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.