by Simon Heffer
The main concern for the Austrians was how the Russians would react to such an ultimatum. De Bunsen had asked the Austrian official who had told him of this development whether he imagined the Russians would stand idly by in such a circumstance, and was prepared to take a gamble on what he disclosed. ‘My informant said that he presumed that Russia would not wish to protect racial assassins, but in any case Austria–Hungary would go ahead regardless of results,’ he added. Austria firmly believed Russia would lose its position as a great power ‘if she stood any further nonsense from Servia.’ The Viennese press too believed Russia could not condone what it believed was regicide. Austria also feared that without strong measures it would lose its status as a great power. It was thanks partly to such presumptions and assumptions that war broke out: and it was confident it could get what it wanted from Serbia not least because, as de Bunsen had hinted, it held Germany’s blank cheque.
Crackanthorpe told Grey the next afternoon that Belgrade was adopting a ‘prudent and conciliatory’ attitude towards Austria.32 However, there were limits: censorship of the press, suppression of nationalist societies and the appointment of a commission of inquiry – all demands Austria was thought likely to make – ‘could not be acceded to, since it would imply foreign intervention in domestic affairs and legislation.’ Given all he now knew, Grey should have seen the warning signs and started to be more proactive: but he seemed trapped in inertia. Part of the problem was that he was a remote figure. He had, since the death of his wife in 1906, when he was just forty-two, been solitary; they had no children, and his friends lamented his failure to meet an ideal second wife. Moreover, Grey had always been secretive about aspects of foreign policy, not least about the way in which he had sought to maintain good relations with Germany without upsetting Britain’s French entente partners; but now his cards were being played far too close to his chest. Like his chief, Asquith, in another context Grey had preferred to ‘wait and see’: it was an inertia that meant when he finally attempted to act as a mediator, it was too late, and British power could be used only as a player and not as an umpire. It is not clear that Grey had anyone outside his officials or his colleagues with whom he could discuss and debate what was happening. Had there been such a person, it is just possible he might have taken a more interventionist attitude, and caught the boat train to Berlin or Vienna for face-to-face meetings with his counterparts. Sadly, he would not be the last British political leader to fail to see the depth of a problem until too late, because of a reluctance to share details of it with his colleagues elsewhere in government, or a failure to ask the right questions. It would take sight of the ultimatum Austria would soon send Serbia to wake Grey up to the full potential for disaster that the assassinations had unleashed.
It did not require hindsight to be aware of the potential dangers, long before the ultimatum. Some with well-attuned political antennae began to realise the growing possibility of war. For example, James Keir Hardie, the British Labour leader, attending the annual congress of French socialists in Paris, was a proposer (with his French counterpart, Edouard Vaillant) of a motion to call a general strike among the working classes of any country involved in a war. The international socialist view was always against war, but delegates from parts of continental Europe brought with them to Paris a heightened awareness of the combustibility of the Austro-Serbian quarrel. The motion was carried, as a warning to governments of the possible consequences of fighting: though when the time came the working classes of all countries overwhelmingly supported the call to arms.
London watched anxiously as the Vienna bourse plunged. On 16 July The Times warned its readers that feelings in Vienna and Belgrade – where rumours had swirled, causing panic, about a plot by nationalists to blow up the Austro-Hungarian legation – were being inflamed by the ‘reckless and provocative’ language of the press ‘in a campaign that may ultimately lead to disastrous results.’ The paper urged Serbia to launch a full inquiry into the operations of nationalists and to report to the powers without delay, to help improve its standing in European opinion. It assumed Franz Josef and his ‘sagacious’ advisers perceived the peril to European peace if Austria were to respond with force: an assumption that soon would be tested to destruction.33 The leader went down well in Berlin, however, being interpreted as an English warning to Serbia.
British preoccupations remained elsewhere, notably in Ireland, as the tension there grew. The public also enjoyed side dishes such as reports from the Royal Commission on Venereal Diseases, which caused great interest when taking evidence from the headmasters of Eton and Harrow: ‘Hard exercise, hard work, wholesome society, and moderation in diet and drinking were of great use as safeguards against indulgence,’ they agreed.34 The great event of the summer in England was the review of the Fleet off Spithead. By 17 July most of it was in place, with the First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, moored off Portsmouth in the Admiralty yacht Enchantress, busy entertaining senior officers to bibulous dinners. During those evenings the Fleet became ‘a floating city of light’.35 The King was arriving at the weekend to inspect his ships. One novelty would be seaplanes: Churchill had been zealous in establishing and building up the Navy’s air capacity, with the Royal Naval Air Service instituted barely a month earlier. The sun shone and sightseers thronged the shore at Ryde and Portsmouth to watch the line of ships stretch across the Solent from Hampshire to the Isle of Wight. When, the following Monday, the procession passed the Royal Yacht it would be followed by a formation of seaplanes at 500 feet, alerted by a wireless signal. With the sea heavy with Dreadnoughts, the King and his people crowded on the coastline would witness the latest contributions modern technology could make to warfare. To almost everyone in Westminster and Whitehall – the exceptions were senior diplomats such as Sir Eyre Crowe, the assistant under-secretary, and Nicolson – there was no expectation that the Fleet would be needed in the foreseeable future. Crowe had been born in Leipzig, had a German mother and a German wife, spoke German as his first language but had also for years told Grey that Britain was too soft with the Germans. He would soon feel vindicated in his view.
II
In the third week of July the debate in Europe moved from whether there would be a conflict to whether it could be contained locally to Austria and Serbia or whether it would spread more widely. At lunchtime on 18 July Grey learned from Crackanthorpe that the Austrian minister to Belgrade was ‘not personally in favour of pressing Servia too hard, since he is convinced that Servian Government are ready to take whatever measures can reasonably be demanded of them. He does not view the situation in a pessimistic light.’36 This may have been merely soothing diplomatic reassurance – if so it was ill-founded – or it may have reflected a moment of caution by the Austrians, less sure than before that Russia would do nothing. Two hours later de Bunsen wrote that an article in the Westminster Gazette – which some in the Viennese press thought was an official organ of the British government – telling Serbia, effectively, that it would serve it right if the Austrians punished it severely, appeared to be Britain egging Austria on. This could not have been further from the truth, and de Bunsen told the Austrians so: it showed how febrile the atmosphere had become. In Vienna, The Times reported, it was believed – erroneously – that Serbia had called up 70,000 reservists ‘and considerable movements of troops were taking place’.37 Buchanan, that evening, reported from St Petersburg that the Russians felt ‘great uneasiness’ at Austria’s behaviour, and wanted to avoid war at all costs: but an Austrian ultimatum to Serbia could not be ignored. The next day Crackanthorpe, from Belgrade, told Grey the Serbian foreign minister had said that ‘Russia would not stand by and see Servia wantonly attacked’.38 It was also that day that Austria finally decided to issue an ultimatum, having smoothed internal differences with Hungary about the strategy.
Mutual suspicions grew. On 20 July Grey received a letter from Rumbold retailing a conversation with Paul Cambon, the French ambassador to London, whose younger bro
ther Jules was Paris’s man in Berlin. Cambon had told Rumbold that ‘matters as between France and Germany were by no means what they should be. The air would have to be cleared some time or other.’39 France and Germany believed each was spying on the other, echoing suspicions Germany and Russia had about each other. ‘The enormous masses of men at the command of Russia are a constant source of preoccupation,’ Rumbold wrote of his German hosts. ‘Speculation as to the events which might set those masses in motion against Germany seems to follow almost as a matter of course.’40 In Vienna, The Times reported that morning, the Reichspost newspaper had asked: ‘Do our statesmen not yet realise what the position is, and what they have to do?’41 The Berlin press, The Times also reported, vociferously backed Vienna’s demand for Serbia to clarify its position with Austria, and quoted one paper as expressing the hope that the discussion could remain ‘localised’. It also reported the ‘severe tension’ and ‘nervousness’ because of the ‘uncertainty’ about Russia’s attitude. Meanwhile Grey apologised to Buchanan for not having had the chance to consult colleagues about a proposal by the Russian foreign minister to improve Anglo-Russian relations, promising to do so ‘as soon as the parliamentary and Irish situation gives them time.’42 He also urged Buchanan to use his influence to have Russia and Austria sit down and talk to each other if things became ‘difficult’.43
That same day Lichnowsky, falling out of step with attitudes in Berlin and starting to fear a catastrophe, had told Grey that while he lacked definite news he was sure Austria was about to act, ‘and he regarded the situation as very uncomfortable.’44 The Germans, and to a lesser extent Grey, still expected Russia to act as a ‘mediator’ with Serbia, rather than crashing into a conflict on Serbia’s side; that, too, was a fundamental miscalculation. Nevertheless, Grey was becoming extremely worried. He told Rumbold he ‘hated the idea of a war between any of the Great Powers, and that any of them should be dragged into a war by Servia would be detestable.’ Meanwhile a leading French newspaper, Le Matin, published full details of Russia’s military strength, its mobilisation procedures, and the depth of its resources: the idea of a localised war in Europe was now being taken for granted, even though at the highest levels the belief remained firm that Austria would not make an unreasonable demand on Serbia. The Foreign Office either did not know of the enthusiastic advocacy that the Russian military leadership had for months been making for their ‘war of extermination’ with Germany, or chose not to take it seriously.
The Times reported on 21 July on an inside page – then there were only advertisements on the front – but given more prominence than usual for such a story, that the press campaign against Serbia in Vienna was ‘increasing in intensity’, the Vienna bourse had dived again, taking the Berlin stock market with it, and the belief was growing that the Austrians were going to use the crisis to ‘settle’ the Serbian question once and for all. ‘In diplomatic circles,’ the paper continued, ‘the approaching crisis is considered grave. There is believed to be no ground for the assumption that Russia will withdraw support from Servia in case the Austro-Hungarian demands should be in any way derogatory to Servian independence or national dignity.’45 This well-briefed story showed, twenty-three days after the assassination, how the crisis had entered a new order of magnitude.
Grey had further confirmation of this from, of all places, Rome, late on 22 July. The Italian foreign minister had told Sir Rennell Rodd, the British ambassador, that the Austrian communication to be made to Serbia ‘had been drafted in terms which must inevitably be unacceptable. He is convinced that a party in Austria are determined to take this opportunity of crushing Servia.’46 Earlier that day Grey had asked Benckendorff to strive to ensure Russia opened communications with Austria; but the Russian ambassador had told him this was a ‘difficulty’ because ‘at present there was nothing to go upon.’47 Grey tried to persuade him that Russia could stop the escalation of trouble.
Grey also learned from his Times that morning that Count Berchtold, the Austrian foreign minister, had gone to Ischl, where Franz Josef was resting, for an audience during which (the Viennese press believed) a decision would be taken about Serbia. Where The Times was misinformed, however, was in its assurance that the note Austria would send ‘is in no way in the nature of an ultimatum.’48 The Vienna bourse continued to plunge, and the press remained fervent for punitive action against Serbia, leaving the government little room for manoeuvre. The Times’s Berlin correspondent reported that although Germany was desperate to preserve its neutrality, it was bound to support Austria against attack from a third party, and that all eyes there were on Russia, where ‘resentment’ of Austria’s attitude to Serbia was being voiced in the newspapers.49
All the components of potential disaster were now present. The Times, in a leading article, issued an alarm to the governing class to forget Ireland for a moment – the Speaker’s Conference designed to solve the problem of Ulster’s rejecting Home Rule was in session – and examine ‘a situation in European politics too serious to be ignored’.50 It urged the King of Serbia to see that justice was done to the assassins, whose punishment ‘is imperiously required by the first interests of society and by the conscience of mankind.’ But it told Austria to prove the conspiracy before punishing it: ‘To obtain the moral support or the acquiescence of others she must make it clear that she is not seeking to gain political advantages under the cloak of legitimate self-defence.’ It urged moderation, and not submission to the views shouted by the Viennese and Budapest press; and advocated that sedition be treated not with ‘severity’ but with ‘a judicious mixture of kindness and firmness.’ However, the paper viewed the war that might otherwise break out as one that could engulf the Balkans: there was still no sense, given German protestations of peace, that it could spread westwards too.
The next day, 23 July, Buchanan telegraphed from St Petersburg that the Russian Foreign Ministry had instructed its ambassador at Vienna ‘to concert with his French and German colleagues with a view to giving friendly counsels of moderation.’51 The French had briefed their ambassador similarly. However, later that morning Mensdorff gave Grey notice of the Austrian demand, promising him a copy the next morning. What most disturbed Grey, as he told de Bunsen, was that the demand was an ultimatum, with a time limit. ‘I said that I regretted this very much,’ Grey noted.52 He feared it would inflame Russian opinion and reduce the chance of a satisfactory reply from Serbia. Mensdorff blamed the Serbs for not having conducted a thorough inquiry into anarchist activity on its own territory. Grey noted: ‘I could not help dwelling upon the awful consequences involved in the situation.’
He tried to articulate his fears, but in doing so still saw no possibility of British involvement. ‘If as many as four Great Powers of Europe – let us say Austria, France, Russia and Germany – were engaged in war, it seemed to me that it must involve the expenditure of so vast a sum of money, and such interference with trade, that a war would be accompanied or followed by a complete collapse of European credit and industry.’ Presciently, he added: ‘This would mean a state of things worse than that of 1848’ – the year of revolutions against the old order in Europe – ‘and, irrespective of who were victors in the war, many things might be completely swept away.’ Mensdorff said it would all depend on Russia: to a great extent, he was right.
The nature and tone of the Austrian memorandum, when it finally came, confirmed Grey’s worst suspicions.
The note, in French, had ten points. The first was an order to suppress publication of material designed to excite hatred or contempt for the monarchy and territorial integrity of Austria–Hungary. The second called for the immediate dissolution of Narodna Odbrana, a militant nationalist group, and to confiscate their propaganda materials and those of similar groups. The third was to eliminate any other groups propagandising against Austria–Hungary. The fourth was to dismiss all military and state officials guilty of agitating against Austria–Hungary, and to inform Vienna of their names. The fifth was t
o agree to allow Austro-Hungarian agents to ‘collaborate’ with tackling subversion in Serbia.
The sixth was to hold a judicial inquiry into the activities of those behind the 28 June plot. The seventh was to arrest a specific senior officer in the Serbian army. The eighth was to take measures to prevent Serbian officials assisting in the illicit supply of arms and explosives to nationalists, and specifically to punish border officials who had allowed into Bosnia the explosives used in Sarajevo. The ninth demanded an official explanation of why Serbian officials had been allowed to express views hostile to Austria–Hungary. The tenth and final demand was that Vienna should be told immediately when the other nine points had been acted upon.53 As the diplomatic traffic of succeeding days frequently said, acceptance of these points would effectively reduce Serbia to a vassal state. Crackanthorpe noted, in a telegram sent to London at 10.30 p.m. on 23 July, but not read until eight o’clock the next morning, that the demands delivered to the Serbian government were ‘exceedingly harsh’.54
Serbia was given forty-eight hours to comply. Austrian officials warned de Bunsen that the note was ‘stiff’, but argued that nothing else would suffice.55 The Under-Secretary of State in the Austrian Foreign Ministry told him that the ‘complicity of Servian officials in crime was fully proved and that no government could remain in power here for a week that failed to call Servia seriously to account.’ The French and Russian ambassadors had pleaded with Austria to tone the note down: they failed. Once Grey saw the note, at the same time it was rehearsed in detail in the London press, he registered an official protest about the forty-eight-hour time limit: and reflected later that ‘the note seemed to me the most formidable document I have ever seen addressed by one State to another that was independent.’56 Churchill called it ‘the most insolent document of its kind ever devised’.57 Grey told Mensdorff that the merits of the case were not Britain’s concern: he was worried ‘solely from the point of view of the peace of Europe,’ which he now understood was on a knife-edge.58 He went to a cabinet meeting at 3.15 where he outlined the European situation, which Asquith noted in his diary ‘is about as bad as it can possibly be.’59 The cabinet was told that if Russia decided to defend Serbia ‘it is difficult both for Germany and France to refrain from lending a hand,’ as Asquith noted. ‘We are within measurable distance of a real Armageddon.’