Countdown to War, Day 35. 1 August: Russian and Germany at war. Any hope still for British neutrality?

One hundred years ago today, on Saturday 1 August 1914, Martin and his tracklayer friends would have been hard put to it to find much good news in the Manchester Guardian.

“THE CATASTROPHE APPROACHES”.

At least that was a headline that didn’t mince its words.

Europe is very near war. Last night even the firmest friends of peace were almost without hope.

Little doubt remains that all Russia’s forces are being mobilised. In the House of Commons yesterday Mr. Asquith, on the authority of Berlin, announced the extension of the partial Russian mobilisation reported several days ago. He understood that Germany would issue like orders...

A most serious message came yesterday from the meeting-place of the German, Russian, and Austrian frontiers. It reported on what is described as official authority the destruction by the Russians of the neighbouring bridge over the Austro-Russian frontier, between Granitza in Russia and Szczakowa in Austria...

German news is equally grave. Official announcement is made of the suspension of the international train services into the Empire; telephone communication with Denmark and Belgium has been stopped...

Our Paris correspondent, in a late message, says at a Council of Ministers yesterday orders were given for six army corps on the German frontier to mobilise...

Italy is said to have decided to remain neutral...

German troops heading to attack the Russians

“It’s all falling apart,” said Martin.

“Oh, don’t be so gloomy,” exclaimed one of his friends, “It’s time to get stuck in. We’re going to show them who’s boss and we’ll have some fun. It’ll be over by Christmas.”

“Get stuck in?” asked another, “which side would you like us to join?”

“Why – the Germans of course. They’ve got proper soldiers.”

“You haven’t been listening, have you? Ours is the other side. With the Frogs.”

Martin intervened. “Neither side’s our side. The whole thing’s nothing to do with us. We need to stay neutral just like Italy.”

“We’re nothing like Italy,” said the Cynic, “you watch. We’ll go in. It won’t be over by Christmas. And it won’t be fun.”

The Guardian wasn’t yet prepared to give up on British neutrality.

Evidence grows that public opinion is becoming shocked and alarmed at the thought that this country could be dragged into the horrors of a general European war, although she has no direct interest in it and is admittedly bound by no treaty obligations to take part in it.

Martin found it hard to take much encouragement from these words. He was beginning to suspect that the Cynic might be right: the government wanted to go in, and no amount of opposition was going to stop it. Indeed, elsewhere in the Guardian journalists seemed close to that position themselves. The leader writer, in particular, argued that:

... there is in our midst an organised conspiracy to drag us into the war should the attempts of the peace-makers fail. “Conspiracy” we say because it is disloyal to Parliament, which is the constitutional guardian of the national interests in times of crisis. The conspirators prefer the confidence of selected newspaper editors to that of the representatives of the people. The objects of the conspirators are now openly avowed. We are to join in, not under certain conditions or in defence of this or that British interest which may happen to be threatened, but in any case.

Against the conspirators, the Socialist movement on which Martin had counted had taken a serious blow. The Frenchman Jean Jaurès had been one of its most prominent leaders internationally, and a major opponent of war, like Ramsay MacDonald in the British Labour Party. But fate had been less kind to him. There was a report from Paris:

The Government has decided to placard the following proclamation on the walls of Paris:

“Citizens, – An abominable attack has just been made on M. Jaurès. The great orator, who was such an ornament of the French public platform, has been basely assassinated. Personally, and in the name of my colleagues, I bow before the fall, so premature, of the Socialist Republican who fought for such a noble cause, and who in these troublous days has, by his authority, supported the action of the Government in the interests of peace.”

Jean Jaurès at his best

Jaurès had been a leading contender for socialist collaboration between the peoples of France and Germany to prevent the war.

“Just when we needed him most, he’s been bumped off,” said Martin.

“Because you thought he was getting somewhere? The people rising? Stopping the war?” asked the Cynic.

In any case, however clear the question of which side Britain was on might be to some people, it really wasn’t that obvious. The leader writer quoted with approval the nineteenth-century politician John Bright, who referred to the long-term objective of British foreign policy, the “balance of power”, as a “will o’ the wisp”. However inappropriate that balance was as a goal, a supposed ally of Britain’s might well overthrow it in the coming war, while the likely enemy might reinforce it.

If Russia wins there will be the greatest disturbance of the balance of power that the world has ever seen. The whole conditions of our continued existence as an Asiatic Power will have be revised, and all over the world, wherever we come into contact with Russia, we shall have a repetition of the self-effacement which we have witnessed in Persia. The victory of Germany, on the other hand, would in effect be a victory for the principle of the balance of power. If we believed in this principle – which we do not, – then we might be for intervention on the side of Germany.

Those urging war seemed particularly concerned with the notion of the “neutrality of Belgium”, now “it is assumed, ... in danger from Germany, and from her alone.”

“I don’t give a damn about the neutrality of Belgium,” declared an older tracklayer in the crew, “just the neutrality of Britain.”

Martin agreed. And it felt to him as though that neutrality wouldn’t be guaranteed for long.

And on top of all that? Another headline proclaimed “Lancashire outplayed by Warwickshire.” The match ended as a draw but only because time ran out. Lancashire had been heading for disaster otherwise.

What a year.

Countdown to War, Day 31. 28 July: hovering on the edge

One hundred years ago today, on Tuesday 28 July 1914, Martin the Mancunian railwayman might have taken some hope from the first article he and his fellow tracklayers read in the Manchester Guardian.

Europe’s hopes of avoiding a great war over the Austro-Servian dispute rose yesterday. Fighting had not begun, although soldiers of the confronting States fired at one another on the Danube, and every day’s delay multiplies the chance of successful mediation by the other Powers.

Sir Edward Grey, in the House of Commons yesterday, said he had instructed the British Ambassadors at Paris, Berlin, and Rome to ask the Governments if they would be willing to arrange for their Ambassadors in London to meet him to endeavour to find an arrangement of the present difficulties. He had not yet received complete replies. The cooperation of the four Powers was essential. The efforts of one Power alone to preserve peace must be quite ineffective.

The four Powers not directly involved might be able to persuade Russia and Austria to hold back from actual military operations.

Austria was disdainful of Serbia’s reply to its Note, but:

Otherwise the news fromVienna also suggests a brighter prospect. Austria apparently is not disinclined to a peaceful issue.

It seemed that France and Germany were working well together, and agreed that the key was to obtain a compromise in St Petersburg and Vienna. For the first time since the 24th, when he’d read about the harshness of the terms in Austria’s note to Serbia, Martin felt that there was a real hope that war might be averted altogether. Not just war spilling over into other countries, but any kind of war at all, even between Austria-Hungary and Serbia.

The Guardian leader writer was unequivocal on the subject.

We want peace in Europe, but we want England to be and remain at peace even more. We wish that all Englishmen would think and say the same. Most of them certainly do. But there are some who, while anxious for European peace, still think that if we cannot share the blessings of peace with others we must share with them the curses of war.

It was true, Martin agreed, that there would always be warmongers, keen on involvement in war. But there must be a massive majority against it in Britain today, as the paper seemed to imply. No government could possibly resist such a huge groundswell of opinion and take us into war despite of it. Could it? Surely not.

An excellent point had been made by a Labour MP, John Robert Clynes, at a public meeting in Manchester. He was:

...profoundly sorry for the absence of a properly constituted court before which quarrelling nations could be required to bring their case, just as quarrelling individuals were required to bring theirs before a court of justice. It was astonishing in these days of a so-called high civilisation that the act of a fanatic or a fool should bring nations to such a state of disturbance as was evident now throughout Europe.

“That’s true,” said Martin, “those murders in Sarajevo were terrible, but I thought they’d just lead to police action. You know, arrests, a trial, a bit of a show of punishing the guilty. But a whole Continent thinking about war? It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s because you keep leaving Great Power politics out of the picture,” replied the Cynic, “Russia and France have got a reckoning to settle with Germany. Germany’s got grievances to resolve with everyone else. No one gives a damn about the Sarajevo business. But they need a pretext, and it provides one.”

At the time of the first ever Labour government in 1924
Jimmy Thomas, Ramsay MacDonald, John Robert Clynes and Arthur Henderson 

“Well, I’m proud of the Labour Party,” Martin retorted, nettled. “At least it’s got its head screwed on. The Tories are nowhere. Maybe Labour can be the real Opposition to the Liberals. Opposition on the Left – that’d be good, wouldn’t it? It’d make Britain a different kind of place to live.”

“Yes, maybe. I shouldn’t get your hopes up, though. When people get into government, they become the government, and they behave like the government. Whichever party they come from.”

Martin shook his head. And turned to the news that Lancashire had secured a convincing victory over Gloucestershire. Much needed and all the more satisfactory for that.

Some good news, then, on a mixed news day.

Countdown to War, Day 28. 25 July: Austria-Hungary pressurises Serbia; Alliance and Entente manoeuvre

One hundred years ago today, on Saturday 25 July 1914, the Manchester Guardian would have added further fuel to the fears the previous day had woken in Martin, our young railwayman. 

A leader, baldly headlined “The European Crisis” considered Austria-Hungary's demands of Serbia, contained in its Diplomatic Note:

The Austrian Note to Servia is very stiff in its terms, but would not any country be angry which believed that the heir to its throne had been assassinated by a conspiracy of army officers in a neighbouring country and in furtherance of a design to detach one of its provinces from its allegiance?

The leader writer set out to take a balanced of the two states, pointing out that:

The strictly correct course for Austria would have been to send copies of the depositions of the Sarayevo inquiry to Belgrade, to ask the Government to try and punish the incriminated officials in accordance with her law, and, further, to take steps to fulfil the promises [of good neighbourliness it had made in 1909]. She has not asked her to inquire into and punish the offences of her subjects, but to apologise at once and inquire afterwards.

For these reasons, Serbia had a right to be aggrieved, and say so. But:

On all other grounds Servia would be well advised, on political grounds, not to press the legal objections to Austria’s Note, but to promise once more to be a good neighbour, to take the necessary disciplinary steps, to express regret for any unlawful actions of her subjects, and to undertake to try all officers and civil servants against whom Austria makes out a prima facie case.

So far so good, even if it was all a bit pious, a bit too much like wishful thinking. Concessions by Serbia might save the peace, but would she make them? Would Austria-Hungary accept them as sufficient if they were offered?

“Don’t be silly,” said the Cynic, “Austria-Hungary wants war. King Peter could crawl on his belly to Vienna and still they’d want war.”

“But why?” asked one of the other railwaymen, the very question Martin wanted answered, “Why would anyone want war for something they could get without one?”

“Because their little mates in Berlin are calling the shots. And the Germans want to tempt the Russians to over-reach so they can stitch ’em up. And the French.”

Franz Joseph I of Austria-Hungary with Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany
Who really holds the reins? Who's leading the way?

The very next words in the article seemed to confirm his view.

We deeply regret that Russia has decided to encourage Servia in resistance to Austria.

Russia? He’d already felt a couple of times over the last week that Russia’s name was cropping up in the news a little too often, in contexts where, it seemed to him, nothing was happening that was in any sense their business. Now it looked as though the Tsar was indeed testing his reach. And what made that most worrying was all the talk of that Dual Alliance Russia had with France which might involve her in any conflict and, as a result of her Entente with both powers, Britain too.

The leader writer concluded on just that point.

Our Ambassador in St Petersburg seems to have been consulted by the Russian Government in the course of yesterday. But we hope that he gave no sort of encouragement to Russian policy, and in any case it will be [Foreign Secretary] Sir Edward Grey’s task not to destroy our influence for good in Europe by marching us into the camp of the Dual Alliance, or for that matter into any camp.

President Poincaré of France with Tsar Nicholas II of Russia
Would they expect Britain to join them if it came to war?

“Good God, no,” said Martin, “None of this has anything to do with Britain. Why would we get involved? I’m sorry that the Archduke and his wife were murdered, but it isn’t our quarrel. What do we need to do except send condolences?”

“Wait and see,” said the Cynic.

Meanwhile, in other areas business continued as usual. 

A cargo of arms had been intercepted off Queenstown, the port of Dublin. 

As war loomed, Manchester was planning to celebrate peace and had set up a special committee to organise festivities for the centenary of peace between Britain and America. A good antidote to all the sabre rattling on the Continent.

And Middlesex had lost its first match of the entire season. Now that was a turn up for the books. Not that it was likely to do much good for Lancashire, which had made a bad start against Yorkshire in “some dull cricket” in Hull.

Finally, it seemed that “the second annual open tournament in connection with Bowden Croquet Club, which has proved highly successful, concludes to-day.”

Really? Were there people genuinely interested in that kind of stuff, he wondered? With war on the horizon and Lancashire doing so badly in the County Championship?

Countdown to War, Day 25. 22 July: France getting close to Russia doesn't spell harmony for Germany. And where does Britain fit in?

A hundred years ago today, on Wednesday 22 July 1914, Martin’s group of railwaymen might have read a Manchester Guardian report of the French President’s meeting in Russia with the Tsar. Despite the unfortunate incident earlier, when the President’s ship collided with a Russian barge, it seems things had worked out pretty well in discussions between the French Foreign Minister (who, confusingly, was also the Prime Minister) and his Russian opposite number.

The two Ministers examined in an entire community of views the external questions interesting France and Russia, so as to reach agreement for the establishment of harmony between the two countries in the general policy of Europe.

René Viviani, Prime Minister and Foreign Minister of France
Clearly venerated in his home country as "man of the day"

Harmony sounded good. But – only between the two of them? He knew France loathed the Germans pretty cordially, after all.

“So do the Russians,” said the Cynic, “and they’ve got the biggest army in Europe. Like France has the cleverest. Them two pulling closer together isn’t designed to breed much good feeling towards Germany.”

Looked like the harmony on Russia’s side didn’t extend to Britain, anyway, however close we might be getting to their allies, France.

Commenting on a recent article in a French newspaper under the heading “Silver Wedding of the Alliance,” the “Petersburgski Kurier” takes exception to the favourable opinions expressed by the Paris journal concerning the policy of Great Britain. “We cannot,” it says, “fully concur in this view. Up to the present Great Britain has given no proof whatever of her readiness to pay for the services of France and Russia with services of equal value. We await such proof.”

What the hell? We were supposed to prove to Russia that we’d pay her in services? For what?

Why, even the French were hardly that impressive. Apparently, “the French Minister of War has ordered a Board composed of General Gaudin and Controller General de Boysson, to investigate how the money voted under the Three Year Service Law was applied and the manner in which important defence works have been carried out.”

Ships that run into each other, money misappropriated, and it was up to Britain to prove something to those two...

It probably made more sense to concentrate first on getting the problems on our own doorstep sorted out. And it seemed that the King himself was willing to help, with a conference on the problems of Ireland and Home Rule.

“You think the King takes that kind of decision?” sneered the Cynic.

“The King, the government, whoever,” said Martin.

Invitations have been issued by his Majesty to, and have been accepted by, two representatives of the Opposition, two representatives of the Ulster Unionist party, two representatives of the Irish Nationalist party, and two of his Majesty’s Government.

Yes. Much better that we focus on our own concerns rather than getting too entangled in all these murky goings on among Continental powers. Especially up here in Manchester where we had our own difficulties to deal with, not least, it turned out, on the cricket field:

Lancashire sustained their fifth defeat of the season yesterday at Kennington Oval, when Surrey gained an easy victory.

Problems enough to be going on with, without looking for more of them abroad.

Cricket at the Oval, home of Surrey County Cricket Club

Countdown to War, Day 23. 20 July 1914: the US State Department learns some geography

One hundred days ago today, on Monday 20 July 1914, the Manchester Guardian confirmed the bad news Martin had read the day before: “Big Score by Surrey”.

What the heck. The Guardian was the local paper. They could at least show some pain. He’d expected no sympathy from the Observer, southern-based as it was, but the Guardian? Surely it would have a few tears for the woes of Lancashire? Instead they wrote of “Hobb’s brilliant century”. What’s brilliant about a century scored for the other side?

Still, things could be worse. Look at Mexico. He thought the departure of the ex-Dictator, Huerta, might mean the end of the troubles there, but it seemed everything was just starting up all over again.

Already the next revolution has begun. Pablo Orozco, who has been a Rebel at intervals for years past and was lately in Huerta’s service, has declared war on the new Government, whatever it may be.

It seemed a bit harsh, not to give the new lot even the slightest chance to prove what its worth. It made you thankful not to be living in such a place. Must be pretty awful to have all that fighting going on: how could you begin to make a living? Besides, it was a lot too hot, by all accounts.

That wasn’t the only story from America to catch his eye. It seemed that the canal that first the French, and then the Americans, had been building through Panama, to link the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans, was due to open in a few weeks. Arranging the official ceremony had provided an opportunity for some in the US administration to improve their education. 

Panama Canal
Switzerland snubs the official opening

An important piece of knowledge has just been assimilated by the State Department at Washington. It is that the sister Republic of Switzerland, though equipped with the full paraphernalia of a State in other respects, has no navy. The fact is due not to any parsimony on the part of the Administration, but to the regrettable absence of a coastline.

A somewhat acrimonious dispute is at the moment raging in Washington as to the precise person on whom the responsibility should fall for not being acquainted with this interesting geographical particular before the invitation was sent to Switzerland to send a number of warships to take part in the opening of the Panama Canal.

The Swiss Government, it appears, has just replied regretting in the blandest diplomatic terms that it is unable to accept the invitation owing to the fact mentioned above that there are no warships belonging to the Alpine Republic.

The story of four sisters in the East End of London also provoked a smile:

Four sisters were married at St. Barnabas Church, Bethnal Green, on Saturday. Hundreds of people turned out to catch a glimpse of the brides, and the church filled so quickly that the doors had to be closed to prevent overcrowding... The sisters are orphans, and lived ... with another sister who kept house for them. They had been engaged for some time, and they realised that if one of them decided to leave and get married the financial loss ... might lead to the break-up of the home. Accordingly they agreed that the best way out of the difficulty was to go to the altar together. The other sister, it is understood, will live with one of the couples.

Not a bad day. All in all. Unfortunate news about the cricket, and even worse from Mexico, but that was a long way away. And then two stories to get cheerful about and nothing really disturbing from closer to home.

Yes, really not a bad day at all, 20 July 1914.

“Dont count your chickens,” said the Cynic.

Countdown to War, Day 9. 6 July: rumblings still in Austria-Hungary, outright rebellion in Ireland

One hundred years ago today, on Monday 6 July 1914, Martin, our young Mancunian, might have gone through his Manchester Guardian in search of some good news – and found rather more of the other kind.

Surrey had made a magnificent start in their county match against his beloved Lancashire, posting a commanding score of 371 for only five wickets lost at the end of the first day’s play. “Their success, even from the Lancashire point of view, had its compensations,” proclaimed the journalist sententiously, “It provided an exhibition of good batting by players who are always worth watching...”

Martin snorted in disbelief. Whoever wrote those words knew nothing about supporting a team. Good play by the other side? How’s that a good thing? We want them to crumble into ignominy, not provide us with a display of inspiring – and winning – play.

The coffins of the Archduke and his wife at the train in Sarajevo
In Vienna, it emerged the couple wasn't equal in death
any more than in life

In other news, the assassinated Austrian Archducal couple had been buried at last. And what a bunch that imperial family was: the friends of the Duchess had been incensed at the funeral by the “emphasis laid upon her inequality of birth with the Archduke, as manifested in the funeral arrangements.” 

She’d been a mere countess, who had dared to marry into the imperial family, and for that they treated her with disrespect? Even though it was only because she’d thrown her lot in with Franz Ferdinand’s that she’d been murdered with him? What a crew. Worse than the Surrey cricket team.

And the dust still hadn’t settled. Another article pointed out that “unconfirmed reports say that many Servians have been expelled from Bosnia.” Still plenty of bitterness there, then.

Sir Edward Carson
Proving his loyalty by arming a rebellion 
Not sure I'd want to meet him on a dark night
Especially if he had a bunch of armed Ulstermen with him

That ghastly man Sir Edward Carson had been speaking out on Ireland again, at some public meeting.

I go on, he said, as I began and I am going on to a finish. (Cheers.) I believe in a United Kingdom – in one King, one Parliament, one flag, – and to defend that policy I am prepared to go any length and to make any sacrifices. (Cheers.) Loyalty to the Union is my crime, and if I am indicted I am prepared to plead guilty. (Cheers.) 

“That’s right,” said the resident Cynic in Martin’s crew. “His crime is too much loyalty. Not raising and arming an illegal force of religious extremists.”

Apparently Carson “had grown weary of talking and was longing for something more.”

Something more. Easy to guess what that meant, since he was behind the people running guns to the Ulster Protestants. Martin smiled: it was, indeed, curious to call it loyalty when you were arming an insurrection.

Martin gave up on the subject. He preferred the piece about the joys of having breakfast in bed. It seemed that “breakfast is always punctual because there are always two gongs to let one know when it is necessary to begin to hurry.”

Gongs? There was no gong in his place. Sometimes no breakfast.

“The hostess who leaves the matter to her guests instead of seeking to improve their character”, presumably by forcing them out of bed sooner than they’d like, “will find that of all the luxuries she provides none will be more generally appreciated.”

He smiled wryly. In his house there were never guests and precious few luxuries. And certainly no hostess. Which rather accounted for his wryness.