The World Crisis Read online

  On the morning of July 7 the Imperial Yacht Hohenzollern sailed away to Norway and for three weeks the mighty potentate, upon whose word the lives of countless millions hung, took no part in European affairs. ‘Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.’

  The measures taken by the various German authorities after the Kaiser’s departure were discreet. Moltke’s deputy at the General Staff, Waldersee, deposed at the post-war Parliamentary investigation: ‘There was nothing to initiate… the Army was, as always, ready.’ And at the time (July 17, 1914) he wrote to Jagow—a strange official intimacy between the Foreign Secretary and a subordinate military officer: ‘I shall remain here ready to jump; we are all prepared at the General Staff; in the meantime there is nothing to do.’ Krupp, after a preliminary inquiry, learned that the munition works had sufficient materials on hand to guarantee the activity of all factories for quite a long time ‘even if fully shut off [from outside sources].’ The Navy required more attention and seems to have had a sharper realization. After a secret conference of the highest officials summoned by Admiral von Capelle it was decided to hasten the construction of all nearly-completed small craft; to increase the fuel supplies; to provide fleet auxiliaries and store ships; ‘to put into shape’ the naval flying forces; and to send a battleship on a test trip through the now-just-deepened Kiel canal. Warnings were also sent to the cruisers in foreign stations. Admiral von Spee, commanding in the Pacific, was told on July 6 to remain with the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau at Ponape ‘in certain and constant communication.’ On the 9th he was told that war between Austria and Serbia was possible and that the Triple Alliance might become involved, and on the 10th that England might be involved ‘if it came to a general war.’ The Goeben was ordered to Pola and workmen sent from Germany to hasten repair of her boiler-tubes, and Admiral Suchon was informed that the situation was not free from anxiety. Lastly the little gunboat Eber, which was being repaired in our dockyard at Capetown, was warned to adjust the work to the political situation. She curtailed her repairs forthwith. Of this last item a report reached the British Admiralty. It was not quite clear why the Eber had changed her programme of work. The indication was however too slight for conclusions to be drawn. After all, we too were always ready.

  When Lord Granville became Foreign Secretary on July 6, 1870, he was informed by his official adviser that ‘he had never known during his long experience so great a lull in foreign affairs and that he was not aware of any important question that the new Minister would have to deal with.’ A few days later the Franco-German war had begun. Now in 1914, on this very July 6, Sir Arthur Nicolson himself wrote that ‘apart from Albania we have no very urgent and pressing question to preoccupy us in the rest of Europe.’ Thus history repeats itself.

  Early on the morning of the 7th Count Hoyos returned from Berlin with the fateful answer. It exceeded the rosiest dreams of Conrad and of Berchtold and the rest of the war party at Vienna. The Austrian envoy brought back the joyous tidings which Conrad records in the following terms: ‘Germany would stand on our side unconditionally, even if our advance against Serbia let loose the great war. Germany advises us to set matters in motion.’ Perhaps never in the history of the world has so vast an obligation been entered into so incontinently. The Vienna Cabinet was given a blank cheque valid against the whole resources of the German Empire to fill in at pleasure, provided only that it set to work without delay.

  By noon the Ministers forming the Cabinet of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were assembled in conclave. The eight men gathered around the table represented four nationalities and five governments. Berchtold, as Foreign Minister, presided. Count Stürgkh, the Austrian Prime Minister, Bilinski, the joint Finance Minister, von Krobatin, the War Minister, Conrad the War Lord and his naval colleague Admiral von Kailer, Hoyos, and last but by no means least Count Tisza. Very complete accounts of this meeting have been made public.9

  Berchtold began by saying that the ministerial council had been summoned ‘to advise on the measures to be adopted for the restoration to a healthy basis of the bad internal political conditions in Bosnia and Herzegovina in connection with the Sarajevo catastrophe…. It must be decided whether the moment had not come to render Serbia for ever innocuous by a manifestation of power. A decisive stroke of this kind could not be effected without diplomatic preparations, therefore he had consulted the German government. The discussions in Berlin had led to a very satisfactory result, for both Kaiser Wilhelm and Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg had given assurances with all emphasis of the unconditional support of Germany in the event of a warlike complication with Serbia…. He was clear that a passage of arms with Serbia might have war with Russia as the consequence. Russia was pursuing a policy which, on a long view, had for its object the consolidation of the Balkan States, including Roumania… against the Monarchy. In the face of such a policy their situation must continue to grow worse….’

  With one exception the Cabinet was spellbound with relief and thankfulness. Indeed, we cannot wonder at their mood. Imagine struggling for years against external menace and internal disruption; imagine the rage and hatred for a deadly foe stifled for years; and then imagine an armed and invincible giant, a genius, superhuman in force and warlike skill, suddenly placed for the first time, perhaps for the last, at your absolute disposal! Rub the lamp, utter the incantation, and you have him at your service! Nay, for ever at your service, provided you do not fear to invoke him now. Now or never!

  Count Tisza alone stood forth in direct opposition. ‘I shall never consent to a surprise attack on Serbia without previous diplomatic action, as seems to be intended, and to have been also regrettably discussed in Berlin by Count Hoyos. We shall in that case be in a very bad position in the eyes of Europe, and must also reckon on the hostility of the whole of the Balkans—except Bulgaria—without even the latter, now so much weakened, supporting us effectively. We must formulate demands on Serbia, and only send an ultimatum if Serbia does not accept them. These demands should indeed be hard, but not unfulfillable. If Serbia accepts them, we shall have a resounding diplomatic success to proclaim and our prestige in the Balkans will rise again. If our demands are not accepted, then I, too, will be for warlike action; but I must here make plain that even in this event our aim should be the diminishing, but not the annihilation, of Serbia. Russia would never consent to this without a life-and-death struggle, and as Hungarian Minister-President I will never consent to the Monarchy annexing a part of Serbia.’ Then follows a significant sentence showing the positive pressure which the Kaiser and his Chancellor were applying to Austria. ‘It is not Germany’s affair to judge whether we ought or ought not now to launch action against Serbia. I, personally, am of opinion that it is not at the moment absolutely necessary to make a war. The agitation against us in Roumania is very strong. In face of the excited public opinion there, we must reckon with a Roumanian attack, and will in any case have to hold a considerable force in Siebenbürgen to overawe the Roumanians. Now, when Germany has happily freed the way for Bulgaria’s accession to the Triple Alliance, there opens to us a promising field for a successful diplomatic action in the Balkans through the inclusion of Bulgaria and Italy in the Triple Alliance…. France’s strength compared to Germany’s will grow even worse from her lower birth-rate, and Germany consequently will in future years have more and more troops available against Russia.’ …Thus Tisza, but he was isolated. The others resolved that ‘unacceptable demands must be addressed to Serbia, so that war would be inevitable,’ and this conclusion was conveyed to the Emperor.

  After the Cabinet Tisza sent a memorial to the Emperor.

  ‘Such an attack upon Serbia would, in human possibility, provoke the world war, in which case I—despite all optimism in Berlin—should be obliged to regard Roumania’s neutrality as at least very questionable. Public opinion there would passionately demand war against us, a pressure which the present Roumanian Government could not resist at all and King Carol only with great difficulty. In t
his war of aggression the Russian and Roumanian armies would have to be counted as in the enemy’s camp, which would make our prospects very unfavourable….

  ‘To summarize what I have said, a war provoked by us would probably have to be fought under very unfavourable conditions, whereas a postponement of the breach to a later date, if we make good diplomatic use of it, would result in an improvement in our relative strengths. If in addition to these political aspects I take into consideration the financial and economic situation—which would make the conduct of the war immensely (kolossal) more difficult and would render the sacrifices and suffering involved in it almost insupportable for the community—I cannot, after painfully conscientious reflection, share the responsibility for the proposed military aggression against Serbia.’10

  Strange indeed that this man should have perished at the hands of an assassin who believed he was avenging mankind upon one of the prime authors of its miseries!

  To make sure there was no mistake Tschirschky, the German Ambassador, smarting from a rebuke his earlier prudence had earned him, called upon Berchtold next day. At the close of the visit Berchtold reported it to Tisza.

  ‘He told me,’ wrote Berchtold, ‘that he had received a telegram from Berlin according to which his Imperial Master instructed him to declare here with all emphasis that in Berlin an action against Serbia is expected, and that it would not be understood in Germany if we allowed the opportunity to pass without striking a blow.’11

  Berchtold and Conrad now proceeded to fill in the blank cheque. They made it out for all the assets of the German people and appointed a speedy date for payment. In the pigeon-holes of the Ballplatz there lay a document prepared three years before for use against Serbia should occasion arise. This was the celebrated ultimatum. It expressed all that Austria felt against its foe and all that she had never until now dared to say aloud. Only a few minor changes in the wording were necessary to bring it up to date and make it fit the circumstances of the hour.

  In the course of July 8 Conrad, too, visited Berchtold. He found with him Barons Burian and Macchio, and Counts Forgach and Hoyos. He writes:

  ‘I received information as to the demands which were to be handed to Serbia in an ultimatum with the short time-limit of either twenty-four or forty-eight hours. It was to be expected that Serbia would refuse the demands, so that on the expiry of the time-limit, mobilization for war would ensue.’

  BERCHTOLD. What happens if Serbia lets things go as far as mobilization and then gives way all along the line?

  CONRAD. Then we march in.

  BERCHTOLD. Yes—but if Serbia does nothing at all?

  CONRAD. Then Serbia remains occupied until the costs of the war have been paid.

  BERCHTOLD. We will not hand in the ultimatum until after the harvest and after the close of the Sarajevo Inquiry.

  CONRAD. Rather to-day than to-morrow, so long as the situation is what it is. So soon as our opponents get wind of it, they will get ready.

  BERCHTOLD. Care will be taken that the secret is kept most carefully and that no one knows anything of it.

  CONRAD. When is the ultimatum to go out?

  BERCHTOLD. In fourteen days—on the 22nd July. It would be a good thing if you and the War Minister would go on leave for a time, in order to preserve the appearance that nothing is happening.

  We then spoke about the attitude of Roumania and the possible intervention of Russia.

  CONRAD. As to whether we are to go to war with Russia we must be perfectly clear at once. If Russia orders a general mobilization, then the moment has come for us to declare ourselves against Russia.

  BERCHTOLD. If we enter Serbia and have occupied sufficient territory—what then?

  CONRAD. With the occupation of territory nothing has been attained; we must proceed until we have struck down the Serbian army.

  BERCHTOLD. And if it retires?

  CONRAD. Then we demand demobilization and disarmament. Once things have got that far, the rest follows.

  BERCHTOLD. Only take no measures now which could give us away; nothing must be done which would attract attention.12

  Sentence of death had thus been signed, sealed and delivered upon the Empire of the Hapsburgs, upon the Russia of Peter, and of Catherine the Great, and upon the Germany of Bismarck. The end of the world of Queen Victoria was at hand.

  But now it is summer time and all over Europe families of every class are looking forward to their holidays. The Kaiser is cruising among the fjords of Norway; his generals and ministers are at watering places, salt or medicinal. Francis Joseph rests in his shooting lodge at Ischl. Conrad, as arranged, departs for Tirol. Russian royalties and generals preen themselves at Homburg or Marienbad. The French President and his Premier are banqueting and parading with the Czar at St. Petersburg. London and Lancashire folk are thinking of Margate or the Isle of Man. Only the English Cabinet is tethered to Westminster by the Irish troubles, and the Admiralty is busy with its test mobilization, about which it had been fussing, and with the Royal Review of the entire British fleet appointed for the third week in July. All is calm and the skies are blue and the weather genial. Nevertheless a certain piece of foolscap covered with typewriting is lying in Berchtold’s portfolio. It will be despatched to its address on July 23.

  Whole libraries have been written about the coming of the war. Every government involved has laboured to prove its guiltlessness. Every people casts the odium upon some other. Every statesman has been at pains to show how he toiled for peace, but was nevertheless a man of action whom no fears could turn from the path of duty. Every soldier has found it necessary to explain how much he loved peace, but of course neglected no preparations for war. Whereas the causes of old wars are often obscure from lack of records, a vast fog of information envelops the fatal steps to Armageddon. A hundred reasons are offered to show why all the governments and potentates acted as they did, and how good their motives were. But in this cloud of testimony the few gleaming points of truth are often successfully obscured. In the mood of men, in the antagonisms between the Powers, amid the clash of interests and deep promptings of self-preservation or self-assertion in the hearts of races, there lay mighty causes. Then came a few short sharp individual acts, and swiftly the final explosion. It is these acts and their doers that we must seek to discern.

  There was the man who fired the shots that killed the Archduke and his wife in Sarajevo. There was the man who deliberately, accepting the risk of a world war, told the Austrian Emperor that Germany would give him a free hand against Serbia and urged him to use it. There was the man who framed and launched the ultimatum to Serbia. These men took the fatal decisive steps. Behind them hundreds of high functionaries laboured faithfully and energetically in that state of life unto which God had been displeased to call them; and each has his tale to tell. But no one except the doers of these particular deeds bears the direct concrete responsibility for the loosing upon mankind of incomparably its most frightful misfortune since the collapse of the Roman Empire before the Barbarians.

  CHAPTER VI

  THE FRONTS AND THE COMBATANTS

  This fortnight of sunshine and peace was the last which many millions of men and women were ever to enjoy. It was the respite of the nations. Let us look beneath the fair-seeming surface of Europe, into those chambers and recesses in which the agencies of destruction have been prepared and stored. Let us survey the regions about to be rent by the explosion. Let us measure the forces gathered during the generations of wealth and science for the torment of mankind, and describe the conditions, combinations and directions under which when liberated they will work their will.

  Let us first examine with a military eye the theatre of impending action. The prime characteristic is its size. In the West the armies were too big for the country; in the East the country was too big for the armies. The enormous masses of men which were repeatedly flung at each other were dwarfed and isolated by the scale of the landscape. Sixteen or seventeen armies, each approaching two hund
red thousand men, were in constant movement against the enemy, sometimes grouped in twos and threes, sometimes acting in convergent combination, yet always separated by wide gaps of undefended and almost unwatched country from one another. Everywhere and always the flanks and often the rear of these huge organizations were exposed to hostile strategy or manœuvres. No large force on either side could advance far without intense and growing anxiety, lest some other powerful body were advancing swiftly from an unexpected angle and would suddenly manifest itself in unknown strength, marching upon the vital communications. Each of these armies comprised the population of a large city, consuming men, food and highly-refined, costly manufactures at an incredible rate. None could live for more than a week without a copious flow of supplies. The capture by surprise of some key fortress, the cutting of an important railway line, a blown-up bridge or a blown-in tunnel, the seizure of some mountain pass or gap in a chain of lakes, might spell not only the failure of gigantic operations but the ruin and disintegration of larger and far more highly organized forces than Napoleon had led from Europe into Russia.

  Here was War in all its old unlimited hazard, but on an unexampled scale. No endless succession of trench lines, range behind range, fortified with every device or carefully studied for eventual defence, all backed by a prodigious artillery and batteries everywhere supporting each other, all laced together by a close network of railways—none of this reduced the liabilities of the commanders or set bounds to the consequences of a victory. There were all the dramatic, dumbfounding situations, all the movement, all the disproportionate forfeits of accident and chance of the campaigns in the Shenandoah Valley. It was the same fierce, primordial game multiplied fifty-fold and with whole ponderous armies instead of mobile brigades as counters. No long-prepared, elaborately mounted offensives, no months of preparation for resistance as in the West: here it was ‘catch as catch can,’ as in the wars of Marlborough, Frederick and Napoleon. But the pitch was also raised by the strong, multiplying power of railways, capable of producing now here, now there, an irresistible development of hostile forces. In this wide scene and amid these dire conditions Austria flagged, Russia toiled, suffered and finally collapsed; while the German Titan, equipped with science and armed with terror, darted from point to point with cruel, flashing sword.