Sir Edward Grey (5) A Statement Of Lies

In all that follows, it is important that the reader fully understands that Sir Edward Grey’s statement to Parliament on 3 August 1914, and through Parliament and the press to the nation [1] was not a debate. The foreign secretary was not subjected to questions from MPs, nor asked to explain himself. Time and again he and his co-conspirators had promised that any British military commitments or naval agreements with France or Russia would require the official approval of the House of Commons. Everyone understood this to mean an informed debate in Parliament, followed by a vote.

There was no debate. There was no vote. The Secret Elite and their agents did not seek democratic approval for anything they had previously engineered, and they did not seek parliamentary approval for taking Britain to war. By clever turn of phrase and repetitive lie, Grey deceived the House of Commons into believing that it ‘was free to make the most momentous decision in history’. [2]

The Conservative Party leaders, men deeply associated with the Secret Elite had been primed about the coming war, and hailed Grey’s presentation as statesman-like and noble. They talked of duty and loyalty, obligations and integrity. The many voices raised against this same speech, Liberal and Socialist voices, were drowned out by Secret Elite agents in Parliament, dismissed by most of the daily newspapers, and have been ignored since by most historians. It was not a great speech – Leo Amery mocked it as narrow and uninspiring [3] – but, nevertheless, it was of monumental importance. The House of Commons has rarely hung on the words of a secretary of state for foreign affairs with such studied attention.

Grey set the tone by announcing that peace in Europe ‘cannot be preserved’ [4] and he distanced himself and the Foreign Office from any previous involvement or collusion. His moral stance stemmed from a claim that ‘we have consistently worked with a single mind, with all the earnestness in our power, to preserve peace’. [5] Given his connivance with Isvolsky and Sazonov, Poincaré, the Committee of Imperial Defence, the secret agreements and understandings, and all of the diplomatic scheming that had encouraged the Austrians to make the demands on Serbia, that was a breathtaking lie. He accepted that Russia and Germany had declared war on each other, almost as if to say, what could be done about that? The implication that Britain, and British diplomats, had had nothing to do with these events was entirely false.

Grey had carefully rehearsed his speech with his Foreign Office minders before facing the Commons. He stressed that the House was ‘free to decide what the British attitude should be’ and promised to publish parliamentary evidence that would prove how ‘genuine and whole-hearted his efforts for peace were’. [6] When these were made available to Parliament at a later date, the diplomatic notes had been carefully selected and included three telegrams that had never actually been sent. [7] Worse still were the carefully amended versions: absolute proof of Foreign Office double-dealings. Sir Edward Grey admitted that ‘conversations’ had been going on for some time between British and French naval and military experts, but MPs did not realise that he had sanctioned these since 1906, without seeking permission of the Cabinet. He produced a letter from the French ambassador, Paul Cambon, which conveniently explained that whatever the disposition of the French and British fleets, they were not based on a commitment to cooperate in war. It was a downright lie, but MPs and the British people had to be misled. Much worse than that, he read out only part of a formal letter between his office and the French authorities, deliberately omitting the crucial final sentence: ‘If these measures involved action, the plans of the General Staffs would at once be taken into consideration and the governments would then decide what effect should be given to them.’[8]

The plans of the general staffs? What plans? How did this come about? There would have been uproar amongst the Liberals, the Labour Party and Irish Home Rulers had Grey revealed that plans for joint military action had been agreed between the general staffs of both nations. All of the denials that had been made to Prince Lichnowsky and the kaiser would instantly have been unmasked Prime Minister Asquith’s previous statements in Parliament denying that secret agreements tied Britain to France in the event of a war with Germany would have been revealed as deliberate deceptions. [9] In his personal memoirs, published in 1925, Sir Edward Grey claimed that the charge of omitting the final sentence was not brought to his notice till 1923. He could only imagine that he had been interrupted when reading the letter or ‘perhaps I thought the last sentence unimportant, as it did not affect the sense or main purport of what had already been read out’. [10] Ridiculous. Truly and utterly ridiculous. That final sentence would have destroyed Grey’s speech and exposed years of secret preparation for war

Sir Edward Grey had long known that his entire argument would be predicated on Belgian neutrality. It had been absolutely vital that Belgium remained apart from the entente and did not seek membership, so that its neutrality could be construed as a sacred issue, a point of principle that necessitated British support when the time came. From 1906 onwards, Britain’s military link with Belgium was one of the most tightly guarded secrets, even within privileged circles. Documents found in the Department of Foreign Affairs in Brussels shortly after the war began proved Anglo-Belgian collusion at the highest levels, including the direct involvement of the Belgian foreign secretary, had been going on for years. [11] Like the ‘conversations’ with French military commanders, the Belgian ‘relationship’ was never put in writing or adopted as official policy by Britain, since that would have risked exposure to Parliament and the press. [12] Indeed, because Belgium’s behaviour violated the duties of a neutral state, the Secret Elite could not entertain any move to openly include them in the entente. That act alone would have put an end to neutrality and with it their best cause for war.

Professor Albert Geouffre de Lapradelle, the renowned French specialist on international law, explained: ‘The perpetually neutral state renounces the right to make war, and, in consequence, the right to contract alliances, even purely defensive ones, because they would drag it into a war …’ [13]

The American journalist and writer, Albert J. Nock, completely destroyed the lie of Belgian ‘neutrality’. In his words: “To pretend any longer that the Belgian government was surprised by the action of Germany, or unprepared to meet it; to picture Germany and Belgium as cat and mouse, to understand the position of Belgium otherwise than that she was one of four solid allies under definite agreement worked out in complete detail, is sheer absurdity.” [14]

And yet this absurd notion was used to take Britain into war and has been propagated ever since by British historians. Belgium posed as a neutral country in 1914 like a siren on the rocks, set there to lure Germany into a trap, whimpering a pretence of innocence.

Consider the whole charade of neutrality that the Secret Elite used to manipulate British foreign policy. No formula for British neutrality could ever square with the naval and military obligations that had been agreed directly with France, and more indirectly with Russia. There was no neutrality; it was another lie, a shameless posture to deceive Germany and bring about war. His trump card was his greatest lie, for Belgium was neutral only in name. The heavy veil of secrecy that had been drawn over Belgium’s preparations to side with Britain and France against Germany proved its worth. In a moment of time that caught the purpose of Grey’s dramatic delivery, this was his coup de théâtre. The stunning presentation of ‘neutral’ Belgium as the innocent victim of German aggression was biblical in its imagery and grotesque in its deceit. The Treaty of 1839, [15] which allegedly obliged Britain to defend Belgian neutrality, was dredged up as the reason for war. This despite repeated statements by Asquith and others which denied that there were any treaties or alliances which compelled Britain to go to war. [16]

An emotional telegram from the King Albert of Belgium to his good friend King George V pleading for assistance was read to the crowded Commons. The fact that it had been delivered from Buckingham Palace hot foot to Grey, was intended as a signal to MPs from the king that the country had an obligation towards Belgium. Grey invoked emotional blackmail. If Belgian neutrality was abused by Germany, he asked, would Britain, endowed as it was with influence and power, ‘stand by and witness the perpetration of the direst crime that ever stained the pages of history, and thus become participators in the sin’? [17]

The ‘direst crime that ever stained the pages of history’? Had no one in the Foreign Office read Edith Durham’s account of the slaughter of thousands of innocents in the Balkans? Were the massacres in Albania, Serbia and Bulgaria of no consequence? Had Grey forgotten the atrocities in the Congo, where the Belgian king’s mercenaries slaughtered millions, outraging world opinion in 1908? [18] But then most of these people were black or Muslims or from other such ethnic groups, and therefore of little value in Secret Elite thinking. Sir Edward Grey’s hyperbole and melodramatic statements were truly worthy of ridicule, but his words were greeted with loud cheers from the jingoistic Conservatives on the opposition benches. [19]

He painted a picture of Europe in a state of collapse, stating that if Belgium fell, ‘the independence of Holland will follow … and then Denmark’.

Neither happened. He was strident in his determination to present the case for war as inevitable. His claims became ever more excitable. The impact of going to war was described as such that ‘we shall suffer but little more than we shall suffer even if we stand aside’. Grey prophesied an end to foreign trade – a ridiculous assertion, given the power of the British navy and the spread of the British Empire. The Guardian later lambasted his lack of commercial knowledge and his ignorance of the workings of trade, [20] but he was pushing every alarm button, raising every fear, pandering to every prejudice.

Edward Grey’s double-speak lent him the appearance of a man of honour. In reality, his duplicity and sophistry aimed to take the nation to war. He could not contemplate Britain’s ‘unconditional neutrality’. Such action was bound to ‘sacrifice our respect and good name and reputation before the world, and should not escape the most serious and grave economic consequences’. His doom-laden statement promised suffering and misery ‘from which no country in Europe will escape and from which no abdication or neutrality will save us’. [21] He made great play of the notion that ‘the most awful responsibility is resting upon the government in deciding what to advise the House of Commons to do’.

The House of Commons was not being offered a choice; it was being advised that there was no choice. He sat down to a storm of cheering and acclaim from the Conservatives, part orchestrated, part genuine. The majority of Liberal MPs were stunned by what they had heard. Suddenly, without debate, consensus or warning, the government, their Liberal government, was on the brink of declaring war.

The secretary of state for foreign affairs left the House of Commons but his work was far from finished. He had, by his own admission, decisions to make.

Churchill caught up with him outside the Commons and asked what he intended to do next. Grey’s reply was stunning in its complicity but a masterstroke: ‘Now we will send them an ultimatum to stop the invasion of Belgium within 24 hours.’ [22] It was the condition to which he knew Germany could not now accede. Having set the nation to focus on Belgium, to make it the point of honour, Grey immediately proceeded to lure Germany into a position where it would appear that Britain had no alternative other than go to war. That was a certainty, for he knew the German army was already on its way through Belgium.

1. Statement by Sir Edward Grey, Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 3 August 1914, vol. 65, cc1809–32.
2. E D Morel, Secret History of a Great Betrayal, p. 11.
3. Leo Amery, The Leo Amery Diaries, 1896–1929, vol. I, p. 106.
4. Statement by Sir Edward Grey, Hansard, House of Commons, 3 August 1914, vol. 65, cc1809–32.
5. Ibid. His fraudulence was to become the official British government position.
6. Statement by Sir Edward Grey, Hansard, House of Commons, 3 August 1914, vol. 65, cc1810. According to The Guardian of 4 July 1914, this promise was greeted by ministerial cheers.
7. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. I, pp. 14–15.
8. E D Morel, Secret History of a Great Betrayal, pp. 11–12.
9. Asquith in Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 27 November 1911, vol. 32, cc106–107, and in Morel, Secret History of a Great Betrayal, p.16.
10. Grey of Fallodon, Twenty-Five Years, vol. II, pp. 218–19.
11. Anthony Arnoux, The European War, vol. 1, p. 270.
12. J.A. White, Transition to Global Rivalry, p. 181.
13. Alexander Fuehr, The Neutrality of Belgium, pp. 73–5.
14. Albert J. Knock, The Myth of a Guilty Nation, p. 37, ebook at http://library.mises.org/books/Albert%20Jay%20Nock/The%20Myth%20of%20a%20Guilty%20Nation.pdf
15. The Committee of Imperial Defence concluded in September 1905 that ‘Recent history shows . . . that the value of a collective guarantee of the neutrality and independence of a State must be largely discounted. Whatever may be the legal interpretation of the obligations involved in such a guarantee, nations usually act mainly in accordance with their real or supposed interests at the moment, and independently of their Treaty engagements.’ CAB 38/10/67, p. 7.
16. Morel, Secret History of a Great Betrayal, p. 16.
17. Statement by Sir Edward Grey, Hansard, House of Commons, 3 August 1914, vol. 65, cc1822–23.
18. Arthur Conan Doyle, The Crime of the Congo, 1908, is a noted work on this subject.
19. ‘A Fateful Sitting of the House of Commons’, The Guardian, 4 July 1914.
20. Ibid., p. 6.
21. Statement by Sir Edward Grey, Hansard, House of Commons, 3 August 1914, vol. 65, cc1823–24.
22. Winston Churchill, World Crisis, p. 178.

Sir Edward Grey (4) Neutralising The Cabinet

Grey’s next task was daunting. So formidable, that when analysed, you cannot but admire the tenacity shown by him, his foreign office team, and the few members of cabinet who shared in the complicity. This was his first challenge; to win over, or at least neutralise a Liberal Cabinet which was by its very nature, anti-war. Although he was aided by a small coterie of Cabinet Ministers whose commitment to the Secret Elite cause could be dated back to their loyal association with Alfred Milner [1] in the Boer War years, Cabinet approval was no done deal.

Prime Minister Asquith confessed in a letter to his beloved Venetia that he had a problem. This was a Cabinet that had no intention of going to war, or of approving a war; a Cabinet that represented a political party that would never vote for war and a population that had no concept of the war that was planned for them. No one should underestimate the enormity of the challenge that Grey and Asquith faced, even though Northcliffe and The Times and all of the powerful agencies that operated behind the political screen backed them to the hilt. If ever a disparate group required careful man-management it was Asquith’s Liberal Cabinet in August 1914. How he, Grey, Haldane, Churchill and Lloyd George achieved the Secret Elite objective remains a testament to how good men can be worn down by expectation, pressure, false information and inflamed public reaction to turn their back on what they know to be right.

Asquith convened a special Cabinet meeting on Sunday, 2 August 1914. Had a vote on Britain’s involvement in a European war been taken at the outset, only the known stalwarts would have been in favour. The other campaign-hardened political veterans were set against it. Lord Morley complained that they had known nothing of the extent of the military and naval agreements with the French. They began to appreciate that ‘a web of obligations, which they had been assured were not obligations, had been spun round them while they slept’. [2] But realisation dawned slowly, and Asquith was sufficiently astute to avoid rushing to a decision by a show of hands.

Those anxious, heavy-hearted, loyal Liberals, whose consciences and years of commitment to peace made the meeting almost unbearable, struggled with the enormity that was suddenly presented to them. Sir Edward Grey suppressed information about the German proposal on neutrality. It was never voiced as an option. Had Cabinet ministers been given all relevant information and time to consider the options, discuss the implications with significant others in their constituencies and prepare themselves properly, matters would likely have taken a very different turn. Instead they had to listen to situation reports from Berlin, Paris, St Petersburg, Vienna and Belgium that caught them by surprise and were presented in a manner that vilified Germany.

Talk of resignations – three, perhaps four – darkened the mood and threatened to tear the Cabinet apart. Asquith faced the prospect of having to form a coalition government with the Conservative and Unionist opposition. It had no appeal, but if needs dictated Asquith knew he could count on them to go to war. He had in his pocket a letter from the Conservative leader Bonar Law that promised unhesitating support for the government in any measures that were required to assist Russia and France in their war against Germany. Their view was that it would be ‘fatal to the honour and security of the United Kingdom to hesitate in supporting France and Russia at the present juncture’. [3] It was a letter that had been written at the suggestion of Balfour in the inner circle of the Secret Elite.

Asquith begged Cabinet Ministers John Burns, [4] Sir John Simon, Lord Beauchamp, Joseph Pease and others who were clearly swithering not to make a rash decision. He implored them to wait at least until Sir Edward Grey had addressed Parliament. The semblance of a united Cabinet, however illusory, would have a greater impact on the general public than a clear division of opinion, and would avoid the identification of figureheads around whom opponents of the war might rally. The Secret Elite would not entertain any unwelcome diversions as they took the final decisive step to bounce Britain into the war. The non-interventionists, those who did not want any involvement at all, were not themselves united. Some would accept war if Belgium was invaded. The pros and cons of neutrality were thrashed around the Cabinet table. Eventually, a loose consensus agreed that Sir Edward Grey would tell the House of Commons that Britain could not stand aside if Belgium was invaded, that France would be given maritime support, and Germany would be advised of this. [5] The opening Cabinet session lasted for three hours, from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., at which point Asquith scribbled a note to Venetia: ‘We are on the brink of a split’. [6] The prime minister was renowned for his excessive drinking, but he was no dupe. He above all knew the enormous hurdle faced in turning the Cabinet round to accept war, not least because he was certain that a good three-quarters of his own party stood for ‘absolute non-interference at any price’. [7] He did everything possible to avoid putting the decision to the vote. And his tactic worked.

Sir Edward Grey continued to drive forward the plans for war even though he had no Cabinet approval. At 3 p.m. on that Sunday afternoon, during an interval between the two Cabinet meetings, he called the French ambassador, Paul Cambon, and confirmed that if German warships came into the Channel to attack France, the British navy would sink them. This should have been subject to Parliamentary approval, though in the event, Parliament was never asked. Cambon was careful to hide his elation. If Britain was prepared to take sides to protect the Channel coast, she was halfway to a full commitment to war. He would later comment: ‘The game was won. A great country does not make war by halves.’ [8] Cambon knew it and Sir Edward Grey knew it. Britain was going to war.

And what of David Lloyd George, the erstwhile pacifist and dazzling, devious darling of the Radical masses in whom the hope and trust of the anti-war Liberals had been invested? Lloyd George appeared to be on the side of the ‘non-interventionists’ and should have been their natural leader. They assumed that he was, but were very mistaken. Lloyd George had long since sold his soul to the Secret Elite. Had he been allowed to remain a free agent, an anti-war Liberal group headed by him would have constituted the Secret Elite’s gravest nightmare. The damage he could have caused was literally boundless. A splinter Cabinet led by a national figure, a rallying point for the Liberals and the Labour Party in Parliament, would have spelled disaster for the warmongers. But Lloyd George was not what he seemed. It was not for his own sake that he had been saved by the Secret Elite from public scandal, extra-marital excesses, from court cases and from the opprobrium of the Marconi Scandal, been favoured with a wealthy lifestyle and mistress and kept in a luxury he could never have personally afforded. [9]

Lloyd George simply continued his long-term payback. The Cabinet met again that evening. Grey informed them that he had told Cambon of their agreement to protect France if the German navy attacked her Channel coastline. Nothing further was decided. No one appeared to realise what Cambon instantly surmised. Britain had taken sides. The Liberal Cabinet tottered on the brink of disintegration. Ten or eleven ministers were still against war. [10] Not undecided; still against the war. Surely the essential qualities of British fairness, decency and parliamentary democracy would safeguard the nation from a disaster that its elected representatives did not want? A number of the less prominent Cabinet ministers looked to Lloyd George for leadership at that moment but found none. Lord Morley felt with hindsight that the Cabinet would have collapsed that night if Lloyd George had given a lead to the waverers, and Harcourt appealed to the chancellor to ‘speak for us’. [11] To no avail. Lloyd George led the opponents of war into a cul-de-sac and left them there.

In Brussels that August evening, the German ambassador handed over the sealed letter that Moltke had earlier forwarded into his safe-keeping. [12] It stated that Germany had reliable information that France intended to attack her through Belgium and she would therefore be forced to enter Belgium in response. If Belgium did nothing to halt this invasion, Germany promised that, once the war was over and peace resumed, she would evacuate the territory, make good any damage done and pay for food used by her troops. However, if the movement of German troops was opposed, Germany regretted that she would have to regard Belgium as an enemy. The Belgians were given 12 hours to reply: that is by 7 a.m. on 3 August. [13] King Alfred of Belgium sent a message to Sir Edward Grey to confirm that Belgium would refuse the German request and appealed for British support. The telegram was timed to perfection for Grey’s vital speech in the House of Commons later that day. It provided ammunition to sway the Cabinet and Parliament. How could anyone of moral standing reject gallant little Belgium’s desperate plea for help? [14]

In the small hours of Monday, 3 August, with his Cabinet abed and blissfully ignorant of his intentions, Asquith quietly advanced all preparations for war. He wrote out the authorisation for mobilisation of the British Army. Lord Haldane personally delivered it to the War Office at eleven o’clock that morning and issued the very orders that he had prepared years before when he held the office of minister for war. [15] The first steps had actually started five days earlier, but the instructions had to be made official. The Secret Elite had, through its agents, authorised the general mobilisation of both the British navy and army without the knowledge or approval of the Cabinet or Parliament.

Later that warm bank holiday morning, ministers returned yet again to Downing Street. Just before Cabinet, Asquith met privately with the Conservative leaders Bonar Law and Lord Lansdowne. He advised them that if a critical number of Liberal ministers resigned, a coalition government would be the only way forward. He knew he could rely on their support for war since the Conservative leaders were fellow agents of the Secret Elite.

In Cabinet, Asquith announced the resignations of John Burns and Lord Morley, and the junior minister Charles Trevelyan. He asked if he should go to the king to offer his resignation or if coalition government might be the answer. It was essentially blackmail. He knew that the waverers were extremely reluctant to bring down the Liberal government at this critical juncture in Britain’s history. No further offers of resignation were tendered. The Cabinet broke up in some disarray. No vote had been taken on the critical issue of Britain going to war. It was such a clever ploy. By continually seeking a consensus, Asquith wore down his Cabinet critics and created the illusion of debate. Later, much later, another prime minister would substitute the myth of weapons of mass destruction for the myth of Belgian neutrality to the same shameful purpose.

1. Gerry Docherty and Jim Macgregor, Hidden History, The Secret Origins of the First World War, p. 103.
2. George Malcolm Thomson, The Twelve Days, p. 171.
3. Harry Elmer Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 515.
4. John Burns was a truly remarkable individual and the first working class
man to hold a government ministry. He resigned from Asquith’s
Cabinet in 1914, declaring the war to be a ‘universal crime ’.
5. David, Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, p. 180.
6. Asquith, Letters to Venetia Stanley, Sunday, 2 August 1914, p. 146.
7. Ibid.
8. Thomson, The Twelve Days, p. 173.
9. Docherty and Macgregor, Hidden History, The Secret Origins of the First World War, p. 103.
10. Richard F Hamilton and Holger H Herwig, Decisions for War, p. 143.
11. Niall Ferguson, Pity of War, p. 161.
12 Imanuel Geiss, July 1914, p. 231.
13. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 541.
14. Barnes, Genesis of the World War, pp. 558–9.
15. Ibid. p.464.

Sir Edward Grey (3) The Invention Of Neutrality

Sir Edward Grey fabricated Belgian neutrality into his cause celebre. In the final days of an epoch that was rushing towards oblivion, the warmongers in London, Paris and St Petersburg forced the pace with unrelenting determination. Localised Austrian retribution on Serbia had deliberately been transformed by the Secret Elite into an altogether greater cause for carnage. Diplomacy had been made to fail. Dishonest men could now throw up their hands in horror and cry ‘inevitable’ war. Democracy was contemptuously abused by hidden forces that had the political and financial power to manipulate public opinion. Propaganda misrepresented motive, moulding fear into hysteria and empowering the madness that swept reason aside. The great plan for war against Germany that would establish the primacy of the British Empire was almost complete. The last requirement was the ‘just cause’ to win over and inspire the British people.

On Saturday, 1 August, an excited Isvolsky sent a telegram from Paris to St Petersburg: “The French War Minister informed me, in hearty high spirits, that the Government have firmly decided on war, and begged me to endorse the hope of the French General Staff that all efforts will be directed against Germany …” [1]

France had ‘firmly decided on war’ almost 24 hours before Germany had announced mobilisation or declared war on Russia. General Joffre was straining at the leash. He sent Poincaré a personal ultimatum that he would no longer accept responsibility for the command of the French army unless a general mobilisation was ordered. [2] Poincaré did not need much encouragement. At 4 p.m. that day, telegrams ordering the French general mobilisation were sent from the central telegraph office in Paris. By that point, Serbia, Austria, Russia, France and Great Britain had begun military measures of one sort or another. Germany alone among the powers concerned had not yet done so. [3]

At this crucial juncture, Grey and the Foreign Office stirred forlorn hope into a frenzy of confusion. That Saturday afternoon, the German leaders had gathered at the kaiser’s palace in Berlin. Bethmann and von Jagow arrived with sensational news from Lichnowsky in London; the British government had just given a promise that if Germany did not attack France, England would remain neutral and would guarantee France’s neutrality. [4] Hugely relieved, the kaiser called for champagne. He sent a telegram to King George: ‘If Britain guarantees the neutrality of France, I will abandon all action against her.’ [5]

The king summoned Grey to Buckingham Palace that evening to help frame a response. King George replied: ‘I think there must be some misunderstanding of a suggestion that passed in friendly conversation between Prince Lichnowsky and Sir Edward Grey.’ [6] There was no British guarantee of French neutrality. It had simply been another delaying tactic, a ruse to gain whatever advantage in time. In the BBC drama “37 Days”, this incident was excused as ‘a cock-up, not a conspiracy’, a scrambled message blamed on the telephone reception. [7] In fact Lichnowsky was given the information directly by Grey’s private Secretary, Sir William Tyrrell, at Sir Edward’s request, and was later contacted by telephone by the Foreign Secretary. The German Ambassador was therefore able to discuss the ‘offer’ twice on 1 August, and had no doubt in his mind about what was, at face value, a game-changing offer. [8]

At 5 p.m. that day, after waiting in vain for twenty-four hours for an answer to his telegram demanding that the Russians stop all military movements on his border, the kaiser ordered general mobilisation. Germany was the last of the continental powers to take that irrevocable step. How does that possibly fit with the claim that Germany started the First World War? An hour later in St Petersburg, Pourtales, the German ambassador, went to Sazonov and asked him three times if the Russian government would halt the mobilisation. In the full knowledge that it meant a European war, Sazonov replied that it would continue. Count Pourtales handed him Germany’s declaration of war and burst into tears. [9] Time: 6 p.m., 1 August.

Germany’s declaration was an understandable reaction but a tactical mistake. Russia had been mobilising with the definite intent of attacking Germany, but Sazonov had been instructed that he should not make an actual declaration of war. The vital message oft repeated by Grey to Poincaré and Sazonov was that France and Russia must, as far as possible, conceal their military preparations and intent on war until Germany had swallowed the bait. The British people would never support the aggressor in a European war, and it was imperative that Germany should be made to appear the aggressor. It was akin to bullies goading, threatening and ganging up on a single boy in the school playground, but the moment he had the audacity to defend himself, he was to blame.

What else could Germany have done? She was provoked into a struggle for life or death. It was a stark choice: await certain destruction or strike out to defend herself. Kaiser Wilhelm had exposed his country to grave danger and almost lost the one precious advantage Germany had by delaying countermeasures to the Russian mobilisation in the forlorn hope of peace. The German army depended entirely upon lightning success at the very start of a war on two fronts. Germany’s only effective defence was through offence.

On 1 August, the London Daily News declared: “The greatest calamity in history is upon us . . . At this moment our fate is being sealed by hands that we know not, by motives alien to our interests, by influences that if we knew we should certainly repudiate . . [10]

The Daily News had summed up the situation perfectly. The British people knew nothing of the hands that were sealing their fate. They would never have gone to war in support of Russia. Indeed, in a war between Russia and Germany, there was every chance that the man in the street would support Germany. Public opinion was not clamouring for war; every liberal, radical and socialist paper in the kingdom stood against participation in a European conflict. Nor was there any obvious sign of rabid jingoism. Yet. The Secret Elite knew precisely what would move public opinion:

Belgium. If Britain’s excuse for entering the war was focused well away from Russia, then Grey’s final requirement would fall into place and the lock would be sprung. People would clamour for war if the cause became the defence of ‘gallant little Belgium’ against a contemptible German invasion. It was Belgian neutrality that would furnish him with the best excuse for entering the war. This fact had been thoroughly thought through for over a decade.

Grey turned Belgian neutrality into his cause célèbre. He told Prince Lichnowsky, that it would be extremely difficult to restrain public feeling in Britain if Germany violated Belgian neutrality.

Lichnowsky asked whether Grey could ‘give me a definite declaration of the neutrality of Great Britain on the condition that we [Germany] respected Belgian neutrality’. It was an astonishing suggestion, an enormous concession and one that could have spared Britain and Belgium the horrors of war. Lichnowsky was prepared to concede exactly what Grey claimed the British Cabinet wanted. Belgian sovereignty would be respected in exchange for a promise of Britain’s neutrality. Duplicitous as ever, Grey blurred the issue and avoided an honest reply, reassuring Lichnowsky that ‘for the present there was not the slightest intention of proceeding to hostilities against Germany’. [11]

When the kaiser read the diplomatic note from his ambassador, he wrote in the margin: “My impression is that Mr Grey is a false dog who is afraid of his own meanness and false policy, but who will not come out into the open against us, preferring to let himself be forced by us to do it.” [12]

Absolutely, though Grey still had two objectives: to gain as much time as possible for Russia and to turn the public in favour of war.

Of course, Lichnowsky’s proposal on neutrality was never revealed to the Cabinet or House of Commons. Had it been, a significant majority would have agreed to it. Grey’s deception might never have come to light had Chancellor Bethmann not exposed this offer in the Reichstag on 4 August: “We have informed the British Government, that as long as Great Britain remains neutral, our fleet will not attack the northern coast of France, and that we will not violate the territorial integrity and independence of Belgium. These assurances I now repeat before the world . . . [13]

Grey ensured that every offer of peace and neutrality from Berlin was rejected or suppressed, while at the same time his Cabinet colleagues were informed that he was outraged by the way in which Germany had ‘put aside all attempts at accommodation’ while marching steadily to war. [14]

Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, Charles Hobhouse saw a marked change in the foreign secretary at this time. Hobhouse wrote in his diary that from the moment it became clear that Germany would violate Belgian neutrality, Grey, who was ‘sincerity itself, became violently pro-French and eventually the author of our rupture with Germany’. [15]. Grey became violently pro-French? How little Hobhouse and most of his Cabinet colleagues knew of the real Grey, knew of his years of secret planning for war on Germany, knew of the agreements he had put in place with France. Their ignorance was, to an extent, understandable.

On four separate occasions over the previous two years, Grey and Asquith stood at the despatch box in the House of Commons and solemnly assured Parliament that Britain was entirely free from any secret obligations to any other European country. [16] In a private letter to his ambassador in Paris, Grey noted: ‘there would be a row in Parliament here if I had used words which implied the possibility of a secret engagement unknown to Parliament all these years committing us to a European war.’ [17]

Hobhouse was not witnessing a sudden change in Grey’s attitude but an unmasking; the revelation of his real commitment to a cause that could not be named: the Secret Elite’s war to destroy Germany. Hobhouse saw Grey in a new light as the ‘author of our rupture with Germany’. [18] Did he belatedly realise that Sir Edward Grey bore heavy responsibility for the First World War?

Clearly, Grey was poisoning the Cabinet atmosphere with pro-French, anti-German rhetoric. Crucially, he now placed Belgium at the centre of the heated discussions. The issue was suddenly about loyalty to Belgium and about Britain’s standing as a Great Power, which would be damaged for ever if she stood aside while Belgium was ‘crushed’. He diverted the arguments away from Russian mobilisation, misrepresented the kaiser’s intentions and made no mention of Serbia. He cited the treaty dating from 1839, falsely claiming that it obliged Britain to take up arms in defence of Belgium. Asquith and Churchill agreed, but Grey met strong resistance from the majority of the Cabinet. [19]

He later claimed that the question of Belgian neutrality emerged for the first time at the end of July 1914. Long after the war ended, when the Secret Elite had to mask and blatantly misrepresent their pre-war actions, Grey wrote that Chancellor Bethmann’s very mention of Belgium on 29 July ‘lit up an aspect that had not been looked at’, [20] as if it had suddenly dawned on him and the Foreign Office that Belgium would play a strategic part in a continental war. It was an outrageous lie, and one that has been perpetuated ever since.

1. Isvolsky to Sazonov, 31 July 1914, in Fay, Origins of the World War, vol.II, p. 531.
2. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 532.
3. Lawrence Lafore, The Long Fuse: An Interpretation of the Origins of World War, p. 261.
4. Lichnowsky to Jagow, London, 1 August 1914, DD562, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 343.
5. George Malcolm Thomson, The Twelve Days, p. 152.
6. Richard F Hamilton and Holger H Herwig, Decisions for War, p. 140.
7. Terry Boardman, http://threeman.org/?p=1825
8. Lichnowsky to Jagow, London, 1 August 1914, DD562, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 343.
9. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 532
10. Harry Elmer Barnes, In Quest of Truth and Justice, p. 87.
11. Lichnowsky to von Jagow, London, 1 August 1914, DD596, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 346.
12. Ibid., p. 347.
13. John S Ewart, Roots and Causes of the Wars, vol. I, p. 136.
14. Hamilton and Herwig, Decisions for War, p. 141.
15. Edward David, Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, p. 179.
16. E D Morel, Truth and the War, pp. 47–9.
17. E D Morel, The Makers of War, p. 47.
18. Edward David, Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, p. 179.
19. Hamilton and Herwig, Decisions for War, pp. 138–9.
20. Grey of Fallodon, Twenty-Five Years, vol. II, p. 175.

Sir Edward Grey (2) Deceiving The Kaiser

Sir Edward Grey’s strategy from 25 July onwards was to make it appear that he sought answers to intractable problems by offering plausible solutions, and to urge the Germans in particular to cling to the hope that peace was still possible. Grey knew precisely what had been arranged by and through Poincaré’s visit to Russia. Sazonov and the Russian military had begun mobilisation. His prime objective was to gain time for the Russians by delaying Germany’s defensive response. He achieved this by presenting Britain as an ‘honest broker’ for peace. Sir George Buchanan in St Petersburg ensured that Grey was kept fully informed, thus allowing him to don the mantle of peace-maker to Russia’s advantage. British neutrality sat at the epicentre of this charade like a prize exhibit at an auction. Sazonov desperately wanted Grey to openly commit to the entente, but to no avail. [1] The Germans repeatedly sought clarification about ‘England’s’ intentions, but Grey held to the official line. Britain was not bound by any obligation to enter into war. He had told this lie so often he might even have started to believe it.

Over that weekend of 25–26 July, while the Russians secretly began their mobilisation, the British political leaders left town for their country pastures.

The German ambassador, Prince Lichnowsky, arrived unannounced at the Foreign Office with an urgent message from Chancellor Bethmann, imploring Sir Edward Grey to use his influence at St Petersburg against any form of mobilisation. No one was available to see him, and Lichnowsky had to postpone his appeal until Monday. [2] It was an old trick and such a simple deception. By being allegedly out of touch for the weekend, formal diplomacy was put on hold and the Russians were gifted two more valuable days for unrestricted mobilisation. Grey’s convenient absence stalled Lichnowsky but did not in any way hinder the Foreign Office from repeatedly making diplomatic moves aimed at buying more time for Russia’s military preparations. An offer of British mediation was immediately accepted by Germany but rejected by Sazonov and Poincaré. [3] Grey then proposed that the ambassadors of Italy, Germany and France should meet with him in London to find a peaceful solution to the diplomatic conflict. [4] This offer was made in the full knowledge that Italy had long planned to betray her commitment to the Triple Alliance.

Germany and Austria were themselves aware that it was very unlikely that the Italians would support them. Bethmann believed that ‘the ill-will of Italy appeared almost a certainty’. [5] As matters stood, Germany knew she would find herself isolated at the conference and that the vote count was bound to be three to one in favour of Russia’s view. A further stumbling block was the insistence that Austria accepted the Serbian Reply as a basis for negotiation. [6] No specific condition was placed on any other nation, and Russia remained free to continue her ‘preparatory measures’ for mobilisation. [7] In truth, the conference was proposed not as a means to find a settlement but to give the massive Russian military machine time to move its armies up to the German frontier.

Germany advocated the eminently more sensible proposition that direct negotiations between Vienna and St Petersburg offered the best chance of peace. Grey agreed, but Sazonov did not. Knowing full well that Austria had just declared the Serbian Reply unacceptable, Sazonov said he considered it satisfactory and the basis for talks on which Russia ‘willingly held out her hand’ to Austria. [8] This was yet another of the ‘peace proposals’ that Grey, Sazonov and Poincaré knew could never be acceptable. Forewarned that any peace proposal emanating from Grey was a ruse, Poincaré and Sazonov knew how they were expected to respond. When Grey suggested a solution and Germany accepted, Poincaré or Sazonov would say no. Likewise, if Germany proposed a peace move, Grey would accept and be seen as the man of moderation, but either Poincaré or Sazonov would then reject it. War was the object, not peace.

During that same weekend of 25–26 July, with the British Cabinet absent from London, Sir Arthur Nicolson in the Foreign Office kept his finger on the beating pulse of the European crisis. Across at the Admiralty, another secret decision drew war ever closer. At four on the Sunday afternoon, the first sea lord, Prince Louis of Battenberg sent, with Churchill’s prior approval, an order to the fleet to remain concentrated at Spithead. Quietly and unassumingly, the fleet was mobilised. Note the coincidence: both the first lord of the Admiralty and the foreign secretary were absent from their posts, yet key departmental decisions were taken that deliberately brought war ever closer. As far as the public were concerned, nothing untoward was happening. It was just another summer weekend.

Diplomatic proposals and counter-proposals criss-crossed Europe over the next five days as a variety of options for mediation, negotiation or direct interventions emanated from London, Berlin, Vienna and St Petersburg. Some were genuine; some were intended to deceive. Grey’s suggestions were consistent in that they always supported the Russian position and never at any time sought to question or constrain Sazonov. More ominously, the Foreign Office began to insist that German preparations for war were much more advanced than those of France or Russia. [9] No evidence from the British archives has ever been presented to justify this allegation. [10] Britain had thousands of representatives, businessmen, bankers, tradesmen and tourists in Germany during those crucial weeks. Military and naval attachés, consuls in all the larger cities and, of course, senior diplomats in Berlin all served to represent the interests of the British Crown.

No one filed an official report warning of German preparations for war. The major newspapers had foreign correspondents in Germany. They observed nothing untoward. Not just that. No other diplomatic mission shared Grey’s unwarranted view. [11] The anti-German cabal of Grey, Nicolson and Crowe created yet another myth.

On the evening of 28 July, the German Chancellor, Bethmann, sent a telegraph to Vienna putting pressure on Berchtold to negotiate and immediately notified Britain and Russia that he had done so. Germany was cooperating to maintain the peace. Bethmann did all he could to persuade Berchtold to hold frank and friendly discussions with St Petersburg. He informed the British ambassador that ‘a war between the Great Powers must be avoided’. [12] Bethmann was determined to make Austria reconsider the consequences of events that were unfolding, but by the following morning he had received no response from Berchtold. All that day he waited in vain for an answer. Berchtold’s silence was unnerving. More and more reports were relayed to Berlin confirming Russian mobilisation.

Helmuth von Moltke, German Chief of Staff, was able to report that France was also taking preparatory measures for mobilisation: ‘it appears that Russia and France are moving hand in hand as regards their preparations’. [13] There was much cause for concern in Berlin. The German military authorities demanded precautionary defensive measures. That evening, Bethmann indignantly fired off another three telegrams to Berchtold, adamant that there was a basis for negotiations. [14] His subtext was that Germany’s promised support would be cancelled.

The German ambassador in London telegraphed Berlin on the 29th to say that the British believed that a world war was inevitable unless the Austrians negotiated their position over Serbia. Lichnowsky begged Sir Edward Grey to do all he could to prevent a Russian mobilisation on Germany’s borders. The consequences would be ‘beyond conception’. [15] Grey promised to use his influence and keep Sazonov as ‘cool-headed as possible ’. [16] He did not. Far from trying to calm Sazonov, Grey made no attempt at intervention. Instead, he met again with Lichnowsky that evening and sowed the seeds of confusion that deliberately included conditions and suppositions that mixed hope with dire warnings. [17]

Grey wrote four dispatches on 29 July that were later published as official documents in the British Blue Book. After the war, when some limited access was granted to national and parliamentary archives, it transpired that the telegrams had never been sent. It was part of a cosmetic charade to imply that Britain had made every effort to prevent war. Bethmann and the kaiser, on the other hand, genuinely tried to apply the brakes and gain some control of the deteriorating situation. The German chancellor vigorously opposed any military measures that would ruin his diplomatic appeals.

Unfortunately, he was almost the last man standing in that particular field. In Berlin, they held to the fading hope that British diplomats were men of honour, and great store was placed on the reassurances that King George V had recently given to his cousin, Prince Henry of Prussia.

The prince was convinced that the king’s statement ‘was made in all seriousness’ and that England would remain neutral at the start, but he doubted whether she would do so permanently. [18] Germany pursued peace right up to the last minute. As Lloyd George later put it: ‘The last thing that the vainglorious kaiser wanted was a European war’ [19] His and Bethmann’s valiant efforts failed because the Secret Elite and their agents had already engineered the war they so wanted.

Buying time for the Russians was one problem, but getting the Cabinet and Parliament to agree to war required an entirely different approach.

1. Imanuel Geiss, July 1914, pp. 214–15.
2. George Malcolm Thomson, The Twelve Days, p. 80.
3. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 377.
4. Harry Elmer Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 26.
5. Pierre Renouvin, La Crise Européene et la Grande Guerre, p. 112.
6. Thomson, TheTwelve Days, p. 86.
7. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 383.
8. Renouvin, La Crise Européene, p. 117.
9. Grey of Fallodon, Twenty-Five Years, vol. II, p. 162.
10. Hermann Lutz, Lord Grey and the World War, p. 244.
11. Ibid.
12. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 431.
13. Moltke to Bethmann, Berlin, 29 July 1914, DD349, in Geiss, July 1914, pp. 282-4.
14. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 435.
15. Lichnowsky to Jagow, London, 29 July 1914, DD357, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 286.
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid. pp. 288–90.
18. Prince Henry to Kaiser, Kiel, 28 July 1914, KD 374, in Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 500.
19. Lloyd George, War Memoirs, p. 34.

Sir Edward Grey (1) Ensuring The Secret Elite’s War

In July 1914, Sir Edward Grey proved his Secret Elite loyalty by sewing such seeds of destruction and infamy that he stands accused of ensuring that Britain went to war. He lied to Germany, he lied to his Cabinet colleagues and he lied to parliament. Despite these bitter accusations, here is a man whose reputation and standing in history has been protected and cultivated by the Secret Elite as part of their elaborate and systematic cover-up. Read any standard history of the First World War and Sir Edward Grey will be portrayed as the man who ‘acted splendidly (as Foreign Secretary) in a great crisis and did everything possible to avert war.'[1] Nothing could be further from the truth. The image that we have is of a much respected foreign secretary; an image still coloured by recent BBC history dramas like 37 Days. [2]

He was portrayed with great sympathy as an honourable and likeable English squire and remembered, of course, as the man who allegedly predicted that ‘the lamps are going out all over Europe; we shall not see them lit again in our life-time.’ [3] The pity is that he did not foresee the cost of putting out the lamps, nor ever accepted responsibility for his complicity in the declaration of an unforgiveable war. Sir Edward Grey worked in the service of the Secret Elite to deliver their war.

Lloyd George vented his spleen on Sir Edward Grey in his War Memoirs. His withering analysis of the Foreign Secretary was that he had ‘no imagination…no real understanding of foreigners…was the most insular of our statesmen … knew less of foreigners through contact with them than any minister in the government…’, and perhaps most tellingly, ‘his influence was derived from other sources.’ [4] Of course it was. Despite every advantage that education could buy, Grey was sent down [expelled] from Balliol College, Oxford in 1884 for ‘incorrigible idleness’, and when permitted to take his examinations, was awarded a third class degree in jurisprudence. [5] He was lazy and disinterested, but excelled at sport, in particular, real tennis, and his first love was nature, especially fishing and bird-watching. It is surely more than ironic co-incidence that Grey became Foreign Secretary and remained in post from 1905-1916, the longest serving continuous holder of that high office. We must remember that his background was perfectly suited to the Secret Elite, for whom he conducted a precious foreign policy. How much of that policy was dictated to him by his minders, his personal private secretary, William Tyrrell, and the senior permanent secretary at the foreign office, Sir Arthur Nicolson we do not know, but he never deviated from the Secret Elite agenda.

Over the last few weeks of July and the catastrophic first four days of August 1914, Sir Edward Grey’s posing and posturing was little more than play-acting.

He declared that the events in the Balkans were of little interest to him, but that was a downright lie. The Foreign Office network of high level ambassadorial intelligence kept him well informed about every twist and turn in the deteriorating relationship between Russia and Austria. Primarily, he knew about the promises made by the French President Poincare to stand with their ally against Germany. Sir George Buchanan telegrammed Grey at the Foreign Office in London on 24 July, summarising Poincaré’s visit: ‘The French ambassador gave me to understand that France would not only give Russia strong diplomatic support, but would, if necessary, fulfil all the obligations imposed on her by the alliance.’ [6] Poincaré and Sazonov had agreed the deal. When Russia went to war against Germany and Austria, France would fulfil her commitment to Russia. This telegram explicitly proved that by 24 July Sir Edward Grey knew that his world war was ordained, but the document was concealed from the world for ten years. While historians have focused on the mythical notion of Germany’s promised blank cheque to Austria which was supposedly given at Potsdam, the real blank cheque for war – which would be endorsed by Britain – was that which Poincaré signed in St Petersburg. [7]

When the Austrian Note to Serbia was made public, Asquith decried it as ‘bullying and humiliating’ [8] but in private he confided to his secret love, Venetia Stanley, that: ‘the curious thing is that on many, if not most of the points, Austria has a good and Serbia a very bad case . . . but the Austrians are quite the stupidest people in Europe’ [9]

He knew that Grey had greatly exaggerated his reaction to the Austrian demands but could never say so in public. Indeed not. Their public stance, their pretence of outrage, represented a prepared position that aligned the British Foreign Office with the outbursts from Sazonov in Russia and Poincaré once back on French soil. By undermining Austria-Hungary they were simultaneously undermining the one nation that would stand with her: Germany.

Most members of Asquith’s Cabinet knew only what they read in the newspapers and were ignorant of the entente connivance in the Austria–Serbia dispute. Cabinet met on the afternoon of 24 July and discussed shootings in Dublin and the shipping of German guns to the Irish Volunteers at great length, and then, almost as an aside, the rapidly deteriorating Serbian crisis was raised. According to Winston Churchill, the discussion on Ireland had reached its inconclusive end and the Cabinet was about to separate when Sir Edward Grey produced the Austrian Note, the demands they were making of Serbia, which he claimed had just been brought to him from the Foreign Office. The message they wanted Cabinet members to believe was that this was ‘an ultimatum such as had never been penned in modern times’. [10]

Charles Hobhouse, the postmaster-general in Asquith’s pre-war Cabinet, wrote in his diary: “Grey broke in to say that the Ultimatum by Austria to Serbia had brought us nearer to a European Armageddon than we had been through all the Balkan troubles. He had suggested that Germany, France, Italy and the UK should jointly press Austria and Russia to abstain from action, but he was certain that if Russia attacked Austria, Germany was bound to come to the latter’s help.”[11]

If Churchill’s recollection was correct, Grey must have staged the announcement for dramatic effect. We know that the Note had not ‘just been brought’ to Grey that afternoon but was handed to him in Downing Street that morning, when he had ranted at Count Mensdorff. [12] That apart, look how the Foreign Office had twisted the Note into an ‘Ultimatum’. Hobhouse even gave the word a capital letter. Notice too how in Hobhouse’s version it was not Germany that was at fault. The key to war or peace was Russia: ‘If Russia attacked Austria, Germany was bound to come in.’ That was the same Russia which had just given a blank cheque by Poincaré. What Grey did not tell his Cabinet colleagues, and what he knew for certain, was that France was pledged to take sides with Russia if war was declared on Germany. To have revealed the truth would have left the British Cabinet astounded, confused and outraged at France and Russia.

On 25 July, Sir George Buchanan in St Petersburg penned a strictly confidential telegram to Sir Edward Grey. It arrived in the Foreign Office at 10.30 p.m. The message could not have been clearer: ‘Russia cannot allow Austria to crush Serbia and become the predominant Power in the Balkans, and, secure of support of France, she will face all the risks of war.’ [13] Still Grey remained silent on this key development.

Unequivocally, Sir Edward Grey knew that war was but days away. He had two options from which to choose if he wanted to keep the peace. He could have warned Russia that in the event of war, Britain would not be involved. He could also have warned Germany that, in the event of war, Britain would not stay neutral if Belgium was invaded. He did neither. Sir Edward Grey wanted war.

1. Wilson and Hammerton, The Great War, The Standard History of the All-Europe conflict, vol. 1. p.17.
2. Terry Boardman, “37 Days” a critique, http://threeman.org/?p=1825?
3. Grey of Falloden, Twenty-Five Years, vol. III, p.223.
4. War Memoirs of David Lloyd George, pp55-60.
5. G.M. Treyelyan, Grey of Fallodon, pp17-20.
6. Buchanan to Grey, 24 July, BD 101, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 196.
7. Friedrich Stieve, Isvolsky and the World War, p. 215.
8. Sidney B Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 369.
9. H.H. Asquith, Letters to Venetia Stanley, edited by Michael and Eleanor Brock, 26 July 1914, p. 125.
10. Winston Churchill, World Crisis, p. 155.
11. Edward David, Inside Asquith’s Cabinet, pp. 176–7.
12. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 369.
13. Buchanan to Grey, 25 July 1914, BD 125, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 213.

July 1914 (4) The Storm Clouds Darken

Mobilisation meant war. In the first decades of the twentieth century, all of the Great Powers knew that the general mobilisation of the armed forces of a major power signalled its intent on war. Plans for bringing together regular army units, conscripts and reserves, equipping these troops and transporting them to border assembly points had been worked out with great precision. Modern railway systems were the key. The entire process had to be conducted by rail and the general staffs had worked for years to perfect their timetables.

From the moment the command to mobilise was given, everything had to move at fixed times, in precise order, down to the number of train axles that would pass over a given bridge within a given time. [1] Each action in the mobilisation process led logically to the next, in lockstep precision, combining in a practically irreversible escalation to war. In terms of strategic planning, the assumption was that the advantage lay always with the offence, and that speed was of the essence. European leaders believed that a one-to-three-day lead in mobilisation was militarily significant for the course of the war, leaving vulnerable anyone who delayed. [2]

The Franco-Russian Alliance was clearly based on the assertion that mobilisation meant war. [3] Both Russian and French general staffs not only viewed mobilisation as an outright act of war but also insisted that all normal operational decisions be based on that assumption. [4] It is important to clarify that the Russian and French governments understood precisely what mobilisation meant when the decisions were taken in July 1914. Once the order was given and the machinery for mobilisation set in motion, there was little possibility of stopping it.

The kaiser and his military advisors observed the same rule that general mobilisation was the first decisive step towards war. They knew they had no choice but to respond in kind if a general Russian mobilisation was ordered. In such a scenario, the moment Germany mobilised in self-defence, the Franco-Russian Alliance would be triggered. The French would mobilise to support Russia, and Germany would be faced with war on two fronts. This was no secret. Both alliances knew precisely how the other would react in the event of war.

Germany was to be compelled to fight war on two fronts and would be greatly outnumbered by the combined forces of Russia, France and Britain. The czar’s army alone was much larger than that of the kaiser, though neither better trained nor equipped. With her more modern road and rail networks, Germany’s advantage lay in the rapidity of her mobilisation. In comparison, Russia’s military machine was slow, cumbersome and burdened by inefficiency. A mobilisation across the vast lands of the Russian empire, with inadequate infrastructure, less-developed railroad systems near the German frontiers and inefficient local military authorities was necessarily slow. Russia’s strategic aim was to reduce this natural German advantage by keeping her mobilisation secret for as long as possible.

Within hours of Poincare’s departure from St Petersburg on 23 July, the success of his mission became clear. Russia began mobilising her vast armies and took an irrevocable step towards war in Europe. The Secret Elite’s agent had accomplished his prime objective. At the meeting of the Russian Council of Ministers held at three o’clock on 24 July, they decided to mobilise 1,100,000 men in the four southern military districts of Odessa, Kiev, Moscow and Kazan, together with both the Baltic and Black Sea fleets. [5] The czar further agreed that preparation should be made for the mobilisation of 13 army corps at a date to be determined by Sazonov. The minister of war was authorised to ‘proceed immediately to gather stores of war materiel’ and the minister of finance directed to call in at once all Russian money in Germany and Austria. This, remember, was still 24 July, the day before the Serbian Reply was due for submission. [6]

Immediately after the meeting ended, Foreign Minister Sazonov lunched with ambassadors Buchanan and Paléologue at the French Embassy. These were the Secret Elite’s diplomatic enforcers, who ensured that London and Paris were kept fully updated. Sazonov confirmed that the czar had approved both the mobilisation of over 1 million men and the Russian navy.

The imperial order (ukase) was not to be made public until he, Sazonov, considered that the moment had arrived to enforce it, but all the necessary preliminary preparations for the mobilisation had already begun. [7] Sazonov confirmed that Russia was prepared to ‘face all the risks’, and Paléologue reiterated Poincaré’s ‘blank cheque’, placing France unreservedly on Russia’s side. Poincaré had explicitly instructed Paléologue to reassure Sazonov by prompt and persistent promises of French support. [8] The French ambassador informed Sazonov that he had also received a number of telegrams from the minister in charge of foreign affairs, and that not one of them displayed the slightest sign of hesitation. Russia was mobilising for war, and France placed herself unreservedly by her side. [9] Sazonov was thus constantly reassured that France would stand shoulder to shoulder with Russia.

The following morning, 25 July, the Russian Council of Ministers rubber-stamped the military plans and confirmed their readiness for war. [10] Telegrams were sent out in secret ciphers, halting military manoeuvres throughout the Russian empire. Military divisions were instructed to return immediately from their summer camps to their regular quarters. Troops were to be equipped and prepared for transportation to their designated areas on the frontiers. [11] Cadets undergoing training at the St Petersburg Military Academy were immediately promoted to the rank of officer, and new cadets enrolled. A ‘state of war’ was proclaimed in towns along the frontiers facing Germany and Austria, and a secret order given for the ‘Period Preparatory to War’. [12] This enabled the Russia military command to take extensive measures for mobilisation against Germany without a formal declaration of war.

Meanwhile, on the diplomatic front, ambassadors and chargés d’affaires, ministers and imperial officials continued the pretence that they sought a peaceful resolution to the Austro-Serbian crisis and bought precious time for the military. Russia had begun a secret mobilisation in incremental stages before the Pasic government in Serbia had even responded to the Austrian Note.

Sir George Buchanan urged Sazonov to be cautious lest Germany got wind of the mobilisation, reacted immediately and Russia was portrayed as the aggressor. [13] Buchanan did not suggest that Sazonov should halt the mobilisation, far from it, but urged him to keep it well hidden from German view. It was vital that the mobilisation be as far advanced as possible before the Germans became aware of the military build-up on their frontiers. Furthermore, the Secret Elite in London needed to be able to portray Germany as the aggressor, to entice Germany into firing the first shots and so avoid a situation where Russia could be blamed for starting the war. At all costs, blame had to be laid at Germany’s door. The British public would never accept war unless Germany was seen as the aggressor. This absolute conviction became Britain’s secret diplomatic mantra.

Although Buchanan later denied it, the French ambassador, Paléologue, even went so far in his memoirs as to recall Buchanan telling him: ‘Russia is determined to go to war. We must therefore saddle Germany with the whole responsibility and initiative of the attack, as this will be the only way of winning over English public opinion to the war.’ [14] The Secret Elite and their agents knew exactly how the unfolding events would have to be manipulated to dupe the British public.

Sir Edward Grey stubbornly insisted throughout the whole crisis that the Austro-Serbian dispute did not concern him. [15] This lie went unchallenged. By making no parliamentary reference to events in that part of the world, he hid the Secret Elite’s diplomatic incitement to war behind a screen of apparent lack of interest in the Austro-Serbian conflict. He consulted daily with Sir Arthur Nicolson and had a powerful anti-German ally in Sir Eyre Crowe. These two almost outbid each other in their distaste for Germany and their indulgence of Russia. [16] Grey’s minders never veered from the Secret Elite doctrine. Inside Grey’s Foreign Office, the Empire loyalists behaved like a swarm of Jesuit zealots pledged to an anti-German inquisition.

Meanwhile in Belgrade, at 3 p.m. on 25 July (three hours before responding to the Austrian Note), Pasic’s government, confident of Russian military support, announced Serbia’s mobilisation against Austria. At 9.30 that same night, the Austrians responded by declaring a partial mobilisation (some 22 divisions) of its army against Serbia. [17] Austria had made it patently clear that in the event of such a mobilisation, war would remain localised and no territorial claims would be made on Serbia. She intended to occupy Belgrade until such time as Serbia agreed to all of their demands.

This Austrian mobilisation was deliberately misrepresented as a direct threat to Russia, and the reason for Russian mobilisation. That is a ridiculous claim. The Russian mobilisation had been agreed in principle before Poincaré left St Petersburg and before Austria had even delivered the Note to Serbia. Another fiction put about was that the Russian mobilisation was meant to act as a deterrent to war. What nonsense. It was the first act of war, and all involved knew it. The notion that it could be seen as a deterrent is groundless. They clearly understood that to order mobilisation was to cross the Rubicon: there could be no turning back. [18]

Maurice Paléologue, the French ambassador, offered an interesting insight into what was happening on the streets of the capital:

“At seven in the evening [the 25th] I went to the Warsaw Station [in St Petersburg] to bid farewell to Isvolsky, who was leaving to rejoin his post. Great activity at the terminus, the trains crowded with officers and troops. All this points to mobilisation. We hurriedly exchanged our views of the situation and both arrived at the same conclusion: this time it is war.” [19]

Hour by hour, Russia secretly edged Europe closer to war. [20] Austria had been completely fooled by the diplomatic machinations orchestrated in London and Paris. Berchtold was betrayed, utterly deceived by men he thought he could trust. The czar had been convinced of the need for war by the French President while the British foreign secretary feigned little interest in the disputes in eastern Europe. The events of July 1914 were to have cataclysmic consequences.

[1] Jack Levy, ‘Organisational Routines and the Causes of War’, International Studies Quarterly, vol. 30, no. 2, June 1986, p. 196.
[2] Ibid., p. 195.
[3] Harry Elmer Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 354.
[4] Kennan, Fateful Alliance, pp. 250–1.
[5] Memorandum of the day of the Russian Ministry for Foreign Affairs, St Petersburg, 24 July 1914, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 190.
[6] Special Journal of the Russian Council of Ministers, St Petersburg, 24 July
1914, in Geiss, July 1914, pp. 186–7.
[7] Imanuel Geiss, July 1914, p. 214.
[8] Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 324.
[9] Buchanan to Grey, St Petersburg, 25 July 1914, BD 125, Geiss, July 1914, p. 214.
[10] Special Journal of the Russian Council of Ministers, St Petersburg, 25 July 1914, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 207.
[11] Sidney B. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 309.
[12] Stephen J. Cimbala, Military Persuasion: Deterrence and Provocation in Crisis and War, p. 58.
[13] George Buchanan, My Mission to Russia and Other Diplomatic Memories, vol. 1, p. 93.
[14] Ibid., p. 94.
[15] Max Montgelas, Case for the Central Powers, p. 129.
[16] Hermann Lutz, Lord Grey and the World War, p. 244.
[17] Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 336.
[18] Marc Trachtenberg, ‘The Meaning of Mobilization in 1914’, p. 126.
[19] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, pp. 302–3.
[20] Trachtenberg, ‘The Meaning of Mobilization in 1914’, pp. 120–50.

July 1914 (3) The Storm Gathers

The storm was brewed in Russia through the malevolent French President, Raymond Poincare, as St Petersburg became the focal point of meaningful decision making in Europe from mid July 1914. That is not to infer that Czar Nicholas II or his foreign minister, Sazonov, suddenly asserted themselves and stood determined to see this through. Far from it. At each stage, the Secret Elite placemen were physically present to continually reassure the czar and Sazonov that they were making the right decisions, reinforcing them in the certainty that their actions were being forced on them by Austria, and behind Austria, mendacious Germany. The Secret Elite knew that Sazonov would make the defence of Serbia an issue of national pride, and that the aggressive Russian response would draw Germany into the trap of a European war. Paléologue and Buchanan, the French and British ambassadors in St Petersburg, were there to constantly embolden him and keep him from wavering from this course. The lure of the greatest prize drew the Russians on to recklessness. The golden carrot of Constantinople was almost within their reach. This is what they had been secretly promised by Grey and the British foreign office. It was an empty promise, but served its purpose well.

Poincaré’s presidential visit had been scheduled to renew promises of a joint attack on Germany that would destroy their common enemy. Reports of his private conversations with the czar were carried in the press, but no word was written about the substance of the discussions. [1] Indeed, French diplomatic telegrams were altered and suppressed after the war, to conceal the true nature of Poincaré’s visit. [2] His sole purpose was to reassure the czar and Sazonov that France would stand beside them, and to encourage them to begin military preparations immediately for war with Germany. Every Russian at court in St Petersburg believed that the enemy was Germany and that war would be the outcome. The Russian military greeted him enthusiastically. They too were convinced that war was ‘inevitable’ and Poincaré’s endorsement was precisely what they wanted to hear. [3]

Ambassador Buchanan sent a telegram to the Foreign Office in London on 24 July, summarising Poincaré’s visit: ‘The French ambassador gave me to understand that France would not only give Russia strong diplomatic support, but would, if necessary, fulfil all the obligations imposed on her by the alliance.’ [4] Poincaré and Sazonov had agreed the deal. When Russia went to war against Germany and Austria, France would fulfil her commitment to Russia. This telegram explicitly proved that by 24 July Sir Edward Grey knew that his world war was ordained.

In the Foreign Office, Buchanan’s telegram was subjected to minute scrutiny, and the private notes attached to it demonstrated the inner convolutions of Secret Elite thinking. [5] Sir Eyre Crowe’s surgical analysis cut to the heart of the matter. Whatever the merits of the Austrian case against Serbia, he believed it would be ‘impolitic’ to interfere in St Petersburg or Paris, ‘dangerous’, even. Dangerous? As in, any intervention from Britain might stop them starting a war?

Put all of this into perspective. Austria had suffered assassination, humiliation and taunts from Serbia, but that didn’t count. Russia and France had agreed that they would stand together and go to war, which seemed perfectly reasonable to Sir Eyre Crowe, so Britain should simply let that happen.

He phrased his diplomatic comments in the following way: ‘The point that matters is whether Germany is or is not absolutely determined to have this war now.’ [6] His twisted logic flew in the face of what he already knew. It was not Germany that was determined to ‘have this war now’; it was the Secret Elite. Crowe’s reasoning contained an awesome revelation: “Our interests are tied up with those of France and Russia in this struggle, which is not for the possession of Serbia, but one between Germany aiming at a political dictatorship in Europe, and the Powers who desire to retain individual freedom. [7]

Ask yourself this question: what were the coincident interests between Britain and Russia? Shared ambition that could only come to blows in Persia? No, it was war with Germany. Would Britain ever have seriously contemplated giving Russia possession of the Straits? No. Was Russia a land of individual freedoms? No. The very notion of the czarist empire being associated with freedoms was ludicrous. Not one single Jewish Member of the British Parliament was free to travel into Russia. [8] This twisted, illogical bias was nothing more than the bile of Secret Elite philosophy. Crowe ended his minute with a recommendation that the fleet be mobilised as soon as any of the Great Powers made their first step to war, but Edward Grey had previously checked that point with Winston Churchill. The fleet was ready and waiting for the coming storm.

Austria presented the ‘Note’ to Serbia once Poincaré and the French delegation had departed St Petersburg on 23 July. The delay was futile. The French and Russians had already made their fateful, but still secret, tryst and Sazonov’s commitment to protect Serbia was absolute. All had been determined long before the Austrian demands became public. [9] Berchtold insisted that the Note was non-negotiable ‘We cannot be satisfied with anything less than their unconditional acceptance within the stated terms; otherwise we should be obliged to draw further consequences.’ [10] The consequences were not as he imagined.

Baron von Gieslingen, the Austro-Hungarian minister at Belgrade, handed the Note to the Serbian government at 6 p.m. on Thursday, 23 July. It comprised ten demands that had been leaked over the preceding weeks and, as far as Berchtold was aware would be acceptable in the courts of Europe. A 48-hour deadline was set for an unequivocal acceptance of every point. Every demand was already known to the Secret Elite agents, including the timescale for a reply.

Berchtold and his advisors were totally unprepared for what happened next. Despite all of the international support and encouragement that they had been given over the preceding weeks, what followed was an orchestrated overreaction from Russia, France and Britain, whose well-coordinated pretence at outrage was completely at odds with previous statements. Those who had encouraged strong Austrian action now declared that, rather than aiming for justice from Serbia, Austria was abusing the situation as a pretext to provoke a war. The argument turned in a most bizarre way. Austria was accused of having presented ‘no evidence’ of the Serbian complicity, and they insisted that ‘more time ’ought to be given for the Serbian Reply. [11] It was a sham, a blatant attempt to gain additional time for the Russian and French military preparations. [12] Austria remained unmoved and insisted on a reply within 48 hours.

On 24 July, Austro-Hungarian ambassadors were subject to verbal abuse when they presented their demands on Serbia to the entente governments. In St Petersburg, Sazonov exploded at the Austrian ambassador, constantly interrupting his attempt to explain the Note. ‘I know what you want. You want to go to war with Serbia … you are setting fire to Europe.’ [13] Point by point, Sazonov challenged and rejected every part of the Austrian Note. His lack of perspective made nonsense of his tantrum, but since he already had detailed knowledge of the demands, it was a sham.

Sir Edward Grey met with Count Mensdorff, the Austrian ambassador to Britain, at Downing Street on the morning of 24 July. Given that he was not known to rush to judgement, Grey’s immediate pronouncement that the Note was ‘the most formidable document that has ever been addressed from one state to another’ [14] was ridiculous. When Mensdorff tried to explain the merits of the case, Grey rejected the arguments as ‘not our concern’. He could hardly have been more dismissive. This too was a sham.

It was different in Paris. With all the senior ministers who might have dealt with the Austrian explanation literally at sea, the Note was handed to the minister of justice, whose moderate and unemotional reaction was in complete contrast to the paroxysms elsewhere. No one had thought to give him sight of the entente’s official script. With near indecent haste, Paul Cambon, the French ambassador at London, was ordered back to France to hold the fort at Quai D’Orsay.

While the entente foreign ministers orchestrated as close to a perfect storm of indignation as they could muster, several British newspapers considered the Austrian demands to be perfectly justified. The Manchester Guardian, the Daily News and the Daily Chronicle all voiced a reasoned understanding of the Austrian position. Of the conservative newspapers, the Daily Telegraph was the most impartial. It supported the Austrians in ‘demanding full and prompt repudiation of all those nefarious schemes which have politics as their excuse and murder as their handmaid’. [15] The Manchester Guardian deeply regretted that Russia was prepared to threaten ‘extreme measures’ if strong Austrian action was forced upon Serbia. As its editorial explained, Austria had a good reason to be overbearing towards Serbia, but ‘Russia’s threat of war is a piece of sheer brutality, not disguised by her sudden discovery of the sacredness of the balance of power in Europe’. [16] It was a sarcastic but justified rebuff to the Russian presumption of interest in Serbian affairs. Predictably, The Times was batting for the other side. An editorial, published two days before the Note was handed over, under the heading, ‘A Danger to Europe’, supported the Russians and cast doubt on Austrian intentions to localise the war. [17] As ever, the voice of the Secret Elite was a step ahead.

The Serbian Reply was carefully crafted and moderate in character. [18] It not only won the approval and sympathy of the entente powers but also of neutrals everywhere. It even commanded the admiration of Berchtold, who described the Reply as ‘the most brilliant example of diplomatic skill which I have ever known’, but he added that though it appeared to be reasonable, it was ‘wholly worthless in content’. [19] The diplomatic language certainly had all the hallmarks of a professional tactician. Pasic had previously relied on Hartwig, the Russian ambassador, whose untimely death ought to have left him bereft of ideas. Yet, out of nowhere, this comparative nonentity apparently produced a masterstroke of international diplomacy. Pasic was reputedly a lost, floundering soul without his Russian mentor, so who was behind the Serbian Reply? Belgrade had immediately appealed to Sazonov, Paléologue and the czar for help. [20] Behind the scenes, the telegraph lines between London, Belgrade, St Petersburg and Paris nearly went into meltdown. Sir Edward Grey telegraphed Belgrade on Friday evening (24 July) at 9.30 p.m. to advise the Serbs on how they should respond. He specifically suggested that they ‘give a favourable reply on as many points as possible within the limit of time, and not to meet Austria with a blank negative’. He wanted them to apologise, express regret for the conduct of their officials and reply in a manner that represented the best interests of Serbia. Grey refused to give any further advice without liaising directly with Russia and France. [21] His time-serving words covered the fact that Britain, France and Russia had already agreed their joint position.

The input from London, Paris and St Petersburg represented a massive public-relations offensive on behalf of Serbia. The Reply was couched in very conciliatory language, with feigned humility and apparent openness and sincerity. European opinion still sided with Austria rather than Serbia, and that would have been reinforced had the Serbs presented an arrogant or insulting reply. Serbia had to be reinvented as a brave and helpless little nation that had gone beyond the boundary of national dignity in surrendering to Austria’s harsh demands. Of all the diplomatic ruses before the war began, there was no cleverer ‘subterfuge than the planning of the Serbian response to Austria’. [22]

To the unwitting, it appeared as though all points bar two had been accepted and that ‘poor little Serbia’ had yielded to the immense and unfair pressure from her neighbour. Kaiser Wilhelm, for example, returned from his three-week cruise and hailed the Serbian Reply as ‘a triumph of diplomacy’ when he first read it. [23] Wilhelm jotted on it: ‘a brilliant performance for a time-limit of only 48 hours. This is more than one could have expected!’ [24] He was convinced that the Austrians would be satisfied and that the few reservations Serbia had made on particular points would be cleared up by negotiation. Kaiser Wilhelm’s immediate and spontaneous response clearly indicated his belief, indeed his joy, that all risk of war had been removed. ‘With it [the Serbian response] every reason for war falls to the ground.’ [25]

Wilhelm’s analysis was sadly naive. He accepted the Serbian concessions at face value, but the Austrians did not. While the Serbian response appeared to consent to virtually every Austrian demand, it was so hedged with qualifications that the Austrians were bound to take umbrage. Only two of Austria’s demands were accepted in their entirety, while the answers to the others were evasive. [26] Reservations and lies had been carefully disguised by skilful dissembling. The most important Austrian demand was rejected outright. Berchtold insisted that judicial proceedings be taken against everyone associated with the assassination plot and that Austro-Hungarian police officers be directly involved in the investigations. Serbia baulked at this, claiming that such an intrusion would be a violation of her constitution. That was not the case. The Austrians had demanded that their police be allowed to assist in the investigation of the crime, not that its officials be allowed to participate in internal Serbian court procedures. There were numerous precedents for such cross-border police involvement. [27] But the Serbs nailed their colours to this spurious assertion and claimed that the Austrian Note was an infringement of their sovereignty.

The Secret Elite knew that Austria would not accept the Reply. It was specifically designed to be rejected. No amount of cosmetic wordplay could hide the fact that it did not accede to the Austrian stipulations. The lie that Austria-Hungary deliberately made the Note so tough that Serbia would have no choice but to refuse it has unfortunately been set in concrete by some historians. The myth that the Secret Elite wanted to promulgate, was that Austria was ‘told’ by Germany to attack Serbia. The best lie is the big lie. If Austria was hell-bent on war with Serbia, why did she entertain the gruelling three-week diplomatic route? Freed from extraneous interference the Austrian army was entirely capable of defeating Serbia. Hawks in the Austrian military had demanded an immediate attack, but the diplomats insisted on the long-delayed Note that unwittingly gave Britain, France and Russia time to lay their trap. [28] The Serbian Reply, and Austria’s consequent reaction, sprang that trap.

On 25 July, Sir George Buchanan in St Petersburg penned a strictly confidential telegram to Sir Edward Grey. It arrived in the Foreign Office at 10.30 p.m. The message could not have been clearer: ‘Russia cannot allow Austria to crush Serbia and become the predominant Power in the Balkans, and, secure of support of France, she will face all the risks of war.’ [29]

The allegation that Austria wanted to crush Serbia was yet another piece of propaganda manufactured to justify the entente over-reaction. But worse still was the French connection: the blank cheque. ‘Secure of support of France’, Russia was prepared to ‘face all the risks of war’. Buchanan spelled out the absolute reassurances that Poincaré had given to Sazonov. These were in fact more than reassurances; this was an incitement to war. Poincaré was inviting Sazonov to lead the line, promising that both countries would march behind the same banner. It was precisely what the Secret Elite had planned.

It was not the Austrian Note that made war inevitable, it was the Serbian Reply designed to provoke the reaction for which Russia, France and Britain were thoroughly prepared.

[1] Sidney B. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 280.
[2] A detailed analysis of the French official telegrams was printed in 1927 showing the omissions and alterations to original documents that had been approved at the Quai d’Orsay. In particular, details of Poincaré’s visit to St Petersburg and subsequent Russian military manoeuvres were removed. G. Demartial, L’Evangile du Quai d’ Orsay, p. 11.
[3] Harry Elmer Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 331.
[4] Buchanan to Grey, 24 July, BD 101, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 196.
[5] Buchanan to Grey 24 July, BD 101. The notes appended to this telegram are particularly valuable. Sir Eyre Crowe at the Foreign Office, a rabid anti-German, advocated immediate preparations to back up France and Russia. The telegram was then passed to the permanent undersecretary, Sir Arthur Nicolson, who added his support to Crowe. Sir Edward Grey responded that he had discussed the matter with Churchill. Layers of support and influence surrounded Grey.
[6] Imanuel Geiss, July 1914, p. 198.
[7] Ibid., p. 199.
[8] Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 10 July 1914, vol. 64, cc1397–398.
[9] Max Montgelas, British Foreign Policy under Sir Edward Grey, p. 65.
[10] John S. Ewart, Roots and Causes of the Wars, vol. II, pp. 1062–3.
[11] Montgelas, British Foreign Policy under Sir Edward Grey, p. 66.
[12] Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 200.
[13] Extract from the Austrian Red Book, OD 10616, 24 July 1914, in Geiss,
July 1914, p. 174.
[14] Geiss, July 1914, p. 175. Mensdorff to Berchtold, 24 July 1914.
[15] Irene Cooper Willis, England’s Holy War, p. 32.
[16] Manchester Guardian, 25 July 1914.
[17] The Times, 22 July 1914.
[18] Pierre Renouvin, The Immediate Origins of the War, p. 99.
[19] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 340.
[20] Ibid., p. 337.
[21] Ibid., p. 339.
[22] Barnes, Genesis of the World War, pp. 200–1.
[23] Niall Ferguson, Pity of War, p. 156.
[24] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 348.
[25] Ferguson, Pity of War, p. 156.
[26] Joseph Ward Swain, Beginning the Twentieth Century. p. 353.
[27] Ewart, Roots and Causes of the Wars, vol. II, p. 1040.
[28] Harry Elmer Barnes, In Quest of Truth and Justice, p. 47.
[29] Buchanan to Grey, 25 July 1914, BD 125, in Geiss, July 1914, p. 213.

July 1914 (2) The Lull Before The Storm

Behind a veneer of democracy, the British Foreign Office played a masterful game of deceit. From Vienna, the British ambassador Sir Maurice de Bunsen advised that the situation was dangerous and might rapidly deteriorate. [1] Other diplomats conveyed the same burning sense of urgency to their respective governments, but Grey, Poincaré and Sazonov did nothing to reduce the tension. The Secret Elite convinced Berchtold that Europe understood his dilemma. Austria-Hungary had to stop the Serbian-inspired rot. Grey played his cards perfectly. From the outset, Sir Edward Grey worked constantly to deceive the Kaiser and his advisors.

On 9 July, the German ambassador in London, Prince Lichnowsky, was repeatedly assured by Grey that Britain had entered into no secret obligations with France and Russia. Lichnowsky confidently assured his government that ‘England wished to preserve an absolutely free hand to act according to her own judgement in the event of continental complications’. He also reported that Grey said he would be willing to persuade the Russian government to adopt a more peaceful and conciliatory attitude towards Austria. [2] Pure deception. Grey had been intimately associated with the promises made to France since1905. His commitment to the Secret Elite cause overrode honesty. He did nothing to reconcile Russia and Austria. In fact, his ambassador in St Petersburg, Sir George Buchanan, was there to steady the Russian minister, Sazonov’s, shaky hand in the desperate drive to war.

You might have expected the foreign affairs debate in the House of Commons on 10 July to have discussed the growing tensions in the Balkans or the Austrian response to Sarajevo. If Members of Parliament truly thought that the twelve-day old assassination would lead to war, this topic would have consumed all others. It was an opportunity for serious debate that would have warned the nation of ominous developments that could well lead to a continental war. If the Foreign Office had honourably tried to raise the level of public awareness, then this was the logical platform. But the issue of Austrian intentions to punish Serbia and its possible consequences were not raised.

Instead of debating the nation’s role in the event of war, Members of Parliament had their democratic say about commercial interests and allegations that other nations were acting unfairly against British companies and investors. It set a tone of self-interest that was occasionally broken by a shard of enlightenment. [3] Honourable members discussed China, India, Persia and Russia, the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, improving relations with Germany, Portugal and Turkish Armenia but not the crisis in the Balkans. Sir Edward Grey said not a word to criticise or disagree with major points that were completely at odds with the true objectives of the Foreign Office, and then ignored them completely. Had it not been so serious, so calamitous, so despicable, the reader might find it amusing to appreciate how successfully he used the House of Commons to lull the country at large, and the Germans in particular, into believing that Britain had not the slightest concern that the events in Sarajevo might lead to a continental war.

The Liberal MP for Stirling, Arthur Ponsonby, stood in the House and praised the improved relations between Britain and Germany. He hailed the recent successful visit of the British fleet to Kiel as an example of ‘how friendly relations are between Germany and Britain’, and in consequence asked for a commitment to reduce military spending ‘to prevent civilisation being submerged’. [4] This was exactly the kind of signal that inspired German confidence in the British government’s good intentions. Ponsonby was perfectly serious, as was his Liberal colleague Joseph King, who drew appreciation from other members when he attacked czarist Russia’s religious intolerance towards Jews. His contempt for their anti-Semitic practices was clearly expressed in the statement: ‘I consider that a country which abuses the right of free entry is outside the brotherhood of nations.’ Travellers who professed the Jewish faith were systematically denied entry to Russia, even on a British passport, which meant that some of the most prominent and powerful men in the Houses of Parliament could not go there. [5]

What music to the ears of the German ambassador when Joseph King compared the scandal of Russia’s behaviour to the goodwill and affection for ‘countries like Germany, which stand with us in the forefront of civilisation’. [6] Again and again, honourable Members of Parliament, completely ignorant of the Secret Elite agenda, underlined the much improved relationship between Britain and Germany. Ultimately, not one word spoken in the debate mattered. It was as if the ominous events in the Balkans had no relevance in London. The British people’s contempt for Russia was palpable, but that meant nothing to the Secret Elite. At that very moment, Grey’s ambassadors were manipulating St Petersburg towards a war to destroy Germany. That could not be achieved without the Russian armies. While Parliament praised the new warmth in the Anglo-German relationship, the Foreign Office continued its preparations to blow it apart. The date was 10 July 1914.

Two factors played into the hands of the international conspirators. Firstly, the Austrians, in the person of Count Berchtold believed that all of the major European countries except Russia were behind them. Berchtold had been repeatedly assured that this was fact. Secondly, by sticking strictly to protocol, Berchtold went through the slow process of informing all of the appropriate agencies in the Austro-Hungarian empire, before taking formal action. On 14 July, he dutifully explained to the ageing emperor that demands would be made to Serbia in a very firm ‘Note’. These included an immediate end to anti-Austrian propaganda and anti-Austrian teaching in schools; public apologies for the assassination from King Peter and the Serbian government; direct Austrian police involvement in the criminal investigations within Serbia and the immediate surrender of those complicit in the murder. Such details were much in line with what was already known in London. Secrets did not remain secrets for long in the sieve of international diplomacy. Too many ministers and civil servants had sight of the proposed text of the Austrian Note as it was discussed and finalised.

On 16 July, the British ambassador at Vienna, Sir Maurice de Bunsen, telegraphed Sir Edward Grey with a detailed account of the Austrian indictment against Serbia. [7] He itemised the demands that would be made and, additionally, the fact that Austria would insist on unconditional compliance. De Bunsen stated that there was a genuine belief in Austria that Russia would not seek to protect racial assassins. He added that Austria also believed she would lose her position as a Great Power if she did not act definitively. [8] It was exactly as the Foreign Office expected.

Unaware that their intentions were already widely known, Berchtold delayed further. He decided to postpone delivering the demands to Serbia until the President of France had concluded a visit to St Petersburg. France and Russia were committed to a treaty of mutual defence in the event of war with Germany, and it was no co-incidence that the French President, Raymond Poincare, had decided to visit St. Petersburg shortly after the Archduke’s assassination. Historians have described the visit from 20 to 23 July 1914 as a ceremonial state occasion of no particular consequence. If that was so, why did the French not wait until after the international crisis had settled before embarking for Russia?

The entire French diplomatic service was aware of the implications that a war between Austria and Serbia would have for France. They knew that an Austrian declaration against Serbia would draw an equal response from Russia; that if Russia took arms against Austria, Germany would be obliged by her alliance to become involved. More pertinently for the French, if Russia went to war, they were bound by treaty to join her. They knew that a crisis of unprecedented severity was at hand. Yet we are asked to believe that this ‘goodwill exchange’ had no particular purpose. Poincaré could have easily delayed in Paris until the crisis had passed. He did not. They chose to go to St Petersburg and boarded the warship La France at Dunkirk on 15 July. After five days at sea, Sazonov, Isvolsky and Paléologue (the French ambassador at St Petersburg) warmly welcomed him to Russia. [9] This was no innocent state visit. Nor was its timing a matter of chance. Poincaré’s very presence in St Petersburg was ominous.

Berchtold believed his delay would reduce the danger of France and Russia concocting a joint rejection to the Note. They were determined to keep the problem and the solution limited to Serbia. In this, Berchtold was encouraged by Germany. He was prepared to wait. The Secret Elite had been presented with a perfect excuse to fan the smouldering mistrust in the Balkans and set fire to Europe. The clause in the ‘Note’ which demanded that Austrian police should be involved in the investigation was translated into an act of sovereign interference. That Serbia had to accept every clause without exception, gave rise to the claim that the ‘Note’ was in fact an ultimatum. From 16 July, the diplomatic buzz centred exclusively on the forthcoming Austrian Note to Serbia, and the vocabulary sharpened to a threatening barb. Amongst the entente diplomats, in the rat runs of conspiracy in London, St Petersburg and Paris, the forthcoming Note further mutated from ‘ultimatum’ into ‘unacceptable ultimatum’. Berchtold’s gravest mistake was in withholding the demands to Serbia for three weeks in the expectation that it mattered that Poincaré had departed from Russia. In fact, the delay was counterproductive. Poincaré might have been at sea, but Berchtold was the one marooned by his own procrastination. He gifted the Secret Elite precious time to prepare an orchestrated response. Berchtold was also the victim of a cruel deception.

The three entente governments used their diplomatic corps to lead him down a blind ally. They told him that ‘there was little probability indeed’ that their reaction to the Note would go beyond a diplomatic protest. [10] Newspaper editorials and political comment had been repeatedly favourable to Austria. British ambassador Sir Maurice de Bunsen convinced Berchtold that Britain would not intervene. Edward Grey’s professed indifference to the Austro-Serbian quarrel was considered proof of this disinterest. He repeatedly said that he had no right to intervene. [11] Poor Berchtold. The reassurances spurred him on to disaster. [12] Within three weeks of the Sarajevo assassination, the Secret Elite network had successfully manipulated the unfolding events in Austria and Serbia. They embarked on a mission to ensure that Russia’s commitment to support Serbia against Austria remained firm, in the full knowledge that Germany would be dragged into the conflict. Simultaneously, they repeatedly and disingenuously assured Berlin of their good faith and noble intention. Britain, France and Russia expressed an unreserved understanding for the Austrian case against Serbia, but by the third week in July these same politicians were poised to declare a complete rejection of Austria’s response. Count Berchtold had been drawn into a well-constructed trap that the Secret Elite strategists hoped would net a greater prize. War with Germany.

[1] Gooch and Temperley, British Documents on the Origins of the War, vol. XI; Bunsen to Grey, 5 July, BD 40.
[2] Lichnowsky to Bethmann Hollweg, 9 July 1914, D.D. 30. cited in Imanuel Geiss, July 1914, p. 105.
[3] Hansard, Foreign Office, Class II, House of Commons, Debate, 10 July 1914, vol. 64, cc1383–463.
[4] Arthur Ponsonby, Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 10 July 1914, vol. 64, cc1397–398.
[5] Joseph King pointed out in that debate that Mr Cassel, a distinguished financier, Sir P. Magnus, a world renowned medical scientist, Mr Montagu, the secretary to the Treasury, Mr Herbert Samuel, president of the Local Government Board, and the lord chief justice himself, Isaac Rufus, were all barred by their Jewish faith from entering Russia.
[6] Joseph King, Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 10 July 1914, vol. 64, cc1438–50.
[7] Bunsen to Grey, 16 July, BD 50, but suppressed from the British Blue Book. Thus the official documents published in this ‘book’, Great Britain and the European Crisis, Correspondence and Statements, together with an Introductory Narrative of Events, published in 1914, deliberately sifted out incriminating evidence.
[8] Sidney B. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 247, footnote.
[9] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 278.
[10] Harry Elmer Barnes , ‘Germany Not Responsible for Austria’s Actions’, New York Times Current History of the European War, vol. 28 (1928), issue 4, p. 624.
[11] Barnes, In Quest of Truth and Justice, p. 44.
[12] Pierre Renouvin, The Immediate Origins of the War, p. 99.

July 1914 (1) Creating The Perfect Storm

Although the smouldering distrust and racially inflamed tensions that continually raised the political temperature in the Balkans were very deliberately reignited by the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, the spark failed to catch fire immediately. Civilised Europe was certainly stunned by the double murder. His uncle, the elderly Austrian emperor Franz Joseph, went into shock.

Austria-Hungary was outraged, and there were anti-Serbian riots in Sarajevo and Mostar, [1] but it required weeks of careful planning and considered judgement on the part of the Secret Elite to fan the understandable outrage and bring about the great European war for which they had planned since before 1905. Furthermore, it required the highest level of diplomatic skill and political nous, allied to press connivance, unseen sleights of hand and downright lies to achieve the ultimate goal of war with Germany. War apparently started by Germany; war that would once and for all crush Germany and re-affirm the pre-eminence of the British race.

On 1 July, 1914, war was not inevitable. Far from it. The assassination in itself presented no cause for a world war. Political murders were not uncommon in these troubled parts, with royalty, prime ministers, political opponents and religious leaders all victims to the gunman in the recent past. [2] This was different. The Secret Elite deliberately and systematically whipped the consequences of Sarajevo into a raging wildfire that could not be extinguished. From the hub of the Foreign Office in July 1914, Sir Edward Grey and his ambassadorial guard abused their position in order to trick Austria-Hungary and Germany, into a European war. A diplomatic network of highly experienced ambassadors committed to the Secret Elite vision of the pre-eminence of the British race was in place throughout the European capitals: Sir George Buchanan in St Petersburg, Sir Maurice de Bunsen in Vienna, Sir Edward Goschen in Berlin and Sir Francis Bertie in Paris. Each was entrusted with the task of manipulating the Balkan crisis into a war that would see the Anglo-centric influence dominate the world.

Highly confidential information and instruction passed to and fro between the British embassies and legations and the Foreign Office, where Sir Eyre Crowe and Sir Arthur Nicolson headed Grey’s personal praetorian guard. Even where the major players appeared to be Russian (Sazonov and Isvolsky) or French (Poincaré and Maurice Paléologue, the French Ambassador at St Petersburg in 1914), their actions were sanctioned from London. The last days of June and the first week of July were, on the surface, comparatively calm. An outpouring of sympathy for Austria and its old monarchy followed the initial shock of the assassination. In a parliamentary address on 30 June, Prime Minister Asquith stated that Emperor Franz Joseph ‘and his people have always been our friends’. He spoke of the ‘abhorrence of the crime and the profound sympathy of the British Parliament’. [3] In France, President Poincaré expressed his ‘sincere condolences’. [4] Profound sincerity did not last long.

Despite the archduke’s high office and his position and rank as heir apparent, his funeral was decidedly low-key. The Austrian foreign minister, Count Leopold Berchtold, allegedly wanted it that way. Kaiser Wilhelm II definitely intended to go. Franz Ferdinand had been a close personal friend, and it was his duty to show public respect to the ageing emperor. [5] The kaiser, however, developed diplomatic lumbago when it was rumoured that a dozen Serbian assassins were making their way to Vienna to kill him. [6] Prince Arthur of Connaught was the designated representative for King George V, but quite suddenly, on 2 July, he and all other members of European royalty cancelled. Every one. Fears were expressed that other assassins were ready to do away with any passing royalty. No collection of funereal crowned heads gathered in Vienna. But the insult to Austria threatened their national pride. It was a crime too far crying out for justice. And most of Europe appeared to understand this.

Yet Serbia, the nation with most to fear in terms of retribution, continued to goad Austria and made little pretence of being contrite. Why? Why did the Serbs continue to aggravate the situation, unless of course they, and others, were determined to provoke a reaction? The Times correspondent reported on 1 July that newspapers in Belgrade were claiming that the assassination was a consequence of the bad old Austrian police system and a lack of real liberty in Austria. The Russian press was equally aggressive. They placed the responsibility for Serb agitation on those who, ‘like Franz Ferdinand’, sowed discord between Roman Catholic Croats and Orthodox Serbs.. If the powers that controlled Serbia, both internally and from St Petersburg, had wanted to caution restraint, then this provocation would never have been tolerated. But the assassination had not been meticulously planned as some singular act of defiance. The flames were not to be doused. Russia and Serbia alone took an aggressive stance.

In Britain the Westminster Gazette, owned by Waldorf Astor from the Secret Elite ’s inner-circle, [7] stated that ‘Austria cannot be expected to remain inactive’. [8] The Manchester Guardian, always influential in Liberal circles, declared that Serbia’s record was unmatched as a tissue of cruelty, greed, hypocrisy and ill faith. ‘If it were physically possible for Serbia to be towed out to sea and sunk there, the air of Europe would at once seem clearer.’ [9] It could hardly have made its position more obvious. With one exception, The Times, all English newspapers recognised that Austria had suffered intense provocation and acknowledged her right to take the strongest measures to secure the punishment of those concerned. The weekly paper John Bull, which had a wide readership among the working classes, was equally adamant that Austria’s position was ‘just’. [10] Small wonder, then, that Berchtold believed that he had the understanding and sympathy of the British government.

The British public were consumed by its own immediate crisis. Though it is not absolutely true to say that they had their heads turned exclusively elsewhere, the overwhelming newspaper interest centred on Irish Home Rule, gun running and the Ulster Volunteers. All of these threatened a civil war. [11] Day by day, week by week, the Loyalists in Ulster and the Home-Rulers in the southern counties captured the headlines and raised the horrendous spectre of a civil war that would spill over onto mainland Britain. How convenient, then, that for most of the month of July home affairs dominated learned debate, while Sir Edward Grey and the Foreign Office went about their business in almost monastic silence, unburdened by the need to keep the Cabinet or Parliament informed of the developing crisis in Europe.

Austria was determined to deal with Serbia as an act of self-preservation, [12] but it would have been impractical to attempt this without the approval of her great ally, Germany. A letter from Emperor Franz Joseph was delivered to the kaiser at Potsdam on 5 July, underlining Austria’s desire to take definitive action. After discussing the representations from Vienna with his advisors, Kaiser Wilhelm gave his unqualified approval, the so called German ‘blank cheque’. This was later misrepresented as a binding promise to give Austria military support against Serbia in order to bring about a European-wide war. It was nothing of the sort. Certainly the kaiser encouraged Austria to take whatever action she believed necessary to put Serbia in its place, [13] but few in Germany believed that Russian military intervention in a localised dispute was a realistic possibility. Russia had no defence treaty with Serbia, and Austria had no intention whatsoever of using force against Russia. It was inconceivable to the kaiser that the czar would actively support the ‘regicides’ in Serbia. [14]

One of the most deliberate historical misrepresentations of the twentieth century took root in that Potsdam meeting. A great lie was concocted by the Secret Elite that, before going on his scheduled sailing holiday, the kaiser convened a crown council meeting at Potsdam on 5 July and revealed his determination to make war on an unsuspecting Europe. [15] The myth holds that he was advised to wait a fortnight in order to give German bankers time to sell off their foreign securities. [16] Such blatant fabrication has since been unmasked as part of the orchestrated propaganda constructed to ‘prove ’ that Germany intimidated Austria into attacking Serbia in order to draw Russia into the conflict. [17] In the years immediately after the war, the deliberate lie that the kaiser was the instigator of war passed into accepted history as ‘truth’. Children learn in school, and students repeat in examinations, that war was the kaiser’s doing. In fact, the only signal he transmitted back to Vienna was that, whatever Austria decided, Germany would stand by her as a friend and ally.

Reassured by support from across Europe, Berchtold came to the logical conclusion that he was expected to punish Serbia for the crime of Sarajevo. Other governments, even the entente governments, appeared to approve the need for retribution. [18] Indeed, the Austro-Hungarian ministerial council was concerned that if they did not take strong action, their own Slav and Romanian subjects would interpret it as weakness. [19] They agreed to make stringent demands on Serbia. Nothing else would stop their vicious intrigues. The die was cast, but few in Britain knew that the dice were even rolling.

[1] The Times 1 July 1914.
[2] King George I of Greece was assassinated in 1913; Mahmud Sevket Pasha, prime minister of Turkey in 1913; José Canalejas, prime minister of Spain in 1912; Prime Minister Stolypin in Russia in 1911; Grand Duke Alexandrovitch Romanov in 1911. Many survived attempted assassination, including Prince Albert Edward in 1900, Kaiser Wilhelm II in 1900 and Theodore Roosevelt in 1912.
[3] Prime Minister Herbert Asquith in Hansard, House of Commons, Debate, 30 June 1914, vol. 64, cc214–6.
[4] Imanuel Geiss, July 1914: The Outbreak of the First World War: Selected
Documents, p. 55.
[5] Ibid., p. 63.
[6] Sidney B. Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 205.
[7] Carroll Quigley, Anglo-American Establishment, p. 12.
[8] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 332.
[9] Irene Cooper Willis, England’s Holy War, p. 59.
[10] Ibid., p. 25.
[11] Jonathan Bardon, A History of Ireland in 250 Episodes, p. 435.
[12] Count Leopold Berchtold, ‘Austria’s Challenge Justified by Serbian Menace’, New York Times Current History of the European War, vol. 28 (1928), p. 626.
[13] Geiss, July 1914, p. 71.
[14] Ibid., p. 72.
[15] Harry Elmer Barnes, In Quest of Truth and Justice, p. 52.
[16] Fay, Origins of the World War, vol. II, p. 175.
[17] Harry Elmer Barnes, Genesis of the World War, p. 241.
[18] ‘Origin of the World War: Minutes of a Historic Council’, New York Times Current History of the European War, vol. 11, (1919), pp. 455–60.
[19] Geiss, July 1914, pp. 80–7.