A scrap of paper

by Emile Joseph Dillon

Meanwhile, the British Ambassador in Berlin had kept on pressing for an answer to what was indeed a Sphinx question—the scrap of paper—for the Kaiser, whose diagnosis of the British character, fitfully tested and modified by the official despatches daily pouring in upon him, played a material part in swaying his appreciation of the situation, and together with it his decision. The bearings of this decision were twofold—political and military. Germany might dispense with the strategic advantages which the route through Belgium offered her army under one of two conditions: either if the odds against France were sufficient to enable her to count upon an easy victory, or if the political disadvantages that would accrue to her from a violation of the Treaty of 1839 outweighed the military facilities it would secure her. And it was for the purpose of settling this preliminary point and allowing her to choose whichever course offered her the greatest inducements that Prince Lichnowsky put the question whether the British Government would engage to remain neutral if Germany promised to observe the terms of the Treaty. And when, this attempt having failed to elicit a definite assurance, he pressed Sir Edward Grey to formulate conditions which would buy our neutrality, the British Secretary of State virtually told him that it was not for sale.

This straightforward way of meeting the stratagem by which our hands were to be fettered, while Germany was to be free to choose whichever alternative best suited her, clinched the matter in the Kaiser’s mind, if we may judge by the closing conversations between his Ministers in Berlin and our Ambassador.

Sir Edward Goschen describes these final scenes of the historic game of “hedging” in words which will be remembered as long as the British Empire stands:

In accordance with the instructions contained in your telegram of the 4th inst. (he writes) I called upon the Secretary of State that afternoon and inquired, in the name of his Majesty’s Government, whether the Imperial Government would refrain from violating Belgian neutrality. Herr von Jagow at once replied that he was sorry to say that his answer must be “No,” as, in consequence of the German troops having crossed the frontier that morning, Belgian neutrality had been already violated. Herr von Jagow again went into the reasons why the Imperial Government had been obliged to take this step, namely, that they had to advance into France by the quickest and easiest way, so as to be able to get well ahead with their operations and endeavour to strike some decisive blow as early as possible.

It was a matter of life and death for them, as if they had gone by the more southern route they could not have hoped, in view of the paucity of roads and the strength of the fortresses, to have got through without formidable opposition entailing great loss of time. This loss of time would have meant time gained by the Russians for bringing up their troops to the German frontier. Rapidity of action was the great German asset, while that of Russia was an inexhaustible supply of troops. I pointed out to Herr von Jagow that this fait accompli of the violation of the Belgian frontier rendered, as he would readily understand, the situation exceedingly grave, and I asked him whether there was not still time to draw back and avoid possible consequences, which both he and I would deplore. He replied that, for the reasons he had given me, it was now impossible for them to draw back.

Thus the die was cast. An accomplished fact was created which could not, it was urged, be undone. It was now unhappily too late, just as it had been too late to stay Austria’s invasion of Servia. But at least reasons could still be offered in explanation of the stroke, and it was hoped that Great Britain might own that they were forcible. The Germans “had to advance into France by the quickest and easiest way, and they could not have got through by the other route without formidable opposition entailing great loss of time.” And the German army was in a hurry.

During the afternoon (continues the British Ambassador) I received your further telegram of the same date, and, in compliance with the instructions therein contained, I again proceeded to the Imperial Foreign Office, and informed the Secretary of State that unless the Imperial Government could give the assurance by twelve o’clock that night that they would proceed no further with their violation of the Belgian frontier and stop their advance, I had been instructed to demand my passports and inform the Imperial Government that his Majesty’s Government would have to take all steps in their power to uphold the neutrality of Belgium and the observance of a treaty to which Germany was as much a party as themselves.

Herr von Jagow replied that to his great regret he could give no other answer than that which he had given me earlier in the day, namely, that the safety of the Empire rendered it absolutely necessary that the Imperial troops should advance through Belgium. I gave his Excellency a written summary of your telegram, and, pointing out that you had mentioned twelve o’clock as the time when his Majesty’s Government would expect an answer, asked him whether, in view of the terrible consequences which would necessarily ensue, it were not possible even at the last moment that their answer should be reconsidered. He replied that if the time given were even twenty-four hours or more, his answer must be the same.

I said that in that case I should have to demand my passports. This interview took place at about seven o’clock. In a short conversation which ensued Herr von Jagow expressed his poignant regret at the crumbling of his entire policy and that of the Chancellor, which had been to make friends with Great Britain, and then, through Great Britain, to get closer to France. I said that this sudden end to my work in Berlin was to me also a matter of deep regret and disappointment, but that he must understand that under the circumstances and in view of our engagements, his Majesty’s Government could not possibly have acted otherwise than they had done.

I then said that I should like to go and see the Chancellor, as it might be, perhaps, the last time I should have an opportunity of seeing him. He begged me to do so. I found the Chancellor very agitated. His Excellency at once began a harangue, which lasted for about twenty minutes. He said that the step taken by his Majesty’s Government was terrible to a degree; just for a word—“neutrality,” a word which in war-time had so often been disregarded—just for a scrap of paper Great Britain was going to make war on a kindred nation who desired nothing better than to be friends with her. All his efforts in that direction had been rendered useless by this last terrible step, and the policy to which, as I knew, he had devoted himself since his accession to office had tumbled down like a house of cards. What we had done was unthinkable; it was like striking a man from behind while he was fighting for his life against two assailants. He held Great Britain responsible for all the terrible events that might happen.