by Simon Heffer
Disturbing news continued to flow in from the embassies around Europe. The German embassy in London repudiated the Tsar’s claim that the mobilisation of Russian troops had no aggressive intent. The Germans saw it as ‘a threat to our very existence’ and ‘a provocation … so strong that no German nor any foreigner would understand it if we failed to answer with strong measures.’214 That afternoon Grey heard from Bertie that Poincaré had said a French mobilisation was ‘necessary for self defence’, but troops were being ordered not to go within 10 kilometres of the German frontier, to avoid accusations of provocation.215 Then Grey heard from St Petersburg that the Austrians and Russians were willing to talk. He now placed his hopes on such talks buying some time, notifying all six main powers that London would host them.
V
On the morning of 1 August the cabinet, having met almost daily for the preceding week, discussed the crisis for two and a half hours – ‘it is no exaggeration to say that Winston occupied at least half of the time,’ Asquith told Miss Stanley.216 It did so against the background of the rise in bank rate to 10 per cent, as the Bank of England reserves fell almost £6 million in the day to £11 million. Cunliffe obtained Lloyd George’s permission to suspend the Bank Charter Act, which restricted the supply of new banknotes: but these were not measures Cunliffe wished to take unless necessary. It was the highest interest rate since 1866, when the bank of Overend, Gurney & Co. failed, but neglected to draw in gold deposits from abroad, deepening the crisis.
The cabinet discussion was mainly about Belgium, and Asquith thought the meeting ended in an ‘amicable’ atmosphere, though told Miss Stanley he felt a split was inevitable. That morning H. A. Gwynne, editor of the Morning Post, wrote to Sir William Tyrrell, Grey’s private secretary, to assert that ‘80% are behind him’, giving Grey ‘enormous personal power’ with which he should ‘force his views on the Cabinet and the country.’217 Grey was not yet ready to do that. The meeting was interrupted regularly by the arrival of dispatches, and after it Lloyd George convened a separate meeting at the Treasury with ministerial colleagues, senior bankers and financiers. The next day it was announced that the payment of certain bills of exchange had been suspended, and those with bank accounts were advised to pay bills by cheque to avoid shortages in the supply of ready money. It was decided that the banks, closed for the August bank holiday on Monday, would remain shut until Friday. The Times branded those hoarding gold against a serious crisis ‘wicked’.218
The cabinet had decided it could not yet propose to send an expeditionary force to the Continent. Grey explained this to Cambon. Germany had agreed not to attack France if France remained neutral; and if it could not, ‘it was because she was bound by an alliance to which we were not parties, and of which we did not know the terms. This did not mean that under no circumstances would we assist France, but it did mean that France must take her own decision at this moment without reckoning on an assistance that we were not now in a position to promise.’219 Cambon could not bring himself to convey this message to his government. He had seen Nicolson and reminded him of the post-entente understanding that the French navy would lie in the Mediterranean, with the country’s northern and western shores safeguarded by the Royal Navy. He now told Grey that ‘the French coasts were undefended’ and that ‘the German fleet might come through the Straits any day and attack them.’
Grey, seeing Cambon’s distress, told him such a move ‘might alter public feeling here, and so might a violation of the neutrality of Belgium.’ He told the ambassador to report that the cabinet was considering the Belgian problem, and he would ensure it discussed the naval contingency. Grey immediately consulted Asquith, stressing the urgency of the undertaking’s being confirmed, or otherwise, within twenty-four hours. Cambon had argued that although Britain was under no treaty obligation to fight for France, long-term interests might force it to do so. By refusing to support France the entente would ‘disappear’, and, whoever won the war, Britain’s position after it would be ‘very uncomfortable’.220
Bertie wired that orders for the general mobilisation of the French army had been issued that afternoon at 3.40 p.m., because of a call-up of German reservists. The French had counted eight German army corps on the frontier with France, and expected an attack ‘at any moment’.221 Grey warned Lichnowsky that Germany’s cavalier view of Belgian integrity would affect public opinion; prompting the ambassador to ask whether Britain would remain neutral if Germany promised not to violate Belgian neutrality. Grey refused to say that, but emphasised the terrible effect an invasion of Belgium would have on British feeling. Pressed on what conditions would allow Britain to promise neutrality, Grey could not say: the cabinet was too unpredictable.
That evening, Buchanan wired that the Germans had declared war on Russia, having had no reply to their ultimatum; and de Bunsen wired from Vienna that talks, and avoiding a wider European war, seemed unlikely. The cabinet met for a second time that day, at 6.30 p.m., after this news, and some who had been threatening resignation – notably Lloyd George, who was either activated by principle or saw a huge political opportunity for himself by going in the same direction as the wind was blowing – had reconsidered. Afterwards, Asquith called a meeting of the Army Council: and although at its first meeting the cabinet had refused Churchill permission to complete mobilisation of the Fleet, Asquith now gave the order. At 1.25 a.m. on 2 August Churchill also ordered the Naval Reserve to be mobilised.
At around that time Nicolson saw a telegram from Cambon saying German troops had violated France’s border near Longwy, a claim later cast into doubt. He advised Grey that Germany had made herself the aggressor ‘and in these circumstances there should be no hesitation as to our attitude.’222 He counselled immediate mobilisation to ensure the British Expeditionary Force could be on its way quickly. ‘Should we waver now we shall rue the day later,’ he added. The French pressed Britain to signal its intentions; and later that morning Villiers reported that the Belgians had heard of German soldiers entering Luxembourg. The Luxembourgeois prime minister, Paul Eyschen, telegraphed Grey to remind him of the great powers’ collective obligation under the Treaty of London of 1867, which had guaranteed Luxembourg’s independence.
That weekend Law was in a house party on the Thames at Wargrave with other leading Unionists, including Carson, F. E. Smith and Sir Max Aitken, the Canadian adventurer and Unionist MP who was Law’s closest confidant. The idea had been to discuss the Unionists’ next steps on Ireland; but little was dealt with apart from the international crisis. Smith, a close friend of Churchill, relayed the news that the Liberals were split, causing Churchill to wonder about the possibilities of a coalition to prosecute a war if necessary. Smith believed Churchill spoke with Grey’s support and the tacit agreement of Asquith, which was not the case. Law, wisely, distrusted Churchill and would treat only with Asquith. All Smith could do was send a message of general Unionist support for the government if it chose to declare war. ‘All the Unionist leaders had been given to understand that everything was perfectly all right,’ Leo Amery, a Unionist MP, recorded in his diary: so they had left town, and Amery and his colleague George Lloyd started a round-up.223 Lloyd found Balfour, who was ‘flabbergasted’ at the news of how serious matters had become; Austen Chamberlain was at Westgate-on-Sea in Kent, and was wired to come back. Lord Lansdowne, Tory leader in the Lords, returned from Bowood, and in the early hours of 2 August convened a ‘council of war’ at his London house with Law and others, including General Henry Wilson, an intimate of Sir John French. Wilson would be a highly political soldier in the coming conflict.
Not everyone there was excited by the occasion: according to Blanche Lloyd, whose husband was one of the most passionate advocates of British entry into the war, ‘the Duke of Devonshire sat on a sofa and slept.’224 They agreed to support the government if war came. Churchill, whom Asquith described in his diary as ‘very bellicose and demanding immediate mobilisation’, had earlier visited Balfour to receive reassura
nces of Unionist support.225 Law then wrote to Asquith: ‘Lord Lansdowne and I feel it our duty to inform you that in our opinion … any hesitation in now supporting France and Russia would be fatal to the honour and future security of the United Kingdom, and we offer His Majesty’s Government the assurance of the united support of the Opposition in all measures required by England’s intervention in the war.’226 There was no mention of Belgium; it was France that mattered to the Unionists. Asquith received the letter at breakfast on 2 August, delivered by Lansdowne’s chauffeur, but for the moment kept it to himself. He sent Law a secret reply saying the cabinet would ensure the protection of the French coast against the German fleet. Belgium, however, was a more important consideration. Any breach of Germany’s treaty obligations in that regard would be taken very seriously. This may have been sophistry, given Asquith’s sympathy with Grey’s view about needing to support the French. Asquith did, however, make it clear that ‘it is a British interest that France should not be crushed as a great power’; but then the only point in invading Belgium would have been for Germany to do that.227 In 1918, when Leo Maxse, a highly partisan Tory journalist, wrote an article suggesting the letter (which he also claimed to have influenced) had been responsible for stopping the ‘wavering’ in the cabinet and forcing Asquith to take an ‘active line’, Asquith treated the suggestion with contempt. ‘It was said,’ he told his most trusted colleague Lord Crewe, who was Leader of the House of Lords and India secretary in 1914, ‘that Aspasia’s dog was the real author of the Peloponnesian War.’228
Britain was, by that Sunday morning, gripped by crisis: Northcliffe reflected it, both for ideological and commercial reasons, by publishing a special Sunday edition of The Times. It reported the German invasion of Luxembourg and fighting on the Russian frontier, and alleged that German troops had entered France. It chronicled events unfolding around the country, and the shifts in public feeling. Liners were returning to port in case the German navy captured them, derailing continental holidays after all. The Post Office telegraph service was being taken under government control. The King had decreed that Cowes Week be cancelled. There were fears about bringing in the harvest, and of continuing food imports (on which Britain relied), and reports of public figures warning against panic: a reliable way of whipping it up. The paper published maps of the theatre of war, and a detailed one of the area around Luxembourg. ‘They should be preserved for reference,’ it advised its readers.229 The Times used its special edition to prepare public opinion. ‘Above all, if war comes, must the people as a whole exercise calmness, patience, and self-restraint. In a great war we are bound to suffer many losses of men, of ships, and of material resources of all kinds. These losses must be borne without complaint and must be accepted without murmuring.’230 It directed those who could not fight to ‘sit still’ and to resist hoarding gold or food, or sowing panic: as would be said in another conflict, ‘keep calm and carry on.’ Opinion was moving steadily towards war, if only to salvage national honour by defending France and Belgium.
Other Sunday newspapers warned the government of the ‘shame’ (the Observer) and of a ‘Britain degraded’ (the Sunday Times) if Britain allowed France to be crushed: but letters from readers showed opinion was divided.231 The News of the World was equivocal; Reynold’s News very strongly against a war. Blanche Lloyd recorded of her husband that while he was walking through London that morning to see Austen Chamberlain, ‘on his way … to Carlton Gdns he saw a crowd of about 4000 cheering for France – and at every street corner people were reading newspapers and talking of nothing but war.’232
Asquith felt things were ‘pretty black’.233 His Sunday breakfast in Downing Street was shared by Lichnowsky. Asquith described him as ‘emotionné’; he had pleaded with the prime minister ‘not to side with France’.234 Asquith noted: ‘He said that Germany, with her army cut in two between France and Russia, was far more likely to be crushed than France. He was very agitated, poor man, and wept.’ Asquith emphasised that he did not want Britain to intervene, and it would not – provided Germany did not invade Belgium or send its fleet into the Channel, details he had failed to share with the ambassador before. Lichnowsky ‘was bitter about the policy of his Government in not restraining Austria and seemed quite heart-broken.’ Those responsible for the nation’s spiritual welfare now took the opportunity to seek to influence proceedings. The Archbishops of Canterbury and York issued a special prayer for peace, said in churches across England that morning. The Primate, Randall Davidson, took a private service in Buckingham Palace for the Royal Family, and preached in Westminster Abbey in the afternoon. ‘This thing which is now astir in Europe is not the work of God but of the Devil,’ he told his congregation.235 Davidson had hoped governments had, since Waterloo, moved on from war to solve their quarrels: but apparently not. The only answer, he felt, was prayer.
The first cabinet meeting that Sunday, from 11 a.m. until 2 p.m., at last gave the French the reassurance Cambon had sought, but the agreement was reached with ‘some difficulty’, according to Asquith.236 Grey admitted Britain was ‘not bound by the same obligation of honour to France as bound France to Russia,’ except (as he had told Cambon) if there was an action against France in the Channel or the North Sea.237 He had read to his colleagues Law’s letter, indicating Unionist support. Personally, he believed Britain had serious obligations to her neighbour – of honour, and because of France’s assistance to Britain in the Mediterranean. However, not all of his colleagues were convinced. Some such as Morley still believed any such violation could be met by a diplomatic initiative from Britain, not force of arms. Burns said any authorisation of action in the North Sea or the Channel was ‘neither more nor less than a challenge to Germany, tantamount to a declaration of war against her.’238
Burns, already provoked by the naval mobilisation, resigned immediately; but Asquith (who Morley felt ‘took the blow a trifle too coolly’) prevailed upon him to announce nothing until the cabinet met again at 6.30 that evening. Morley felt the moment for resignation had not yet arrived, and told Burns he thought he had made a mistake given that Germany would already be on Britain’s doorstep in the event of such an intervention. ‘I made just as much impression on John Burns as I had expected – that is, not the slightest.’239
Asquith and Grey were in complete agreement, which would be crucial to holding the tottering government and their party together. With the permission of the whole cabinet Grey told Lichnowsky that ‘it would be hard to restrain English feeling on any violation of Belgian neutrality by either combatant.’240 He then told Cambon: ‘I am authorised to give an assurance that if the German fleet comes into the Channel or through the North Sea to undertake hostile operations against French coasts or shipping the British fleet will give all the protection in its power.’241 He stressed this was not binding until the Germans attacked, but it represented a substantial shift in British policy. He also told Cambon that the cabinet was considering a statement to be made to Parliament the following day, 3 August, about Belgian neutrality, whose violation had far more direct consequences for Britain than did that of Luxembourg.
After the morning cabinet Lloyd George drove Morley to Beauchamp’s house for lunch. ‘Our talk was on the footing that we were all three for resignation’, Morley recalled.242 There were regrets that they had allowed Grey to reassure Cambon: Morley regretted not having pushed the point about having to commit an expeditionary force to what would be ‘a vast and long-continued European war’, a discussion he felt would have brought the government down. Morley was also concerned about the effect of a European war on resolving the Home Rule question, and in harming what Grey and Lichnowsky had painted as ‘the blessed improvement in the relations of England and Germany during the last three or four years.’243 For him, this was the pivot of the argument: but no one else seemed to see it that way. Samuel was also at Beauchamp’s lunch, and went to see Asquith afterwards. To show how detached the prime minister was from the Chancellor of the Exchequ
er, and how much the survival of the government depended on the chancellor’s not coming out against him, the main question Asquith asked was: ‘What is Lloyd George going to do?’244 Samuel, himself in two minds, felt unqualified to answer.
During the afternoon of 2 August the Foreign Office received a message from the Tsar to the King explaining the German declaration of war had come before he could agree to talks; he said he had found the declaration ‘quite unexpected’, as he had given ‘most categorical assurances’ to their cousin the Kaiser that no Russian troops would move while mediation negotiations continued. Buchanan urged support for Russia and touched the same nerve as the French: that whoever won a European war, Britain risked being friendless at the end and, if it refused to help Russia, with India being left vulnerable to attack by it.
With a state of war between Russia and Germany, with the Russians expecting to have war declared on them by Austria–Hungary, and with France on the verge, or so it seemed, of a German attack, Britain’s room for manoeuvre was highly circumscribed. Grey, Nicolson and Crowe, representing the Foreign Office view, felt British honour depended on support for France; all now realised that a violation of Belgium was likely, however, to be the trigger. The Unionist Party openly advocated war, but Asquith believed three-quarters of Liberal MPs remained to be convinced, or were outright pacifists. That afternoon, a substantial anti-war demonstration organised by the trades unions and addressed by, among others, Keir Hardie gathered in Trafalgar Square. It met a counter-demonstration, which marched to Buckingham Palace and cheered loudly when the King appeared on a balcony to acknowledge it. At the 6.30 p.m. cabinet Burns resolved to go when Grey reported on his conversation with Cambon. Morley told Asquith he would go too, though Asquith implored him to sleep on it, which he agreed to do. For Morley, who spoke for Grey in the Lords and had seen all the diplomatic traffic, there had been no single trigger that had made him decide: it was, he recalled, ‘the result of a whole train of circumstance and reflection’. He was seventy-five, and had had enough.