In 1912, when the likelihood of a European war over the Balkans became a serious possibility, Anglo-Belgian military arrangements had been further refined. Secret guidebooks for the British military dated that year contained highly detailed maps of Belgian towns, villages and rural areas, including railway stations, church steeples suitable for observation posts, oil depots, roads, canals and bridges. British–Belgian military tactics had been worked out in fine detail, including the role of intermediary officers, interpreters, English translations of Belgian regulations, hospital accommodation for the British wounded and more. Barnardiston’s successor as British military attaché to Brussels, Lieutenant-Colonel Bridges, confirmed to the Belgians that Britain had an army composed of six divisions of infantry and eight brigades of cavalry – 160,000 men in all – and that ‘everything was ready’ to go.22 Remarkably, the minutes of the meeting between Colonel Bridges and the Belgian chief of staff in 1912, General Jungbluth, stated that the British ‘would have landed her troops in Belgium in all circumstances’,23 with or without Belgian consent, if Germany attacked France. Where would that have placed the sanctity of Belgian neutrality? By February 1914, the rate of exchange for payment of British soldiers fighting in Belgium had been fixed; that was some six months ahead of the conflict.24
Britain and Belgium had been deeply involved in joint military preparations against Germany for at least eight years. Bethmann’s honourable proposal on 29 July25 regarding the integrity of Belgium brought no sudden and unexpected enlightenment as Sir Edward Grey would have us believe. It brought him a tangible excuse. He had, from that moment on, diplomatic ‘proof’ of Germany’s ‘ill-intentions’. On 1 August, Grey telegraphed Brussels urging the Belgian leaders to maintain their absolute neutrality.26 It was essential that Belgium kept up the charade of neutrality until the very last, in order to provide Grey with his trump card.
Belgian ‘neutrality’ was a sham. Grey knew perfectly well that she would side with Britain, France and Russia against Germany. It had long been so arranged. Northcliffe’s newspapers would ensure that the public outrage turned against Germany with a truly spiteful venom, and the Secret Elite could start their war. Sir Edward Grey was fully aware that Belgium had actually been mobilising her armed forces for almost a week, under the guise of self-protection against anyone who might try to cross the Belgian border. To this effect, a mobilisation order had been issued by the Belgian government on 24 July, and on 28 July three classes of army reserves were called up.27 The Belgians were as ready as they could be to repulse the German invader. It was no coincidence that this ‘neutral’ little country began military preparations against Germany on the very same day that both Russia and France began theirs.28
The Secret Elite elevated the independence and sovereignty of Belgium to a higher level of moral obligation, just as they had with Serbia’s ‘dignity and sovereignty’. Such altruistic and chivalrous sentiments suited their public stance, while behind the scenes they manipulated, dictated to, interfered with and essentially controlled these little ‘independent’ countries. It was no different from the manipulation of Russia, which they exerted through their puppets Isvolsky and Sazonov, and France through Poincaré. The hypocrisy of Grey and the Secret Elite knew no bounds. They were fully aware that Germany would, by necessity, have to cross Belgium in its defence against France. Such temporary use of a right of way was very different from a permanent and wrongful invasion. There were precedents: during the Boer War, British troops were permitted passage across neutral Portuguese territory to fight in South Africa.29 The scale of the British hypocrisy over Belgium was indeed breathtaking. The armed forces of British imperialism had been trampling uninvited over countries across the world for centuries. Such British action was, of course, always regarded as a self-evident right.
Grey’s imperious stance was given backbone by his Foreign Office mentor, Sir Eyre Crowe, who provided him with answers to all of the objections voiced in Cabinet in a secret and detailed memo.30 Sir Eyre Crowe’s commitment to the Secret Elite cause was so absolute that he carried the conviction of the infallible zealot. He rejected the argument that Britain should not engage in a European war by pointing out that unless they were used, the maintenance of an all-powerful navy and dedicated expeditionary force was nothing less than an abuse of resources forced on the country at enormous and wasteful expense. Crowe dismissed the signs of commercial panic in the City and in stock markets across Europe as part of Germany’s well-laid plans for war. He accused German financial houses of being ‘notoriously’ in daily contact with the German embassy and plotting the downfall of the British Empire. This was somewhat precious given the close links between the British government and the House of Rothschild, Baring and Lazards. Neutrality he dismissed as a dishonourable act; the entente was praised as a moral bond. Eyre Crowe repudiated the claim that ‘England cannot in any circumstance go to war’ by stating that any other action would be political suicide. His parting shot was a rally call to arms: ‘I feel confident that our duty and our interest will be seen to lie in standing by France in her hour of need. France has not sought the quarrel. It has been forced upon her.’31 These were the values that the British Cabinet was asked to accept: a litany of lies that were repeated so often they became accepted as fact.
Could the Secret Elite placemen convince the Cabinet that Britain had no option but war? Asquith confessed in a letter to his beloved Venetia that he had a problem. The Cabinet was not merely split on the question of going to war; it was massively against such an epoch-changing step. No one should underestimate the enormity of the challenge that Grey and Asquith faced, even though Northcliffe and The Times and all of the powerful agencies that operated behind the political screen backed them to the hilt. This was a Cabinet that had no intention of going to war, or of approving a war; a Cabinet that represented a political party that would never vote for war and a population that had no concept of the war that was planned for them. If ever a disparate group required careful man-management it was Asquith’s Liberal Cabinet. How he, Grey, Haldane, Churchill and Lloyd George achieved the Secret Elite objective remains a testament to how good men can be worn down by expectation, pressure, false information and inflamed public reaction to turn their back on what they know to be right.
Asquith convened a special Cabinet meeting on Sunday, 2 August 1914. Had a vote on Britain’s involvement in a European war been taken at the outset, only the known stalwarts would have been in favour. The other campaign-hardened political veterans were set against it. Lord Morley complained that they had known nothing of the extent of the military and naval agreements with the French. They began to appreciate that ‘a web of obligations, which they had been assured were not obligations, had been spun round them while they slept’.32 But realisation dawned slowly, and Asquith was sufficiently astute to avoid rushing to a decision by a show of hands.
Those anxious, heavy-hearted, loyal Liberals, whose consciences and years of commitment to peace made the meeting almost unbearable, struggled with the enormity that was suddenly presented to them. Sir Edward Grey kept secret the German proposal on neutrality. It was never voiced as an option. Had Cabinet ministers been given all relevant information and time to consider the options, discuss the implications with significant others in their constituencies and prepare themselves properly, matters would likely have taken a very different turn. Instead they had to listen to situation reports from Berlin, Paris, St Petersburg, Vienna and Belgium that caught them by surprise and were presented in a manner that vilified Germany.
Talk of resignations – three, perhaps four – darkened the mood and threatened to tear the Cabinet apart. Asquith faced the prospect of having to form a coalition government with the Conservative and Unionist opposition. It had no appeal, but if needs dictated Asquith knew he could count on them to go to war. He had in his pocket a letter from the Conservative leaders Bonar Law, Lord Lansdowne and Austen Chamberlain that promised unhesitating support for the government in any meas
ures that were required to assist Russia and France in their war against Germany. Their view was that it would be ‘fatal to the honour and security of the United Kingdom to hesitate in supporting France and Russia at the present juncture’.33 It was a letter that had been written at the suggestion of Balfour in the inner circle of the Secret Elite. Just as Sazonov was provided with reassurance by the Secret Elite agents, so Asquith and Grey were assured that they were not alone.
Asquith begged Cabinet ministers John Burns,34 Sir John Simon, Lord Beauchamp, Joseph Pease and others who were clearly swithering not to make a rash decision. He implored them to wait at least until Sir Edward Grey had addressed Parliament. The semblance of a united Cabinet, however illusory, would have a greater impact on the general public than a clear division of opinion, and would avoid the identification of figureheads around whom opponents of the war might rally. The Secret Elite would not entertain any unwelcome diversions as they took the final decisive step to push Britain into the war. The non-interventionists, those who did not want any involvement at all, were not themselves united. Some would accept war if Belgium was violated. The pros and cons of neutrality were thrashed around the Cabinet table. Eventually, a loose consensus agreed that Sir Edward Grey would tell the House of Commons that Britain could not stand aside if Belgium was invaded, that France would be given maritime support, and Germany would be advised of this.35
The opening Cabinet session lasted for three hours, from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., at which point Asquith scribbled a note to Venetia: ‘We are on the brink of a split.’36 The prime minister was renowned for his excessive drinking, but he was no dupe. He above all knew the enormous hurdle faced in turning the Cabinet round to accept war, not least because he was certain that a good three-quarters of his own party stood for ‘absolute non-interference at any price’.37 He did everything possible to avoid putting a decision to the vote. And his tactic worked.
Churchill was by far the most eager for war. Asquith wrote: ‘Winston very bellicose and demanding immediate mobilisation.’38 The Cabinet had refused to give him permission to proceed with the mobilisation of the fleet, but Churchill sent the order anyway.
Sir Edward Grey was not to be outdone. At 3 p.m. on that Sunday afternoon, during an interval between the two Cabinet meetings, he called the French ambassador, Paul Cambon, and confirmed that if German warships came into the Channel to attack France, the British navy would sink them. This should have been subject to Parliamentary approval, though in the event Parliament was never asked. Cambon was careful to hide his elation. If Britain was prepared to take sides to protect the Channel coast, she was halfway to a full commitment to war. He would later comment: ‘The game was won. A great country does not make war by halves.’39 Cambon knew it and Sir Edward Grey knew it. Britain was going to war.
And what of David Lloyd George, the erstwhile pacifist and dazzling, devious darling of the radical masses in whom the hope and trust of the anti-war Liberals had been invested? Lloyd George appeared to be on the side of the ‘non-interventionists’40 and should have been their natural leader. They assumed that he was, but were very mistaken. Lloyd George had long since sold his soul to the Secret Elite. Had he been allowed to remain a free agent, an anti-war Liberal group headed by him would have represented the Secret Elite’s gravest nightmare. The damage he could have caused was literally boundless. A splinter Cabinet led by a national figure, a rallying point for the Liberals and the Labour Party in Parliament, would have spelled disaster for the warmongers. But Lloyd George was not what he seemed. It was not for his own sake that he had been saved by the Secret Elite from public scandal, extra-marital excesses, from court cases and from the opprobrium of the Marconi Scandal, been favoured with a wealthy lifestyle and mistress and kept in a luxury he could never have personally afforded. Lloyd George simply continued his long-term payback.
The Cabinet met again that evening. Grey informed them that he had told Cambon of their agreement to protect France if the German navy attacked her Channel coastline. Nothing further was decided. No one appeared to realise what Cambon instantly surmised. Britain had taken sides. The Liberal Cabinet tottered on the brink of disintegration. Ten or eleven ministers were still against war.41 Not undecided; still against the war. Surely the essential qualities of British fairness, decency and parliamentary democracy would safeguard the nation from a disaster that its elected representatives did not want? A number of the less prominent Cabinet ministers looked to Lloyd George for leadership at that moment but found none. Lord Morley felt with hindsight that the Cabinet would have collapsed that night if Lloyd George had given a lead to the waverers, and Harcourt appealed to the chancellor to ‘speak for us’.42 To no avail. Lloyd George led the opponents of war into a cul-de-sac and left them there.
In Brussels that August evening, the German ambassador handed over the sealed letter that Moltke had earlier forwarded into his safe-keeping.43 It stated that Germany had reliable information that France intended to attack her through Belgium and she would therefore be forced to enter Belgium in response. If Belgium did nothing to halt this invasion, Germany promised that, once the war was over and peace resumed, she would evacuate the territory, make good any damage done and pay for food used by her troops. However, if the movement of German troops was opposed, Germany regretted that she would have to regard Belgium as an enemy. The Belgians were given 12 hours to reply: that is by 7 a.m. on 3 August.44
King Alfred of Belgium sent a message to Sir Edward Grey to confirm that Belgium would refuse the German request and appealed for British support. The telegram was timed to perfection for Grey’s vital speech in the House of Commons later that day. It provided ammunition to sway the Cabinet and Parliament. How could anyone of moral standing reject gallant little Belgium’s desperate plea for help?45
In London in the small hours of Monday, 3 August, with his Cabinet abed and blissfully ignorant of his intentions, Asquith quietly advanced all preparations for war. He wrote out the authorisation for mobilisation of the British Army. Lord Haldane personally delivered it to the War Office at eleven o’clock that morning and issued the very orders that he had prepared years before when he held the office of minister for war.46 The first steps had already started five days earlier, but the instructions had to be made official. The Secret Elite had, through its agents, authorised the general mobilisation of both the British navy and army without the approval of the Cabinet or Parliament.
Later that warm bank holiday morning, ministers returned yet again to Downing Street. Just before Cabinet, Asquith met privately with the Conservative leaders Bonar Law and Lord Lansdowne. He advised them that if a critical number of Liberal ministers resigned, a coalition government would be the only way forward. He knew he could rely on their support for war since the Conservative leaders were fellow agents of the Secret Elite.
In Cabinet, Asquith announced the resignations of John Burns and Lord Morley, and the junior minister Charles Trevelyan. He asked if he should go to the king to offer his resignation or if coalition government might be the answer. It was essentially blackmail. He knew that the waverers were extremely reluctant to bring down the Liberal government at this critical juncture in Britain’s history. No further offers of resignation were tendered. The Cabinet broke up in some disarray. No vote had been taken on the critical issue of Britain going to war. It was such a clever ploy. By continually seeking a consensus, Asquith wore down his Cabinet critics and created the illusion of debate. Later, much later, another prime minister would substitute the myth of weapons of mass destruction for the myth of Belgian neutrality.
Inside Parliament, Sir Edward Grey had far more support from the opposition benches than from his own party. Balfour, Bonar Law, F.E. Smith and Carson had been advised in advance of the likelihood of war47 and promised unreserved support. In the House of Lords, many powerful men stood ready to ensure that every sinew was strained to approve war. Lords Derby, Lansdowne, Rothschild, Curzon and Milner, the beating heart of the Secret Elite, w
ere joined by the press baron Lord Northcliffe and the financial, industrial and commercial interests that bore no single name. Grey would be the focus of attention in Parliament, but at no stage was he acting alone.
As Members of Parliament gathered in the House of Commons at 3 p.m. that day, bursting with expectation and apprehension, many would have read the Times’ full-blooded call to arms against Germany. ‘The blame must fall mainly on Germany’ was its rant. How ridiculously ironic that the editorial, written by Geoffrey Dawson, complained of Germany ‘mobilising behind a mask of conversations’, when the very opposite was the case. The villains who had mobilised behind such a mask were Russia, France and Britain. Accusations of a German invasion of France, a German resolve to crush France, a forthcoming German invasion of Holland and Belgium were followed in that editorial by an appeal to duty, both in Britain and in the Empire. ‘When Britain goes to war, the whole Empire is at war.’48 It was one day ahead of itself.
The Times was the voice of the Secret Elite and well informed in all aspects of its business. It carried a detailed insider report on the arduous Sunday Cabinet meetings and talked disparagingly of the few Cabinet ‘dissidents’ who did not want intervention. Mr Asquith was cheerfully advised that it would be ‘no disadvantage’ to bring some new blood into his administration. To claim that The Times was one step ahead was not an empty boast. Germany, for example, did not declare war on France until 6.15 p.m. that very day. It was but a taste of the lies and propaganda that would necessarily follow.
Hidden History: The Secret Origins of the First World War. Page 44