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while Germany stripped France of her colonies and otherwise so crippled her (for example, by a bleeding indemnity) that even if her home territories were left intact, France would be eliminated from the list of great nations.

On July 30, Sir Edward Grey answered, with the bluntness of an honest man deeply stirred, to the proposal sent the night before by Bethmann-Hollweg through the British ambassador, "His Majesty's government cannot for an instant entertain the Chancellor's proposal that they should bind themselves to neutrality on such terms." England is being asked "to make this bargain with Germany at the expense of France." To do so would hurt British interests, but still more "it would be a disgrace to us from which the good name of this country [England] would never recover." Nor was it possible to bargain away "whatever obligation or interest we have as regards the neutrality of Belgium." England, therefore, must "preserve her full freedom to act as circumstances require" in case things should come to a head, as BethmannHollweg contemplated. But Grey added an earnest and friendly promise. If the peace of Europe could be preserved, he would do his uttermost to get some arrangement by which Germany “could be assured that no aggressive or hostile policy would be pursued against her or her allies by France, Russia or ourselves, jointly or separately."

Grey was not a man to make such a promise lightly. It would be unfair, possibly, to say that Bethmann-Hollweg brushed this suggestion thoughtlessly aside. The probability was that the Prussian war party was then in such complete control of the German situation that nothing England could have said, short of a promise to attack France, to prevent her from being true to her alliance to Russia, would have had any effect on the crisis.

Neither at Berlin nor at London, however, were all the prime actors yet in the drama. For several days St. Petersburg had been terribly stirred. The brutality of the Austrian attack on Serbia had seemed a direct insult to Russian prestige, honor, and self-respect. Nicholas II was assuredly no

genius, and some of his intimates were strongly pro-German in their sympathies; but he was not an absolute weakling and he bitterly resented being displayed now before his own people as the shivering puppet of the Hohenzollern and the Hapsburg. The Russian aristocracy was not full of schemes for world empire, like their Prussian compeers, but they were proud of their national honor, of the claims of Holy Russia to be the protector of the lesser Slavic people, and of the right of Russia to be treated with decent consideration in every question of the Balkans; and for once the grand dukes and the generals were sustained by their old foes, the "Constitutional Democrats" and all the other more intelligent champions of a more liberal régime.

Around Nicholas were now scores of powerful men repeating the dread words "mobilize" and "fight," and behind them was the voice of all the intelligence of the nation. It was realized that the empire was not well prepared for a lifeand-death struggle, but this was a case where national honor demanded even a disastrous defeat rather than an ignominious peace that would show that the dearest Russian interests could be trampled upon with impunity. On the twenty-ninth the czar had written personally to Kaiser Wilhelm, “A disgraceful war has been declared on a weak nation; the indignation, which I fully share, is immense in Russia." The czar therefore begged the kaiser, "in the name of our old friendship," to do his uttermost to avert the danger. The kaiser had offered to mediate, but had denied that "Austria's action was 'disgraceful war.'" Then at 1 o'clock on the morning of the thirtieth he had wired Nicholas that Russia's mobilization against Austria would have "dangerous and serious consequences," adding ominously, "The whole weight of the decision rests upon your shoulders; they must bear the responsibility for war or peace."

The telegraphic service between these imperial gentlemen was rapid. Twenty minutes later Nicholas was wiring back that the military measures Russia was taking "were decided upon five days ago for defensive purposes against Aus

tria's preparations. We need your strong pressure on Austria in order that an understanding may be brought about with us." Thus Nicholas, in the simplicity of his heart, made answer, imagining that "Willy," as he addressed his august friend, was in good faith working for peace. But to sit with folded hands and without stirring a soldier while Austria assembled her myriads to trample over Serbia was a thing not to be asked of the heir of Peter the Great, that is, if a Czar of all the Russias was to keep his throne. There is no autocracy strong enough to defy public opinion beyond a certain point, and every barrack-room, every military club in the huge Muscovite empire, was seething with impatience and martial fury. If Nicholas had done nothing but write protests in this crisis, he would have written his abdication in 1914 instead of in 1917. But, after all, he was a man and a Russian. By July thirtieth he was being goaded into action, a fact which the Potsdam warlords had of course complacently discounted.

While the kaiser and the czar were exchanging telegrams, the kaiser's ambassador at St. Petersburg was making a frantic visit at 2 A. M. on the thirtieth to the Russian foreign office. This ambassador, Count Pourtalès, was personally an honorable man, who, now that the ground was opening at his feet, began to realize how horrible was the danger. M. Sazonof met him to point out that "war was inevitable." How could it be otherwise when the Teutonic powers were unyielding, and authentic information was coming in that Germany was making elaborate military and naval preparations against Russia, doing everything in short except to decree formal mobilization? "There would be a revolution in Russia if she were to tolerate such a state of affairs."

At this interview the unhappy Pourtalès, overwhelmed by the crisis, "completely broke down on seeing that war was inevitable." He made a fervent appeal to Sazonof to give him something to telegraph to Berlin as "a last hope." The Russian, doubtless also greatly moved, drew up this formula, which went the very limit of possible conces

sion, and should have ended all controversy unless the Teutonic powers were bent on war at any price: "If Austria, recognizing that her conflict with Serbia has assumed the character of a question of European interest, declares herself ready to eliminate from her ultimatum points which violate the principle of the sovereignty of Serbia, Russia engages to stop all military preparations." More than that no Russian could say unless he was prepared to urge his country to sit down as helpless as China before the greatest insult that had ever threatened a great European power.

Nevertheless, the day wore on without any developments much more threatening. The truth seems to have been that at last at Vienna leaders' were coming to realize the terrible nature of the tempest they had almost unchained, and that possibly they were being made the dupes and tools of their "loyal allies" at Berlin. Even Cæsar hesitated at the Rubicon, and Count Berchtold and his noble associates were very puny Cæsars. They told the ambassadors that since Russia was mobilizing, they must of course hasten their own preparations, but "this should not be regarded as a threat." Their own ambassador at St. Petersburg could hold "conversations" with Sazonof, although they did not specify just what concessions were possible. The situation was still complex and clouded, but the Russian ambassador at Vienna grew more hopeful "that something may yet be done to prevent war with Austria." He does not seem to have realized that it mattered little whether Vienna stood on the brink of the stream and hesitated or dashed across, provided Potsdam had no chilly scruples.

On July 31 the morning seemed brighter at Vienna, London, and St. Petersburg. Grey sent his last hopeful suggestion: "If Germany will get any reasonable proposition put forward, which made it clear that Germany and Austria were striving to preserve European peace and that Russia and France would be unreasonable if they rejected it, I will support it at St. Petersburg and Paris, and go to the length of saying that if Russia and France will not

accept it, I will have nothing to do with the consequences. Otherwise, if France is drawn in, we shall be drawn in." If the words that had been coming from Berlin about peace were not those of brazen hypocrisy, here surely was something for German diplomats to work upon; and if they felt that "their duty to their ally" made them hesitant, their ticklish honor might have been appeased by the knowledge that Austria was actually agreeing to talk terms of accommodation with Russia. Austria showed a willingness to agree to halt her march into Serbian territory, while Russia "undertook to preserve her waiting attitude," and the six great powers were to "examine how Serbia can give satisfaction to Austria without impairing her sovereign rights or independence."

This compliant attitude of Austria was undoubtedly the very last thing welcomed at Potsdam. It deprived the war party of its best pretext for striking home, namely, its claim that as a loyal ally Germany must stand by Austria, come what might. There had been much excitement in Germany during these days of tension: patriotic demonstrations, preliminary warnings to the reservists to get ready, everything in short save actual mobilization; but although the Junker newspapers had been fiery from the outset, the attitude of the more moderate press had been at first very hesitant to accept the Austrian ultimatum as a thing for unqualified German indorsement. The Social Democrats, who had cast over 4,000,000 votes at the last election, failed to see any reason why their own country should intervene. The "Vorwaerts," their great Berlin organ, had said bluntly, on July 25, that the demands on Serbia "are more brutal than have been ever put to an independent state in the world's history, and can only be intended deliberately to provoke war." On the twenty-ninth it had declared that "the camarilla of war-lords is working with absolutely unscrupulous means . . . to start a world-wide fire to devastate Europe." On that day also there had been several great mass meetings in Berlin to denounce the war, and one of these was said to have been attended by

70,000 men. If, therefore, war in behalf of Austria was unpopular with a great mass of the folk of Germany, what chance of a fortunate "Day" if Austria should ungratefully slink back at the end and refuse to force the situation? Something must be done and done quickly. There was no Ems telegram ready, with Bismarck as the genial editor, but press and electricity could, nevertheless, be put to other purposes. Was it the crown prince himself who knew how to force the issue, or Moltke, the chief of staff, or Tirpitz, the admiral, or some other less prominent Highness or Excellency? The personal memoirs will one day tell. There is little doubt that some noble gentleman felt the impulse of genius and acted upon it. He presumably lived to be amply satisfied by the magnitude of his achievement.

Hitherto Russia had only partly mobilized. She had called out a certain number of corps of her huge reserves to concentrate against Austria. But Austria and Russia had repeatedly mobilized on a fairly large scale during earlier Balkan crises, and then had looked on placidly while the diplomats disentangled the snarls. Austria seemed willing to let Russia mobilize partly again, and to confine her own military energies entirely to Serbia. So far Russia had not mobilized the remainder of her army in a way spelling any menace to Germany. If she did so, the Prussian war-lords could demand the mobilization of their own host, and after that-the rest would be inevitable.

Everybody in Berlin was expecting a mobilization order. Still no order had come, although beyond a doubt the military chiefs were clamoring for it. Why this delay? Because, according to all reasonable inference, the chancellor was feeling great uncertainty as to what he had earlier reckoned upon—the neutrality of England. The German ambassador at London and all his astute assistants had probably sent messages earlier as to the growth of pacifism in Britain, of the absorption of the great labor elements in schemes for social betterment, of the influence in the cabinet of John Burns and Lord Morley, devoted peace-at-any-price men. Better still had been the news that Great Britain

was about to be entangled in a civil war in Ireland over the miserable contentions between the Catholic Home Rulers and Protestant Ulstermen. It had seemed incredible that selfish and pacifist Great Britain could ever draw the sword over a Balkan question. But there were increasing signs that Great Britain did not consider this crisis strictly a Balkan question; that if the Pan-German plot had not been unmasked, it had been seen through a very thin veil, and that England was not prepared to watch Russia's ally France trampled over and stricken from the list of great powers. And if England entered the war, BethmannHollweg, and perhaps his master also, probably had clear suspicions that the "Day" might not close upon a prompt and easy victory. Therefore mobilization had been delayed. All of which was highly irritating to the Excellencies of the great general staff. England or no England, they would go ahead.

Photograph by Brown Brothers
Dr. von

ers, confiscating their copies, and an official contradiction was also ordered. But there had been an appreciable length of time between the hawking of the paper and the contradiction. The moment the paper had appeared, the Russian ambassador and also the St. Petersburg press agents had wired the

tidings home. The Prussian warlords, if they knew in advance of this newspaper "enterprise," knew well what effect these tidings would have in Muscovy.

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Already Nicholas II was being beset with frantic appeals to order complete mobilization, and now came the news that Germany had done so, which meant, as everybody knew, that she would soon be ready to strike with terrible effectiveness. Nicholas II would have been more than human had he refused to give way, especially as a very awkward interval occurred before the tidings of German mobilization were contradicted. When the contradiction did come, the Russian men of action could wisely say that the tale would never have been printed had not mobilization been imminent, and, what with German secret methods, that it was probably taking place sub rosa. To hesitate longer was to imperil the life of Russia.

Bethmann-Hollweg

About midday on the thirtieth of July Berlin news-venders began hawking in the central part of the city a special edition of the "Lokal-Anzeiger" announcing that general mobilization for Germany had been ordered. This paper was reputed to be in close touch with the German government bureaus. It was also alleged to have been financed by Junker capital. Its reputation as a quasi-government organ was high. There had been a "leak," or had there been an inspiration? The police at length were hard after the news-vend

Nicholas was won over. Early on the morning of the thirty-first the Russian wires were carrying the summons of the "little father" to all his battle-worthy subjects. The Lokal-Anzeiger edition had supplied precisely the needful impetus to produce Russian mobilization. If it was an "accident," it was one of

1 The Russian judgments as to this "accident" are dark and specific. They allege that not merely was the edition carefully concocted by those in high authority, but that by a suddenly imposed censorship, despatches contradicting the alleged news were held up for hours before they could go on to St. Petersburg.

those accidents that make one believe that the devil directs the laws of chance.

And now the Prussian war-lords could work their will. The instant the news came back that Russia was mobilizing, they could cry in turn, "The fatherland is in danger," and that, whatever England did, radical measures must be taken to fend off invasion. At noon "Imminence of war" was proclaimed throughout Germany, with consequent martial law and the complete squelching of socialistic demonstrations and protests. On top of this home proclamation went the ultimatum to Russia, couched in terms no proud empire could possibly accept, and reducing all the protesting talk about peace to monkey's chatter.

Alleging that Russian mobilization put Germany in peril, Bethmann-Hollweg telegraphed his ambassador in St. Petersburg to serve notice on Sazonof that Germany would mobilize "unless Russia stops every measure of war against us and Austria' within twelve hours and notifies us definitely to this effect." Simultaneously another message went over the wires to Paris. To President Poincaré's cabinet the chancellor now sent word that twelve hours' grace had been given Russia to demobilize; and did the French Government "intend to remain neutral in a RussoGerman war? Reply must be made within eighteen hours."

In Berlin that day there were tumultuous demonstrations. The "Day" for which every loyal Pan-German had wearily waited was about to dawn. There were great crowds in Unter den Linden, and deep cries, "To Paris!" "To St. Petersburg!" The multitude swarmed down the famous avenue to the huge gray palace of the Hohenzollerns, acclaiming the master of a greater army than ever Xerxes had led to battle. From the balcony of the palace William II sent his powerful voice over the sea of heads of his upward-gazing subjects: "A fateful hour has fallen for Germany," proclaimed the emperor. "En

vious peoples everywhere are compelling us to our just defense. The sword is being forced into our hand. I hope that if my efforts at the last hour do not succeed in bringing our opponents to see eye to eye with us and in maintaining peace, we shall with God's help so wield the sword that we shall restore it to its sheath again with honor. War would demand enormous sacrifices of blood and property from the German people, but we should show our enemies what it means to provoke Germany. And now I commend you to God. Go to church. Kneel down before God and pray for His help for our gallant army."

Did the emperor realize the verdict the world would pass on his cry, "The sword is being forced into our hand"? Had he prepared this dramatic call to battle some days in advance, or did he speak with true spontaneity? One thing is certain, that on this July 31 the last faint chance of peace was gone. The military men at Potsdam and Berlin knew well enough what they were doing when they sent threats with a timelimit to St. Petersburg and Paris. Neither Russia nor France could have cringed to them then and have continued to hold up its head as a selfrespecting nation.

Everybody knew that for the land of the Hohenzollerns mobilization meant the same as war. On this fateful August 1 there went out the imperial order for general mobilization, and all the German Empire rang with the clang of arms. From Paris a similar summons went out to the French Republic, although up to the last Premier Viviani was assuring the German ambassador that "mobilization did not necessarily entail war," and that there was no need for a rupture of diplomatic relations. The position of France needed no pronunciamentos. "I have no intention of making any statement [to the German ambassador] on the subject of his demands," declared Premier Viviani, dryly, "and I shall confine myself to telling him that France will have regard to her own interests."

1 Why "Austria," unless Germany was bound on forcing the war at any price, inasmuch as Austria had already indicated she did not consider Russian mobilization unfriendly?

2 Reliable evidence, published in 1918, indicated that if France had pledged neutrality, Germany would next have demanded occupation for the war of Verdun and Toul as pledges of good faith. The Potsdam leaders were anxious to pick a quarrel with France at any cost.

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