Europe's Last Summer

by David Fromkin

  Austria-Hungary had to be seen—at least by the German people, and preferably by all of Europe—as the provoked party. That, in Wilhelm's view, had not been the case in the early autumn of 1912 or the late spring of 1914 but had been true in the late autumn of 1912—and now was true again because of the Sarajevo killings.

  Austria-Hungary had to act by itself and with lightning speed.

  The Kaiser clearly believed that Austria intended to punish Serbia for the killings. He either was not told or did not understand that the Dual Monarchy proposed to destroy Serbia—a goal that Wilhelm had blocked in the past when it was openly avowed.

  Circumstances had to be such that Russia, France, and England were unlikely to intervene. That is what the Kaiser and much of his entourage believed to be the case in July 1914. Bethmann, who was designated to watch over the operation against Serbia on behalf of Germany, understood that there was a risk of igniting a conflagration, but believed it to be only a slight risk. Wilhelm believed that for all practical purposes there was no risk at all.

  The Kaiser's conviction was that the crisis would pass quickly: "that the situation would be cleared up within a week, because of Serbia's backing down."

  Alternatively, Wilhelm explained to one of his naval officers, "the Austrian government will demand the most far-reaching satisfaction from Serbia and will, as soon as this is not given, move its troops into Serbia." As he saw it, there would be a quick Hapsburg military occupation of Belgrade, the Serb capital, which was conveniently located on the river that formed the Austro-Hungarian frontier, followed by an imposed peace treaty forcing Serbia to become an Austrian ally.

  On July 5–6 neither the Kaiser nor his advisers believed that they were risking much by extending their guarantee. Erich von Falken-hayn, Prussian minister of war, was not convinced that Vienna "was really in earnest" or "had taken any firm resolution." Germany risked nothing because in all likelihood it would never be called upon to make good on its guarantee. The consensus was that "the Russians— though friends of Serbia—will not join in after all." The Kaiser said to Szogyéni that Russia "was not by any means prepared for war," and he told his military advisers that France would "scarcely let it come to a war" because it still lacked heavy artillery. Moreover, he did not believe that the Czar would enter a war on the side of regicides. Falkenhayn asked if additional preparations should be made for a war involving the Great Powers, and Wilhelm said no.

  Germany's military leaders had made it clear that, in any case, they were prepared for all eventualities. The Kaiser and his generals may have supported the blank check decision for opposite reasons. He was in favor of it because he believed that war would not result from it, while some of them may have been in favor of it because it raised the possibility that a war would result from it.

  So it was that, three weeks after refusing to pledge unconditional support to the living Franz Ferdinand, Kaiser Wilhelm avowed such support to the cause of the dead Franz Ferdinand. What had changed was the death of the Archduke. Wilhelm was not alone in this; the leaders of other countries felt the same way. Europe's sympathies now would be against Serbia and with the Austrians—if they struck back immediately, and if they acted alone rather than in collusion with Germany.

  But the lies—or at least misleading statements—told by the Austrian and German governments threatened to catch up with them.

  Austria-Hungary lied when it claimed to be striking back for the murder of the Archduke. In fact, the killings at Sarajevo had relatively little to do with the Hapsburg desire to crush Serbia. What gave away Austria's lie in the first instance was that it did not attack immediately, which is what one does when one strikes out in anger or in self-defense. Alternatively, one would pursue a full judicial inquiry to its conclusion, and then publish its results to the world, which Vienna lacked the patience to do.

  The fact—known now, though not then—that the memo submitted to the Kaiser in support of the plan to go to war was the same memo that had been prepared before the murders in Sarajevo shows that it did not arise from that event.

  Austria did not play its part very well. Its behavior in the weeks that followed did nothing to persuade Europe that it was primarily motivated by a desire to avenge the slain Archduke. Disbelief crept over Europe. Vienna's claims appeared less and less credible in the ensuing weeks.

  To Germany, the Austrian representatives apparently gave the impression that they would do what the Kaiser insisted upon: act with lightning speed, finishing the matter in a week or two or three.

  The Germans counted on it, but the Hapsburg Empire was incapable of fulfilling this expectation. It was another misstatement that was apt to catch up with the Austrians, though perhaps they themselves did not realize they could not perform as promised.

  Then there were the Germans, not perhaps lying, but showing a want of candor. The Kaiser and many of his men were certain that none of the other Great Powers of Europe would intervene to halt the expected Austrian strike. They committed to ward off France and Russia in the firm belief that they never would be called upon to do so. They were signing a check that they believed would never be cashed.

  CHAPTER 26: THE GREAT DECEPTION

  In collusion with one another, each of the two parties now played out their assigned roles. Austria decided—apparently acting by itself and spontaneously—to claim to be bringing the murderers and their Serbian sponsors to justice. Striking out in a show of righteous wrath, the Hapsburg armies would be punishing the guilty and also exercising a right of self-defense against further attacks staged from Serbia. Europe, even if it did not applaud, would at least admit that the Austrians had every right to be doing what they were doing.

  It was vital that the world should not know of Germany's role or the Kaiser's guarantee. Certainly the two allies acted as though they believed secrecy to be essential. They lied repeatedly in the weeks to come, breaching the trust that was the hallmark of European diplomacy in an earlier age.

  Had Germany's participation been discovered in time, Europe would have recognized that Austria was not pursuing the objectives it claimed. It was not avenging a murder victim; it was using the murder as a cloak under which to set back Russia in the Balkans. Europe would have seen what Austria intended was not to punish Serbia but to destroy it; not to defeat Serbia, but to wipe it off the map.

  And the world would have realized that Germany was not, like France or Italy, an innocent bystander, but a full participant in Austria's project. The German-speaking combine was not seeking justice for the slain Archduke; instead it was engaging in a power play intended to alter the balance of power in the Balkans in their favor.

  So Austria had to attack and subjugate Serbia before anybody fully realized that anything was afoot. Europe had to be lulled into believing that Austria was going to do nothing at all until weeks of judicial inquiry had concluded with the fixing of responsibility on the guilty parties. Unaware of what was planned, Europe would take no precautions. To dupe Europe, the leaders of Germany and Austria would have to become play actors.

  It long had been the custom of Europe's leaders to take summer holidays. In early July, Berchtold had the notion (as did Bethmann) of lulling the European world into a sense of illusory security by pretending to follow their normal July schedules. Berchtold told his war minister and his army chief of staff to go away on vacations "to prevent any disquiet." Emperor Franz Joseph resumed his holiday. Chancellor Bethmann attempted the same ruse and made a show of being at his country estate. Tirpitz was vacationing in the Black Forest. Moltke was at the famous spa of Carlsbad, taking the waters. The foreign minister was on his honeymoon. Moltke's and Tirpitz's deputies were on holiday. So was the minister of war.

  The Germans, once installed in their vacation retreats, seem to have done their best to remain there and to look innocent. On the advice of the Prime Minister, Kaiser Wilhelm reluctantly went off on his scheduled cruise, though he found the whole exercise in deception "childish!" It seems not to have occu
rred to him at the time that his Chancellor was dispatching him on his voyage in order to get him out of the way.

  The special oddity of July 1914 therefore was that those fateful activities that were going on were not visible. It was like a play in which everything of importance happens offstage.

  Early in the morning of Monday, July 6, before embarking, the Kaiser sent for several officers to deliver messages for him. Admiral Eduard von Capelle, Tirpitz's deputy, received a phone call between 7:00 and 8:00 a.m. summoning him. He found Wilhelm in the garden of his palace. Capelle recalled: "The Emperor walked up and down with me for a short while and told me briefly of the occurrences of the day before"—the blank check to Austria, an account of which Capelle apparently was to give to Tirpitz. The Kaiser "did not believe in serious warlike developments. According to his view, the Czar would not in this case place himself on the side of regicides. Besides that, Russia and France were not prepared for war. (The Emperor did not mention England.) On the advice of the Imperial Chancellor, he was going to start on the journey to Northland, in order not to create any uneasiness."

  A similar message was sent by the hand of a naval officer, Captain Zenker, to his superiors. "His Majesty had promised" to protect Austria if Russia interfered "but did not believe that Russia would enter the lists for Serbia, which had stained itself by an assassination. France, too, would scarcely let it come to war, as it lacked the heavy artillery for the field armies. Yet though a war against Russia-France was not probable, nevertheless the possibility of such a war must be borne in mind from a military point of view."

  Wilhelm was aware that he had a reputation for backing down in a crisis. "This time I shall not give in," he told the armaments manufacturer Krupp.

  Aboard ship, the Kaiser did his best to avoid looking like someone awaiting important news. Yet on July 6 he allowed two of his naval officers to understand that in nine days Austria's response to what the Serbs had done would be known. At other times the Kaiser told his officers the situation would be resolved in one week or within three weeks. He told the acting armed forces chiefs: "He did not anticipate major military complications. In his opinion the Tsar in this case would not take the part of the regicides. Moreover, Russia and France were not prepared for war. . . . On the Chancellor's advice he was going on his . . . cruise in order not to give cause for disquietude."

  Wilhelm told much the same to the chief of his Military Cabinet and to the Prussian minister of war: "the sooner the Austrians make their move against Serbia, the better, and . . . the Russians—though friends of Serbia—will not join in."

  On July 7, the day after Germany signed its blank check, Berchtold convened the cabinet of the Dual Monarchy to seek its authorization to move forward. The cabinet was comprised of the Austrian Premier and his ministers, the Hungarian Premier and his ministers, and the handful, such as Berchtold, who were ministers of the Austro-Hungarian union.

  The cabinet deliberated and debated for hours. The Hungarian Prime Minister, Count István Tisza, expressed strong opposition to Berchtold's plans. He was alone in doing so, but he kept the others from taking action. Tisza warned that an invasion of Serbia by the Dual Monarchy "would, as far as can humanly be foreseen, lead to an intervention by Russia and hence to a world war." His alternative plan was for Vienna to draw up a list of demands and "issue an ultimatum only if Serbia did not fulfill them. The demands must be stiff but not impossible to meet." Above all, he argued, the Hapsburg Empire should not allow itself to be drawn into a war.

  Instead, the cabinet proposed to present an ultimatum to Serbia— a waste of time, as Berchtold should have realized—that Serbia could not possibly accept, and to follow it up by launching an invasion. Tisza, who was entitled to a veto, held out for making demands that Serbia could accept. His preference was for a peaceful solution.

  All the ministers were convinced that some Serbian officials were connected in some way with the crime in Sarajevo, though they had no conclusive proof of it, and the Sarajevo trial might not take place for weeks or months. That was too long for Berchtold to wait. He needed to act in a matter of days or perhaps a week or two at most.

  For a week, July 7–14, Count Tisza stonewalled. Then his foreign policy adviser persuaded him that Hungary, in its quarrel with Romania, would benefit from the crusade against Serbia. Moreover, Berchtold employed two other powerful arguments. There were those in the German government who would be so disappointed in the Dual Monarchy if it failed to act in a manly fashion that they would see no value in remaining an ally: the German alliance, on which all depended, would be lost. Moreover, Berchtold held out hope to the Hungarian Prime Minister; it was not impossible that Serbia would accept Austrian terms, in which case there would be no war after all. (That was not really true, for Berchtold was determined to force a war on Serbia no matter what Serbia said or did.)

  Tisza abandoned his opposition, but it had cost Berchtold a week. And the Kaiser, it will be remembered, expected matters to be resolved in a week or two, or three at the most.

  From London on July 9, the German ambassador reported that he had discussed the Sarajevo aftermath and Austria's possible response with Sir Edward Grey. He stated that Grey "was in a thoroughly confident mood, and declared in cheerful tones that he saw no reason for taking a pessimistic view of the situation."

  July 11. A question for the German foreign office from the Kaiser's yacht: should the customary telegram of congratulations be sent to the King of Serbia on his birthday, July 12? Answer: "As Vienna has so far inaugurated no action of any sort against Belgrade, the omission of the customary telegram would be too noticeable and might be the cause of premature uneasiness. . . . [I]t should be sent."

  July 14. Vienna to Berlin. The ultimatum to be sent to Serbia "is being composed so that the possibility of its acceptance is practically excluded." But it has not yet been put in final form and would not be before July 19. ("Too bad," notes the Kaiser.)

  By mid-July, complaints of Austrian indecisiveness seemed to be justified. It was possible to speculate, as Bavarian officials did, that at the conference of July 5–6, Austria-Hungary would have preferred to have the Kaiser refuse the blank check—not offer full support—so as to have an excuse for doing nothing.

  As had so many European diplomats, Baron Giesl von Gieslingen, Austria's minister in Belgrade, had been away on vacation. On July 10 he returned. The Russian representative, Hartwig, promptly called upon him that evening to present formal condolences for the assassinations in Sarajevo. Hartwig denied a rumor that he had failed to mark the occasion by flying the legation flag at half-mast.

  Hartwig, who was obese, suffered not only from asthma but also from angina pectoris. It was of the heart pains that he now complained. Official duties would keep him at his post for two days more. Then he could vacation at a spa.

  Hartwig inquired what Austria planned to do in response to the events in Sarajevo. Giesl assured him that he need have no fears on Serbia's behalf. Hartwig looked relieved. Then, noiselessly, the Russian diplomat slipped to the floor. A doctor, called immediately, pronounced him dead of a heart attack.

  The Giesls sent for Hartwig's daughter Ludmilla. She brushed aside all attempts to comfort her, bitterly calling them "Austrian words." She searched the room; she asked whether her father had been served food or drink (he had not); and she carefully carried away his cigarette butts, presumably to be tested for poison.

  The cigarettes had not been tampered with. What had been poisoned in Balkan Europe in July 1914 was the air. It had become a world of lies, plots, and deceit.

  CHAPTER 27: BERCHTOLD RUNS

  OUT OF TIME

  July 14. Even though Tisza no longer stood in the way, Berchtold still could not go ahead to attack Serbia. Conrad, the chief of staff, discovered that a leave of absence that had been given to the troops for harvesting of crops would not expire until July 25. An emergency recall would have signaled Vienna's warlike intentions; it could not be done.

  To strike be
fore then would be imprudent, the Austrians decided, for another reason. The President and the Prime Minister of France were about to pay a state call on Russia. Therefore the leaders of the two allies would be together, able to concert their response to whatever moves Austria might make. Not wishing to allow this to happen, Berchtold decided to wait until the two Frenchmen had left St. Petersburg and were aboard ship, thus safely out of touch. That meant ascertaining the date that French President Raymond Poincaré and Prime Minister Rene Viviani planned to leave. He asked his embassy in St. Petersburg to supply him with this information. Having done so, Berchtold planned to present an ultimatum to Serbia on July 23 that would expire July 25.

  For use in his proposed note to Serbia, Berchtold wanted information on the latest incriminating evidence uncovered in Sarajevo. One of his officials went to Sarajevo, sifted the evidence, and reported on July 13: It was not what Berchtold would have wished to hear. Much of it was inconclusive. The Austrian investigators had found that "There is nothing to prove or even to suppose that the Serbian government is accessory to the inducement for the crime, its preparation, or the furnishing of weapons. On the contrary, there are reasons to believe that this is altogether out of the question." All that could be found was that the assassins had been aided by persons with ties to government.