Berlin from Prince Lichnowsky. The Ambassador reported that Sir Edward Grey had called him on the telephone and asked whether “if France agreed to remain neutral in a Russo-German war, we would not attack the French. I assured him that I could take the responsibility for such a guarantee and he is to use this assurance at today’s Cabinet session.”[400]

  Amazed and overjoyed, like man reprieved from a death sentence, the Kaiser called General Moltke, explained the situation, and commanded him to issue new orders; the advance would take place not in the west, but in the east. The highly-strung Moltke was as appalled as the Russians had been at the idea of partial mobilisation; the army was a vast and intricate machine that could not be tampered with. “That is impossible, Your Majesty,” he protested. “An army of a million cannot be improvised. It would be nothing but a rabble of undisciplined armed men, without a commissariat.” “Your uncle,” replied the Kaiser angrily, “would have given me a different answer.” But the present Moltke clung stubbornly to his view. “It is utterly impossible to advance except according to plan; strong in the west, weak in the east.”[401] So William telegraphed to King George V: “On technical grounds my mobilisation which has already been proclaimed this afternoon must proceed against two fronts east and west as prepared. This cannot be countermanded because I am sorry your telegram came too late… I hope that France will not become nervous.”

  Despite General Moltke, the Kaiser gave orders to his aide-de-camp: “The 16th Division at Trier will not be transferred to Luxemburg.” The General wrote that when he heard this news he felt as though his heart would break. “Here was yet another risk of complications in advance. When I got home, I was like a broken man, and shed tears of despair… I sat in my room, doing nothing, utterly dejected, until at eleven o’clock I was again summoned to His Majesty.”

  Meanwhile, at the New Palace in Potsdam, the Kaiser and his Chancellor were in transports of delight. England had drawn back at the last moment; Austria could settle her affair with Serbia; Germany had a free hand to deal with France and Russia. Miraculously all had been saved! Then the blow fell. A telegram arrived from King George saying that Prince Lichnowsky must have misunderstood Sir Edward Grey who apparently had been merely speculating as to what Britain’s position would be if the German and French armies faced each other without fighting.[402] The Kaiser sent for Moltke and said grimly: “Now you can do what you like.” But the General was so shocked by the Kaiser’s earlier demand that he found it difficult to compose himself. “I have not been able to get over this experience,” he wrote in his diary. “It was as though something in me had been irretrievably shaken. My confidence and self-reliance were destroyed.”

  Earlier in the day the British Government had sent notes to Paris and Berlin asking whether the respective countries would observe Belgian neutrality. France gave an unconditional assent, and, as England expected, Germany was evasive. The military leaders of all countries believed that Germany would attack France through Belgium.[403] Long ago the German General Staff had accepted Count Schlieffen’s thesis, that in a war on two fronts Germany must strike at France with lightning speed and knock her out of the war in the first few weeks, so that the German Army could turn back to stem the huge man-power of Russia. Everything depended, so the generals argued, on the rapidity with which Germany could strike; therefore the passage to France could not be through the heavily fortified zones of the Franco-German frontier but through Belgium where the French border was almost undefended.

  When Sir Edward Grey received Germany’s unsatisfactory answer, he summoned Prince Lichnowsky and read him a unanimous warning from the British Cabinet that if Germany violated Belgian territory, “it would make it difficult for the Government here to adopt an attitude of friendly neutrality.” Lichnowsky then asked Sir Edward whether, if Germany gave a promise not to violate Belgian neutrality, Britain would remain neutral. “I replied,” wrote Grey, “that I could not say that: our hands were still free, and we were considering what our attitude should be.” The Ambassador then asked Grey if he could formulate any conditions on which Britain would remain neutral. “He even suggested,” wrote Grey, “that the integrity of France and her colonies might be guaranteed. I said that I felt obliged to refuse definitely any promises to remain neutral on similar terms, and I could only say that we must keep our hands free.”[404] “For the present,” Lichnowsky wired, Grey had assured him “there was not the slightest intention of proceeding to hostilities against us.” “He lies,” wrote the Kaiser. “He told Lichnowsky so himself four days ago.”

  It was clear to William II that the invasion of Belgium would be the casus belli. “It is on this that England’s going in against us will depend,” he wrote on a message from Brussels. Yet he knew that it would not be the true cause; even if he observed Belgian neutrality he was certain that Britain would only find another issue on which to enter the conflict. Indeed, she was already partly committed, for on August 2nd Britain announced that she would defend the French coast against any attacks by the German Navy. That same day, an ultimatum, which had been sent to Brussels in a sealed envelope four days earlier, was delivered to Belgium by the German Ambassador. It demanded a free passage for the German Army, promising that Germany would pay indemnities, repair all damage at the end of the war, and guarantee Belgium’s sovereignty and independence. Belgium rejected the ultimatum on August 3rd and appealed to England for diplomatic intervention.

  That same day Germany declared war on France, and Sir Edward Grey made a stirring speech in the House of Commons, stressing Belgium’s gallant stand, pointing out the dangers of allowing the channel ports to fall into German hands, emphasising Britain’s close association with France, and intimating that honour would not allow England to stand aside and
see her friends destroyed. He received an ovation which gave him the authority to take the final steps. The next day, August 4th, German troops crossed the Belgian frontier, and that evening at 7 p.m. Sir Edward Goschen called on Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg and told him that unless Germany withdrew its ultimatum and stopped its troops from violating Belgium territory, peaceable relations between Germany and Britain would end at midnight.

  That same evening excited crowds gathered outside the Kaiser’s Berlin palace. William II came on to the balcony looking white and strained. “I know no parties any more. Only Germans.” Then he told them to go home and pray.

  Chapter 16. Supreme War Lord

  Never, wrote Admiral Tirpitz, had people seen the Kaiser “so tragic and disturbed” as during the first weeks of the war. Prince Bülow was moved by “his pallor, his haggard, almost un-nerved look… he might have been quite ten years older.” William II nursed a premonition of disaster in his heart; every comment, every marginal annotation, every emotional outpouring during the last three days in July reveal his uncertainty and despair, yet he did not have the courage to retreat. When, in the opening days of August, Italy and Romania found ways to excuse themselves from honouring their treaty obligations, and declared neutrality, he wrote bitterly: “Our allies are already before the war falling away from us like rotten apples! A total collapse of both German and Austrian foreign diplomacy. This should and could have been avoided. W.”[405]