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The final move on the chess-board was clearly Germany's, and her rulers had no hesitancy about making it. At 7:10 A. M. on August 1, Count Pourtalès again went his familiar way to the office of Sazonof. He had a communication which, by the errors and duplication of words in the copy presented, had obviously been prepared in great haste and apparently with the intention of declaring war on Russia whether she gave no answer to the ultimatum at all or any kind of answer except one of servile compliance. After reciting the good intentions of Kaiser Wilhelm as peacemaker with Austria, and the ruin of all these efforts by the Russian mobilization, the ambassador closed the document with these fateful words, "His Majesty, the Emperor, my august sovereign, in the name of the German Empire, accepts the challenge and considers himself at war with Russia.”

So the dream of the crown prince, of Bernhardi, of all the exultant Pan-Germans up and down the fatherland, was about to be realized. The war-machine that had stood silent, but not rusting, for forty-three years was to resume its appointed and glorious task. Yet the world still waited. The picture of embattled Europe was not yet complete. In Germany, in Austria, in Russia, and still more in agonizing France, on whom all knew the first bolt was to fall, there was one all-important question, "What would England do?"

XXII. REAPING THE WHIRLWIND THE SCRAP OF PAPER.

England was in a position of terrible difficulty. If the crisis had come a week later, Ulster and the rest of Ireland would probably have been at one another's throats in civil war. Several members of the cabinet up to the last minute refused to see the ground opening at the nation's feet, and threatened to disrupt the Liberal party in event of Grey and others pressing for action. Mr. Asquith, the premier, seems to have realized that what Germany was forcing was not merely a "Balkan question" but an issue of world power in which England was enormously interested; but he was very loath to anticipate public

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opinion, very loath to see all the fine Liberal program of domestic reform thrown overboard in the face of a foreign tempest, and very loath, so his critics insisted, to let matters come to a point where the Liberals might be pushed from power and their Conservative rivals seize the helm of state. glishmen generally were decidedly unwilling to pour out blood and treasure merely to save the independence of Serbia, and although they did not love the German kaiser, they had very little enthusiasm for defending the despotism of Nicholas II, many phases whereof they not unjustly hated.

Nevertheless, the case was very different with France. Very many Englishmen realized that to have France trampled over again by German armies, to have Paris taken, to have France bled white by a tremendous indemnity, even if there were no more annexations, meant striking France from the list of great powers and an inordinate growth of the new Teutonic colossus. The ruin of France was the immediate preliminary to a direct stroke at England, and the majority of intelligent Englishmen knew it.

But not all Englishmen were intelligent. The laboring and the rural classes and the small tradespeople were probably the least military and the least imaginative folk in Europe. That any summons from across the channel to march forth to battle could take them away from their firesides and their toast and tea seemed one of the most improbable things in the world. And among Englishmen who should have known better divers had been temporarily infected with pale pacifism and its gospel of crass materialism—a gospel that agreed well with the hopes of regular dividends and undisturbed vacations. Never was there a people less prepared for a horrid crisis than the good people of England.

Since July 23 Sir Edward Grey had been placed in a dilemma indescribably difficult. He had been besought by France and Russia to tell Germany that if war did come, then England would surely fight against her. He knew that if he made this threat the chances of keeping peace were probably greatly in

creased; Germany did not want too many foes at once. But he also knew that if Germany, despite everything, drew the sword, England was involved in a war as to the wisdom of which her cabinet was divided and her people wholly uninstructed, and which very likely they would refuse to conduct with the sacrifice and energy without which no great war can be waged. The most he could do was to warn Germany that England reserved "complete liberty of action," to assure France and Russia that she would take an extremely friendly attitude in case worst came to worst, and finally, on August 2, when it was clear that peace between Russia and Germany was broken, to inform France, after a British cabinet meeting, that, subject to approval of Parliament, "I am authorized to give assurance that if the German fleet comes into the channel or through the North Sea to undertake hostile operations against French. coasts or shipping, the British fleet will give all the protection in its power." That was all for the moment, although great interests and parties in London called for more radical action, and action was in the air. Then while England shook herself from her dream of peace, while the rumblings of the mobilizations drifted across the channel, came one word "Belgium," and the pacifists slunk to their caves.

Belgium was one of the most happy and prosperous countries in the world. She also was not merely neutral, but she was especially neutralized in Europe. In 1815 the Congress of Vienna had annexed Belgium to the kingdom of Holland, but this arrangement had not worked well. In 1830 the Belgians revolted against the Dutch. In 1831 the great powers recognized the independence of Belgium, and at the same time determined that Belgium should form "a perpetually neutral state" and that they should guarantee to her "perpetual neutrality and also the integrity and inviolability of her territory." This pledge was signed by England, Austria, Russia, France, and Prussia, Italy not having yet come into national existence.

In 1839 this treaty was reaffirmed by the powers in a still clearer treaty:

"Belgium. . . shall form an independent and perpetually neutral state. It shall be bound to observe such neutrality towards all other states." It was well understood that one of the prime points in this neutrality was that no foreign armies were to be allowed to cross Belgium for any warlike purpose. To enable Belgium to discharge this duty she was allowed to maintain an army and to fortify certain strategic points, notably Antwerp, Namur, and Liège. Seemingly the position of Belgium was very secure.

The resistance of any violation of her territories was thus a part of the duty of Belgium, and ought not to have involved her in any general war. In 1907 the Hague Conference decided that "the resistance, even by force, of a neutral power to attempts against its neutrality cannot be considered as acts of hostility."

Belgium thus seemed doubly protected, (I) by the clear sanctions which that once reverenced thing called international law afforded to all self-respecting neutral countries in general; (II) by the special compact of 1839 which gave Belgium a peculiar and privileged place among the nations.

After 1870 it was clear enough that France would not for a long day be in a position to overrun Belgium. If there was any aggression, it would be from Germany. That a German invasion was possible, military men long knew. The case had been stated pithily in 1882 in a quasi-official German newspaper, "Germany has no political motive to violate the neutrality of Belgium, but the military advantages which might result may force her to do so." The reason for this military opinion is clearly explained in the Deutsche Krieger Zeitung1 just one month after the great war actually began: "The plan for the invasion of France had been clearly settled for a long time. It had to be pursued with success in the north through Belgium, thus avoiding the strong line of delaying forts which the enemy [France] had made to defend its frontiers towards Germany, and which would have been extremely difficult to break through." Military books had

1 Official organ of the German Military Union; Sept. 2, 1914,

that the neutrality of Belgium is guaranteed by international treaty."

When the crisis broke over Europe, the Belgians made haste to assure all the jangling powers of their perfect neutrality and began taking military precautions to protect their frontiers. Naturally they drew near diplomatically

discussed this desirability of "the Belgian route to Paris" with the uttermost frankness. Everybody knew that in case of war the Germans would throw away a great martial advantage if they respected the treaties and tried to advance on the direct road from Lorraine via Verdun or Nancy. What, of course, the Pan-Germans thought about respecting these treaties was no enigma.

Nevertheless the government of William II did not denounce the treaties, despite dark suspicions. On the contrary it used every effort, apparently, to stifle unfriendly surmises in Belgium and England without actually making a cast-iron statement that the neutrality pledge was in all cases to be respected. In 1904 the constant building of "strategic railways" near the Belgian frontier

Herr von Jagow, Foreign Minister of Germany

began to make Brussels anxious, but nothing actually came to pass until 1911, when the Belgians inquired of Bethmann-Hollweg whether something could not be done to dispel their growing anxiety. Upon this the latter "declared that Germany had no intention of violating Belgian neutrality," but he could not make a public declaration to that effect because then France would know she had nothing to guard against on that part of the frontier. However, in April, 1914, during a Reichstag debate a Socialist deputy asked Jagow, the foreign minister, about the fears in Belgium lest her neutrality be not respected. Jagow replied, "Belgian neutrality is provided for by international conventions, and Germany is determined to respect those conventions." Heering, the minister of war, added, "Germany will not lose sight of the fact

to England, which was obviously the one power fairly disinterested that could give them real protection, and England had already stirred in their behalf. Her honor was deeply committed to seeing that the Belgian compacts were observed, and besides her honor

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it is not unfair to add that her national safety would be obviously jeopardized if a great rival empire, under the guise of attacking France, were actually to seize upon Antwerp and Ostend. As soon as the chances of a general war became serious, Grey began giving plain hints to Berlin that assurances as to Belgium were in order. The answers he obtained only strengthened rising suspicions. At last, on July 31, he sent identical questions to Paris and Berlin. Would France and Germany respectively "engage to respect the neutrality of Belgium so long as no other power violates it?"

The answer from Paris was a clear and satisfactory affirmative. Not so that from Berlin. Jagow told the British ambassador that "he must consult the emperor and the chancellor before he could possibly answer. I [the envoy] gathered from what he said that he thought any reply they might give could not but disclose a certain amount of their plan of campaign in the event of war ensuing, and he was therefore very

doubtful whether they would return any answer at all."

Such a reply of course confirmed Grey's worst suspicions. The next morning (August 1) he took up the matter directly with the German ambassador at London. If Germany could give some assurance about Belgium, "it would materially contribute to relieve anxiety and tension here [in England]." Prince Lichnowsky blandly replied with the counter question: If Germany gave such a promise, would England engage to remain neutral? Grey could only tell him the future must decide British policy; but it was true that respect for Belgium would appeal very strongly to the peace element in England.

Her

During these days of clamor in Europe Belgium had mobilized her small army and taken precautions. She had sent very solemn assurances of her neutrality to all the great powers. statesmen of course were extremely anxious, and yet the danger did not seem imminent. On the morning of July 31 the German minister at Brussels had assured the Belgian foreign office that "he was certain the sentiments expressed [in 1911 by BethmannHollweg, to the effect that Belgium was not to be violated] had not been changed."

On August 1 it appeared that the Germans had seized the small, independent, and neutralized Grand Duchy of Luxemburg.

This caused a shock at Brussels, yet the cases of Luxemburg and Belgium were not quite parallel. The good folk of Brabant and Flanders refused to take alarm. "Every one thought," wrote a Belgian, looking back on the causes of his exile, "they will not fight here. It will be just as in 1870.'" The German minister to King Albert's court was indefatigable with reassurances.

The Luxemburg affair, however, made King Albert's ministers still more anxious. When on the morning of August 2, Herr von Below, the German minister, called on M. Davignon, the latter said they had received a very firm promise of inviolability from France, and yet nothing had come from Germany. His Excellency the minister replied that

nothing indeed had come from Germany yet, but "we [Belgians] knew his personal opinion as to the feelings of security which we had a right to entertain towards our eastern neighbors." At seven o'clock in the evening Herr von Below appeared again at M. Davignon's door at the Belgian foreign office.

The Belgians had asked for an assurance of peace and inviolability in a conflict in which they had not the slightest interest or concern. They received instead an ultimatum.

The sum of the document was that Germany had learned that French forces "intend to march through Belgium against Germany." Since it was unlikely that Belgium could repel such an invasion, Germany would have to "anticipate any such hostile attack." However, if Belgium interposed no resistance to the passage of German hosts, Belgian independence would be graciously preserved, the whole country evacuated at the end of the war, and payment made for any supplies taken or damage done. If Belgium should make the least resistance, however, "Germany will to her regret be compelled to consider Belgium as an enemy"; and in that event also Germany could give no guaranty as to the future of Belgium when "left to the decision of arms." Twelve hours were granted in which to answer this ultimatum—until 7 o'clock the next morning; that is, not enough time to hold any real consultation as to what to do in a most awful crisis, much less sufficient time to consult with the only efficient adviser Belgium could have, England.

It is recorded that the moment the Belgian Royal Council gathered at the palace there was not one voice upraised for submission. It was 4 A. M. when the council dissolved.

That morning (August 3) the Belgian reply declared: "[The Belgians] refuse to believe that the independence of Belgium can only be preserved at the price of the violation of her neutrality. If this hope is disappointed, the Belgian Government is firmly resolved to repel with all the means in its power every

1 At this day there is no need of saying more of this alleged French design in Belgium than that it appears nothing but an impertinent lie.

attack upon its rights." King Albert sent a personal telegram at the same time to King George, beseeching the diplomatic intervention of England, Belgian pride forbidding a direct appeal for military aid.

When this telegram reached London, the British cabinet was still sitting. The appeal of the Belgians came now as the last decisive argument to aid the men in the cabinet council who said that in the circumstances peace for England meant alike utter dishonor and equally certain physical ruin. Sir Edward Grey received the appeal of the King of the Belgians just as he was about to leave the cabinet to speak in the House of Commons. The speech he delivered there on August 3 really left no question in the minds of all decent Englishmen as to what their Government should do. It was no longer a case, Grey plainly showed, of Serbia or of Russia, or even of protecting France against the aggrandizement of Germany. All those things might be important, but they were swallowed up in the one obvious duty of redeeming the Belgian treaty. When Grey rose to speak in Parliament there were still many pacifists in England ready to argue for peace at almost any price. When he finished a plain recital of how Germany had shuffled, twisted, and evaded on the Belgian question, with this her ultimatum to King Albert as her finale, the pacifists were beaten men. Most of them were no longer pacifists; the remnant were a dazed, helpless minority, silenced or whimpering witnesses of events over which they had not the slightest control.

With the conscience and high consent of the British Empire back of him, on August 4 Grey sent another telegram to Berlin. It was to be almost the last of a long series.

Sir Edward Goschen went to the German foreign office and fulfilled his instructions. He inquired of Jagow, "in the name of his Majesty's Government, whether the Imperial German Government would refrain from violating Belgian neutrality. Herr von Jagow at

once replied "he was sorry to say that his answer must be 'No,' as in consequence of the German troops having crossed the frontier that morning Belgian neutrality had already been violated."

The German added the already standardized excuses that it was a "matter of life and death" to them to get into France by the best roads and by the least defended way. Therefore, to his great regret, "it was impossible for them to draw back."

Goschen had to wait until this answer could go on the wires to London and he could get his reply, although he knew what the reply would be. Almost at the moment that the ambassador and Jagow had been in conference, Bethmann-Hollweg had been addressing the Reichstag, called in special session. Concerning Belgium he used words, already quoted at this present time of writing until they have grown threadbare, yet destined assuredly to be quoted in many another history a thousand years from to-day. Speedily the chancellor was to regret his frankness, but his statement could never be recalled: "Gentlemen, we are now in a state of necessity, and necessity knows no law. Our troops have occupied Luxemburg, perhaps already they have entered Belgian territory. Gentlemen, this is in contradiction to the rules of international law. . . . France could wait, but we could not wait. . . .1 So we were forced to set aside the just protests of the Luxemburg and Belgian governments. The wrong-I speak openly the wrong which we do now, we will try to make good again as soon as our military ends have been reached. When one is threatened as we are, and all is at stake, he can only think how he can hack his way through."

Meantime the telegraph wires had been working. Sir Edward Goschen received his final message from London so that he could deliver it to Jagow about 7 P. M. "I informed the secretary of state that unless the Imperial Government could give assurance by 12 o'clock that night that they would

1 The chancellor repeated some assertions that although France had indeed promised to respect Belgian neutrality, "we knew that France stood prepared for an inroad." In other words he charged that France, besides intending to invade Belgium, intended to break a solemn pledge just given. Such assertions need not now be refuted.

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