Dreadnought, Britain, Germany and the Coming of the Great War

by Robert K. Massie

  Moltke had no doubt that war was imminent. He was ready. Like Conrad, he sensed that time was against the Triple Alliance, that the balance of power in Europe was shifting, that Serbia and Russia must be dealt with before the Russian Army was reequipped and the "Slav battering ram" could be driven home. On May 12, 1914, Conrad visited Karlsbad, where Moltke was taking a cure. "General von Moltke expressed the opinion that every delay meant a lessening of our chances," Conrad recorded. The Austrian chief agreed, adding pointedly that "the attitude of Germany in past years has caused us to let many favorable opportunities go by." He asked how long the coming "joint war against Russia and France would last; that is, how long before Germany would be able to turn against Russia with strong forces." Moltke replied, "We hope in six weeks after the beginning of operations to have finished with France, or at least so far as to enable us to direct our principal forces against the East."

  Two weeks after the generals met, the Kaiser visited the Archduke Franz Ferdinand at his castle, Konopischt, in Bohemia. The Archduke's garden was famous for its roses and, officially, the German Emperor had come to admire the flowers in bloom. Over two days, William and Franz Ferdinand discussed the dangers posed to the Dual Monarchy and the Triple Alliance by Serbia. They agreed that something must be done. Russia was a factor, but it was the Archduke's opinion that internal difficulties in the Tsar's empire were too great to permit Russia to consider war.

  Franz Ferdinand had another appointment at the end of June. He was scheduled to attend army maneuvers in the Bosnian mountains and, as a gesture to the South Slav population, he decided to pay a ceremonial visit to the Bosnian capital, Sarajevo. As a show of goodwill, he asked that the troops normally lining the streets for security during an Imperial visit be dispensed with. Except for a scattering of local policemen, the crowds were to have free access to the Heir to the Throne. On the morning of June 28, Franz Ferdinand, dressed in the pale blue tunic and red-striped black trousers of a cavalry general, with green plumes waving from his cap, sat in the open back seat of the second car, next to his wife, Sophie. Around him on the streets, he saw smiling faces and waving arms. Flags and decorative bright-colored rugs hung from the balconies; his own portrait stared back at him from the windows of shops and houses.

  As the procession neared City Hall, the Archduke's chauffeur spotted an object as it was hurled from the crowd. He pressed the accelerator, and a bomb which would have landed in Sophie's lap exploded under the wheels of the car behind. Two officers were wounded and the young bomb-thrower was apprehended by the police. Franz Ferdinand arrived at City Hall shaken and furious. "One comes here for a visit," he shouted, "and is welcomed by bombs." There was an urgent conference. A member of the Archduke's suite asked whether a military guard could be arranged. "Do you think Sarajevo is filled with assassins?" replied the provincial governor.

  It was decided to go back through the city by a different route from the one announced. On the way, the driver of the first car, forgetting the alteration, turned into one of the prearranged streets. The Archduke's chauffeur, following behind, was momentarily misled. He started to turn. An official shouted, "That's the wrong way!" At that moment, a slim nineteen-year-old boy stepped forward, aimed a pistol into the car, and fired twice. Sophie sank forward onto her husband's chest. Franz Ferdinand remained sitting upright and for a moment no one noticed that he had been hit. Then the governor, sitting in front, heard him murmur, "Sophie! Sophie! Don't die! Stay alive for our children!" His body sagged and blood from the severed jugular vein in his neck spurted across his uniform. He died almost immediately. Sophie, the Duchess of Hohenberg, died soon after. Fifteen minutes later, both bodies were laid in a room next to the ballroom where waiters were chilling champagne for his reception.

  The assassin, Gavrilo Princip, was a native Bosnian, who, on trial, declared that he had acted to "kill an enemy of the South Slavs" and also because the Archduke was "an energetic man who as ruler would have carried through ideas and reforms which stood in our way." Princip was part of a team of youthful assassins, all of whom were Bosnians and thus Austro-Hungarian subjects, belonging to a revolutionary movement whose object was to detach Bosnia and other Slav provinces from the Hapsburg monarchy and incorporate them into a Kingdom of Greater Serbia. They had been provided with six pistols and six bombs taken from the Serbian State Arsenal and smuggled with Serbian help across the frontier. The Serbian government was not involved, but the plot had been hatched in Belgrade. The organizers were members of a secret society of extreme Serbian nationalists known as the Black Hand.

  The assassination horrified Europe. Sympathy lay overwhelmingly with the House of Hapsburg. Scarcely anyone questioned Austria-Hungary's right to impose some form of retribution. Sir Edward Grey, looking back, remembered, "No crime has ever aroused deeper or more general horror throughout Europe… Sympathy for Austria was universal. Both governments and public opinion were ready to support her in any measures, however severe, which she might think it necessary to take for the punishment of the murderer and his accomplices." Despite their shock, most Europeans refused to believe that the assassination would lead to war. War, revolution, and assassination were the normal ingredients of Balkan politics. "Nothing to cause anxiety," announced he Figaro in Paris. "Terrible shock for the dear old Emperor," King George V noted in his diary.

  In Vienna, Franz Josef accepted his nephew's demise with resignation, murmuring, "For me, it is a great worry less." Conrad von Hotzendorf, discreetly ecstatic, hailed the arrival of the long-awaited pretext for preventive war. Now there would be no mere punishment of "the murderer and his accomplices" but the crushing of the "viper," the demolition of the troublesome Serbian state. Count Berchtold, who hitherto had opposed preventive war, changed his mind and demanded that "the Monarchy with unflinching hand… tear asunder the threads which its foes are endeavoring to weave into a net above its head." Russia, patron of the Serbs, might object, but Russia could be confronted and forced to back away as she had been in 1909 by Austria's German ally. The key lay in Berlin; an Austrian decision for war must be contingent on Germany's guarantee against Russian intervention. The Emperor was cautious. Conrad came away from an interview with Franz Josef and recorded that the Emperor "does not feel certain of Germany and therefore hesitates to decide." It was essential to learn the German view.

  On the morning of July 5, Count Szogyeny, the Austrian Ambassador in Berlin, informed the Wilhelmstrasse that he had a personal, handwritten letter from the Emperor Franz Josef to deliver to the Kaiser. William immediately invited Szogyeny to lunch with the Kaiserin and himself in Potsdam. The Ambassador arrived at the New Palace at noon, handed the letter to his host, and waited silently while William read it. In shaky script, the eighty-four-year-old Emperor spelled out his interpretation of Sarajevo: "The crime against my nephew is the direct consequence of the agitation carried on by Russian and Serbian Pan-Slavists whose sole aim is to weaken the Triple Alliance and shatter my Empire. The bloody deed was not the work of a single individual but a well-organized plot whose threads extend to Belgrade. Though it may be impossible to prove the complicity of the Serbian Government, there can be no doubt that its policy of uniting all Southern Slavs under the Serbian flag encourages such crimes and that the continuation of this situation is a chronic peril for my House and my territories. My efforts must be directed to isolating Serbia and reducing her size." The letter ended with the question: What would German policy be if Austria decided to "punish… this center of criminal agitation in Belgrade?"

  William put the letter aside and spoke cautiously. He sympathized with the Emperor, but because of the "serious European complication," he could not answer before discussing it with his Chancellor, he told Szogyeny. The Kaiser took the Ambassador in to lunch. When the meal was finished, Szogyeny again brought up Franz Josefs letter, pleading the necessity of a reply. This time William's attitude was different. Setting caution aside, he assured the Ambassador that Austria could "rely on Germany's full support
." Although constitutionally he still had to consult the Imperial Chancellor, the Kaiser offered his own "opinion that this action must not be long delayed." Indeed-a pleased Szogyeny reported by telegram to Berchtold-William declared that "if we [Austria] had really recognized the necessity of warlike action against Serbia, he would regret if we did not make use of the present moment which is all in our favor." As for the possible "serious European complication" which had troubled the Kaiser before lunch, it seemed less serious: "Russia's attitude will no doubt be hostile, but"-the Ambassador reported the Kaiser as saying-"for this he had been prepared for years. Should a war between Austria-Hungary and Russia be unavoidable, we might be convinced that Germany, our old faithful ally, would stand at our side." The risks, William thought, were low: "Russia is in no way prepared for war."

  It was a historic moment. The Supreme War Lord of the German Empire, permitting the bellicose side of his nature to take command, had given his ally a blank check to strike down Serbia. If Russia interfered, he accepted the risk of a German war against Russia. And, based on the war plan of his own General Staff, Germany would also fight France.

  When the Chancellor was summoned to the New Palace that afternoon, he endorsed what had been said. "The views of the Kaiser corresponded with my own," he noted in his memoirs. Arriving from Hohenfinow, he found General Erich von Falkenhayn (the Minister of War), two other generals, and a representative of the Navy in attendance on the Kaiser. William read Franz Josef's letter and reported what he had said to Szogyeny. No one present objected to this blank check. "The sooner the Austrians make their move against Serbia the better," said General Plessen, a participant, and everyone nodded. All agreed with William's assessment that there was little risk from the Entente Powers: the Tsar would not place himself on the side of "a savage, regicide state"; France would "scarcely let it come to war as it lacked heavy artillery." It seemed so unlikely, so farfetched that Britain might be concerned that England was not even discussed. Nevertheless, Falkenhayn was asked whether, if these calculations proved wrong, the German Army "was ready for all eventualities." The Prussian officer clicked his heels and assured the All Highest, "Certainly, Your Majesty." William wondered aloud whether, in view of the crisis, he should postpone his annual cruise to the Norwegian fjords and whether the High Seas Fleet should sail for its summer exercises in the North Sea. Bethmann urged the Kaiser and the fleet to proceed as planned; sudden cancellations would create alarm in Europe. The following morning, July 6, William saw Admiral Eduard von Capelle, in Tirpitz' absence Acting State Secretary for the Navy, and told him that "he did not believe there would be further military developments." That afternoon the Kaiser left by special train for Kiel, where he boarded the Hohenzollern and sailed for Norway.

  The same afternoon, Bethmann summoned Count Szogyeny and confirmed what the Austrian Ambassador had heard from the Kaiser the day before. "I ascertained that the Imperial Chancellor, like his Imperial Master, considers immediate action on our part as the best solution of our difficulties in the Balkans," Szogyeny telegraphed to Berchtold in Vienna. Bethmann reinforced this message by instructing Count Tschirschky, the German Ambassador in Vienna, to inform the Austrian government that "the Emperor Franz Joseph may rest assured that His Majesty [the Kaiser] will faithfully stand by Austria-Hungary as is required by the obligations of his alliance and of ancient friendship."

  The clarity and vigor of these German guarantees impressed Vienna. On July 7, after hearing the assurances from Berlin, the Council of Ministers of the Dual Monarchy met to discuss peace or war. Now that the German Kaiser and Chancellor had pledged support and urged quick action, no reason could be found not to settle accounts with Serbia. The Council decided on war, although the Hungarian Premier, Count Istvan Tisza, insisted that diplomatic niceties be observed by preceding the assault with an ultimatum. Grudgingly, the Council agreed, with the proviso that niceties were not to be allowed to stand in the way of action. The Council minutes read: "All present except the Royal Hungarian Premier hold the belief that a purely diplomatic success, even if it ended with a glaring humiliation of Serbia, would be worthless and that therefore such a stringent demand must be addressed to Serbia that will make refusal almost certain, so that the road to a radical solution by means of military action should be opened."

  The decision for war, endorsed in Berlin almost before it was made in Vienna, came on July 5, 6, and 7. For the next fifteen days, while the Austrian government drafted its ultimatum to Serbia, Berlin pressed for haste. Jagow, returning on July 9 from his honeymoon, told the Austrian Ambassador in Berlin that "the proposed action against Serbia… should be taken without delay." On July 12, Tschirschky called on Berchtold "principally to impress upon the Minister once more, emphatically, that quick action was called for." Day after day, Tschirschky returned to Berchtold, exhorting haste. Germany did not understand why Austria should neglect this opportunity for striking. Threats were hinted: "Germany would consider our further negotiating with Serbia a confession of weakness on our part and this would damage our position in the Triple Alliance and might influence Germany's future policy." The Wilhelmstrasse was distressed to learn that the Emperor Franz Josef refused to mobilize his army until the ultimatum to Serbia had been drafted, sent, and rejected. The German General Staff was chagrined to hear that the Austrian Army required sixteen days to complete mobilization once the Emperor gave the order. By Prussian standards, Austria was going to war frivolously.

  Berlin had another concern beyond fear that Austria might lack the will to deliver the blow. It was that the other Powers might find out what was intended and take steps to prevent it by proposals of mediation. Together, Berlin and Vienna met this possibility by constructing an elaborate facade of deception and lies. Summer aided the stratagem: leading officials of the German government were on vacation. Moltke, Chief of the General Staff, was in Karlsbad taking a cure; Tirpitz was taking a holiday in Switzerland; Jagow, who had been honeymooning, returned to Berlin as the War Minister, General von Falkenhayn, departed. Bethmann was said to be studying the stars from the porch of his house in Hohenfinow, although during the month he often travelled secretly to Berlin. The All Highest was cruising beneath the high cliffs and plunging waterfalls of the Norwegian fjords. These absences helped promote the pretext which the Bavarian Minister in Berlin privately reported to his superiors in Munich: "The Imperial [German] administration will, immediately upon presentation of the Austrian ultimatum at Belgrade… claim that the Austrian action has been just as much of a surprise to it as to the other Powers, pointing out the fact the Kaiser is on his northern journey and the Chief of the General Staff and the Minister of War are away on leave of absence." Vienna employed the same tactic: throughout the crisis, the Emperor Franz Josef remained at his hunting lodge at Bad Ischl; on July 8, after the decision for war had been made, Berchtold told Conrad, "It would be a good thing if you and the War Minister would go on leave for awhile so as to keep up an appearance that nothing is going on."

  During the two weeks in which the Austrian ultimatum was drafted, the German government was kept fully informed. Later, attempting to avoid responsibility for the outbreak of war, the Wilhelmstrasse claimed that it had been unaware of the Note's contents until it was distributed generally to all the Powers. In fact, although Bethmann-Hollweg and Jagow did not read the actual language of the Note until July 23, they knew it was intended not as a basis for negotiations, but as a prelude to war. On July 14, Tschirschky informed Bethmann: "The Note is being composed so that the possibility of its acceptance is practically excluded." This could not, of course, be revealed to the other Powers. To avoid alarming the rest of Europe and to create the impression that Berlin, like other capitals, was wondering how Vienna would respond to Sarajevo, the Wilhelmstrasse deliberately and repeatedly lied to foreign diplomats in Berlin and, through its own ambassadors, to the foreign ministers of other governments. When the British, French, and Russian ambassadors or charges d'affaires called at the Foreign Offic
e to ask what Germany knew of her ally's intentions, the Wilhelmstrasse soothingly declared that it regarded the situation with tranquillity; were not the Kaiser, the Chancellor, and all the military chiefs on vacation? Accordingly, the British and Russian ambassadors in Berlin also went on vacation. On July 21, Jules Cambon, the French Ambassador, specifically asked Jagow whether he knew anything about the contents of the Austrian Note known to be in preparation. The State Secretary "assured me he knew nothing," Cambon later wrote. To the Russian Charge, Jagow declared vehemently that he had no foreknowledge of the nature of the Austrian Note. The Austrian government practiced the same deception. On July 18 in St. Petersburg, when Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov summoned the