Countdown to War, Day 38. 4 August: German incursions in France; a fateful session of the House of Commons

One hundred years ago today, on Tuesday 4 August 1914, Martin and his mates would have discovered from the Manchester Guardian that the Continental Powers had taken another fatal step the day before.

Reuter’s Agency is informed by Prince Lichnowsky, the German Ambassador in London, that he is authorised by the Imperial Chancellor to state officially that all news about a German invasion of French soil is without foundation.... On the other hand, several official reports had been received about French troops crossing the German frontier...

Reuter’s Agency is requested by the French Embassy to deny officially German allegations of an alleged violation of German territory by French officers.

“The fog of war,” said Martin.

“Its first casualty,’ replied the Cynic and, when Martin looked blank, added, “the truth.”

Reuter’s further reported:

A German patrol entered French territory, and came into collision with a French force near Joncheray. The officer in command of the invaders killed one of the French soldiers, whereupon he himself was slain by one of the dead men’s comrades...

This morning a fairly strong force of German cavalry advanced towards Suarée... three kilometres from the frontier...

According to official telegrams received here... German troops advanced on Herzerange and Langlaville, in the neighbourhood of Longwy.

A welcome cup of water served by a peasant woman
to French soldiers on the march

“So what’s happening?” asked a voice.

“No one seems to know,” replied the reader, and read a quotation from a French official in an article on “the spirit of France”

”The state of Franco-German relations is unprecedented. Germany has not only violated the neutrality of Luxemburg, but has also entered French territory at two points... Yet the German Ambassador remains in Paris...”

“So – are they at war or aren’t they at war?”

“Of course they’re at war,” said the Cynic, “it doesn’t suit the Germans to admit it yet so they’ve left the Ambassador in place.”

“They’re not feeling cheerful in Vienna, apparently,” went on the reader.

Government quarters here contemplate the situation as superlatively critical...

To-day everybody seems to feel that the life of Austria-Hungary as a State may depend upon the outcome of the impending struggle, and in any case the sacrifices of blood and money which it will impose on the population far exceed anything foreseen when only Servia was pitted against the Dual Monarchy.

“Yes,” said the Cynic, “Austria-Hungary’s bitten off more than it can chew, fighting Germany’s battles with France and Russia, instead of just its own with little Serbia.”

“Italy’s staying neutral,” said Martin pensively, “so it can be done.”

“What, you’re still clinging on to that hope, are you?” asked the Cynic, “here, pass me the paper.”

The Cynic leafed through until he’d found an article headlined “A Fateful Sitting of the Commons.”

Leading members of the Liberal Government but leading hawks
David Lloyd George (left) and Winston Churchill

Rather less than two hours sufficed to-day for the essential passages of the strangest, the most moving, and in every sense of the word the most fateful sitting of Parliament within living memory...

As Ministers came to their seats those whose names had been associated with rumours of resignation were greeted with general cheering. Both Mr. Churchill and Mr. Lloyd George were thus welcomed, and it was noted that the part taken in their ovation by the Opposition was particularly marked. Some time passed before Mr. Asquith joined his colleagues. Even in cheering their careworn leader members scrutinised his grave and impassive face with eager curiosity, as if in search of some sign of hope. None was visible.

Not much to smile about
The last Liberal Prime Minister,  Herbert Asquith
He would be replaced by Lloyd George at the end of 1916

The Cynic paused. 

“Churchill and Lloyd George are the war party in government. Everyone thought they’d resign if we decided on neutrality. They haven’t so now they’re being cheered by the war party in the Commons, the Tories.”

He went on.

... Sir Edward Grey rose to take the nation into the confidence of the Cabinet...

On the surface the earlier part of his statement seemed to be a justification for neutrality or relative inaction... in commenting on the obligations in honour by which France was tied to Russia in the war, Sir Edward Grey frankly admitted that such obligations could not apply in the same way to this country... Even so, our long-standing friendship with France – “And with Germany,” interjected a Liberal member – had led to arrangements which, in Sir Edward’s opinion, involved us in certain responsibilities.

Of those, the heaviest turned out to be the undefended condition of the northern and western coasts of France, due to the withdrawal of the French fleet to the Mediterranean. Here a hypothetical case was presented – the possible event of an attack on those coasts by the German fleet and of ourselves looking on as dispassionate spectators. With greater energy than he had hitherto shown, Sir Edward, raising his voice and speaking with unusual emphasis, utterly dismissed the latter hypothesis and declared that in such an event we could not possibly stand aside. Amid the general cheering evoked by this declaration the Nationalists made their voices unmistakably heard. “Hurrah for France!” shouted Mr. William Redmond...

“William Redmond?” asked Martin.

“Brother of John,” explained the Cynic, “also an MP. What? You thought the Irish were above dynastic politics? Just because they want to be rid of us doesn’t make them any better. You watch: Ireland will have just the same kind of trotters in the trough behaviour as anywhere else, in or out of the United Kingdom.”

“And now they want us in this war...” said Martin.

“It’s all going to come down to Belgium,” went on the Cynic.

... there was the more serious question of the invasion of Belgian territory – a question, as the Minister showed, which earlier in the crisis had been the subject of unsatisfactory diplomatic negotiations...

“Didn’t anybody speak out against?” asked Martin.

“Of course they did. Your mate for one,” answered the Cynic and went on reading.

Some impatience was shown while Mr. Ramsay MacDonald, in his firm yet temperate manner, was giving voice to the determination of the Labour party to have no part in a policy of war...

“Well, at least we can count on Labour,” sighed Martin, “one party that’ll never take this country to war against the will of its people.”

“Probably best never to use the word never, young man,” said the Cynic.

...the House listened in sombre stillness to speech after speech from the Liberal benches, all, with scarcely an exception, severely critical of the Foreign Minister’s arguments and actions.

“A Liberal government has lost the support of Liberal MPs,” said Martin sadly.

“And has to rely on the Tory Opposition to take us into war.”

The Cynic held up the paper to show another headline:

GREAT BRITAIN TO MOBILISE

War Office announce the intended proclamation.

“We’re mobilising already,” he said, “how long can it be?”

“It’s already happening,” said a young man who’d just walked in, “it’s on the telegraph back at the station.”

“What do you mean?” asked Martin.

“The authorities are taking control of the railways. We work for the government now.”

There was a shocked silence broken by the Cynic laughing.

“So now our jobs will be to keep the cannon fodder moving round the country. Until we become cannon fodder ourselves.”

Countdown to War, Day 30. 27 July: well, it may be war. But it doesn't have to involve us.

One hundred years ago today, on Monday 27 July 1914, the Manchester Guardian carried a story of particular interest to Martin’s gang of railwaymen: “A party of about forty men from the railway works at Ashford, Kent, travelled to London on Saturday to lay before the Prime Minister their views on women’s suffrage and to protest against the treatment of women.”

Interesting. Railwaymen like them. Railwaymen. If they could see the merit of the suffragettes’ cause, perhaps it was time Martin embraced it too.

Prime Minister Herbert Asquith
Unavailable to see railwaymen campaigning for Women's Votes

Not that the deputation had got far: Asquith had been out of town and they’d only seen his private secretary. 

Almost more shocking because it had become so banal, another headline announced bad news from Ireland: “TROOPS FIRE ON DUBLIN CROWD”. 

A serious conflict between soldiers and police on the one side and National Volunteers on the other took place in Dublin yesterday... Later on, as the troops were returning to barracks, they were stoned by a crowd upon which they were ordered to fire, with the result that four persons were killed and about forty were wounded, ten seriously.

The conflict followed a successful attempt by the Volunteers to land 3,000 rifles and a large quantity of ammunition.

John Redmond of the Irish Nationalist Party
presenting a flag to Volunteers

Sometimes it seemed that Civil War wasn’t threatening in Ireland, it had already started. What had the paper been saying the other day? Britain could hardly afford to get embroiled in a Continental conflict – it had more than enough to occupy it right on its doorstep.

If Britain wasn’t careful, there was plenty to embroil it, however. It seemed that the world was “on the brink of a Great War” only to be avoided by the “last attempts to preserve European peace.”

Austria and Servia hesitate on the brink of war. Hope that they will compose their differences without an appeal to arms is vanishing, and if war comes Russia is only too likely soon to be involved. Both Germany and Italy, whose treaties with Austria expose them to immediate dangers, look to Great Britain to procure a peaceful settlement. ... The First Fleet of the Royal Navy, concentrated at Portland, has been ordered not to disperse.

The Royal Navy, the most powerful in the world, wasn’t sending its ships home after the Fleet review. It was as though Britain felt it might soon need the defence it offered.

The world's most powerful navy assembles in review

Meanwhile, Serbia apparently believed that it had met all of Austria-Hungary’s demands bar one. 

A declaration, prepared in Vienna, condemning the pan-Serb propaganda would be published and communicated to the army, officers involved in the agitation would be dismissed, anti-Austrian societies would be suppressed, the press law altered, but Austrian delegates would not be admitted to an exercise of authority in Servia.

Austria however wasn’t prepared to accept that as sufficient.

A late Vienna message says if Servia wishes for peace now she will have to grant all the original demands and also find the money for Austria’s military preparations.

Serbia had mobilised its forces, the government had moved out of Belgrade which was too close to the border. And the worst news:

The Tsar and Imperial Council have discussed the situation, the cities and governments of Moscow and St. Petersburg have been placed under modified martial law... and mobilisation is to be proceeded with at once.

Just as the papers had been saying. A slide towards war, with Russia now getting ready to join in.

in this weird state of affairs, a particularly odd development was that even before the fighting started, there was already a prisoner of war.

General Putnik, Chief of the Servian General Staff, was yesterday arrested at Budapest while hurrying back to his post from a holiday resort in the Austrian Alps.

Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At least Martin himself was in the right place. The leader article was dedicated to “a terrible danger”.

Last week Russia threatened war on Austria unless she did certain things that she has since refused to do. Should Russia carry out her threats and attack Austria, Germany will be compelled by the terms of her alliance with Austria to go to her assistance, and if the two members of the Triple Alliance are at war with Russia it is doubtful whether France could, even if she would, remain neutral.The European war which has been talked about for so long that no one really believed that it would ever come is nearer embodiment than any of us can remember. The responsibility is a terrible one, even for England, which has no direct interest in the quarrel between Austria and Servia, and is in no danger of being dragged into the conflict by treaties of alliance.

Those were perhaps not the most heroic words for a proud Briton to read, but Martin couldn’t deny he found them comforting. Politicians and commentators seemed agreed: Britain’s role must be to mediate and to work for peace, and nothing more. The paper quoted Sir John Simon, Attorney General: “Let us all resolve that ... the part which this country plays shall from the beginning to end be the part of a mediator, singly desirous of promoting better and more peaceful relations.”

“Well, I can drink to that. Peacemakers not warmakers. Sounds good me,” said Martin.

The Cynic, who that day was reading out the paper, held up a hand.

“Don’t get your hopes too high.”

He read out:

Let Austria be left quite free to take what military steps she thinks necessary for the punishment (if Servia refuses to punish without being forced) of those concerned in the murder of the Archduke. The occupation of Belgrade should suffice...

“Serbia should allow a foreign power to occupy its capital city?” exclaimed Martin, “I don’t see that happening peacefully.”

The Cynic went on.

War between Austria and Servia would be very regrettable; still, it would not be a European calamity, and, when all is said, Servia would have brought it on herself. Perhaps it is not too late to prevent a more general European war, and the Power which hastens by a single hour so frightful a disaster is a traitor to civilisation.

“Now that’s true. We could let Austria and Serbia slog it out between them,” said the Cynic, “while the rest of Europe sits on the sidelines and spectates.” He nodded. “A bit cynical but what’s wrong with a little cynicism if it at least keeps you alive?”

Fortunately he didn’t see the smile Martin failed to suppress.

Countdown to War, Day 22. 19 July: Germany puts weapons before democracy, Huerta gets out of Mexico, Pankhurst gets out of gaol, US money gets into Ireland

One hundred years ago today, on Sunday 19 July 1914, Martin the railwayman from Manchester might have collected the Observer from his Methodist Minister, and read about an exercise in Dulwich, South London, the previous day. Though it sounded gruesome, it had apparently been a good-humoured event.

Dulwich Village was under fire yesterday afternoon. According to the programme of the fourth annual inspection of the Camberwell Red Cross Nurses, England had been invaded but it cannot be said that the inhabitants of the district treated the situation with much gravity, for they turned out in their best white frocks and sporting suits to gloat over the “wounded”. ...

The injured, who wore their ills with astonishing optimism, were cared for by beaming nurses in smart blue uniforms and many of the spectators would have willingly been injured for the sake of the smiles given...

Amusing, he thought. Though he suspected that with real injuries, it might have taken more than a smile to lighten the mood.

Oh, that Huerta chap in Mexico was in trouble again. In fact he wasn’t even in Mexico any more.

General Huerta has decided to depart on board the German cruiser Dresden... It is understood that Jamaica is the destination... In the course of an interview General Huerta said: “When I assumed the presidency I said publicly that I would restore peace, come what might. I have paid. It has cost me the Presidency. To restore peace has been my whole and sole ambition.”

If Huerta’s only ambition had been peace and he’d been driven out by a military uprising, Martin couldn’t help feeling he’d fallen somewhat short of his aspirations.

Then there were some snippets that caught his eye, such as one under the headline: “American Money for Volunteers”.

The United Irish League has forwarded to Mr. Redmond £2,000 of the promised £20,000 to be used for the Nationalist cause.

Money from the US for John Redmond, leader of the Irish Party in Parliament? What business was it of Americans to meddle in the affairs of the United Kingdom?

An article headlined “Mrs. Pankhurst again released” reported laconically that the great Suffragette leader was back out of prison, if only for twelve days. But there was no talk of her speaking at any further meeting, as had been the plan before her previous arrest. 

French armoured cruiser Ernest Renan

The article “Brothers in Arms” was about one of the leading figures in the Royal Navy, Sir John Jellicoe, who wrote to a Frenchman and fellow vice-Admiral:

My dear de Marolles, – Last night nearly 70 officers, who took part in Chinese operations in 1900, dined together under the presidency of Sir Edward Seymour. I have been asked to write to you and say that they have not forgotten our French comrades, and that they drank their health and that of their brave leader, yourself. It is with great pleasure that I perform this duty. 

Comrades in arms, then. Some people rated the Frogs. Though Martin still wondered whether the safer money wouldn’t be on the Germans. But the Germans: they seemed terribly earnest about keeping their people down and their arms plentiful.

The Liberal papers are drawing attention to another telegram from the Crown Prince expressing approval of a political pamphlet in which the present Chancellor and his policy are handled in a not very flattering manner.

The recipient of the telegram is Professor Bueholz, of Posen, who, in his pamphlet, strongly combats the modern tendencies towards the democratisation of the German Government and affirms the necessity of further armaments.

Crown Prince Wilhelm with German troops
No more a bundle of laughs than last time we saw him

Depressing. Though not as depressing as finding out that Surrey had racked up an impressive 402 against Lancashire at the Oval the previous day. 

That wasn’t a match Martin’s county was likely to win.