It was too late. At midnight, Sazonov called in Ambassador Pourtalès for an urgent audience at Chorister’s Bridge. It was an awkward moment for Russia’s foreign minister. Just three hours earlier, he, Sukhomlinov, and Yanushkevitch had convinced the tsar to order general mobilization—although the tsar had then, to their horror, changed his mind. Plainly, Sazonov could not inform Pourtalès about any of this. He would have to give the Germans something, though, to put them off their guard. Gamely, Sazonov offered all kinds of ideas about how the Germans might mediate in Vienna, while refusing to be drawn into a discussion of Russia’s own military preparations. Pourtalès objected that it was “difficult, if not impossible” for Germany to put pressure on her ally “now that Russia has taken the fateful step toward mobilization.” Sazonov changed the subject back to Serbia, only for Pourtalès to bring it back to the “danger of a general European conflagration.” Realizing that he was getting nowhere over Serbia, Sazonov confronted Pourtalès with the “contradiction” between the telegrams received Wednesday from the chancellor and the kaiser, the former all but threatening war, the latter promising to mediate in Vienna. Pourtalès had his answer ready. Even if all the powers mobilized, he insisted, it was still the kaiser’s prerogative to work for peace. All Bethmann’s telegram had contained was a “friendly warning” about Germany’s alliance obligations: if Russia mobilized against Austria, Germany was treaty-bound to mobilize against Russia on behalf of her ally. Hearing this again, Sazonov lost his temper. Just before 1:30 AM Thursday morning, Russia’s foreign minister told Pourtalès point-blank that “reversing the [Russian] mobilization order was no longer possible,” and that “Austrian mobilization was to blame.”49
In a remarkable coincidence, over at Peterhof Palace, the tsar was confessing nearly the same thing at almost exactly the same time. The kaiser’s 9:40 PM telegram, which Nicholas believed to have been dispatched in response to his urgent 8:30 PM plea for a clarification of German intentions, had so shaken him that he had called off general mobilization. He was still shaken when he composed his reply at 1:20 AM. Hoping to reassure the kaiser about Russian intentions, Nicky now told Willy—having evidently forgotten his lines under the emotional strain of the night—that “the military measures which have now come into force were decided five days ago.”50 Even as Bethmann was deciding, in the wee hours of Wednesday night, to rein in the Austrians just as Russia had been demanding for days, even as the tsar’s conscience had forced him to call off general mobilization, Russia’s foreign minister and her loose-lipped sovereign were fessing up to Russia’s secret war preparations against Austria and Germany—and that these preparations had been underway since Saturday.
Bethmann could only hope that he would not be within earshot when the kaiser heard this.
* German naval intelligence did intercept two encrypted wireless transmissions from aboard the France. This does not prove that the signal was jammed, however; in fact it suggests the opposite, that the Germans were trying to listen in, not to block communications.
* Moltke had weakened the German right wing in the north and strengthened the left in the south, which faced the French in Alsace-Lorraine. In Schlieffen’s conception, the northernmost German army would have violated not only Belgian but even some Dutch territory, ultimately enveloping the French armies from behind. Moltke, concerned about German access to world markets in the case of a long war, had eliminated the Dutch option, weighted the German deployment further south overall, and allowed for some operational flexibility depending on what the French would do. The German war plan of 1914 was nowhere near as rigid as the Schlieffen plan of legend; “Paris by day 40” was a myth. Still, speed of deployment mattered greatly.
* Fortunately for the chancellor’s fragile nerves, he had, at this point, not yet received the Warsaw consul’s report that “Russia is already fully in a state of preparation for war. . . . The troops ranged against Germany are assembling between Lomza and Kovno along the Niemen,” which was decoded only on Thursday. Had Bethmann read this on top of everything else Wednesday night, he might have broken down completely.
* It is not clear whether Bethmann meant Italy or Romania as the fourth “Great Power” joining England, France, and Russia (and Serbia). But the basic point was clear enough: the Central Powers would be outnumbered and outgunned.
20
Slaughter It Is
THURSDAY, 30 JULY
AS THE NEWS OF THE NIGHT trickled into Berlin and Potsdam, it began to dawn on the Germans that they had been had. Bethmann had exposed the secrets of German policy to the British ambassador in a kind of diplomatic burlesque act, shortly before learning from Lichnowsky that British neutrality was hollow after all. The Russian foreign minister’s pretense of desiring direct negotiations with Vienna—or accepting Grey’s four-power conference—was blown to pieces by Sazonov’s own admission that Russia’s mobilization “could no longer be reversed.” France had begun preparing for war only a few days behind Russia, while feigning interest in British mediation efforts. British naval preparations were accelerating, too. It is true that Bethmann himself had come around to favor genuine German mediation in Vienna only on Wednesday night, 29 July, after receiving the shattering news from London. But then he had gone out on a limb not only in his bid for English neutrality and his last-minute withdrawal of blanket support for Austria, but also by restraining the German army from ordering premobilization measures akin to those already underway in Russia and France, over the objections of Falkenhayn and Moltke—and this despite the fact that the German mobilization plan relied more heavily than any other on the speed of its execution. In diplomatic-strategic terms, the Germans had been caught with their pants down.
No one felt this more keenly than Kaiser Wilhelm II. Having just laid himself bare, as he saw it, by taking up the tsar’s request that he mediate in Vienna, Willy awoke just past six Thursday morning, 30 July, to read Nicky’s confession that “the military measures which have now come into force were decided five days ago.” “So that is almost a week ahead of us,” the kaiser scribbled furiously in the margin; “the tsar has been secretly mobilizing behind my back.”1 Lending credence to this view, Wilhelm next read a telegram from Pourtalès, dispatched on Wednesday afternoon, reporting Russia’s “partial mobilization” of the four military districts facing Austria on Tuesday, ostensibly undertaken in response to Austria’s declaration of war on Serbia. The kaiser noted, on this second telegram, that Russia’s mobilization measures had,
according to the Tsar’s telegram of 29 July actually been ordered 5 days previously, that is, on the 24th, immediately after the delivery of the ultimatum to Serbia, therefore long before the Tsar telegraphed me asking for mediation. His first telegram expressly said he would probably be compelled to take measures which would lead to a European war . . . in reality the measures were already in full swing and he has simply been lying to me. . . . I regard my mediation as mistaken, since, without waiting for it to take effect, the Tsar has, without a hint to me, been mobilizing behind my back.
What this meant to Willy was simple: “That means I have got to mobilize as well!”2
Kaiser Wilhelm II has been judged harshly for his impulsive conduct at this and other key moments in July 1914. And yet on this occasion, his gut reaction was not far from the mark. Just as he wrote, the mobilization measures against Austria had been ordered by Russia’s Council of Ministers on 24 July, then signed into law by the tsar on Saturday, 25 July, with the corollary that they would only be made public after Austria attacked (or declared war on) Serbia. The tsar had then personally confirmed on the night of 29–30 July that all this had been “decided five days earlier,” as, indeed, it had been. Also inaugurated “five days earlier” (although the tsar had not mentioned this) was Russia’s Period Preparatory to War, which, judging by the mushrooming reports from German consuls on the ground, was directed at both Germany and Austria. This may have been what the kaiser was hinting at when he scribbled—twice, once on
both the “Nicky” and the Pourtalès telegram—that the tsar was “mobilizing behind my back.” He may also have been working merely on a hunch.
Whatever the root of the kaiser’s reasoning, it was sound. Just hours after he wrote this, Consul Brück’s Wednesday telegram from Warsaw arrived, reporting that “Russia is already fully in a state of preparation for war. . . . The troops ranged against Germany are assembling between Lomza and Kovno along the Niemen, while those ranged against Austria are assembling at Lublin and Kovel.” All this had transpired before Tsar Nicholas II had, under pressure from his own military chiefs, ordered general mobilization on Wednesday night (before changing his mind based on an erroneous reading of a telegram from Potsdam). The kaiser’s judgment of the nature of Russia’s secret mobilization accorded well with the facts—better than did the wishful thinking of his chancellor, who had trusted Sazonov’s word.
As was so often the case in their difficult relationship, the chancellor and the kaiser were not on the same page on Thursday morning. After receiving Lichnowsky’s telegram containing Grey’s veiled threat from London, Bethmann had begun favoring a diplomatic solution overnight, even as his sovereign, receiving the tsar’s inadvertently revelatory telegram, had resolved to jettison diplomacy and mobilize. As soon as the chancellor forwarded Lichnowsky’s telegram to Wilhelm at midday, however—with the accompanying commentary about the need to force Austria to the negotiating table—the kaiser backed down. He and Bethmann composed a reply to the tsar’s telegram that contained (at the chancellor’s insistence) no suggestion that he was going to abandon his “mediatory role,” much less mobilize against Russia. Instead, Willy sought to clear up the apparent contradiction that Nicky had asked him to clarify in his earlier telegram of Wednesday night. His chancellor, the kaiser explained, had simply told Pourtalès “to draw the attention of your government to the danger and grave consequences involved by a mobilization; I said the same in my telegram to you.” He then reminded the tsar that
Austria has only mobilized against Serbia and only a part of her army. If, as is now the case, according to the communication by you and your government, Russia mobilizes against Austria, my role as mediator you kindly entrusted me with, and which I accepted at you[r] express prayer, will be endangered if not ruined. The whole weight of the decision lies solely on you[r] shoulders now, who have to bear the responsibility for Peace or War.3
The last loaded line, which stated flatly that Russia bore sole responsibility for “Peace or War,” was likely Bethmann’s idea. The chancellor, with a keen eye on British opinion, had been focused for days on putting the onus for starting the war on Russia. Even though Grey had dashed his hopes of British neutrality, Bethmann still needed to foster the appearance of Russian responsibility so that Germany’s powerful Social Democrats would support the war if it came. He would not be doing his job as chancellor if he did not do this.
The line was not all politics, however. As the kaiser’s latest telegram pointed out, Russia’s own government had announced that she had mobilized against Austria. According to the terms of the Austro-German alliance, this in itself could be a casus foederis for war, as Moltke had pointed out in his memorandum to Bethmann: “unless Germany means to break her word and allow her ally to succumb to Russia’s superior strength, she must also mobilize.” On Wednesday night, the chancellor had overridden this argument with Moltke and Falkenhayn, clutching desperately to Sazonov’s questionable assurance that Russian mobilization “did not mean war.” Both Sazonov and Tsar Nicholas II had then provided strong evidence that this claim was bogus when they inadvertently revealed that Russia had resolved to mobilize against Austria five days earlier and that this mobilization, once underway, “could not be reversed.” And yet even now that Russia’s warlike intentions had been exposed by her own sovereign and foreign minister, even now that Grey had dashed Bethmann’s hopes of British neutrality, the chancellor did not invoke the casus foederis for German mobilization or even premobilization, as, by every possible right, he could have. Bethmann, facing the ruin of his policies, wanted to give Russia one last chance to back down. So, too, did the kaiser, who, entirely in character, following an outburst of belligerence had lost his nerve as soon as the dogs of war began seriously howling.
Moltke, losing time vis-à-vis Russia’s mobilization with every passing hour, was not so sanguine. True, he had yielded to Bethmann on Wednesday, whereas Falkenhayn had pressed strongly for the declaration of Kriegsgefahrzustand. As late as Thursday morning, Moltke even told Captain Fleischmann, the Austrian liaison officer at the German General Staff, that “Russia’s mobilization is not yet a cause for mobilization. Not until state of war exists between Austria and Russia. . . . Do not declare war on Russia, but await Russia’s attack.”4
Around midday on Thursday, 30 July, however, Moltke made a dramatic shift toward belligerence—dramatic enough that, at one PM, he barged into a meeting with the chancellor at the Wilhelmstrasse uninvited.5 While Moltke himself never explained exactly what it was that changed his mind, it was almost certainly his receipt of the same two telegrams—from Pourtalès and the tsar—that had set off Kaiser Wilhelm II. Even more than his sovereign, Moltke was floored to learn that Russia had begun preparing for war five (now six) days earlier. That fact helped to explain why German army intelligence that day had concluded that Russia’s Period Preparatory to War was “far advanced.” Compounding his sense of panic on Thursday, Moltke learned from Vienna that Conrad “intended to adhere rigidly to Plan B”—that is, mobilize solely against Serbia and not against Russia. With Russia having just admitted to having long since begun her mobilization against Austria—and, to all appearances, mobilizing secretly against Germany as well—Moltke was confronted with the prospect that the Russians could concentrate all their forces against Germany and overwhelm the German 8th Army, which, according to the latest German war plan, would alone defend East Prussia.6
We do not know exactly what was said at the one PM meeting at the Wilhelmstrasse, but it is clear that Moltke, in his new state of mind, asked the chancellor to proclaim Kriegsgefahrzustand immediately. Bethmann, still clinging to his “Halt in Belgrade” initiative, refused. The Austrian military attaché, Lieutenant-Colonel Bienerth, whom Moltke summoned immediately following his meeting with Bethmann, found the chief of staff “extremely agitated, as I had never before seen him.” As Bienerth reported to Conrad, “Moltke said that he regards the situation as critical if the Austro-Hungarian monarchy does not mobilize immediately against Russia [that is, abandon Plan B and activate Plan R]. Russia’s announced declaration concerning mobilization she has ordered makes necessary countermeasures by Austria-Hungary and must also be cited in the public explanation. . . . Standing firm in a European war is the last chance of saving Austria-Hungary. Germany will go with her unconditionally.”7
Moltke’s clearly insubordinate message to Conrad has sometimes been seen as the moment when the “politicians” lost control of events and the “military men” took over. His intervention certainly undermined Bethmann’s last-ditch efforts to get Berchtold to accept diplomatic mediation. As Berchtold himself asked, upon learning of Moltke’s instructions from Conrad, “Who rules in Berlin, Moltke or Bethmann?”8
The fact remains, however, that Moltke did not get his way on Thursday. He failed to achieve either of his two principal goals: (1) getting Germany’s chancellor to proclaim Kriegsgefahrzustand, so as to belatedly catch up to everyone else’s war preparations; or (2) convincing Conrad to abandon Plan B and concentrate Austria’s forces against Russia. Moltke had gummed up the works of his chancellor’s diplomacy, but then Bethmann had done the same to Moltke’s efforts to influence the military odds in Germany’s favor. The real failure on Wednesday was the kaiser’s. As sovereign, he should have butted heads together and forged a common imperial policy between his army chief of staff and his chancellor. The deeply worrying overnight news from Russia had jolted him awake briefly, before he retreated into his usual nerve-wracked
passivity.
IN THEIR OWN WAY, France’s civilian leaders were just as flummoxed as Germany’s by Russia’s early mobilization. Wednesday night, Ambassador Paléologue had been informed straightaway of the tsar’s decision for general mobilization. Nikolai Bazili, director of the Chancellery (or political department) of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, had run back and forth between Chorister’s Bridge and the French embassy to impart the critical information personally. The reason he returned to Chorister’s Bridge from the embassy accompanied by Paléologue’s secretary, Charles de Cambrun, was significant: in order to foil German surveillance, it had been agreed that telegrams to Paris announcing general mobilization would be sent with Russian ciphers (which were tougher to crack than the French ones). As Bazili explained his task to Yuri Danilov, architect of Russia’s mobilization Plan 19 against the Central Powers: “M. Paléologue had of necessity to communicate this news to Paris immediately, not being able to wait until the following morning, when the [general mobilization] order was to be published; but at the same time we had to keep the news hidden from our enemies.”9 The original message that Bazili encoded for Paris had contained the phrase “and secretly to commence general mobilization” (that is, to commence it on Thursday, 30 July, as originally resolved), only for the French embassy secretary to delete it after learning that the tsar had changed his mind. Instead, the Russian-encrypted telegram, wired to Paris at one AM, spoke only of the partial mobilization of “thirteen corps destined to operate against Austria.”10
July 1914: Countdown to War Page 28
