The wisdom of presenting Austria-Hungary with exactly this kind of carte blanche to determine the fate of Germany had often been questioned in Berlin. As late as May 1914, the German Ambassador to Vienna wrote to Berlin wondering “whether it really pays to bind ourselves so tightly to this phantasm of a state which is cracking in every direction.” The dominant view in Berlin, however, was expressed in a résumé from the German Foreign Ministry to the German Embassy in London summarizing the factors determining German policy:
“Austria is now going to come to a reckoning with Serbia…. We have not at the present time forced Austria to her decision. But neither should we attempt to stay her hand. If we should do that, Austria would have the right to reproach us with having deprived her of her last chance of political rehabilitation. And then the process of her wasting away and of her internal decay would be still further accelerated. Her standing in the Balkans would be gone forever…. The maintenance of Austria, and in fact of the most powerful Austria possible is a necessity for us…. That she cannot be maintained forever I willingly admit. But in the meanwhile we may be able to arrange other combinations.”
The Kaiser’s endorsement of this position was significantly reinforced by the reports he was getting from his elderly Ambassador in St. Petersburg, Count Pourtalès. Pourtalès, the dean of the St. Petersburg diplomatic corps, had spent seven years in his post. He was enormously fond of Russia. But he knew that, in July 1914, a million and a half Russian workers were out on strike; he had seen with his own eyes the barricades erected in the streets of the capital. Citing these factors, he repeatedly assured his sovereign that Russia could not go to war. On July 28, Pourtalès lunched at the British Embassy with his British colleague, Sir George Buchanan. Over cigars, Pourtalès expressed his views on Russia’s weakness, declaring that he was regularly forwarding these views to Berlin. Appalled, Buchanan grasped his guest by the shoulders and said, “Count Pourtalès, Russia means it.” Nevertheless, as late as July 31, the Kaiser was speaking confidently of the “mood of a sick Tom-cat” which, his Ambassador had assured him, infected the Russian court and army.
To the end, William expected to bluff his way. On July 28, back from his cruise, he saw the abject Serb reply to Austria’s ultimatum. His expectations seemed brilliantly confirmed. “A capitulation of the most humiliating character,” he exulted. “Now that Serbia has given in, all grounds for war have disappeared.” When, that same night, Austria declared war on Serbia, William was astonished and frustrated. Nevertheless, the war was still only an affair in the Balkans. Unless Russia moved, Germany need not become involved. With this in mind, William personally telegraphed the Tsar:
It is with the gravest concern that I hear of the impression which the action of Austria against Serbia is creating in your country. The unscrupulous agitation that has been going on in Serbia for years has resulted in the outrageous crime to which Archduke Franz Ferdinand fell victim. You will doubtless agree with me that we both, you and I, have a common interest, as well as all Sovereigns, to insist that all the persons morally responsible for this dastardly murder should receive their deserved punishment. In this, politics play no part at all.
On the other hand, I fully understand how difficult it is for you and your government to face the drift of public opinion. Therefore, with regard to the hearty and tender friendship which binds us both from long ago with firm ties, I am exerting my utmost influence to induce the Austrians to deal straightly to arrive at a satisfactory understanding with you. I confidently hope you will help me in my efforts to smooth over difficulties that may still arise. Your very sincere and devoted friend and cousin.
Willy
The Kaiser’s telegram crossed a message to him from the Tsar:
Am glad you are back. In this most serious moment I appeal to you to help me. An ignoble war has been declared on a weak country. The indignation in Russia, shared fully by me, is enormous. I foresee that very soon I shall be overwhelmed by pressure brought upon me, and forced to take extreme measures which will lead to war. To try and avoid such a calamity as a European war, I beg you in the name of our old friendship to do what you can to stop your allies from going too far.
Nicky
The “pressure” on Nicholas to which he referred in his telegram came from the Russian General Staff, which was insisting on full mobilization. Sazonov, once he had heard that the Austrians were firing on Belgrade, had abandoned his protests and endorsed the generals’ request.
On the 29th, William replied to the Tsar’s telegram:
It would be quite possible for Russia to remain a spectator of the Austro-Serbian conflict, without involving Europe in the most horrible war she ever witnessed. I think a direct understanding between your government and Vienna possible and desirable and as I already telegraphed you, my government is continuing its exertions to promote it. Of course, military measures on the part of Russia which would be looked upon by Austria as threatening, would precipitate a calamity we both wish to avoid, and jeopardize my position as mediator which I readily accepted on your appeal to my friendship and help.
Willy
Nicholas replied, suggesting that the dispute be sent to the Hague.
I thank you for your conciliatory and friendly telegram, whereas the communications of your Ambassador to my Minister today have been in a very different tone. Please clear up this difference. The Austro-Serbian problem must be submitted to the Hague Conference. I trust to your wisdom and friendship.
Nicholas
On the morning of the 30th, Nicholas wired the Kaiser an explanation of Russia’s partial mobilization:
The military measures which have now come into force were decided five days ago for reasons of defense on account of Austria’s preparations. I hope with all my heart that these measures won’t interfere with your part as mediator which I greatly value. We need your strong pressure on Austria to come to an understanding with us.
Nicky
The Tsar’s telegram announcing that Russia had mobilized against Austria put the Kaiser into a rage. “And these measures are for defense against Austria which is no way attacking him!!! I cannot agree to any more mediation since the Tsar who requested it has at the same time secretly mobilized behind my back.” After reading Nicholas’s plea; “We need your strong pressure on Austria …,” William scribbled: “No, there is no thought of anything of that sort!!!”
On the afternoon of July 30, Sazonov telephoned Tsarskoe Selo to ask for an immediate interview. Nicholas came to the telephone and, suspecting the purpose, reluctantly asked his Foreign Minister to come to the palace at three p.m. When the two men met, Sazonov sadly told his sovereign, “I don’t think Your Majesty can postpone the order for general mobilization.” He added that, in his opinion, general war was unavoidable. Nicholas, pale and speaking in a choked voice, replied, “Think of the responsibility you are advising me to take. Remember, it would mean sending hundreds of thousands of Russian people to their deaths.” Sazonov pointed out that everything had been done to avoid war. Germany and Austria, he declared, were “determined to increase their power by enslaving our natural allies in the Balkans, destroying our influence there, and reducing Russia to a pitiful dependence on the arbitrary will of the Central Powers.” “The Tsar,” Sazonov wrote later, “remained silent and his face showed the traces of a terrible inner struggle. At last, speaking with difficulty, he said, ‘You are right. There is nothing left for us to do but get ready for an attack upon us. Give … my order for [general] mobilization.’”
Before news of Russia’s general mobilization reached Berlin, two more telegrams passed between Potsdam and Tsarskoe Selo. First, Nicholas cabled to the Kaiser:
It is technically impossible for me to suspend my military preparations. But as long as conversations with Austria are not broken off, my troops will refrain from taking the offensive anyway, I give you my word of honor on that.
Nicky
William replied:
I have gone to the utm
ost limits of the possible in my efforts to save peace. It is not I who will bear the responsibility for the terrible disaster which now threatens the civilized world. You and you alone can still avert it. My friendship for you and your empire which my grandfather bequeathed to me on his deathbed is still sacred to me and I have been loyal to Russia when she was in trouble, notably during your last war. Even now, you can still save the peace of Europe by stopping your military measures.
Willy
News of the general mobilization of the huge Russian army caused consternation in Berlin. At midnight on July 31, Count Pourtalès appeared in Sazonov’s office with a German ultimatum to Russia to halt her mobilization within twelve hours. At noon the following day, August 1, Russia had not replied, and the Kaiser ordered general mobilization.
Nicholas hurriedly telegraphed to William:
I understand that you are compelled to mobilize but I should like to have the same guarantee from you that I gave you myself—that these measures do not mean war and that we shall continue to negotiate to save the general peace so dear to our hearts. With God’s help our long and tried friendship should be able to prevent bloodshed. I confidently await your reply.
Nicky
Before this message arrived in Berlin, however, coded instructions had been sent by the German government to Count Pourtalès in St. Petersburg. He was instructed to declare war on Russia at five p.m. The Count was tardy and it was not until 7:10 p.m. that he appeared ashen-faced before Sazonov. Three times Pourtalès asked if Sazonov could not assure him that Russia would cancel its mobilization; three times Sazonov refused. “In that case, sir,” said Pourtalès, “my government charges me to hand you this note. His Majesty the Emperor, my august sovereign, in the name of the empire accepts the challenge and considers himself in a state of war with Russia.” Pourtalès was overcome with emotion. He leaned against a window and wept openly. “Who could have thought I should be leaving St. Petersburg under such circumstances,” he said. Sazonov rose from his desk, embraced the elderly Count and helped him from the room.
At Peterhof, the Tsar and his family had just come from evening prayer. Before going to dinner, Nicholas went to his study to read the latest dispatches. The Empress and her daughters went straight to the dinner table to await the Tsar. Nicholas was in his study when Count Fredericks brought him the message from Sazonov that Germany had declared war. Shaken but calm, the Tsar instructed his ministers to come to the palace at nine p.m.
Meanwhile, Alexandra and the girls waited with growing uneasiness. The Empress had just asked Tatiana to go and bring her father to the table when Nicholas appeared in the doorway. In a tense voice he told them what had happened. Alexandra began to weep. The girls, badly frightened, followed their mother’s example. Nicholas did what he could to calm them and then withdrew, without dinner. At nine p.m., Sazonov, Goremykin and other ministers arrived at the palace along with the French and British Ambassadors, Paléologue and Buchanan.
Four months later, in another conversation with Paléologue, Nicholas revealed how the day had ended for him. Late that night, after war had been declared, he had received another telegram from the Kaiser. It read:
An immediate, clear and unmistakable reply of your government [to the German ultimatum] is the sole way to avoid endless misery. Until I receive this reply, I am unable to my great grief to enter upon the subject of your telegram. I must ask most earnestly that you, without delay, order your troops under no circumstances to commit the slightest violation of our frontiers.
Almost certainly this message had been intended for delivery before the declaration of war and had been caught in the crowded bureaucratic pipeline. Yet it was composed during the same hours that his country was declaring war, an indication of the Kaiser’s state of mind. To Nicholas, this last message he ever received from the German Emperor seemed a final revelation of William’s character.
“He was never sincere; not a moment,” Nicholas told Paléologue, speaking of the Kaiser. “In the end he was hopelessly entangled in the net of his own perfidy and lies…. It was half past one in the morning of August 2…. I went to the Empress’s room, as she was already in bed, to have a cup of tea with her before retiring myself. I stayed with her until two in the morning. Then I wanted to have a bath as I was very tired. I was just getting in when my servant knocked at the door saying he had ‘a very important telegram … from His Majesty the Emperor William.’ I read the telegram, read it again, and then repeated it aloud, but I couldn’t understand a word. What on earth does William mean, I thought, pretending that it still depends on me whether war is averted or not? He implores me not to let my troops cross the frontier! Have I suddenly gone mad? Didn’t the Minister of the Court, my trusted Fredericks, at least six hours ago bring me the declaration of war the German ambassador had just handed to Sazonov? I returned to the Empress’s room and read her William’s telegram…. She said immediately: ‘You’re not going to answer it, are you?’ ‘Certainly not!’
“There is no doubt that the object of this strange and farcical telegram was to shake my resolution, disconcert me and inspire me to some absurd and dishonorable step. It produced the opposite effect. As I left the Empress’s room I felt that all was over forever between me and William. I slept extremely well. When I woke at my usual hour, I felt as if a weight had fallen from my mind. My responsibility to God and my people was still enormous, but at least I knew what I had to do.”
Part 3
20
For the Defense of Holy Russia
The next afternoon, August 2, 1914, the Tsar issued a formal proclamation of hostilities at the Winter Palace. It was a blazing-hot midsummer day. The palace square, one of the largest in Europe, was packed with thousands of sweltering, excited people carrying banners, flags and icons and waiting impatiently for the moment when they could pour out their emotion in the presence of the sovereign himself. On the Neva side, where the Tsar would arrive by boat from Peterhof, crowds of people swarmed along the bridges and quays, singing and cheering. The river itself was teeming with yachts, steamers, sailboats, fishing smacks and rowboats, all streaming flags and crowded with spectators.
When Nicholas and Alexandra stepped onto the quay at the Palace Bridge, wave on wave of cheers rolled over them: “Batiushka, Batiushka, lead us to victory!” Nicholas wore the plain uniform of an infantry regiment. Alexandra, in a pure white dress, had turned up the brim of her picture hat so that the crowds could see her face. The four young Grand Duchesses walked behind, but the Tsarevich, still unable to walk because of his injury on the Standart, remained at Peterhof, weeping in disappointment.
Inside the palace, the Tsar and the Empress slowly made their way through the crush of people lining the grand staircases and wide corridors. As Nicholas passed, bowing and nodding, men and women dropped to their knees and frantically tried to kiss his hand. The service was held in the great white marble Salle de Nicholas, where five thousand people had jammed themselves beneath the glittering chandeliers. An altar had been erected in the center of the hall, and on it stood the miraculous icon, the Vladimir Mother of God. The icon, brought to Moscow in 1395, was said to have turned back Tamerlane. Before the icon in 1812 the grizzled General Kutuzov had prayed as he was leaving to take command of Tsar Alexander I’s armies in the war against Napoleon. Now, at the beginning of a new war, Nicholas II invoked the icon’s blessing. Raising his right hand, he pronounced in a low voice the oath taken by Alexander I in 1812: “I solemnly swear that I will never make peace so long as a single enemy remains on Russian soil.”
After taking the oath, Nicholas and Alexandra went to meet the expectant masses waiting outside. When the two small figures appeared alone on a red-draped balcony high above them, the great crowd knelt. Nicholas raised his hand and tried to speak; the front rows hushed, but at the rear the excitement and commotion were too great and his words were drowned. Overwhelmed, Nicholas bowed his head. Seeing him, the crowd spontaneously began to sing the Imperial anthem whose
chords make up the final crescendo of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture”:
God save the Tsar,
Mighty and powerful,
Let him reign for our glory,
For the confusion of our enemies.
The Orthodox Tsar,
God save the Tsar.
Hand in hand, the man in the khaki uniform and the woman in the white dress stood on the balcony and wept with the crowd. “To those thousands on their knees,” declared Paléologue, “at that moment the Tsar was really the Autocrat, the military, political and religious director of his people, the absolute master of their bodies and souls.”
It was the same throughout the empire: wild excitement, crowds filling the streets, laughing, weeping, singing, cheering, kissing. Overnight, a wave of patriotism swept over Russia. In Moscow, Kiev, Odessa, Kharkov, Kazan, Tula, Rostov, Tiflis, Tomsk and Irkutsk, workmen exchanged their red flags of revolution for the icons of Holy Russia and portraits of the Tsar. Students rushed from the universities to enlist. Army officers, caught in the street, were happily tossed in the air.
In St. Petersburg, every day brought new demonstrations in favor of the Tsar and Russia’s allies. From his window in the French Embassy, Paléologue looked down on huge processions carrying flags and icons, shouting “Vive la France!” On August 5, as the German armies crossed the frontiers of neutral Belgium, a telegram from London to Sir George Buchanan, the British Ambassador, announced that England had entered the war. The same day, the Union Jack was hoisted into line with the Tricolor and the Russian Imperial banner. With a fine Gallic sense of detail, Paléologue noted that “the flags of the three nations blend eloquently. Composed of the same colors, blue, white and red, they are a picturesque and striking expression of the coalition.”
Nicholas and Alexandra: The Tragic, Compelling Story of the Last Tsar and his Family Page 35