A scrap of paper

by Emile Joseph Dillon

France’s behaviour during this rising tide of Teutonic aggression testified to her settled resolve to avoid every measure of precaution which might supply Germany with a pretext for diplomatic protest or military aggression. Nor did she hesitate to sacrifice those initial advantages which might be secured by such preliminary steps as all nations menaced by war are wont to adopt. The War Office withdrew their advance-posts to a distance of ten kilometres from the frontier, and the local population were thus abandoned to the attack of the German army. To my mind this is one of the most conclusive proofs of the self-containment and pacific mood of the Entente Powers. Great Britain sternly refusing to offer the slenderest encouragement to either of her friends, and straining their forbearance to its uttermost limits by demanding heavy strategical sacrifices of each in the cause of conciliation; Russia holding her hand, contented to follow Germany’s moves feebly and at intervals, and falling in with every suggestion made in the interests of peace, however it might jar with her sentiments or clash with her general policy; and France drawing away her troops from the threatened frontiers while Germany was mobilizing—these eloquent facts supply the most complete answer to the questions who wanted and who began the war.

“The Government,” M. Viviani explained, “wishes to make it clear that in no case will France be the aggressor.” And the Government of the Republic made this abundantly clear.

Germany took a different view of her rights and duties. On July 30th her advance-posts were moved forward to the French frontiers. The 16th Corps from Metz and part of another corps from Treves and Cologne occupied the frontier at Metz. Reservists were on their way to Germany by tens of thousands, yet France abstained from summoning a single recruit. The next move was also made by Berlin: all Germany was proclaimed to be in a “state of war,” the Crown Prince was appointed Commander of the First Division of the Guards. Then, and only then, did Russia issue the order for general mobilization. But even then she mollified the effect of this precaution by announcing that it was not a signal for war, but merely an intimation that her voice, too, must be heard in deciding the fate of Servia. At the same time passenger traffic on the railways was reduced, goods traffic suspended altogether, and Finland and the province of Petersburg were declared in a state of siege.

This news came to Vienna, in a distorted form, through the Prussian capital. It was affirmed that the Tsar and also M. Sazonoff had broken their solemn promise not to mobilize during the endeavours which the Kaiser was making to coax Austria into a more pliant mood. This statement was, like so many others that emanated from the same source, at variance with facts and intended to mislead. Without the knowledge of those facts I at once recorded my absolute conviction that this was a venomous calumny against M. Sazonoff and his sovereign. We now know that what the Tsar actually wrote to the Kaiser was this:

It is technically impossible to discontinue our military operations, which are rendered necessary by Austria’s mobilization. We are far from wishing for war, and so long as the negociations with Austria regarding Servia continue, my troops will not undertake any provocative action. I give thee my word upon it.

That is a very different thing from an undertaking not to mobilize. And as for the Kaiser coaxing his ally into a compliant mood, he and his Ministers were stiffening her obstinacy, and when she did finally give way, far from welcoming her decision, he quashed it himself by his ultimatums to Russia and France. Neither France nor Russia had at any moment during these stirring days kept step with Austria and Germany in their military preparations. They deliberately and ostentatiously lagged behind at the cost of precious time and strategic advantages, and in the delusive belief that they were dealing with two peace-loving States, whereas they were being circumvented by two banded conspirators whose one aim was to execute their plot at the lowest possible cost, and one of whom was determined to execute it in any and every event.

I endeavoured to make this aspect of the collision as clear as the restrictions of censorship would allow. No one capable of reading and grasping the meaning of a cautiously worded warning could mistake the import of the following passage of a message which I sent to the Daily Telegraph on July 26th, fully a week before the die had been cast. I wrote:

As I have explained, the assassination of the Archduke and the greater or lesser degree of indirect responsibility for this crime which may be ascribed to Servia’s public men are matters which touch but the fringe of the question. The real issue lies much deeper than the events of the last few weeks. It is of long standing, and has been submitted time and again to the Servian Government and people, who are therefore deemed to be in possession of all the requisite data for coming to a definite decision. Hence the probable refusal with which the Austrian Ministers will meet such requests by one or all of the Entente Powers. The German Government was kept accurately and fully posted well in advance by reason of the far-reaching practical decisions which the sequel of this action might suddenly and peremptorily oblige her to take.

All the deliberation, therefore, on the Note and the contingent necessity of following it up in ways unwelcome to both allies, but unavoidable in certain circumstances, took place beforehand, and, together with it, the requisite diplomatic and military measures were adopted by the statesmen of Vienna and Budapest before any overt action was undertaken. Vigilant attention was paid to the choice of a propitious moment.

It was a moment when the sympathies of Europe were with the Austro-Hungarian people, whose Soveriegn-designate was cruelly slain by political assassins from Servia at the instigation of men who occupied posts as public servants there. It was a moment when the French nation, impressed by revelations made in the Senate respecting its inadequate preparedness for war, appears less than ever minded to take any diplomatic action which might lead to a breach of the peace. It was a moment when the cares of the British Government are absorbed in forecasting and preparing for the fateful consequences of its internal policy, which may, it is apprehended, culminate in civil war. It was a moment when the President and Foreign Secretary of the French Republic were absent in Russia, drinking toasts to the peace of Europe and celebrating the concord and brotherhood of the French and Russian peoples. It was a moment when Russia herself is confronted with a problem of revolutionary strikes, which, it is assumed, would set in with oceanic violence if that Empire were to embark in war with the Central European Powers.