Showing posts with label Francis Dyke Acland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Francis Dyke Acland. Show all posts

Saturday, 26 July 2014

Countdown to War, Day 29. 26 July: relations broken off between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. What will the Great Powers do? Will Britain stay neutral?


One hundred years ago today, on Sunday 26 July 1914, Martin the young Mancunian railwayman would have been impatient to get his hands on the Observer. He would have wanted to see whether there had been any further intensification of the crisis developing between Austria-Hungary and Serbia. 

The volume of news in the paper wouldn’t have disappointed him, though its contents may have left him far from pleased.

“Diplomatic Relations Broken Off” was the headline over a brief piece recounting that after the Serbian reply to the Austrian Note was delivered at the Belgrade Embassy, the Austro-Hungarian Ambassador and the entire legation staff had left Serbia.

“I don’t know much about diplomatic niceties,” Martin told his Minister, who’d dropped the paper round to him and stayed on a few minutes, “but that doesn’t sound like the best way of building good neighbourly relations.”

“It isn’t,” he said, ‘they’re not beating swords into ploughshares. Rather the contrary.”

“But they’re Christian countries... what about turning the other cheek?”

“Christianity doesn’t impose acceptance of injustice you know, Martin. God doesn’t ask of us that we accept what He deems unacceptable.”

Another article talked about “England’s Position”. Sir John Simon, the Attorney General, had spoken at a meeting the night before.

Let us all resolve that whatever may be the difficulties and dangers which threaten peaceful relations in Europe 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.

The Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Francis Dyke Acland, had also spoken to a public meeting and painted a stark picture.

There was a cloud over Europe, he said, the position being far graver than the position in Ireland. No one could imagine the disasters a war in which great European Power was involved might bring to the whole world... The whole of the influence of this country would be used in the interests of peace.

“Well, I say Amen to that,” Martin remarked. “Yes. We should act as a peacemakers if we can. We mustn't get sucked into a conflict on the Continent. Surely we’re not that stupid. Blessed are the peacemakers, aren’t they?”

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” said the Minister, “and we have friends. We may be called on to stand up for them. With them. And I hope we shan’t be found wanting.”

“That’s a greater duty even than ‘Thous shalt not kill’?”

“Sometimes it can be greater than that,” said the Minister as he picked up his hat and made for the door.

Martin returned to the paper. Graver than Ireland? That was seriously worrying. Why, yesterday Sir Roger Casement, who seemed to be for the Nationalist Irish what Sir Edward Carson was to the Unionists in Ulster, had declared that:

...when the volunteers were equipped with 160,000 rifles and ammunition Home Rule would become a reality. “We stand for an armed Ireland,” he said; “in other words, for a free Ireland.”

That sounded like a pretty desperate mess. And the whole of Europe might be getting into something even worse?

Serb Infantry in 1914
An article headlined “EUROPEAN PEACE IN DANGER” pointed out that many had long said that “the Great War, if it ever came at all, would come with utter unexpectedness.” The situation could still be saved by Serbia backing down: while admitting that “no wise man can approve wholly the unmitigated violence of the Hapsburg [i.e. Austro-Hungarian] ultimatum and the tremendous hazards of its indirect challenge to Russia”, no-one could reasonably side with Serbia. On the contrary, referring to the Sarajevo assassinations of 28 June, “the whole state of things which led to these infamous murders ought to be condemned and repressed with uncompromising sternness by every principal Government in Europe, and, above all, by that of the Tsar.”

Martin understood that the starting point of all this was the Greater Serbia movement, which was doing its utmost to bring all territories Belgrade saw as Serbian under its control. It had seized other areas in earlier Balkan Wars; now it wanted Bosnia. That was bad enough but what made it worse was that it had resorted to terrorist means to achieve its aims, in the assassination of the Archduke and his wife. No one could stand by and allow terrorism to succeed; all the powers had to unite against it. 

The matter was well summed up in a single sentence: “the moral point to remember is that in this business Austria Hungary is fundamentally justified and Servia is fundamentally wrong.”

That being said, Austria in pursuing a legitimate aim was in danger of over-reaching: the ultimatum was too unreasonable and it had awoken a response in Russia, as “with the approval of the Tsar a decision was taken to mobilise at once five Army Corps.”

Punishing Serbia might make sense, but surely not at the cost of threatening the peace of the whole Continent.

What about Britain? The Observer was clear: ”The duty of this country, in the first place, whatever it may be in the end, is to mediate, mediate, mediate.”

Whatever its role might be in the end? Again he was reading words that could both thrill and chill. But he agreed that for now the job was mediation. Work to secure the peace if at all possible.

The French didn’t seem too worried yet. Reuter’s reported that diplomatic circles in Paris regarded the situation as ”very grave, but not desperate”. Apparently, France and Russia had been making joint representations to the Austrians. However, the Germans seemed unhappy about the involvement of France, judging by how vehemently they denied it.

To-day business men and public opinion generally were thrown into a state of tense anxiety by the ominous news from St. Petersburg. The Foreign Office remains calm, and refuses to see in the Russian official declaration that Russia cannot remain an indifferent spectator to the Austro-Servian quarrel anything more than a warning that the fate of Servia is a close concern of Russia’s... The German Government has no knowledge as yet of any intervention by Russia or other Powers. [...] The Vienna statement that the German Ambassador in Paris has presented a Note to the French Government, warning France that intervention by a third Power would bring the two groups of alliances into sharp opposition, is denied...

It seemed that a lot of posturing was going on. Austria-Hungary and Serbia; then Russia with France; now Germany issuing or not issuing warnings. He had a terrible sense of a snowball beginning to gather mass and speed.

Interestingly the Germans too, apparently, thought that Britain wouldn’t become involved if a conflict developed and spread to other countries.

There is naturally much speculation as to the attitude of Great Britain in the case of the conflict spreading beyond Austria and Servia. There is a fairly general expectation that the Irish situation and the lack of public sympathy with Servia will relegate Great Britain to the position of a neutral.

Peacemakers or Belligerents? British Cabinet Ministers in 1914
Sir Edward Grey, Foreign Secretary (left) with Winston Churchill,
First Lord of the Admiralty next to him
British neutrality. British mediation. At least a lot of people seemed to agree that this was the most reasonable stance for Martin’s country to adopt.

In spite of his Minister’s words, Martin wondered whether perhaps God was more inclined to assert “blessed are the peacemakers” just now, rather than “greater love hath no man...”

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

Countdown to War, day 18. 15 July: Will Socialism prevent war? Hope for Suffragettes. Oh, and Ireland again...


One hundred years ago today, on Wednesday 15 July 1914, Martin the Mancunian railwayman might have taken some encouragement from a piece in the Manchester Guardian he shared with his workmates. 

Headlined “Franco-German Friendship. Socialist Hopes and Beliefs”, it reported on a congress in Paris of supporters of a Unified Socialist movement, preparing for a full Congress to take place in Vienna the following month.

It was heartening to see the socialists working for unity across the Franco-German border. It was only that week that he’d been reading about Hansi, the artist who’d had to flee German-occupied Alsace because he’d agitated for its reincorporation into France. It would take a movement like socialism, with its inherently internationalist standpoint, to break down that kind of tension and guarantee the peace Europe badly needed to maintain. That the world needed. A French delegate in Paris, Mr Renandez, had said as much: “it was Socialism alone which was qualified to speak in the name of all countries.”

There had been a British presence too, a Bruce Glasier, speaking for the British Independent Labour Party. Not the mainstream Labour Party, perhaps, but not far distant. It made him proud to be associated with such people.

Mehmet V, Sultan of Turkey
A new agreement with Britain?
Meanwhile, it seemed that Britain was about to sign an agreement with Turkey. That felt dubious: Turkey’s behaviour towards the Greeks hadn’t been exactly exemplary (but then the Greeks had been pretty nasty back). Still, better to have bonds between nations than unresolved tensions: things would be best with peace and prosperity, so on balance he was glad that the Turkish Minister Talaat Bey had told a correspondent “... a complete agreement has been arrived at between the British Ambassador, Sir Louis Mallet, and ourselves, and that the agreement is on the point of being signed.”

“Arms for Dublin” was a less welcome headline. There’d been another seizure at the Isle of Man. If those weapons were heading for Dublin, then presumably they were for the nationalists, perhaps in response to the stocks being built up by Edward Carson’s Ulstermen.

“It’s always the same,” complained Martin, “we get some moves towards peace on the Continent, and then Ireland comes and bites us in the back.”

“Well, it’s our own fault,” said the Cynic, “take it out on Oliver Cromwell and William III. The sooner England gets out of Ireland, and that includes Ulster and its suspect loyalists, the better.”

“Hey, what sort of talk is that?” said one of the younger men. “Ireland is English, you know.”

“Tell that to the Irish. The armed Irish.”

There was a glimmer of hope over the Women’s suffrage question, but only a glimmer.

The foreign delegates to the International Suffrage Conference, which is being held in London, were received at the House of Commons yesterday afternoon by members of the party in the House in favour of women’s suffrage, comprising Liberal, Unionist, Nationalist, and Labour members.

Lord Robert Cecil and Mr. Ramsay MacDonald both expressed the opinion that the time was not far distant when women would be enfranchised. Mr. Acland (Under Secretary, Foreign Office) said he was convinced that the next Government would be obliged to deal with the question of women’s suffrage as a party measure in some shape or form.


So the only one who could have done something about the question, Francis Dyke Acland, a Minister in the current government, had put it off as a matter for the next. Even Robert Cecil, for the Conservatives, and Ramsay MacDonald, for Labour, neither of them in office, could only say that the time was “not far distant”.

“Jam tomorrow,” said the Cynic, “you want something now from government? You have to hold their feet to the fire.”

And then – what was this? “Lancashire did well to draw with Derbyshire at Derby yesterday.” The teams had last met only a few days earlier and Lancashire had won comprehensively. And now they had to “do well” just to secure a draw? Dismal.

Whatever else he would look back on 1914 for, it clearly wasn’t going to be with pleasure over the cricket.

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Countdown to War, Day 12. 9 July: Guns for Ireland, torture of suffragettes, and parasols.


One hundred years ago today, on Thursday 9 July 1914, as Martins group of young railwaymen read the Manchester Guardian together, they would have discovered that a furniture removal van had arrived in Londonderry the day before, from Glasgow. It was searched but nothing was found. 

One of the officers, however, was not satisfied and noticing that the van was internally sheeted with wood screwed to the sides, insisted on a full examination. A screwdriver was applied, and at once there was an amazing disclosure... The van and its contents were at once seized and conveyed to the police barrack yard, where 250 rifles were counted, with a full supply of ammunition.

Meanwhile in England, Francis Dyke Acland, Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs, told a public meeting that ministers:

...were willing to turn a blind eye to preparations for civil war as long as there were any hopes of a peaceful settlement, but if force was used to paralyse the civil government and to prevent civil servants of the Crown from doing their duty, then force would be met by force, whatever the consequences.

According to the paper, the statement was met by cheers. Which was curious: who cheered a minister who’d been turning a blind eye to preparations for civil war?

Reginald McKenna: would never use
torture as a punishment
But, hey, if force feeding happened, well yes,
it could be punishing...
Meanwhile, the argument continued to rage against force feeding of suffragettes. Reginald McKenna, the Home Secretary, faced by denunciations of the practice by physicians:

...strongly repudiates the statement by them that “forcible feeding is being used as a punishment and as a deterrent’ and adds that ‘nothing he has ever said affords any justification for it.” That must, of course, be taken as conclusive so far as Mr. McKenna’s meaning is concerned in any statement that he has made. That is to say, he has never represented forcible feeding either as a punishment for offences committed or as a deterrent to their commission. That is perfectly true; and yet the fact remains that forcible feeding is being used and has been admitted by Mr. McKenna to be used as a deterrent, not indeed against the commission of crimes but against evading the penalty for them. ... The forcible feeding is there just the same, it becomes virtually part of the punishment, and it is used to break the will of the prisoner.

“Brilliant!” said Martin, “exactly true and a barefaced lie. We
’re torturing people. In the twentieth century, for God’s sake. And McKenna comes up with weasel words to mislead us.”

“He’s a banker, isn’t he?” said the Cynic.



Churchill and McKenna swap places,
at the Home Office and Admiralty in 1911
Beresford, Admiral and MP, was an outspoken
champion of the Navy and opponent of the government
Fortunately, the paper wasn’t devoid of good news. “The Parasol and its Possibilities” opened up some fresh perspectives on a key question for our working class lads in 1914. “This year we all wear flounces and tunics and so the parasol, as a matter of course, is flounces and tunics.”
A burning issue returned in 1914:
Parasols? Flounces? Both?
One of the young tracklayers read that piece out, in a good imitation of southern English, but on a clear and audible foundation of good, clean Manchester; another flounced around the room, hand on hip and elbow, to show just how he was wearing his tunic that year.

How they all laughed.



Bringing together two great questions of the year:
US suffragettes with their parasols