fn1 These were the first of the famous “Willy-Nicky” telegrams sent back and forth between Peterhof and Potsdam over three days and nights on the eve of war. All were in English, the common language of the two monarchs.
Chapter 46
The Coming of Armageddon: London
On Friday afternoon, July 24, the British Cabinet met in the Prime Minister’s Room at the House of Commons. The subject was Ireland. Through the spring, Home Rule, the great cause and incubus of the Liberal Party, had once again been moving through Parliament. Debate had focussed on whether the Protestant counties of Ulster, not wishing to be ruled by a Catholic Parliament in Dublin, should be entitled to refuse participation in Home Rule. As passage of the bill became more certain, Ulstermen became more fiercely agitated. Certain they were about to be betrayed by Westminster, they had resolved to help themselves. They talked of setting up a provisional Ulster government; there were active preparations for armed resistance. By summer, 36,000 rifles and three million rounds of ammunition were in Protestant hands. In their defiance, the Orangemen had the open encouragement of the British Conservative Party and the quiet complicity of a number of officers of the British Army. These officers, many with roots in the Anglo-Irish gentry, opposed Home Rule and were unwilling to participate in any military coercion of Ulster. On March 20, the Commander-in-Chief in Ireland had addressed a large group of officers at the Curragh barracks and found himself confronted with the refusal of the majority of these officers to accept orders to take their soldiers to Ulster. Rather than fight the Protestant Orangemen, they said they would resign. This near-mutiny had shaken Parliament and the nation. Conservatives accused the Liberal government of sacrificing Ulster; Liberals accused the opposition of encouraging rebellion against the Crown. On July 21, the King had summoned representatives of the interested parties to Buckingham Palace to find a solution. Three days of argument resulted in deadlock and, on July 24, the Conference broke up. These facts, reported in detail to Berlin by German diplomats, helped convince the Wilhelmstrasse that British involvement in Ireland was so great that England need not be taken seriously as a factor in European diplomacy.
That afternoon, the Irish deadlock had been reported to the Cabinet. The meeting was ending, and most members were standing, ready to leave the room, when Sir Edward Grey asked the ministers to remain a few minutes. They resumed their seats. Grey’s description of the situation in Central Europe and the Balkans was the first discussion of foreign affairs in more than a month. As he read the Austrian ultimatum to Serbia, preoccupation with Ireland began to fade. Churchill recalled: “[Grey] had been reading1 or speaking for several minutes before I could disengage my mind from the tedious and bewildering debate which had just closed.... Gradually as the phrases and sentences followed one another, impressions of a wholly different character began to form in my mind.... The parishes of Fermanagh and Tyrone faded back into the mists and squalls of Ireland and a strange light began immediately, but by perceptible gradations, to fall and grow upon the map of Europe.” Grey’s words, in his quiet, careful voice, had an impact. That night, in his report to the King, Asquith termed the Austrian ultimatum “the gravest event for many years2 past in European politics as it may be the prelude to a war in which at least four of the Great Powers may be involved.” He wrote to Venetia Stanley, “We are within measurable,3 or imaginable, distance of a real Armageddon. Happily, there seems to be no reason why we should be anything more than spectators.”
Asquith’s optimism, as far as England was concerned, was based on recent diplomatic history. Three times in eight years (1905, 1908, and 1911) Europe had approached the brink of war and each time diplomacy had prevailed. In the spring of 1914, the Continent appeared tranquil. Sovereigns and chiefs of state shuttled between each others’ capitals, bowing and waving to cheering crowds. Anglo-German relations had reached equilibrium; the naval issue was quiescent; a settlement of the Berlin-to-Baghdad Railway dispute only awaited German signature. The German Ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, a partisan of improved relations, was popular in London society. On July 23, the day before Grey informed his Cabinet colleagues of the Austrian ultimatum, Lloyd George had told the House of Commons that relations with Germany were better than they had been for years and that he could predict “substantial economy4 in naval expenditure.” Expanding on this hopeful theme, the Chancellor of the Exchequer announced, “I cannot help thinking5 that civilisation, which is able to deal with disputes among individuals and small communities at home, and is able to regulate these by means of some sane and well-ordered arbitrament, should be able to extend its operations to the larger sphere of disputes among states.”
Even after Sarajevo, the mood in London had not changed. People in Britain reacted as people elsewhere: with horror, with indignation toward the criminals, with sympathy for the elderly Franz Josef. Britons expected the guilty parties to be discovered and punished. Fear of international implications was dispelled by the deliberate atmosphere of calm arranged by the Austrian and German governments. Until July 24, the Foreign Secretary, responsible for monitoring the behavior of other nations, had not mentioned anything to the Cabinet. Grey’s silence had not meant ignorance. Lichnowsky returned to London from Berlin on July 6 and gave Grey a hint that, behind the façade, tempers were running high in Berlin and Vienna. The Austrians were determined to have a reckoning with Serbia, he reported, and the Imperial government felt it must support its ally. Grey was understanding. Admitting that Austria had been greatly provoked, the Foreign Secretary declared that “the merits of the dispute6 between... [Austria and Serbia] were not the concern of His Majesty’s Government.” He would consider the matter “simply and solely7 from the point of view of the peace of Europe”; here he was “very apprehensive of the view Russia would take.” Grey attempted to influence that view, working to persuade St. Petersburg to take a conciliatory attitude toward Austria, but this, he told Lichnowsky on the ninth, would depend heavily on the steps Austria was preparing to take. In general, Grey told the Ambassador, he “saw no reason8 for taking a pessimistic view of the situation.”
Grey’s hopefulness, passed along to Berlin, pleased the Wilhelmstrasse. On July 12, the Austrian Ambassador in Berlin telegraphed Vienna: “The German Government believes9 that it has proof that England would not take part in a war caused by disturbances in the Balkans even if Russia and France were involved in it.... England certainly would not expose itself to danger for Serbia or even Russia’s sake.” Grey made plain to Lichnowsky as well as to the Russians that there were limits to what Britain could approve in Austria’s punishment of Serbia. Surely, the Foreign Secretary urged, Vienna did not think of annexing any Serbian territory. Jagow understood and on July 18 telegraphed, “England will not prevent10 Austria from calling Serbia to account; it is only the destruction of the nation that she would not permit.”
Everything depended on the terms of the Austrian note. At two P.M. on July 24, Count von Mensdorff, the Austrian Ambassador in London, handed a copy to Grey. Grey characterized it as “brusque, sudden, and peremptory”;11 later he amplified this to “the most formidable document12 that has ever been addressed from one state to another.” He took the document with him to that day’s Cabinet meeting and, when discussion of Ireland was concluded, informed his colleagues. Returning to the Foreign Office, Grey’s first reaction was to ask for an extension of the forty-eight-hour time limit (already down to thirty-one hours by the time the Foreign Secretary received the ultimatum). Coincidentally, in St. Petersburg, Sazonov had had the same reaction and had made the same request. Austria rejected both appeals. Grey then urged the Serbs to be conciliatory and to “give [to Austria] a favorable reply13 on as many points as possible within the time limit.” The Foreign Secretary also proposed a reconvening of the Six Power Conference of London, which had successfully mediated the Balkan upheavals in 1912–1913. The same ambassadors were still in London—Lichnowsky of Germany, Mensdorff of Austria, Imperiale of Italy, Cambon of France,
and Benckendorff of Russia—and could be brought together on a few hours’ notice. All were personal friends. “If our respective governments14 would only use us and trust us and give us the chance,” Grey wrote, “we could keep the peace of Europe... an honourable peace, no vaunting on one side and humiliation on another.”
The key to Grey’s proposal lay with Germany: if Berlin agreed to mediation, Vienna would have to accept. Accordingly, Grey sounded Lichnowsky first. The Foreign Secretary assumed that the Germans were anxious to calm the Balkan turbulence and prevent war. Grey’s assumption seemed to have been sustained on the morning of July 25, when the German Ambassador read him a telegram from the Wilhelmstrasse confirming that Germany had had no previous knowledge of the text of the Austrian ultimatum. Lichnowsky, deliberately left ignorant by Berlin, responded wholeheartedly to Grey’s conference proposal. “I see in it15 the only possibility of avoiding a world war,” he telegraphed to Jagow on the afternoon of the twenty-fifth. “Grey will not bestir himself again.... Once more, I urgently advise the acceptance of the English proposal.”
Hoping for a favorable response from Berlin, Grey delayed sending the proposal to other governments. July 25 was a Saturday and in the early afternoon the Foreign Secretary left London for his fishing cottage in Hampshire. The text of the proposal telegram was left in Sir Arthur Nicolson’s hands. At three P.M. Sunday, July 26, the Permanent Under Secretary decided to send out the proposal and to summon the Foreign Secretary back to London. Telegrams over Grey’s signature went immediately to the foreign ministers in Paris, Rome, and Berlin. “Ask the Minister for Foreign Affairs16 if he would be disposed to instruct ambassador here to join with the representatives [of the other invited Powers] and myself to meet in a conference to be held here.” If so, “active military operations should be suspended pending results of the conference.”
Lichnowsky, supporting Grey’s initiative, dispatched three telegrams to Jagow within six hours on the twenty-seventh. His language exhibits frustration and growing panic: “Sir E. Grey17 had me call on him just now.... [He had just read] the Serbian reply to the Austrian note. It appeared to him that Serbia had agreed to the Austrian demands to an extent such as he would never have believed possible.... Should Austria fail to be satisfied with this reply... it would then be absolutely evident that Austria was only seeking an excuse for crushing Serbia.... I found the Minister [Grey] irritated for the first time. He spoke with great seriousness and seemed absolutely to expect that we should successfully make use of our influence to settle the matter.... Everybody here is convinced... that the key to the situation is to be found in Berlin and that, if peace is seriously desired there, Austria can be restrained from prosecuting—as Sir E. Grey expressed it—a foolhardy policy.” And later: “Our entire future relations with England depend on the success of this move by Sir Edward Grey. Should the Minister succeed... I will guarantee that our relations with England will remain... intimate and confidential.... Should Austria’s intention of using the present opportunity to overthrow Serbia... become more and more apparent, England, I am certain, would place herself unconditionally by the side of France and Russia.... If it comes to war under these circumstances, we shall have England against us.”
Berlin was unmoved; three weeks of effort by the Reich government had gone into preventing other Powers from interfering by mediation. Jagow felt obliged to forward Grey’s proposal to Vienna, but he prefaced the English note with his own disclaimer: the German government declared “in the most decided way18 that it does not identify itself with these propositions; that, on the contrary, it advises [Austria] to disregard them, but that it must pass them on to satisfy the English Government.” In Berlin, Jagow told Sir Edward Goschen that the proposed conference “would practically amount19 to a court of arbitration” and could not be considered without Austrian approval. In London, Lichnowsky was instructed to give Sir Edward Grey the same explanation.
On Monday morning, July 27, news of Serbia’s submission to the Austrian ultimatum reached London. To Venetia Stanley, Asquith described his reaction: “Serbia has capitulated20 on the main point, but it is very doubtful if any reservation will be accepted by Austria which is resolved upon a complete and final humiliation. The curious thing is that on many if not most points Austria has a good and Serbia a very bad case, but the Austrians are quite the stupidest people in Europe.... It is the most dangerous situation of the last forty years.” When the Cabinet met at eleven A.M., Grey reported that Count von Mensdorff had told him that Vienna regarded the Serbian reply as inadequate. He described the Six Power Conference proposal, announcing that France and Italy had accepted immediately; the German reply had not yet arrived. The question of Britain’s obligation to maintain Belgian neutrality was raised and the Cabinet agreed to discuss the matter in detail at a subsequent meeting. The First Sea Lord’s order not to disperse to the Fleet concentrated at Portland was approved.
When, on Tuesday, July 28, news arrived that Austria had declared war on Serbia, Haldane gave up hope. “The German General Staff21 is in the saddle,” he said. That afternoon, Grey told the House of Commons: “It must be obvious22 to any person who reflects upon the situation that from the moment the dispute ceases to be one between Austria-Hungary and Serbia and becomes one in which another Great Power is involved, it cannot but end in the greatest catastrophe that has ever befallen the Continent of Europe at one blow. No one can say what would be the limits of the issues that might be raised by such a conflict; the consequences of it, direct and indirect, would be incalculable.” Asquith was pessimistic. That night, he and Margot entertained the Churchills and Benckendorffs at dinner. After his guests left, the Prime Minister walked to the Foreign Office, where he found Grey and Haldane. Until one A.M., the three men talked. Asquith’s opinion was that “nothing but a miracle23 could avert war, but still not a British war.”
Beginning on Wednesday, July 29, the Cabinet met daily, sometimes twice a day. After the Wednesday meeting, a telegram was sent to all naval, military, and colonial stations warning that war was possible. Grey was instructed to inform the German and French ambassadors that “at this stage24 we were unable to pledge ourselves in advance, either under all conditions to stand aside, or in any conditions to join in.” The Cabinet concluded that a decision regarding a violation of Belgian neutrality, if and when it was made, “will be one of policy25 rather than of legal obligation.”
Disappointed by Berlin’s rejection of a Six Power Conference, Grey still had not given up hope of working with Germany. On the afternoon of the twenty-ninth, the Foreign Secretary called in Lichnowsky and said that, if the Wilhelmstrasse would not accept Britain’s lead in mediation, Britain would accept a German lead, following any approach Berlin thought feasible. Grey reiterated his belief that Austria had a legitimate grievance against the Serbs and even suggested that Austria might occupy Belgrade to assure compliance with her conditions. Grey believed that an Austro-Serbian war must inevitably escalate into an Austro-Russian war, but even that, he told the Ambassador, would not necessarily concern Great Britain. So long as the conflict was confined to Austria and Russia, England could stand aside, but once Germany and France became involved, the vital interests of England were threatened. Any threat to France’s role as a Great Power would bring any English government, Liberal or Conservative, into the war.
Lichnowsky hurriedly sent Grey’s remarks off to Berlin. The Ambassador’s telegram came to the Kaiser26. William’s marginalia on this dispatch were remarkable:
Once he had finished scribbling in the margins, William took more space and let his feelings flow:
“England reveals herself in her true colours at a moment when she thinks that we are caught in the toils and, so to speak, disposed of! That mean crew of shopkeepers has tried to trick us with dinners and speeches. The boldest deception, the words of the King to Henry for me: ‘We shall remain neutral and try to keep out of this as long as possible.’ Grey proves the King a liar, and his words to Lichnowsky are
the outcome of a guilty conscience, because he feels that he has deceived us. At that, it is as a matter of fact a threat combined with a bluff, in order to separate us from Austria and to prevent us from mobilising, and to shift the responsibility for the war. He knows perfectly well that, if he were to say one single, serious, sharp and warning word at Paris and St Petersburg, and were to warn them to remain neutral, that [sic] both would become quiet at once. But he takes care not to speak the word, and threatens us instead! Common cur! England alone bears the responsibility for peace and war, not we any longer! That must be made clear to the world.”
Bethmann-Hollweg had a different reaction to Grey’s warning that Britain would not allow France to be eliminated as a Great Power. That night—it was still July 29—the Kaiser convened a Crown Council at Potsdam. The Chancellor explained Grey’s concern over the future of France and urged that some step be taken to calm British fears and ensure Britain’s neutrality. A course was agreed on, and Bethmann hurried back to Berlin. He summoned Sir Edward Goschen. The British Ambassador appeared at the Wilhelmstrasse at one-thirty A.M.; by now it was Thursday, July 30. He listened carefully to the Chancellor and returned to his embassy to send a telegram to London. War involving Germany, France, Austria, and Russia was now almost inevitable, the Chancellor had said. “He [Bethmann] then proceeded to make27 a strong bid for British neutrality. He said that... so far as he was able to judge, the main principle which governed British policy was that Great Britain would never stand by and allow France to be crushed.” This was not Germany’s aim, Bethmann insisted. To prove it, he promised—on condition of Britain’s neutrality—that a victorious Germany would take no territory from a defeated France. Goschen inquired whether this applied to France’s colonies in Africa and elsewhere. Bethmann declined to give that assurance. The Chancellor made a similar offer regarding German military operations on Belgian territory: “When the war was over,28 Belgian integrity would be respected if she had not sided against Germany.”
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