History That Doesn't Suck - 128: The Causes of World War I (From the Congress of Vienna to Franz Ferdinand & the Marne)
Episode Date: February 27, 2023“Sopherl, Sopherl! Don’t die on me. Live for our children.” This is the 99-year story of Europe’s descent into total war. The Napoleonic Wars devastated Europe. The continent’s five great ...powers responded by meeting in Vienna in 1815 to establish a balance of power between them. In the future, no single power should be able to lead the continent into war. They also agree to meet as a “Concert of Europe” to hash out future developments. The years give way to decades. The Concert endures the rising pressures of industrialization, rising nationalism, New Imperialism, militarism, and a few smaller localized wars, particularly three conflicts engineered by Prussian Minister-President Otto von Bismarck. He isolates France to maintain peace, but after his departure, rigid alliance systems with secret clauses fully displace the flexibility of the Concert. And without that flexibility, a minor event could spark an outsized reaction. It’s in this situation that Austria-Hungary’s heir presumptive travels to the unstable Balkans and meets disaster in the streets of Sarajevo. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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It's early Sunday morning, June 28th, 1914, and the heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire's throne,
Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Hohenberg, are just waking up in
their suite at the Hotel Bosnia in the spa town of Ilija, six miles outside the provinces of Bosnia
and Herzegovina's capital of Sarajevo. Franz rises from his bed, but not joyfully. This is one day he can't wait
to see come to its end. There are two good reasons for the Archduke's gloomy mood.
One is bad memories. It was 14 years ago today that his disapproving uncle, the Emperor Franz
Joseph, made Franz Ferdinand surrender the ability to pass his titles and future throne to his future
children in order to marry Sophie. Of course he did it. Franz loves her more than life itself.
But still, June 28th, the date stings. Nor is he enjoying his time here in Bosnia.
Some will later mistake this trip to southeastern Europe or the Balkans as a getaway for the loving royal couple.
It isn't. France has spent the last few days observing Austrian military maneuvers.
See, Austria just annexed these lands a few years ago and it's upset more than a few.
The Ottoman sultan isn't happy about losing this territory to the Austrian emperor.
The Pan-Slavic-minded Russian czar wishes he took it. And finally,
local Serbian nationalists want them all gone. True, there is an independent Serbian kingdom now, but nationalists dream of a larger Serbian state that includes more of the Balkan's sizable Serb
population. So to watch five centuries of Ottoman rule in Bosnia and only for another empire to take over? The ultra-Serbian nationalists are
livid. They're ready to kill or be killed to cast off the Austrian throne. Yeah, they're not messing
around. Now, Franz didn't personally approve of this annexation, but I'm sure you can see why he
needed to ensure Austrian troop readiness in the region. Speaking of Franz, he's donned his blue
and black Austrian cavalry general uniform. Sophie is dressed in a gorgeous white dress with a red
sash. They've attended a Catholic mass held just for them this Sabbath day in the hotel and sent
a telegram to their kids expressing their love and excitement at seeing them soon. Sounds like
we're ready to make the short trip to that diverse polyglot city of crosses
and minarets, Sarajevo.
The royal couple exit Sarajevo's train station about 9.30 a.m.
A motorcade awaits them.
The number of vehicles is between four and six.
The city's fez-cap-wearing Muslim mayor, Fahim Effendi,
and police chief Dr. Edmund Gerdek are in the first or second car.
Franz, Sophie, and the Austrian-born military governor general, Oskar Potiore,
climb into the convertible touring car just behind them.
We're soon off to the first item on today's to-do list,
reviewing local troops.
It's now a little past 10 a.m.
Crowds cheer as the motorcade travels toward the town hall
along the city's main thoroughfare, the Apple King.
How sincere the people are might be questionable, but per the mayor's instructions, they're
following the Archduke's well-publicized itinerary, making him feel welcomed.
People have even filled the embankment between the Apple Key thoroughfare and the parallel
to it, Milyatska River.
All seems to be going well.
But wait, what if the ultra-nationalists are following the
Archduke's itinerary too? Lobbed through the air, the bomb explodes as they reach the Chimuria
Bridge. A man on the embankment shoves a cyanide pill in his mouth and dashes toward the shallow
river. But the poison fails and a fast-acting policeman seizes him. The arresting officer asks the suspect if he's a Serb.
The ultra-nationalist answers proudly,
Yes, I am a Serb hero.
But his murderous act has failed.
Incredibly, the bomb bounced off the back of the royal couple's convertible,
then exploded near the wheel of the next car back.
Franz and Sophie are fine, and no one is dead,
though innocent bystanders are injured, as is Colonel Eric von Marisi.
The Colonel heads to the military hospital as the motorcade resumes its course to the town hall.
Inside the new, beautiful, Ottoman-reminiscent town hall, the mayor addresses the city's Christian, Muslim, and Jewish leaders.
He speaks of loyalty to the region's new ruler,
but the public servant's words feel hollow in the wake of an assassination attempt.
Franz loses his cool and interrupts.
That's rich.
We come here to visit this city
and we are greeted with bombs.
Very well then, go on.
Sophie calms her furious husband as only she can.
The love they share, it's special.
But now that the speech giving and Sophie's meeting
with a delegation of Muslim women have concluded,
how should they proceed?
The would-be assassin was arrested.
Might there be others though?
Should they just leave the city?
Not yet, the Archduke decides.
First and foremost, he wants to go to the military hospital to check on the injured
colonel.
But they will not risk the city's small, winding streets.
They'll fly down the Apple Quay at a higher, hard-to-hit speed.
Additionally, Count Franz von Haare volunteers to ride on the footboard of the royal couple's
car to bat off any potential bombs.
With this plan in place, they return to the motorcade.
It's now approaching 11 a.m.
The motorcade is zipping down the bridge intersecting Apple Quay.
They pass the Kaiser Bridge and are soon approaching the Latin Bridge.
But wait, why are they slowing and turning on Franz Josef Street?
This is the original route.
The first car's driver clearly didn't understand the change in plans,
and the others are following.
Again riding with Franz and Sophie, the Governor General yells at the chauffeur,
Turn back!
Watching from the street, Gavrilo Princip can hardly believe it.
After his bomb-lobbing co-conspirator failed,
and his several other co-conspirators failed
to act at all, Gavrilo had lost hope.
He came to Franz Josef Street with little hope that Franz Ferdinand would actually stick
to his itinerary, and further, knowing that getting a clear shot would be next to impossible.
Yet not only is the Archduke here, his driver just stopped in the middle of this narrow
road and is attempting to turn around. Gavrilo doesn't hesitate. Stepping forward from his spot by Schiller's delicatessen,
the diminutive Bosnian Serb approaches the Archduke's convertible, pulls his browning
semi-automatic pistol, and fires twice at almost blank range. Franz grabs at his neck. He felt
something but gives it no thought as Sophie crumples across his knees
and a red bloodstain expands across the middle of her white dress.
He pleads with his now unconscious wife.
Sophie, Sophie, don't die on me.
Live for our children.
Then Franz's head falls forward.
The Count holds him up and asks about the pain.
The Archduke answers stoically.
It's nothing. It's nothing.
It's nothing.
But it isn't nothing.
It's his jugular.
And before they can reach medical help, Franz and Sophie are dead.
In the month to come, Europe will react by descending into a continent consuming war. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck.
I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. We've seen our share of attempted political assassinations in past episodes,
but the assassination of the Austro-Hungarian Empire's heir presumptive,
Archduke Franz Ferdinand, may well be the most impactful, world-changing assassination in the history of the world. It inaugurates a devastating
war that, though fought mostly in Europe, will eventually impact the entire world, including our
subject here on HTDS, the United States. But let's not make too much of the assassination either.
What monumental weight was Europe already carrying
that allowed one political assassination to spiral into a four-year, millions-dead war?
That's what we'll figure out today. This means going quite a ways back, all the way to 1815.
Once there, we'll bear witness as a war-weary, post-Napoleonic wars Europe establishes a new
peace-maintaining system,
the Concert of Europe. It starts strong and proves flexible, but we'll see how a century
of industrialization, rising nationalism, new imperialism, militarism, new and rigid alliance
systems, plus destabilization in the Balkans amid the Ottoman Empire's decline all slowly mix to
make one nasty, peace-killing cocktail.
It's a 99-year story that will make sense of the grossly outsized reaction to France
and Sophie's nonetheless tragic end. And while it's a very non-U.S. history tale,
it's one we need to know given the United States' enormous role yet to come.
So, one century and one hour. We have no time to waste, and our tale begins with an assemblage of European leaders in
Vienna, Austria, preparing to remold a shattered Europe in late 1814.
Rewind.
It's two in the afternoon, September 30th, 1814, a little more than five months since
the French Emperor Napoleon's defeat and exile to the Mediterranean island of Elba.
We're in the Austrian Empire's capital city of Vienna, at the ever-impressive residence
of the Empire's foreign minister, Clemens von Metternich, where a small group of men
are taking seats at a long table.
Today's meeting is informal, preparatory for tomorrow, where they'll officially begin
a months-long conference intended, quite literally, to redraw the political map of post-Napoleonic Europe.
This is the Congress of Vienna.
We won't disturb them as they get settled, but beyond our Austrian host,
we have Britain's Lord Castlereagh, Russia's Count von Nesselrode,
and, from the Germanic Kingdom of Prussia,
the nearly-deaf Karl August von Hardenburg and Wilhelm von Humboldt.
While the coalition that defeated Napoleon included several other nations,
these men represent the four most powerful central allies.
Ah, and now our last two attendees are walking in. Spain's Marqués de Labrador, and finally,
the representative of Europe's current black sheep great power, France, Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, or as we'll call him, Talleyrand.
Seated at the table's head, the handsome and fair-featured Lord Castlereagh addresses the Frenchman.
The object of today's conference is to inform you of what the Foucault's have done since we have been here.
Yeah, after more than 20 years of gruesome, continent-consuming total war,
Britain, Russia, Prussia, and Austria intend to give France little say at this conference.
They started meeting a week ago and have already prepared a declaration on procedure.
Medrnich now hands it to the French foreign minister.
Now, Telerand is no simpleton.
Uniquely, this former bishop-turned-politician with a club foot
has not only survived but thrived amid France's two-plus decades of constant regime change.
He served the absolutist monarchy, the republic, the empire,
and now serves the newly restored Bourbon monarch, Louis XVIII.
So after skimming the document, the shrewd diplomat looks up and innocently inquires.
I'm finding the word allies in every paragraph. Are we still at Chamonx or Allon? If peace was
not made, where is the war and against whom? Surely not the king of France.
The representatives of the other four great powers are taken aback.
Yes, they fought as allies against France and so used the word naturally, but with Napoleon gone
and a monarch of their approval on the French throne, Talleyrand isn't wrong. His posturing
stings, but the skilled, crafty diplomat isn't done. He leans in. Messieurs, let's speak frankly.
If there are still Allied powers, this is no place for me.
Reassurances and clarifications fly in various accents,
but the feigning Frenchman evades as he preaches the importance of teaching Europe that public law,
not conquest, brings legitimacy.
And legitimacy brings stability.
By the day's end, Talyrand wins.
The quote-unquote allies are compelled to throw out their entire prepared protocol.
Oh, Talyrand.
Leave it to him to show up at a congress charged with cleaning up his nation's continental conquest,
knowing he's on
the sidelines, yet navigating his way to a place of influence. In fact, as the months pass, he gets
a full seat at the table. But putting his craftiness aside, Talleyrand's participation,
France's participation, is what's so remarkable about the Congress of Vienna.
Rather than using this gathering to punish France for Napoleon's empire,
19th century Europe's five great powers,
Britain, Austria, Prussia, Russia, and yes, France,
work together at this Congress to establish a balance of power between them.
This way, if one of them ever tries to go on another conquest bender,
as Napoleonic France just did,
the rest can gang up on the offender and end it before the continent is dragged into another
prolonged, decimating, devastating total war. Now, this plan does have at least two major
shortcomings. One, the five great powers show little regard for the sovereignty of the continent's
smaller nations and principalities in their annexing, merging, and otherwise playing with the map. Two, creating five balanced yet empowered monarchies doesn't
bode well for the emerging ideas of classical liberalism, democracy, or nationalism. Well,
future critics will see these as shortcomings. Our Austrian host, Metternich, is pleased as punch.
But in terms of maintaining peace, the Congress of Vienna is
brilliant. The Congress's final outcome has too many details for us to cover comprehensively,
but let's address those aspects most pertinent to the century-distant-but-coming Great War.
Starting in the South, because why not, crowns and borders shift among the various Italian states.
For our purposes, I'll just ask you to remember that,
while the idea of nationalism is starting to get a following, that is, the notion that people
sharing a language, culture, or ethnicity should form a state, there is no unified Italy right now.
Not yet. Heading west, the four quote-unquote allies still want to buffer around France.
So that means re-establishing neutral Switzerland
and, on France's northeastern border, the independent Dutch-dominated kingdom of the
Netherlands. As for the east, Russia is keeping Finland and scooping up most of Poland, though
Prussia gets a slice of the latter. Southeastern Europe, aka the Balkans, remains largely under
the Ottoman Empire's control. But it's not lost on anyone here that this mighty Middle East and Europe-spanning Muslim empire is facing a Serbian
uprising in the region. Given the opportunity, might the Russian Tsar, who would love to see
all Slavic lands and peoples united under him, move in? Germany and Austria don't want that.
If the Ottomans lose territory here, they want Austria to take it,
not Russia. So the two Germanic empires shore up these concerns by ensuring that the Congress's
agreement does not include any joint military action. This will mitigate Russia's threat to
Austria's shared interests in the Balkans. Speaking of the Germans, let's note that,
just as there is no unified Italian state right now, there's no unified German state
either. There used to be a German empire, a German Reich. It was called the Holy Roman Empire, but,
as the old joke among historians goes, there was little Holy Roman or even Imperial about
this conglomerate of 300 plus Germanic principalities under a prince-elected crown.
Anyhow, Napoleon ended the Holy Roman Empire in 1806, and Germans
are currently divided into at least three political groups. One, a slew of small confederated
Germanic states next to France. Two, the great power kingdom of Prussia. And three, the other
stronger Germanic great power, the complicated multi-ethnic Austrian Empire. Complicated in that the Germanic Austrians also
rule over a dozen or so Eastern European peoples with their own cultures and languages.
All that to say, the five great powers at the Congress of Vienna give Austria and Prussia a
way to balance their interests among their fellow Germans by creating the German Confederation.
In it, those former 300-plus principalities
have been consolidated to 39 loosely connected states.
Prussia and Austria will both participate.
Seen as the inferior power,
Prussia nonetheless gets to be
the second greatest German state
and the top Protestant power,
while Austria, of course,
enjoys being the top Catholic and overall German power.
But to be clear,
not all of the Austrian Empire is in the German Confederation. Just the German part. The border
of the Confederation actually cuts right through the Austrian Empire's middle, excluding its
non-German subjects to the east. That's fine though. The key thing is that this balances,
as best as anyone can, the two Germanic great powers with each other
and with their three other great power peers. Finally, what of France? Again, the goal is not
vengeance but a lasting European peace. After 23 years of horrific, brutal conflict, this generation
is fresh out of romantic or glorifying notions of war. In fact, even as Napoleon escapes from Elba
and has a little hundred days' comeback in the middle of this Congress,
they still don't stick it to the French.
Not much, at least.
They let the nation keep its 1790 borders
and impose an indemnity so small,
France will pay it off in three years.
Thus, the five great powers have established
what is known as the Concert of Europe. Crucially,
this balance is flexible. It will be ready and able to shift with the needs of Europe.
It just has to maintain that balance of power. Let's see how it does.
Years pass. Despite the Congress's crown-strengthening approach, the embers of liberty, equality, and brotherhood, of liberté, égalité, fraternité, still burn in the hearts of the French all these decades after their 1789 revolution.
In 1830, the July Revolution ends France's Bourbon dynasty and ushers in a liberal monarch, the citizen-king Louis-Philippe.
That same year, France's revolution and a nationalistic opera inspire the Netherlands' southerners.
Tired of insufficient representation and high taxes that pay for Protestant schools,
these heavily Catholic, French, and Flemish-speaking people revolt to create an independent Belgium.
Ah, that's touchy for the great powers.
The Kingdom of the Netherlands was designed as a buffer against France.
So, the Concert of Europe comes into play.
In 1839, they sign the Treaty of London,
which permits Belgium's existence,
but as a neutral state that the Great Powers all promise to protect.
It's a treaty that will play a role in the century to come.
Another decade passes.
In 1848, France pushes deeper into liberal and democratic thought
with a republic-establishing revolution. Once again, the French spark spreads, or as our Austrian
host at the Congress of Vienna, Clemens von Metternich puts it, when France sneezes, the rest
of Europe catches cold. Indeed, the 75-year-old conservative still advising the Austrian throne
is right.
Amid the uncertainties of industrialization,
even the concert of Europe's most conservative impulses can't keep the ideas of liberalism, democracy, nationalism, and socialism
from producing continent-wide revolutions in 1848.
Metternich flees into exile.
Terrified monarchs promise constitutions, elections, and civil rights.
Nationalism is challenging the Congress of Vienna's European map
as a German parliament gathers in Frankfurt
to weigh creating a German nation,
a liberal, federation-based German empire.
But will Austria finally surrender its rule of non-Germanic peoples
to merge with Prussia and the rest of the German confederation
as a large Germany, a Großdeutsch?
If not, do they move forward without the Austrians to form a smaller Germany under
Prussian leadership, a Kleindeutsch? The answer is neither. With few exceptions,
the monarchs of Europe rally, crushing the revolutionaries and rescinding most promised
reforms in the process. Austria's new young emperor, Franz Joseph, boasts of his iron fist to his mother.
Prioritizing his kingdom's sovereignty and identity, King of Prussia, Frederick Wilhelm IV,
rejects the Frankfurt Parliament's offer to place him on an imperial German throne.
Even France's new second republic won't last. Just four years later, in 1852, the nation's
own elected president, Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte,
follows his uncle's decades-old example by making himself emperor.
By and large, the revolutions of 1848 have failed.
Or have they?
Ironically, many of the governments and political leaders vanquishing the revolutionaries today
will become the very ones to usher in liberal reforms and map-altering nationalism
tomorrow. Though more interested in empire than nationalism, this is precisely the case
for German nationalism's soon-to-be champion, the Prussian nobleman, or Jönkö, Count Otto von Bismarck.
It's September 30th, 1862. We're in the Prussian capital of Berlin with a budget committee of the
Prussian legislature. That is, the Landtag is in session. The deputy now speaking is addressing
the kingdom's budget for next year, but we'll ignore him. We're not here for that. We're here
to witness the next speaker as he addresses a constitutional crisis. Here's the deal. Prussia's bicameral legislature is quite new.
It's one of the promises of the 1848 revolution that actually happened.
And recently, the lower house registered its disapproval of King Wilhelm I's military reforms
by cutting all funds for military expenditures from the kingdom's 1862 budget.
Wilhelm has been so frustrated, he considered abdicating after only a year on the
throne in favor of his son. But he didn't. Instead, he called on the services of the most ruthlessly
effective conservative in the kingdom, the seasoned statesman and diplomat, Count Otto von Bismarck.
Wilhelm appointed Otto as both minister-president and foreign minister just a week ago. And now,
this giant of a man with a walrus mustache
is at this budget meeting, waiting for his chance to speak.
Finally, it's time.
Standing at 6'4", Otto towers over the committee's two dozen deputies
as he takes the floor.
Is he nervous? Flustered?
Though experienced, the minister-president's hands shake as he speaks
abruptly, unevenly, and out of cadence, jarringly alternating between compromises and threats.
He tells them that the military is a necessity, not a luxury, that the other German states look
to Prussia not for liberalism, but for strength. Then suddenly, the high-pitched statesman turns
to history, complaining of Prussia's borders as established by the Congress of Vienna and the need for action.
Prussia must gather together her forces, keeping her strength ready for the favorable moment,
which has already several times been missed.
Prussia's frontiers, as drawn by the Vienna Treaty, do not favor a healthy political existence.
The great questions of the day will be decided not by speeches
and majority votes.
That was the great mistake
of 1848 and 1849.
But by iron and blood.
Those three words,
iron and blood,
or as it's later cited,
blood and iron,
enrage the liberal deputies
and press.
They fear that the minister-president wants to shut down liberals with the army,
as was done in the revolution of 1848. But Otto von Bismarck's mind isn't on domestic issues.
It's on building a Prussian-led German empire, even if that means destroying
the European balance of power laid down half a century ago at the Congress of Vienna.
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When Johan Rall received the letter on Christmas Day 1776, he put it away to read later.
Maybe he thought it was a season's greeting and wanted to save it for the fireside. But what it actually was, was a warning, delivered to the Hessian colonel,
letting him know that General George Washington
was crossing the Delaware and would soon attack his forces.
The next day, when Rawl lost the Battle of Trenton
and died from two colonial Boxing Day musket balls,
the letter was found, unopened in his vest pocket.
As someone with 15,000 unread emails in his inbox,
I feel like there's a lesson there.
Oh well, this is The Constant,
a history of getting things wrong.
I'm Mark Chrysler.
Every episode, we look at the bad ideas,
mistakes, and accidents that misshaped our world.
Find us at constantpodcast.com
or wherever you get your podcasts. will forever argue over the end date of the Congress of Vienna-born Concert of Europe. The revolutions of 1848 were certainly a marked challenge to it. Meanwhile, 1853 saw the first
war between the great powers as France, Britain, and Austria, with their own selfish reasons,
came to the Ottoman Empire's aid against Russia in the Crimean War. And yes, this war is yet
another sign of the Constantinople-based empire's decline. Though the Ottomans and their allies won, the war came on the heels of half a century of Ottoman
territorial losses in both North Africa, where one of its own commanders wrested de facto control of
Egypt and France took Algeria, and on southeastern Europe's Balkan Peninsula, where Greek revolutionaries
achieved independence and Serbian revolutionaries loosened the sultan's grip. The Russian Tsar never would have been so bold as to challenge the Sultan if he didn't smell
opportunity in the destabilizing Balkans. And his doing so pitted Europe's great powers against
each other for the first time since the Congress of Vienna. Yet, that doesn't necessarily mean an
end to the concert of Europe. The Crimean War wasn't a devastating continent-wide relapse to Napoleonic days,
and we might argue that seeing several great powers
align against the one looking to change the balance of power
is simply the concert in action.
But even if we go with that perspective,
the Crimean War and 1848's revolution
certainly cast a new light on things.
At a minimum, the concert entered a less sacrosanct phase,
and it's in this phase that Otto von Bismarck spoke of blood and iron.
The Prussian minister's remark carried no deep meaning.
It was off the cuff.
For that reason, some historians will express frustration at how deeply the phrase
blood and iron will be associated with this seasoned diplomat.
Not Bismarck biographer Edward Cringshaw, though.
After questioning if it's fair to label Otto
as a self-confessed man of violence,
for this single speech, he answers yes, arguing,
quote,
when a prime minister starts talking with relish
about iron and blood,
in his second speech in office
and in connection with the rectification
of his country's frontiers,
it is only fair to take him seriously.
Close quote.
More to the point, the massive mustachioed Prussian soon lives up to this rhetoric.
Within the next eight years,
Otto von Bismarck shrewdly funds the military
and fabricates three small wars to create a Prussian-led German empire.
Here's how he does it. First, he gets the funds he needs not by winning over
the legislature but by ignoring it. After examining the relatively new Prussian constitution,
the conservative minister-president concludes that if the Landtag fails to approve a budget,
the king's ministers can continue taxing and spending without its guidance.
Firing civil servants who oppose his interpretation,
Otto uses this forceful method
to fund those disputed military reforms.
Now better prepared for a fight,
he can also pursue German unification
through well-crafted wars.
The first of these is in 1864
and fought over two small duchies
on Northern Europe's Jutland Peninsula,
Schleswig and Holstein.
Not a part
of Denmark, yet ruled by the Danish king, Schleswig and Holstein are both heavily Germanic.
So when Denmark's new constitution appears to incorporate the duchies, Otto von Bismarck invokes
German nationalism and cries foul. Otto tells Denmark to relinquish his German brothers by
renouncing this constitution or face war. But the Danish king stands by his
constitution, and before the year's out, the combined Germanic great powers of Prussia and
Austria trample his armies, taking joint possession of the two duchies. Austria will administer
Holstein, and Prussia will administer Schleswig. It's an awkward arrangement, but that's all right.
It won't last long. Two years later, in 1866,
Otto von Bismarck accuses Austria of quote-unquote seditious agitation in Schleswig-Holstein.
Is it true?
No, but the Prussian count knows
he can't unite the other German states under Prussia
while Austria is still considered the greater
of the two German great powers.
With France's secret assurance that it won't interfere,
a secret alliance with the northern Italian kingdom of Sardinia, or the kingdom of Italy,
as the expanding state is now styled, and the support of other northern German states,
Otto uses the situation in Schleswig-Holstein to make war on Austria and its southern German
state allies. Prussia then shocks the continent as it wins the Austro-Prussian War in little more than a month.
This victory ends the German Confederation and inaugurates a new
North German Confederation expressly under Prussian leadership.
Or should we say Chancellor Bismarck's leadership?
He's the chancellor of this new union, and in a nod to his famous blood and iron speech,
he soon picks up the nickname, the Iron Chancellor.
Now, Otto isn't interested in
nationalism in the same way the liberals are, but in his pursuit of a German empire, a German nation
has never looked so plausible. And under Prussian leadership, no less. Latching onto this national
vision then, Prussia's liberals are growing excited. So much so that the much-ignored
Prussian Landtag finally agrees to Otto's military
budget. This inertia toward an eventually unified Germany will likely take a generation or more.
But the increasingly popular Iron Chancellor doesn't want to wait for his empire. Nor does
he have to, because Otto knows there's one thing that unites Germans of all stripes.
Hating the French. The Chancellor finds the opportunity
for this third and final Prussian-led
German empire-building war,
waged against France,
in a tiff over the Spanish throne.
Here's the deal.
In search of a new monarch after its 1868 revolution,
Spain offers the crown to Prince Leopold
of the House of Hohenzollern.
But French Emperor Napoleon III
is gravely concerned by that prospect. King Wilhelm I of Prussia is likewise of the House of Hohenzollern. But French Emperor Napoleon III is gravely concerned by that prospect.
King Wilhelm I of Prussia
is likewise of the House of Hohenzollern,
so this would put the same royal family
on France's southern and eastern borders.
Yikes!
The wispy mustache and goatee-wearing French ruler
has no interest in France being surrounded
by one royal family.
He voices this concern to Wilhelm.
The Prussian monarch gets it and talks
Leopold out of taking the Spanish throne. But Napoleon III's foreign minister, the Duke de
Gaumont, pushes the issue. He makes the French ambassador to Prussia ask Wilhelm to promise
that he'll never support a Hohenzollern candidate for the Spanish throne. Wilhelm says no as the
two men stroll through the streets in the spa town of
Bad Ems. In fact, the Prussian king is mildly irritated at the overreach, but it's not a big
deal. Not until a telegram detailing the brief conversation reaches his chancellor, that is.
With a slight sharpening of its tone, Otto von Bismarck releases the Ems telegram,
as it comes to be known, for the benefit of the press. Otto gets
just the reaction he wants. The people of France are insulted and enraged, which makes Napoleon
III feel compelled to defend his nation's honor on the field of battle. Yes, a war with Prussia
for a perceived insult in a reply to an overreaching request, as described in a telegram.
Even the most francophile of historians will judge
the French emperor for falling for this. Joined by the North German Confederation and, thanks to
France playing the role of the aggressor, even southern German states, the cutting-edge Prussian
army with the recent 2-0 fighting record mops up France's out-of-date forces in 1870.
In early September, at the Battle of Sedan, the Germans take more than 100,000 French troops
captive, including the French emperor himself. With Emperor Napoleon III out of the picture,
the French people proclaim a third republic, while the Iron Chancellor makes a harsh demand.
If France wants peace, it must not only pay indemnities, but cede the two eastern,
heavily German-speaking, yet French-identifying territories
of Alsace and Lorraine. What? Cede a part of France? No. Jamais. Facing such ridiculous demands,
the new republic determines to fight on, even as the German alliance besieges and chokes off
the capital city of Paris. But as desperate French fighters turn to guerrilla tactics,
the Iron Chancellor doesn't let war take his eyes off the real goal,
German unification and empire under his king, Wilhelm I of Prussia.
So despite the ongoing war or being on foreign soil,
Otto sees the rare opportunity of having so many German princes and rulers gathered in one spot.
Is this not the moment to push? Otto coaxes, compromises and bribes as needed, rare opportunity of having so many German princes and rulers gathered in one spot.
Is this not the moment to push? Otto coaxes, compromises, and bribes as needed to get the various German rulers now assembled together in France to call for Wilhelm to be the Emperor of
Germany. Or the German Emperor, that is. The title is proving highly political and something of a war unto itself. It's late morning, January 18th, 1871.
Dressed in the dark blue uniform of the cavalry, Chancellor Otto von Bismarck descends from his
carriage in front of the Palace of Versailles. What a breathtaking, majestic sight. Its white
stone, its red brick, the tension between its baroque and classical design,
and the seemingly endless expanse of the palace surrounding buildings and gardens.
It's not hard to imagine the absolute monarch, the Sun King Louis XIV, ruling here.
Yet, how jarring then to hear the faint roar of German guns holding the starving people of Paris
captive behind their city walls,
or to watch the North German Confederation's Chancellor walk toward this palace bearing the inscription, A Toute les Gloires de la France, to all the glories of France,
knowing he's about to crown a German emperor here. Just outside the palace's entrance,
as he reaches the black and white marble courtyard, the Iron Chancellor is stopped by the king's son-in-law, the Grand Duke of Baden.
The Grand Duke has instructions from His Majesty.
When crowning him emperor, Otto is to call him Kaiser von Deutschland, the Emperor of Germany.
Ugh, still this.
Patiently, the Chancellor explains, as he did yesterday, that's not going to happen.
The German princes have already been using the title Deutscher Kaiser, the German emperor,
and Otto isn't about to derail the empire over semantics.
It's now 12 noon in Versailles' Galerie des Glaces,
the Hall of Mirrors.
The ornate, 80-yardyard long room with massive mirrors and 17
arched windows spilling out on the seemingly endless gardens and fountains
outside is now filled with German princes, officers, and military banners. A
hush falls over all as King Wilhelm I of Prussia, dressed in his
military best, slowly walks across the elongated hall, making his way to the
clergyman at the
temporarily raised dais.
Wilhelm is now met by Otto von Bismarck, who proclaims him the German Emperor.
Wilhelm can't even hide the rage he's feeling toward his Chancellor.
Expected to lead a cheer, the Grand Duke of Baden avoids exacerbating his father-in-law's
anger by skirting the issue altogether, calling out, Long live his imperial and royal majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm!
The newly proclaimed Kaiser now steps down from the dais,
shaking hands and greeting the princes and officers.
But filled with resentment over his title,
Wilhelm purposely blows right past the Iron Chancellor,
without so much as an extended hand or word for the man
who quite literally just made him emperor.
Foul moods aside, he's done it.
Brilliantly and ruthlessly, the Iron Chancellor has outthought his adversaries and spilt the
blood required to overcome the Congress of Vienna's original map and balance of power
in Europe, to forge a successor to the Holy Roman Empire, a second German Empire, a second Reich. And while unification pleases the
still-in-the-minority-but-growing number of German nationalists, the Chancellor has carefully forged
this new state not in the image of liberalism, but in the image of the autocratic Prussian kingdom.
From every vantage point, it seems that the builder of empire,
Otto von Bismarck, has won.
But this win is not without consequences.
The French will never forget the insult
of a German empire proclaimed
in the very symbolic heart of French power,
the Palace of Versailles.
Nor will they forgive imperial Germany
for forcefully annexing Alsace-Lorraine and its French-identifying one and a half million inhabitants at the Franco-Prussian War's end in 1871.
In the years to come, French schoolteachers will point to these regions mournfully blackened on the nation's map and instruct their young male pupils that it is their duty to grow, become men, and, when the time is right, restore these lands and their eastern
countrymen à la patrie.
All of this pain, rage, and vengeance France feels toward Germany, as well as its drive
to restore Alsace-Lorraine, is summed up in the French language with a single word.
Revanchisme.
Napoleon Bonaparte rose from obscurity to become the most powerful and significant figure in modern
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beyond measure. I'm Everett Rummage, host of the Age of Napoleon podcast, and every month I delve
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Subscribe to Conflicted wherever you get your podcasts. We've now made it to the 1870s.
The European map has changed since the Congress of Vienna.
Again, historians debate what to make of the Concert of Europe at this point.
The continent has seen a few wars now, as we know,
but it's still avoided falling into another large-scale total war, like the Napoleonic Wars.
Well, you can decide what you think of the concert
as we assess the changes to Europe's map and its shifts in power.
Starting on the Italian peninsula, we now have a united Italy.
I noted earlier that the kingdom of Sardinia's name
changed to Italy, which happened in 1861, but the newly named and growing kingdom still had
more to annex back then. It conquered the last defiant holdout, the Papal States, in 1870,
and this year, 1871, Italy makes unification official by naming Rome its capital.
That's right. German unification and Italian unification both happen within months
of each other and in a similar fashion, with one powerful state exerting its authority over
neighbors of the same ethnicity. And a spoonful of nationalism helps the medicine go down.
Unified Italy is strong enough to make the great powers team, but only as a benchwarmer.
It's literally referred to as, and I quote,
the least of the great powers. To continue that analogy, Germany isn't only getting game time,
it's a starter. With a population of over 40 million, it supersedes both Austria and France's power. But while Italy and Germany are growing stronger, the Austrian empire is taking a hit.
In the wake of its 1866 loss to Prussia and the growing
influence of nationalism, the Austrian crown has to compromise with its Hungarian subjects
by giving them a full seat at the table. In 1867's Ausgleich, the empire reorganizes as
the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Ah, there's the name we heard at the opening of this episode.
And please note, you may still hear me say Austrian Empire as a shorthand on occasion.
Nationalism continues to hit the Ottoman Empire in the Balkans territory too.
Across this Southeast European peninsula,
the Sultan's subjects of various nationalities are pushing for independence or greater autonomy.
Hence the Ottoman Empire's nickname, the Sick Man of Europe.
So Europe's seen war and its
map has changed since the Congress of Vienna. Yet again, none of these wars resulted in a continent
wide war. All of those we've discussed and those we haven't have been short regional conflicts.
We can call this a win for the clearly flexible concert of Europe. Nor has everything changed.
After all, even with Prussia, or now Germany,
climbing the great power rankings,
those listed among the top five haven't changed.
Sorry, Edley, you're just not quite there.
Well, I'll let you keep mulling
on the Concert of Europe's success or failure,
but now that we have a handle on Europe's altered map
and balance of power,
let's return to the man who,
more than any other individual,
has been pulling the continent's strings and will continue to do so for another two decades,
Otto von Bismarck.
The Iron Chancellor knows that humiliated, defeated, territory-losing France is out for
German blood. But that's fine. See, Otto is a master, if not the master, of what is called
Realpolitik, which is a philosophy that holds raw power and real-world capabilities, not ideology,
philosophy, ethics, or other abstracts are what matter most in politics and foreign affairs.
Hence, for Otto, France's enmity is only a problem if its new third republican government is strong enough to do something about it.
And it isn't, as long as he can keep France isolated, that is.
So that's just what he sets out to do.
The Iron Chancellor is now a man of peace.
Germany is satiated, as Otto tells the British ambassador in 1871.
No great power need worry that powerful Germany will continue conquering.
He has no interest in bringing Europe's
remaining Germanic peoples under the German tricolor.
The Austrians are better off in their empire.
This is a unified Kleindurch, not Großdurch.
Huh.
Well, that alone calms the concerns
of European powers not called France,
but still, what if France makes allies?
The Iron Chancellor can't have that, so he proceeds to form an alliance system that leaves
France friendless. Leaning into their shared vision of conservative monarchy, Otto convinces
the Austro-Hungarian Emperor and Russian Tsar to align with the German Kaiser in 1873. This is
known as the League of the Three Emperors.
But it doesn't hold more than a few years,
not with the Ottoman Empire continuing
to fall apart in the Balkans.
Bulgarians, Romanians, and Serbs are rebelling,
and Russia just can't help seeing another opportunity
to indulge its pan-Slavic vision.
Meanwhile, Austria, unable to exert power
over Central Europe's Germanic peoples
now that Imperial Germany exists,
is even more interested in growing within the Balkans as the Ottomans hold their ebbs.
The Russo-Turkish War of 1877-78 ends the league.
That war also brings some big changes that factor into our story.
For instance, we have newly independent Balkan nations, including the Kingdom of Serbia.
And though the Ottomans still maintain de facto rule,
Austria takes over administrating the provinces of,
you guessed it, Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Picking up the pieces the next year, in 1879,
the Iron Chancellor aligns Germany
with just the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the dual alliance.
This is significant.
As a full-on military alliance,
they will both go to war
should their upset eastern neighbor Russia attack one of them
and will likewise stay neutral if another great power,
like vengeance-seeking France, attacks.
In other words,
the flexibility of a non-aligned Europe just diminished.
It diminishes a touch more in 1882
as the two German rulers add unified Italy
to make this the Triple Alliance.
But by this point,
Otto von Bismarck can't confine his concerns
entirely to Europe.
The Second Industrial Revolution
is fueling a global economic revolution
that's both facilitating and encouraging
the industrial powers of the world,
mostly European powers, plus the United States and Japan,
to expand their imperial holdings.
This late 19th century round of global empire building
is often known as New Imperialism,
and in this context, European powers are particularly interested
in the raw materials of Africa.
Now, the Chancellor himself isn't a fan of empire building outside of Europe,
but increasingly,
it seems peace in Europe means looking beyond the continent.
Besides, other Germans want the Reich to get in on the action.
So, the aging, balding Iron Chancellor invites First and Second-Rate Empires alike to send
representatives to Berlin with hopes that they can peacefully hash out their economic
and imperial interests in a particularly disputed area, West Africa and the Congo.
It's November 15, 1884. Representatives from more than a dozen of Europe's most powerful
empires and kingdoms, including the Europe and Middle East straddling Ottoman Empire,
and additionally, representatives from the United States, have gathered at the palace
and personal residence of German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck. They sit, chatting, at a long table.
On the impressive, ornate room's walls hangs an enormous map of the land about which they'll make
big decisions in the coming months, despite few of them having ever visited it, Africa.
Soon, Count Delaunay of the Kingdom of Italy rises.
Speaking after a welcome from the Iron Chancellor, he waxes eloquent for a moment,
then moves that their host, Otto von Bismarck, serve as chairman of the conference.
The motion carries.
With that decided, the Italian count yields to the German count,
allowing Otto to again address the conference's attendees.
The German chancellor begins by stating that their concern is in part humanitarian.
Yes, speaking in terms firmly held by many imperialists of the day,
Otto means benevolent or quote-unquote civilizing imperialism.
He touches the loftiest goals of this conference,
ending slavery, which is still practiced on the continent.
But, he argues, this and other high-minded goals will only be accomplished
by ensuring that all nations have full access to the continent's interior,
including the movement of duty-free goods.
So opens the Berlin Conference, or the Congo Conference, as it's also known.
It runs just over three months, ending February 26, 1885, and the document they produce,
the General Act, is signed by all participating nations except the United States.
In short, they declare the Congo River open to all flags, that is, nations, and missionary efforts,
establish the Congo-free
state, which Leopold II of Belgium will rule quite infamously and barbarously, and establish
the terms by which European states will recognize one another's claims on the continent.
Now, several European powers have colonies in Africa already. For years, France has considered
former Ottoman Algeria an integral part of France, and just
two years before this conference, France and Britain each took more North African territory
from the Ottoman Empire.
Tunisia and quasi-Ottoman Egypt, respectively.
But having an established standard for colonial recognition sets off a mad colonial dash.
To use a phrase from an 1884 London newspaper, a scramble for Africa.
By the time World War I breaks out
in 20 years, more than half a dozen European states will colonize almost the entire African
continent. But keeping our attention on the 1880s, Otto von Bismarck is pleased enough with the Congo
Conference. He hopes that France, which has bounced back from its 1870 pounding surprisingly well,
will grow sufficiently
distracted with empire building in North and West Africa, as well as elsewhere in the world,
that it forgets about Alsace-Lorraine. In 1881, Otto manages to revive the League of the Three
Emperors, this time as a formal alliance assuring benevolent neutrality in the event of war with
another great power. But alas, once again, Austria and Russia's competing interest in the Balkans
ends this second iteration in 1887.
But that's fine.
The crafty chancellor pivots,
arranging a secret reinsurance treaty
with Russia that same year.
Set for a three-year duration,
the treaty is one of limited benevolent neutrality.
So limited, some doubt its value. But others see
Otto's logic. By keeping Austria and Russia aligned with Germany, even if separately due
to their beef over the Balkans, he keeps three of the five great powers aligned. With Britain
preferring quote-unquote splendid isolation, that leaves France friendless. A friendless France means peace, and peace is best
for Germany. Thus, Otto will keep hashing out these alliances, trying to keep Austria and Russia
tethered to the second hike. But a quick series of deaths makes it so these decisions are no longer
Otto's to make. In March 1888, Kaiser Wilhelm I dies. His heir, liberal-minded Frederick III,
follows him to the grave only three months later. This puts Frederick's son, 29-year-old Wilhelm II,
on the German throne that same June. The young Kaiser and aging chancellor get on like oil and
water. Finding him too conservative on social issues and too cautious in foreign affairs, Wilhelm II asks for Otto's resignation in 1890.
Otto von Bismarck's life work was creating the German Reich.
For two decades, he served as its shadow emperor,
its Schattenkaiser.
Some historians say his dismissal was long overdue,
that Otto had set Germany on a bad path
as a large militarized state. Others see the old count as the brilliant mastermind Historians say his dismissal was long overdue, that Otto had set Germany on a bad path as
a large militarized state.
Others see the old count as the brilliant mastermind that a young, arrogant, and unpredictable
new Kaiser so badly needed to navigate the industrializing, militarizing, and colonizing
realities of empire at the turn of the century.
Regardless of which position is right, it takes little time after Otto's dismissal for Europe to begin devolving into two full-on separate alliance systems.
Convinced it was overly restrictive,
Wilhelm II doesn't renew Germany's reinsurance treaty with Russia in 1890.
Seeing a chance to make its first friend since the Franco-Prussian War,
Republican France decides it can overlook the Russian Empire's autocratic ways and moves in. It's just as Otto always feared.
The Franco-Russian alliance is signed in 1892. But Germany remains fairly calm. That same year,
Wilhelm's new chief of the Imperial German General Staff, Count Alfred von Schlieffen,
assures the Kaiser that they can avoid having to fight France
to the west and Russia to the east at the same time. He says they can throw most of the army at
France, thereby overwhelming their less populated western neighbor, then put the industrial wonder
of trains to use and ship all but a small occupation force east to deal with slower-moving,
barely industrialized Russia. This will avoid a two-front war. Named for its creator,
this is called the Schlieffen Plan. In the next few years, Wilhelm unintentionally starts to push
the British away. It's worth noting that the Kaiser is half British by birth. He's the grandson
of British Queen Victoria through his mother. When Her Majesty passes in 1901, he is likewise
the nephew of her son and successor to the British throne, Edward VII.
Well, Wilhelm thinks he can press his British relations into an alliance by challenging their naval superiority.
He plans to make Germany's navy so strong, Britain won't dare risk war with the Reich.
Wrong move. This makes traditionally lone wolf Britain nervous and launches a naval arms race. And if
Britain is nervous about Germany, well, then France sees an opportunity. In 1904, the almost
unthinkable happens. Britain and France sign an agreement, an Entente Cordiale. It puts to bed
conflicts that these two massive colonial empires have around the world. Now, strictly speaking,
this isn't a military alliance, but to see the traditional, centuries-long rivals if not enemies
France and Britain agree to friendship? This is a seismic shift and one that bears immediate fruit
as Britain backs France's colonial ambitions over Germany's for Morocco the following year.
Of course, that also deepens the growing rift
between Britain and Germany.
Another once thought unthinkable twist comes in 1907.
Britain and Russia sign an entente as well.
While not spilling into Europe, not really,
the two powers have been at each other's throats
for the better part of a century in Central Asia.
Spanning all of Northern Eurasia,
Russia has sought to
expand south, while Britain, ruling in India, has tried to move north. This fight, known as
the Great Game, ends with this Entente. Moreover, with the already established Franco-Russian
alliance, as well as Britain and France's recent Entente Cordiale, this Anglo-Russian agreement
sets the three nations up as the
Triple Entente. It's a powerful counterweight to the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austro-Hungary,
and Italy, particularly when the unspoken, unpublished winks and nods are taken into
consideration. Though under no military obligations, British officers are talking
with French officers about potential joint action in the event of war with Germany.
So for all intents and purposes, Europe has been split into two secretive, inflexible alliance systems just waiting to be set off.
Speaking of setting things off, Austria and Russia are both watching with rapt attention as the Ottomans continue to slip in the Balkans. The next year,
in 1908, the Austrian Empire annexes Bosnia and Herzegovina outright. Russia fumes. Crisis
thankfully simmers, but for the love of God, how many times can these two great powers,
now allied to the hilt, nearly collide in this volatile region without coming to blows?
Everyone feels the need to be ready.
Just as Germany has its two-front war-avoiding Schlieffen Plan,
Russia draws up its own plan in the event of war with the Triple Alliance,
one that calls for mobilizing against Germany and Austria at the same time.
With two possible variations, it's called Plan 19.
French General Joseph Joffre likewise prepares.
Though suspicious that Germany might violate Belgium's neutrality,
still enforced by the Treaty of London of 1839,
the French General's Plan 17, that is, Plan 17,
can't fully anticipate such a play.
In the event of war, a heavy concentration of French troops will be positioned to push straight into their lost territory, Alsace-Lorraine.
Meanwhile, the Balkans
only become more unstable. The region sees two back-to-back wars, one in 1912 and another in
1913. The Ottomans are left with hardly a toehold in Europe. Newly independent Balkan nations are
fighting each other while Russia and Austria are licking their lips. The Austrian Archduke Franz
Ferdinand doesn't agree with
everything his empire is doing in the region, but he does his duty and goes to recently annexed
Bosnia to observe military exercises on June 25th, 1914. And a few days later, a young Bosnian Serb
finds himself face to face with the Austro-Hungarian empire's heir presumptive on a street in Sarajevo. He fires, and within a month,
that bullet causes outsized reactions from a continent now locked
into two secretive, rigid treaty systems. This is the July Crisis.
June 28, 1914. Supported by the secret, oath-swearing, militarized, ultra-nationalist
group, the Black Hand. Gavrilo Princip assassinates Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie,
Duchess of Hohenberg, in Austrian-ruled Bosnia. Investigations follow, and within a few days,
distant but real ties between the assassin and the neighboring kingdom of Serbia are established.
Hmm, is it enough to justify war?
Austria's foreign minister, Leopold Berchtold, believes this is an opportunity to crush independent Serbia and thus shore up Austrian control in the Balkans.
He sends word to Berlin asking for Germany's position.
July 5th, Germany responds.
Expecting a European war anyway, convinced its foes will
only grow stronger in time and sure that Russia will cower, Wilhelm II's government gives complete
support to Austria-Hungary. Germany's support for its ally is so unwavering, it's dubbed the
blank check. Two weeks pass. During this time, Austria's foreign minister convinces Hungary's
prime minister
to support the war with assurances that they won't bring more Slavs into the empire.
It's a lie, but it gets the support the dual monarchy needs for war.
July 20th through 22nd. French President Raymond Poincaré and his foreign minister are in Russia.
The trip was planned before the assassination, but le Président assures his ally
of French support. Emboldened, Russia warns Austria-Hungary against attacking Serbia.
July 23rd. Unfazed by Russia's warning, Austria issues a 10-point ultimatum to Serbia.
It intentionally makes over-the-top, sovereignty-violating demands and gives the
kingdom 48 hours to respond. The capitals of Europe are shocked.
Russia's foreign minister predicts a European war.
July 25th, Russian Tsar Nicholas II notifies the armies to prepare to mobilize.
Though still licking its wounds after the Russo-Japanese War,
Russia, it seems, will not back down.
Serbia takes heart.
It agrees to most but not all of Austria's ultimatum
while offering that the Hague Tribunal
or great powers arbitrate.
All of Europe considers Serbia's response well played,
but Austria didn't give this ultimatum to negotiate.
July 28th, one month to the day
since the assassination of Franz Ferdinand,
Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia.
Britain offers mediation as Russia
ponders partial mobilization against Austria alone. But can partial mobilization be done?
What chaos and failure might a departure from their pre-arranged mobilization plan against
both Austria and Germany, Plan 19, create in the ranks? Meanwhile, Kaiser Wilhelm II telegraphs
his distant cousin, the Russian Tsar, expressing
desires of peace, signing off, your very sincere and devoted friend and cousin, Willy. But Wilhelm's
telegram belies his empire's simultaneous non-response to Britain, asking the great powers
to confirm their respect for Belgian neutrality. Yes, like Russia and its Plan 19, Germany can't ignore its long-held war preparations,
its Schlieffenplan. July 30th, lacking much in terms of industrialization, Russian leaders know
they can't mobilize as fast as Germany. Waiting is a handicap if war comes, and with Austrian
artillery now shelling Serbia's capital, Belgrade, How can it not? These Russian leaders lean on indecisive Nicholas II
until the Tsar concedes.
Per Plan 19, Russia will fully mobilize.
July 31st, Germany demands that Russia cease mobilization
and that France give assurances of neutrality
as well as allow German troops on its border
as an act of good faith.
An impossible ask.
Besides, how much does France want to avoid war?
Isn't this the opportunity to restore Alsace-Lorraine
for revanchism?
August 1st, with no answer from Russia or France,
Germany declares war on Russia.
August 2nd, France orders general mobilization.
Germany avoids its border with France,
which the French have strongly reinforced in accordance with Plan 17 Second, France orders general mobilization. Germany avoids its border with France,
which the French have strongly reinforced in accordance with Plan Dix-Sept,
by sending troops into Luxembourg
and demanding that neutral Belgium
allow them to pass through.
That same day, Italy proclaims Germany
and Austria-Hungary aggressors,
and as such, states it has no obligation
to stand with its allies.
August 3rd, Germany declares war on France.
Thus, the Schlieffen Plan is now formally in play. August 4th, Germany declares war on Belgium. In accordance with the
Treaty of London of 1839, Britain gives Germany until the day's end to change its mind or face
war with Britain. But as careful and peace-oriented as Britain has been in this escalation, is this
truly a high-minded defense
of a small, neutral nation's sovereignty?
Britain's imperial subjects, like the Irish,
pushing this very moment for home rule, might disagree.
Could Britain be more worried about its arms race foe,
Germany, becoming another Napoleonic France
and conquering the European continent?
Whatever the mix of motives,
Britain's made its position clear.
And when midnight strikes without Germany rescinding its declaration of war on Belgium, Britain's made its position clear, and when midnight strikes
without Germany rescinding its declaration of war on Belgium, Britain too is at war.
Many fail to grasp the significance of the five great powers going to war.
No one is alive to remember the full horrors of the Napoleonic era. The German crown prince even
speaks of a, quote, jolly little war, close quote.
Dear God, it's been so long since Europe's seen the terrors of continent-wide war.
Its people are again romanticizing it.
But British Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs,
Sir Edward Grey, grasps the enormity of all of this.
He remarks to a friend,
the lamps are going out all over Europe.
We shall not see them lit again in our lifetime.
He is so very right.
It's late at night, September 6th, 1914.
We're in Paris, France, where hundreds of taxis,
specifically Renault vehicles, type AGs,
are pulling up at the Estenade des Invalides.
But as they park, I have to tell you, the whole city is filled with a dark sense of dread.
See, over the past month, the German army has pounded its way through Luxembourg, Belgium,
and northern France. 100,000 British troops have shored up France's defenses, but the Germans have
pressed on and are now but 35 miles northeast of the French capital. Every available troop is needed at the unfolding battle
right now, yet the railroads are overwhelmed. And that's why General Joseph Galliani has called on
the city's taxi drivers. Likely in groups of four, blue-clad Frenchmen from the 7th Division climb
into the five-seater vehicles. The taxis
take off by the hundreds, forming a seemingly endless procession of two-cylinder vehicles
driving out of the city. Navigating rough roads with the dimmed headlights, some drivers fear
they'll hit the taxi in front of them. Many grow frightened as they start to hear the distant sound
of gunfire. This procession and more continue. While historians will caution
against overstating the significance these drivers play in transporting roughly 5,000 men to a battle
involving more than a million, the sight of more than a thousand Parisian taxis carrying French
soldiers to a battle that, if lost, might mean the nation's defeat will never be forgotten in France.
And the French do win this battle, the First Battle of the Marne.
In doing so, they've frustrated the Schlieffen Plan, forcing Germany to fight a two-front
war.
Thus, 99 years after the Congress of Vienna, 99 years after Europe's five great powers
created a system intended to spare future
generations from the total war whores they knew all too well after the Napoleonic Wars.
Those same five great powers, now divided into two rigid alliance systems, descend into another
such war. A total war that will yet bring in other powerful nations and involve soldiers
from across the globe.
But those are stories for another day. and a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Thank you.