Martel Gordon. A Companion to Europe 1900-1945

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means of foreign policy successes. The belief that the “men of 1914” had deliberately

contrived a war to resolve internal tensions is too simplistic, although it has proved

attractive to historians.

Some have argued that the long Victorian century created

an implicit belief in progress and that war was viewed as an inevitable part of this

process. The “unspoken assumptions” – to use James Joll’s phrase – did unquestion-

ably carry inﬂuence in military and intellectual circles and the incipient militarism of

prewar Europe was fueled, as a consequence, by nationalism and imperialism and was

redolent with assumptions of social Darwinism.

Furthermore, the alliance system

that had unraveled since the turn of the century conditioned expectations about the

likely military conﬁguration in the event of war, and the importance of entering war

at the most propitious moment. Such considerations no doubt shaped perceptions

and the calculations of whether or not to go to war in July/August 1914.

Many undoubtedly shared the assumptions not only that war was inevitable but also

that it would be short and that victory was assured.

The view that the European

alliance system had caused the war became popular after 1918 when the principles

advocated by President Wilson for a new international order anticipated the establish-

ment of the League of Nations and open diplomacy. However, while the alliance

system may have contributed to war, it did not make war inevitable – and certainly

not in 1914.

What were the attitudes towards war in the different countries of Europe in 1914?

Russia had been severely shaken by defeat in the Russo-Japanese War (1904–5) and

in 1914 was the ﬁrst power to mobilize. Were they aware of what this meant? Whereas

in previous crises Russia had not committed itself to mobilization, once Austria had

declared war on Serbia, Russia felt compelled to take military action. The decision

to mobilize was made, however, not by a disorganized military still smarting from

humiliation, nor by an isolated Nicholas II, but unanimously by the full council of

ministers. The Italian government took some preliminary measures in August 1914,

but deferred mobilization until April 1915 when, after elaborate bargaining, Italy

entered the war not on the side of their former allies but in opposition with the Triple

Alliance. The punitive peace terms imposed at Versailles were predicated on the guilt

of Germany and its allies. There is considerable evidence to suggest that Austria-

Hungary seized on the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand as a welcome

opportunity to set in motion a belief in the need to settle longstanding scores with

Serbia.

Most historians would stress intentionality behind German policy in 1914.

By giving Austria a free hand and urging her to make war against Serbia as soon as

possible, the German government widened the crisis of July 1914.

Did Germany deliberately provoke a war? Certainly, the German military viewed

the war as inevitable, and wanted it sooner, rather than later. The need for a preven-

tive war to avoid Germany’s having to ﬁght France and Russia simultaneously was

an act of faith that shaped the Schlieffen Plan and the German general staff’s military

strategy. While it is important not to view the German leadership as monolithic in

its intentions, such views were also shared by an inﬂuential elite within the political

leadership. Germany’s motivation in July 1914 was based largely on fear of Russia’s

future military developments and capabilities. If Germany was to successfully imple-

ment the Schlieffen Plan and achieve its goal of Weltherrschaft (world domination),

then at the most propitious moment it was crucial that Britain be persuaded to stay

out of the war, at least during the time it would take Germany to defeat France by

august 1914 199

means of a lightning strike through Belgium. According to John Röhl the motives

of the “men of 1914” in Berlin were either to “split the Triple Entente wide open

in order to effect a massive diplomatic revolution, which would have given Germany

control of the European continent and much of the world beyond, or – a better

method in the eyes of many to achieve the same goal – to provoke a continental war

against France and Russia in what appeared to be exceptionally favorable circum-

stances.”

Few historians would disagree with Röhl, although his critics stress the

defensive character of the political decisions made in Germany at the time, arguing

that the growing tendency in government circles to consider a preventive war does

not necessarily prove that Germany was deliberately preparing and planning a major

war. In such a context it is difﬁcult to distinguish between a preventive war and a

war of aggression. Moreover, as Niall Ferguson has reminded us, a preventive strike

“is by no means incompatible with the idea that the outcome of such a strike, if suc-

cessful, would be German hegemony in Europe.”

Set against these military considerations was the fact that Germany in 1914 was

arguably the most successful country in Europe, with a dynamic population and a

burgeoning economy; a country whose scientiﬁc and artistic achievements were the

envy of the world. Even if the decision to provoke a war was taken by relatively few,

the “men of 1914” took an extraordinarily reckless gamble to risk all this. Such a

calculation was predicated on the belief that the German people could be persuaded

that the Fatherland was being threatened by a barbarous Russia and that this was a

defensive war of national survival and also in the hope that Britain would stay out of

the conﬂict.

And what of perceptions in Great Britain? By 1914, almost 100 years had passed

since Britain had fought a war on the European continent. During that time Britain

had built a large empire protected by its navy and had largely sought compromise

with its European neighbors. British governments were not inspired to intervene in

European conﬂicts, preferring instead to maintain a diplomatic distance from events.

Protecting the empire was of paramount concern, and there was a reluctance to

become too entangled in European affairs – unless they had imperial consequences.

The importance of the empire obscured British military weaknesses and accounted

for a self-satisﬁed indifference to European events. The empire had largely allowed

the British to ignore world affairs and concentrate on their day-to-day lives content

in the belief that they were superior to any other nation. As a result Britain was mili-

tarily weak in 1914 and its army little more than an imperial police force.

Of course, German naval rearmament from the late nineteenth century did not

go unnoticed and was perceived by many to represent a real challenge to Britain’s

naval supremacy. Moreover, the popular press and a spate of “invasion literature” and

comics (notably the Boy’s Friend) encouraged an insular fear of a rampant Germany

bent on aggression. The British government was also preoccupied with a number of

domestic crises, notably attempts by suffragettes to extend the franchise, militant

trade unionism, and Irish republicanism. But the claim that the war represented a

welcome diversion from dangerous revolutionary tendencies should be balanced, as

Gerard De Groot has outlined, by a whole range of mitigating factors that included

a sense of international solidarity between socialist movements in Europe, a growing

international cooperation in a number of ﬁelds, new developments in international

affairs brought about by the Hague Conventions, and the respect for paciﬁst groups

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(largely socialist) and the popularity of Norman Angell’s paciﬁst book The Great

Illusion, published in 1910. Moreover, by 1912, Anglo-German naval rivalry had

virtually ceased and British industrialists and intellectuals increasingly held Germany

in awe.

And what of France? In many ways the internal circumstances in France are the

most complex of all the belligerents – and yet French diplomacy is arguably the most

passive and transparent. The elections in 1914 resulted in a shift in power from right

to left and the year before there had been considerable domestic controversy over

legislation to increase the term of military service to three years. France had little

experience of the reality of modern warfare and while the élan of large-scale assaults

with ﬁxed bayonets was common to all European armies, the French military, under

the leadership of Joseph Joffre, Ferdinand Foch, and Colonel Louis de Grandmaison,

continued to cling tenaciously to older style “colonial” offensive strategy that exem-

pliﬁed traditional military ideals of honor and glory. However, the possibility of a

European war as a result of events unfolding in the Balkans took secondary impor-

tance to domestic affairs. For much of July 1914, as the European crisis deepened,

French newspapers devoted most of their attention to the trial of Madame Caillaux,

the wife of the former ﬁnance minister who, incensed by the campaign which Le

Figaro had orchestrated against her husband, had shot dead the paper’s editor.

Equally extraordinary, on July 16, a presidential party that had been organized six

months previously and included Raymond Poincaré, president of the Republic, and

René Viviani, then premier and foreign minister, set off for a state visit to Russia and

Scandinavia, leaving France devoid of its senior political and foreign policy decision

makers. The obsession with the Caillaux affair combined with the decision to embark

on a sea voyage timed to last until July 31 indicates the extent to which the French

appeared unconcerned about the deepening crisis in the Balkans. Thus, on the eve

of World War I, French leaders were, as John Keiger has reminded us, literally and

metaphorically at sea.

By the time they cut short their voyage on July 29 (and bearing

in mind that radio communication with ships at sea was at best unreliable), events

had taken on a momentum of their own. France had been absent from the hub of

these events. By now France’s overriding objectives in managing the crisis were to

ensure that in the event of war the nation would enter the conﬂict united and with

British support for the Franco-Russia alliance.

Complexities and juxtapositions rather than a neat, straight line mark the road to

war. While a handful of policy makers weighed up the pros and cons during the weeks

of July, most Europeans seemed oblivious to the deepening diplomatic crisis and, as

L. L. Farrar has noted, “probably apathetic regarding the question of war.”

This

would change once the ultimatums expired and mobilization orders were issued.

Civilians, like soldiers, would be required to “fall-in” and support the war effort and

for a brief period they appeared to respond enthusiastically.

War Aims

World War I made greater demands on the material and human resources of the

nations involved than any previous conﬂict. It was no longer sufﬁcient simply to

organize industry or to mobilize manpower in order to carry a modern state through

a long war. It would prove to be a war of intense industrial competition and scientiﬁc

august 1914 201

innovation; the manufacture of arms and munitions became critically important. But

equally important was the need to engage the will and support of whole nations. For

the ﬁrst time, belligerent governments were required to mobilize entire civilian popu-

lations into “ﬁghting communities.” Consequently, all governments were faced with

the urgent task of justifying their entry into the war to their own people. War aims

became imperative to the successful prosecution of “total war.”

The ﬁrst to formulate its war aims was Germany. Due to the nature of the

Schlieffen Plan and the need for swift military action in the anticipation of a quick

military victory, Germany’s war aims were formulated in what has become known as

the September Program.

This document, although of considerable interest to his-

torians, was not, however, the basis on which the people went to war. In the years

leading to 1914, Kaiser Wilhelm’s claim that Germany had become a world power

on the basis of an imperial ﬂeet that could challenge the Royal Navy was enthusiasti-

cally received. However, his successes in foreign policy were limited, and the price

paid was the self-inﬂicted isolation of Germany and the forming of an alliance by its

rivals: Britain, France, and Russia. When Britain declared war on Germany and the

political parties agreed to a Burgfrieden (literally, “fortress truce,” but in practice, a

political truce), the nation appeared united behind a banner of a fully justiﬁed war

of self-defense. If the Schlieffen Plan were to be successfully implemented then speed

was of the essence. The political implications of invading neutral states were second-

ary to the belief that a swift victory would limit the effects of conﬂict. In other words,

invasion was not only essential to military strategy, but also a political price worth

paying for victory.

In Russia, Germany, and France the threat of socialist opposition to the war had

been taken seriously. German Social Democrats were committed by congress resolu-

tions to opposing the war. On the other hand a war against tsarist Russia was some-

thing that the SPD from the time of Marx had been prepared to envisage. Those

sectors of the ruling class who felt most threatened by the socialist challenge undoubt-

edly looked upon the outbreak of World War I as a possible answer, in the Bismarckian

tradition, to Germany’s internal problems. For this reason it was important to give

the impression that the war was the result of Russian aggression and to play down

the fact that Germany was violating Belgian neutrality in order to attack France. As

German society rallied behind the war effort and a Burgfrieden was proclaimed, the

war appeared to demonstrate the soundness of this belief. Provided the Kaiser could

deliver the promised swift victory, political quiescence seemed assured. For many

socialists, however, the possibility of a European war had been inconceivable, believ-

ing as they did that governments would not risk undermining the status quo by

subjecting the system to revolutionary strains. Yet the declaration of war against

Russia on August 1 aroused – initially, at least – widespread support, with only a

minority warning of the dangers. By ending domestic political strife with the

Burgfrieden the nation was apparently united behind the banner of a fully justiﬁed

war of self-defense. Even the Social Democrats voted in favor of war credits. In

August 1914, therefore, it seemed that the war had created a new sense of solidarity

in which class antagonisms were transcended by an entirely ﬁctitious “national com-

munity” (Volksgemeinschaft).

The belief in such a community spirit was cemented on August 4, shortly after

Britain declared war on Germany. A ceremonial session of the Reichstag was held in

202 david welch

the White Hall of the Imperial Palace where the Kaiser, wearing an army uniform,

outlined Germany’s war aims in a speech from the throne. Reafﬁrming Germany’s

obligation to defend her ally, he stressed that the war was not one of conquest, but

to maintain the nation’s economic and political position. After reading his speech,

he handed the manuscript to the chancellor and continued freely in a raised voice:

“From this day on, I recognize no parties, but only Germans. If the party leaders

agree with me on this matter, I invite them to step forward and conﬁrm this with a

handshake.” To wild applause the leaders of the competing parties stepped forward

and extended their hands: the Burgfrieden, or “spirit of 1914,” had entered into war

mythology. Later that day the Social Democrats voted for war credits. During the

session the chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg, took the opportunity to justify Germany’s

violation of Belgian territory (“we will atone for this injustice”) and to accuse Russia

and France of aggression: “We are drawing the sword only in defense of a righteous

cause,” he claimed. “Russia has set the torch to the house . . . France has already

violated the peace . . . We are therefore acting in self-defense . . . Germany’s great

hour of trial has come. Our army is in the ﬁeld. Our navy is ready for battle. Behind

them stands a united people.” (Wild applause.) Next, Hugo Haase, the SPD leader,

read a brief declaration to the effect that the party would vote for war credits.

Explaining this decision, he said that although the SPD had always opposed imperial-

ism, “Russian despotism was threatening the freedom of the German people” and

“in this hour of danger we will not leave the Fatherland in the lurch.” The announce-

ment was received with endless applause. The chancellor then stood up and con-

cluded: “Whatever we have in store, we may well believe that August 4, 1914, will,

for all time, remain one of Germany’s greatest days!”

Russia, in fact, had compelling reasons for not committing to war in 1914. The

Russo-Japanese war had demonstrated the causal link between war and revolution

and ought to have convinced the decision makers to avoid war at all cost. The urban

workers’ movement had shifted to the left and to Bolshevism and discontent had

resulted in more strikes in the ﬁrst half of 1914 than at any time since 1905.

Moreover, Russia’s ﬁnances were in a perilous state and the army and the navy had

only just begun a program of modernization. Nor had the ground been prepared

diplomatically. Crucially, however, Russia was aware that its ﬁrm stand against Austria

had the full support of France.

In France, the trade union movement, the Confédération Générale du Travail,

had often reiterated its intention of calling a general strike in the event of war, and

this policy had been accepted by Jean Jaurès, at the Socialist Party Congress early in

July. As events began to unfold in the Balkans, Jaurès and his party made it clear that

they did not hold the French government responsible for the worsening diplomatic

situation and supported its general position. (This did not save him from being assas-

sinated by a young nationalist fanatic who claimed that he had sold out to the

Germans.) Though France had been reacting to events rather than creating them, it

did have a strategy; namely, that any French decision for war should be seen as

defensive. The assassination of Jaurès on July 31 represented a serious challenge to

the strategy of a united domestic front. To diffuse the situation the prime minister

spoke at Jaurès’ funeral and President Poincaré sent warm condolences to his widow

(conveniently published in L’Humanité). The syndicalists meanwhile had obeyed

their mobilization orders without protest and the government felt conﬁdent enough

august 1914 203

to revoke the orders to arrest militants of the notorious Carnet B list likely to sabotage

preparations for war. The labor movement was rapidly abandoning its opposition to

the war and on August 1 the headline in La Guerre sociale summarized the situation:

“National Defense above all! They have assassinated Jaurès! We will not assassinate

France!” Following President Poincaré’s declaration on August 4 of the Union sacrée

(the sacred union of Frenchmen for the duration of the war) Socialist deputies sup-

ported the war budget and on August 26 two of them, including the Marxist leader

Jules Guesde, joined the government. It was in this mood of national reconciliation

that war began.

Bearing in mind the social and political cleavages that erupted in France during

the 1914 election, why did no group of any political relevance oppose the Union

sacrée in August? One should never underestimate the catalyzing impact of an external

threat. Writing in 1928, Georges Bourgin offered an explanation that remains per-

suasive to this day: that the effect of the war on France was to create the Union

sacrée, in which all the parties agreed to renounce their differences and unite in a

common defense in the face of an aggressive external threat (la patrie en danger).

To this end a remarkable unity of sentiment was achieved.

Despite what has been termed the “Edwardian crisis” within British society, it

remained stable. As Zara Steiner has written, it was “not a society on the eve of dis-

solution.”

Nevertheless, as we have seen, Britain in the years leading to 1914 was

beset by internal tensions. While Sir Edward Grey was acting out the role of honest

broker in Europe, in England the Irish crisis dominated political news. Outside of

informed circles few were getting excited about such a familiar problem as trouble

in the Balkans. To the man-in-the-street the murder of an archduke whose name he

could scarcely pronounce and in a place he had never heard of signiﬁed merely

another internal Balkan crisis. Ironically, only a few months before his assassination,

Archduke Ferdinand had been the guest of King George and Queen Mary at

Buckingham Palace.

In Great Britain’s case foreign policy was not determined by considerations of

domestic politics but rather by the perceived dangers both to its empire and the

balance of power in Europe. The implementation of the Schlieffen Plan involved

Germany moving its troops through neutral Belgium. On August 2 Grey demanded

that Germany promise to uphold Belgian neutrality – and when this was refused,

Britain declared war on Germany on August 4. At this stage, according to Gerard

De Groot, the war was about empire, capitalism, trade, and food, not democracy,

honor, and civilization. But when Germany attacked Belgium, “a war of markets

became a war of morality.”

Belgium, in short, answered all doubts and differences

and its invasion was the pretext for an anti-German propaganda campaign that mobi-

lized support behind Britain’s war aims. The Belgian issue was a potent factor in

uniting public support behind Asquith and Grey. “The menace of Germany – The

Neutrality of Belgium,” declared the headline in The Times. For the opponents of

war – the doubters, the waverers, and the paciﬁsts – German aggression had suddenly

blunted their voice. This was now a war of honor – noble, just – and forced on

Britain. The Catholic journal Tablet succinctly encapsulated British war aims: “For

the sake of this little people, ﬁghting for its freedom against desperate odds, England

will go out by land and sea . . . So she will vindicate the honor of her sacred word

and there is no nobler cause for which any man may die.”

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In France, the news of Britain’s declaration of war after all the uncertainty was

greeted with profound relief and joy. “C’est fait,” declared Le Figaro. “L’Angleterre

s’est prononcée.”

Responses

An overriding impression provided in popular history and television documentaries

of the beginning of the war is of nations and populations united, and of men going

cheerfully and conﬁdently to war throughout Europe. This, of course, is the impres-

sion that leaders wished to encourage. After all, the Kaiser and his advisors could not

guarantee that the socialists would agree to a political truce; the French thought after

the assassination of Jaurès that as many as 13 percent of French males would not

heed the call to arms, and the British government did not feel conﬁdent to introduce

conscription until 1916. Russia, on the other hand, wished to convey the impression

of military preparedness so as not to expose its lack of funds, technology, and general

modernization necessary for total war. The need to justify war aims meant that politi-

cians were eager to proclaim a new kind of national unity and solidarity. Hence the

declarations from the Kaiser that “I recognize no parties, but only Germans” and

from the President of the French Chamber of Deputies: “There are no more adver-

saries here, only Frenchmen.”

Contemporary accounts of the ﬁrst month of the war are redolent with phrases

such as the “August experience” or the “spirit of 1914.” While it is understandable

that internal tensions should be forgotten in times of crisis, do these terms accurately

describe the feelings and emotions of the German, French, or British people in 1914?

Curiously, only recently have historians begun to question many of the assumptions

that there was a prevailing “spirit of war” and that the people were “enthusiastic.”

The illusions with which World War I began stemmed from the widely held belief

that the war would be short. When war did erupt in August 1914, it was for a long

time conventionally depicted by images of excited and enthusiastic reservists clamor-

ing to participate in the conﬂict in the belief that they were defending their country.

The declaration of war was undeniably welcomed by some who gloriﬁed in the patri-

otic élan which it evoked. The drama and expectations of war lent an almost mystical

status to the “spirit of 1914.” Intellectuals were quick to record the exhilaration that

accompanied these events and the sense of mission. The German historian Friedrich

Meinecke described the scenes as “One of the greatest moments of my life, which

suddenly ﬁlled my soul with the deepest conﬁdence in our people, and the profound-

est joy.” The poet Rupert Brooke celebrated the apparent mood of euphoria as

follows:

Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth

Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.

Honour has come back, as a king, to earth

And paid his subjects with royal wage;

And nobleness walks in our ways again;

And we are come into our heritage.

The key to an understanding of the optimism and enthusiasm with which the war

was initially greeted in the summer of 1914 was the widespread conviction that the

august 1914 205

war would be an adventure and of short duration. Sporting analogies abounded,

particularly in Britain: it would be a “good match,” but “over by Christmas” – and

Great Britain would win!

When German reservists chalked “Excursion to Paris. See

you on the Boulevard” on the railway wagons taking them to the front, they assumed

that this would be a short but exciting campaign. No doubt many imagined it would

be another 1870-type war, a brief adventure that offered escape and excitement from

a humdrum existence. For many youth, war offered a rite of passage, a true test of

masculinity.

The illusion that the war would be a short one was not uniquely German, but it

partly explains the attitude and behavior of different social and political groups to

the announcement of hostilities. The initial enthusiasm aroused by the war (not the

same as for the war), the emergence of the Volksstaat, and the apparent volte face of

the Social Democrats can all be traced to this belief that the war would be quickly

and gloriously concluded. The events leading up to and including the fateful month

of August reveal a curious mixture of rising nationalism, superﬁcial harmony, and

hatred of tsarist Russia, but also a nervousness and uncertainty as the shock of war

began to sink in.

The failure of diplomacy to resolve the Balkan crisis ushered in mounting tension

and jingoism in all the major European cities. In Germany, events were reaching a

climax. On July 25, 1914, Austria-Hungary severed diplomatic relations with Serbia,

which it alleged had been responsible for the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand

and his consort. That evening in Berlin crowds gathered outside the Reichstag and

the Austro-Hungarian embassy and began burning Serbian ﬂags. Describing these

events, the Socialist newspaper Vorwärts reported that the crowds consisted mainly

of young people. Meanwhile, the Kaiser, apparently unaware of the growing serious-

ness of the situation, was still enjoying a cruise in the Norwegian fjords. His hasty

return to Potsdam on July 27 was greeted by the usual enthusiastic crowds, only this

time patriotically singing “Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles.” Equally revealing

was the response of ordinary bank depositors who reacted to the worsening diplo-

matic situation by withdrawing savings and gold and silver. Food prices were also

rising as anxious citizens, fearful of shortages, began hoarding provisions. Within a

few days, as stock exchange values plunged, some municipal banks actually suspended

dealings and in the provinces paper money was invariably refused altogether. All these

factors highlight the pervading uncertainty.

In Austria the initial excitement soon faded and subdued crowds on the streets

rapidly ebbed away. Despite an intense propaganda campaign whipped up by the

press there was little immediate sign of a démarche. Most striking was the pugnacity

of the Hungarian opposition that only began to fall into line towards the end of July

when war seemed inevitable and the Austrian censor threatened. In Russia there was

little discernible indication of “popular” support for the war. Public opinion was

restricted largely to educated elites that articulated its views through the Duma, the

press, and the public organizations. The peasantry remained a largely silent majority.

The meeting of the council of ministers on July 24 believed that it had limited

options. The belief that Russia had conceded too much in the past and now required

a robust stand had been aired in the press for some time. Foreign minister Sazonov

argued that concession made now would mean that Russia would have to face similar

challenges by Germany in the future. It was the civilian-dominated council, consumed

206 david welch

by Russia’s international and diplomatic failures in the past, that made the fateful

decisions in July 1914.

By July 31 Germany was gripped by war fever and hysteria with rumors abound-

ing. A Kriegsgefahrzustand, or “condition of state of war,” was proclaimed and

Germany demanded that Russia should cease mobilizing within 12 hours. The after-

noon special newspaper editions announced that the Kaiser had decreed a state of

siege throughout Germany. Later that day he and his family appeared before a huge

crowd on the balcony of the Imperial Palace in Berlin. In what was virtually an

announcement of war he regretted, apparently more in sorrow than anger, that “The

sword is being forced into my hand . . . This war will demand of us enormous sac-

riﬁces in life and money, but we shall show our foes what it is to provoke Germany.”

Even at this late hour Vorwärts prepared a sober edition pleading for sanity and a

just compromise. Its editorial entitled “Europe’s Hour of Destiny” courageously

drew a distinction between the true wishes of the ordinary people and the machina-

tions of governments and concluded: “If, nevertheless, the hideous specter should

become reality, if the bloody torrent of a war of nations should sweep over Europe

– one thing is sure; Social Democracy bears no responsibility for the coming events.”

During the night of the 31st and the following day, people waited anxiously for the

ensuing moves. On August 1 the anticipated order for mobilization was given, signed

by the Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg, and to take effect the next day. At 7.10 p.m.

Germany declared war on Russia, Wilhelm II proclaiming the news from his balcony

to a large crowd in Berlin.

In the period of mobilization immediately after the declaration of war against

Russia the mood of the people ﬂuctuated dramatically, reﬂecting the pervading

uncertainty. James Gerard, the American ambassador, noted the excitement of large

crowds in Berlin “pervading the streets and singing ‘Deutschland über alles’ and

demanding war.” Similar demonstrations supporting the war took place in Leipzig.

The departure of soldiers for the front at ﬁrst undoubtedly created enthusiasm and

provided a much needed emotional release from the mounting tensions of previous

weeks. Princess Blücher, an Englishwoman married to a German nobleman, noted

that the whole life of Germany was moving to the tune of Die Wacht am Rhein, just

as the soldiers marched to the rhythm of its refrain. The attitude of the ruling class

was summed up by Kurt Riezler, advisor to the chancellor, who wrote in his diary:

“War, war. The people have risen – it is as though they were not there at all before

and now all at once, they are immense and touching.” Peter Hanssen, on the other

hand, a Reichstag deputy from Schleswig Holstein, recorded vividly the mobilization

scenes on his way south to Berlin and the oppressed atmosphere in the capital:

“People were standing close together on the sidewalks of Unter den Linden to catch

a glimpse of the Kaiser . . . But there was no rejoicing, no enthusiasm; over all hung

that same heavy, sad, and depressed atmosphere.”

A pastor in a working-class suburb

of Stuttgart noted “the declaration of war left people stunned – it was horrible.”

Jeffrey Verhey, who has subjected the “August experience” to a systematic study,

identiﬁed three areas in Germany that were decidedly not “enthusiastic”; the coun-

tryside, the urban working class, and the areas near the border. Indeed, the war was

“extraordinarily unpopular” with workers; rather, they accepted it as a “heavy,

unavoidable duty.”

As the effervescence of the demonstrations quickly subsided,

patriotic duty towards the Fatherland, and not glory, was increasingly emphasized.

august 1914 207

The French government rallied its people to the cause of national defense by

proclaiming a Union sacrée and, as with Germany, French politicians made extrava-

gant claims that this union transcended political, class, and religious differences.

Similarly in France, as in Germany, there was no uniﬁed “August experience.” In

their ground-breaking works on French public opinion in World War I, Jean-Jacques

Becker and P. J. Flood utilized a rich variety of unpublished contemporary govern-

mental reports, often written by local school teachers.

Their ﬁndings reveal that

French public mood ﬂuctuated between extremes of wild euphoria and pessimistic

foreboding. Highlighting the former, the distinguished French historian Ernest

Lavisse expressed his joy that “he was not dead before having seen this war.”

Newspapers reported high French morale and heavy German losses. The headline in

Le Matin claimed: “Following terrible shortages, Berlin seems to be on the eve of

revolution.” All this led to wild speculation about the state of affairs in Germany and

the imminent defeat of its imperial army. “As far as I am concerned,” wrote Francis

Laur in Journal, “the German army has been knocked out.” Like all the belligerents,

the French naively thought only in terms of a victoriously short campaign. Becker’s

work has shown that to suggest that the public were wildly enthusiastic about the

war is an exaggeration. Moreover, when discussing the “spirit of 1914,” it is

important to distinguish between responses to the announcement of war and to the

actual mobilization of the troops. That is not to say that enthusiasm was contrived

or whipped up by propaganda. Photographic evidence, for example, records excited

and enthusiastic French reservists clamoring to participate in the conﬂict in the belief

that they were defending their country. But it is equally important to remember that

most of the departures captured in photographs or in newsreels took place in train

stations and had been carefully constructed for the occasion. The trains had been

decked with ﬂowers and patriotic posters and slogans (“à Berlin”) and departing

husbands and sons were surrounded by their families seeing them off. Such condi-

tions combined to swell patriotic pride that could easily manifest itself in the appear-

ance of enthusiasm. But appearances can be deceptive – a point noted by a teacher

from Mansle, who wrote: “The cars of the trains are decorated with ﬂowers. Vulgar

drawings and inscriptions, usually poorly written, indicate hatred of the Hun . . . The

soldiers sing, joke, call back and forth and attempt most of all to work themselves

into a daze. The affectedness of this clamorous gaiety is easy to grasp.” French public

opinion at the time of mobilization was diverse, contradictory, and far from

unanimous.

In the case of Britain, the public had little time in which to react to events. As we

have seen, the Irish crisis continued to dominate press coverage – certainly until July

31. The gravity of the situation in Europe only began to unfold over the Bank

Holiday weekend. “The rush to the seaside during the next few days,” observed the

Daily Mirror on August 1, “is likely to be the biggest in living memory.” Both talk

of war and newspaper sales were on the increase. However, everyday life continued

much as usual – in striking contrast to the situation in many European cities, which

by now were gripped by the ferment of warlike excitement. The invasion of Belgium

changed the demeanor of the British and gave this war a purpose. On August 6 the

prime minister Herbert Asquith informed the House: “I do not believe any nation

ever entered into a great controversy . . . with a clearer conscience and a stronger

conviction that it is ﬁghting, not aggression, not for the maintenance even of its own