Mallet’s
arrival also coincided with Djemal Pasha’s artless approach to General Wilson
— the Governor of Constantinople had just assured the receptive Wilson that,
unfortunately, ‘The Turks could not now change their military teachers
(Germans), but in all else, in finance, administration, navy, and reforms they
wished to be under English guidance.’
To head this renascence in British prestige and influence there now
arrived as His Britannic Majesty’s representative to the Sublime Porte Sir
Louis du Pan Mallet. Ryan was not overly impressed, initially, by what he saw:
‘No man could have been a greater personal contrast to Lowther. Mallet was a
bachelor, very much of a dilettante in appearance, very quizzical, highly
intelligent, as supple as his predecessor had been unbending, and intent on
conciliating the Young Turk leaders by friendliness and charm. He did not
impress me greatly at first, but he grew on me very much when we became
intimate.’
Against Mallet there stood the imposing figure of the German Ambassador, Baron
von Wangenheim, who was described by his American colleague as having ‘a
complete technical equipment for a diplomat; he spoke German, English and French
with equal facility, he knew the East thoroughly, and had the widest
acquaintance with public men. Physically he was one of the most striking persons
I have ever known…He was six feet two inches tall; his huge, solid frame, his
Gibraltar-like shoulders, erect and impregnable, his bold defiant head, his
piercing eyes, the whole physical structure constantly pulsating with life and
activity…’
Unfortunately, if understandably, it did not take long for the new Ambassador to
come to regard Fitzmaurice as invaluable. Within a fortnight Mallet was
informing Grey that he ‘shall not be able to do without’ Fitzmaurice whose
knowledge was so extensive and ‘his means of getting it so varied that he is
indispensable.’ The British balloon that had so recently been blown up was
pricked when Mallet added, ‘I do not believe that his presence here will
injure any chance of getting good relations with the Young Turks. On the
contrary it is more likely to help me.’
Of more immediate concern however, Mallet soon became embroiled in the affair of
Liman von Sanders and the German Military Mission which, of necessity, also
highlighted the work of Admiral Limpus at the Turkish Admiralty.
Liman von Sanders (centre) and his Staff
The
genesis of Liman’s mission was to be found in the poor performance of the
Turkish Army in the First Balkan War which, in turn, was perceived to reflect
badly upon the German military instructors and also upon German arms. The remit
of the previous incumbent, General Colmar von der Goltz, had been confined to
areas such as the organization of manoeuvres and inspection of troops while his
mission, as often as not, attracted the wrong type of German officer who took
every opportunity to impress upon the Turk his own view of his undoubted
superiority. The defeat of the Turkish Army was felt even more humiliatingly as
the Serbs and the Greeks in particular relied upon French training and arms.
A French military mission, operating in Athens under General Eydoux, had made
great strides in raising the efficiency of the army to a level at which the
Greeks made an attractive partner for the Balkan allies; as early as January
1913 German inquiries had been initiated to ascertain the conditions under which
Eydoux served. By April, when the temporary lull following the fall of
Adrianople afforded a suitable breathing space, Shevket’s thoughts turned to
strengthening the defences of Constantinople against a renewed Bulgarian attack.
He therefore approached the German Military Attaché, Major von Stempel, to
request that a suitable Prussian officer be found to formulate new plans for the
defence of the capital. Shevket then took up the matter further on 26 April in a
long interview with Wangenheim when it transpired that what the Grand Vizier had
in mind was a complete reorganization of the army under the responsibility of a
large scale military mission with, if required, a German general in actual
command of a Turkish Army corps.
The German Ambassador became a thorough-going convert to the idea,
accepting fully that ‘According to Turkish ideas, the Army was the deciding
factor in the state.’
His conversion owed not a little also to his belief that the Entente Powers had
well advanced plans for the partition of Asiatic Turkey which, as yet, Germany
was in no position to capitalize on. In that case, it was in Germany’s
interests to postpone a scramble amongst the Powers and the best way of
achieving this aim was to ensure that the Turks possessed a strong, well-trained
army. Wangenheim’s official request for ‘a leading German General’ was
telegraphed to Berlin on 22 May 1913. Two days later, at the marriage of the
Kaiser’s only daughter (which was attended by King George V and the Tsar),
Wilhelm informed his illustrious guests of the Turkish request. To King George
it was ‘quite natural that they should turn to you for officers to reorganise
their army’, while – apparently – the Tsar, also, was content, believing
it was ‘necessary very strongly to fortify the Chatalja Line, so that the
Bulgarians could not cross it.’
It seems, however, that Wilhelm had left his guests with the impression that the
new mission would simply replicate the work of von der Goltz.
The Kaiser placed a greater reliance upon Turkey as a military ally than
many of his officials and there was little likelihood that he would not accede
to the Turkish entreaty; all that was required was to find a suitable officer.
Nevertheless it was not until 30 June that the Chief of the Military Cabinet
reported ‘A general has been discovered – though not without difficulty –
who states he is prepared to undertake that duty. He is Lt-Gen. Liman von
Sanders commanding the 22nd division at Cassel, a brilliant divisional
commander, who would be specially fitted for the position in every way…’
Although, for the time being (the Second Balkan War having broken out), it was
considered inappropriate for Liman to appear at the Porte, once peace had been
concluded with the signing of the Treaty of Bucharest, Wilhelm made it clear
that he wished the matter to proceed with dispatch. Negotiations concerning the
position, status and remuneration of the mission continued throughout September
and October, until finally the resolution of the separate Turco-Bulgarian talks
removed the last obstacle. On 28 October, in Berlin, Liman von Sanders signed
the draft agreement by which he became commander of the Turkish First Army
Corps.
Three days later the British Military Attaché in Berlin, Lieutenant-Colonel
Alick Russell, reported that there no longer seemed to be any doubt that a new
German Military Mission would be sent to Constantinople, and that it would ‘be
granted unlimited powers to carry out it’s [sic]
work in Turkey. It is a matter for wonder by whom such powers are guaranteed and
in what directions they extend.’ Russell also confirmed the universally good
impression of Liman.
By early November Baron Giers, the Russian Ambassador at the Porte,
suspected that there was a fundamental difference between the missions of Liman
and von der Goltz; a suspicion which was confirmed on 6 November when the
Russian Naval Attaché in Constantinople became aware of the actual details of
the agreement.
The following day, with Sazonov again absent, his understudy Neratov quizzed the
German Chargé in St Petersburg about the information he had just received from
a secret source in Turkey.
Until 17 November, when Sazonov returned, Neratov conducted the talks with the
aim of defusing the issue. Neratov maintained that the siting of the mission on
the Balkan front – say, in Adrianople – would be a far less serious matter
for Russia than to have a German mission in Constantinople or the Dardanelles.
It was only on the 17th that matters took a turn for the worse — the Russian
Prime Minister Kokovstov, who had been in Paris conducting financial
negotiations, planned to break the return journey in Berlin to convey to the
Kaiser his gratitude for the order of the Black Eagle which had been recently
bestowed upon him. This seemed an ideal chance to broach the dispute in an
informal manner and clear up any misunderstandings. In a meeting with
Bethmann-Hollweg and Wilhelm, Kokovstov was surprised when Wilhelm referred to
the Tsar’s apparent agreement to the mission, expressed at the wedding in May;
in any event, Wilhelm tendentiously pointed out, to limit Liman to the same
conditions applying to von der Goltz would inevitably produce the same result.
Liman must adopt a far more active rôle.
Upon Sazonov’s return, Bethmann-Hollweg was soon disabused of any
notion that the Russians would calmly acquiesce: the Russian Foreign Minister
was ‘painfully disturbed’ by the question of the mission. That very month
the Russian Admiralty had called for an increased Black Sea building programme
with the eventual aim of acquiring a fleet of eleven dreadnoughts by 1919. Until
the dreadnoughts currently being constructed at such massive cost could be
completed, Russia was helpless. Worse, as Sazonov outlined to the Tsar, was
‘the potential gravity of a seizure of the Straits by a state less responsive
to Russian pressure than Turkey.’ Twice, during the Turco-Italian war the
Straits had been closed: on the first occasion, as grain could not be exported,
prices fell by 15 to 20 per cent and banks refused to handle bills of exchange.
The second closure resulted in a massive reduction of the trade balance and an
increase in the bank rate.
The German response was one of great surprise to the strong Russian
objections. As the German Foreign Minister later explained to the British
Ambassador, the first mention of the subject had been by Wilhelm to the Tsar
and, or so it was believed, Nicholas ‘rather encouraged the idea.’ It had
been ‘unfortunate’ that the matter had not been discussed when Sazonov was
in Berlin but this was only because Bethmann-Hollweg had thought the affair was
all arranged and ‘that as it was only a matter of another German officer
succeeding General von der Goltz [he] had not thought it worthwhile to discuss
it…There had been no bad faith in the matter at all…’
Despite the fact that the Germans could always fall back on the convenient
excuse that the Turks had, themselves, requested the mission Kokovstov was still
able to make some headway with Bethmann-Hollweg. Indeed, Kokovstov’s
interviews with Bethmann-Hollweg had led the former to the conclusion that this
mission had grown both in functions and numbers after the Chancellor had
originally agreed to it, but without his subsequent knowledge. Following his
discussions with the Chancellor, Kokovstov believed that Bethmann-Hollweg had
accepted, in principle, either that Liman should be allowed to reside in
Constantinople, but with modified powers or, preferably, that he should have
full powers and reside in Adrianople. However, rather than helping to allay
Sazonov’s doubts, the Prime Minister’s opinion that matters had proceeded
without Bethmann-Hollweg’s full knowledge merely reinforced Sazonov’s belief
that there were two policies in Berlin: one formulated by the Chancellor and the
other by the military and the Court.
If Sazonov needed any proof of this, it was soon provided: despite the
progress Kokovstov thought he had made, on 23 November he was informed that the
negotiations regarding the mission having been concluded, they could not now be
altered.
As a sop it was proposed that, when he arrived, Liman could examine the
situation on the spot to see whether a transfer to Adrianople or Smyrna would be
possible though it was felt that this would not be the case for the simple
technical reason that all the military schools were situated in Constantinople;
besides the very mention of Smyrna aroused French hackles raising as it did the
question of a German presence in the eastern Mediterranean. It was therefore no
surprise when the French Foreign Minister informed Sazonov that he agreed
entirely with the Russians: while Liman at Adrianople was just barely tolerable,
Liman at Smyrna was out of the question.
British reaction was muted. Hugh O’Beirne, the British Chargé
d’Affaires at St Petersburg, reported privately to Nicolson that it was ‘not
at all surprising that Sazonow should be very seriously upset by the arrangement
just come to by Turkey with regard to the engagement of German officers having
executive command. When one thinks what Constantinople means to Russia it is
certainly an intolerable thing for her to see the town virtually in the hands of
a German commander. But much as I sympathise with Sazonow his attitude seems to
me to be one merely of impotent annoyance. He says he has used strong language
at Berlin. What good will that do?’ O’Beirne complained that Sazonov had no
definite ideas at all as to how to reply to the German coup and that, in his
wilder moments, he talked of having a Russian general in command of the Turkish
force at Bayazid;
or else Russian officers could be appointed in Armenia. In the opinion of the
Chargé the ‘only effective reply’ would be to have one or two warships
stationed at Constantinople which would be capable of landing a detachment, when
called upon, to protect the Russian Embassy: ‘But as Russia is certainly not
prepared to take any decided course of that kind any demands for compensation
which she may make of Turkey will probably prove quite futile.’
The problem for Grey was that, while admitting that the other Powers could, in
view of the German action, demand similar advantages ‘to compensate and
safeguard their own interests’ he could not see how these could be obtained
‘consistent with the maintenance of Turkish independence’.
The official response was provided by Grey who conceded that the German
command at Constantinople was ‘sufficiently disagreeable for all other
Powers’ and added that it was a matter of intimate concern for Russia and,
therefore, it was ‘not a question in which we can be more Russian than the
Russians.’ Fear of British action would weigh far less heavily on the German
Government than apprehension over how far the Russians were likely to take the
matter.
Nicolson, however, wrote, privately and more illuminatingly, that ‘we are
rather puzzled as to what to do in respect of the appointment of the German
General’. Personally, he would confine himself to ascertaining Liman’s
precise functions and then pointing out to the Turks the ‘dangers to which
they are exposing themselves by placing the garrison at Constantinople under the
command of a foreigner.’ One obstacle, clearly anticipated by Nicolson,
revolved around the widespread antipathy with which Sazonov was viewed at the
Foreign Office:
The
difficulty always in dealing with Sazonoff is that one never knows precisely how
far he is prepared to go. Though we are quite ready to admit that the
appointment, if it be really of the character which we are given to believe, is
of a very serious nature, still we should look rather foolish if we took the
question up warmly and then found that Sazonoff more or less deserted us. In
fact there is a certain disinclination on our part to pull the chestnuts out of
the fire for Russia…
This
disinclination was heightened three days later with the receipt of a dispatch
from Mallet that the ‘Advantages of a friendly settlement appear to be very
great. If our representations here meet with a rebuff question of compensation
must arise…otherwise it would be better not to take so formal a step. Force of
circumstances might possibly compel Russian Government to ask for opening of
Straits, although this is unlikely…I cannot suggest any special compensation
for which we could ask, Admiral Limpus already having command of the fleet, a
point which is likely to be made much of by Turks and Germans and which is
theoretically a good one’.
In view of Nicolson’s apprehension regarding the danger for Turkey of
having her troops under foreign command, the information from Mallet that the
Turkish navy was already under foreign command, and British as well, thoroughly
disconcerted the Permanent Under-Secretary: ‘I had no idea’, he minuted
incredulously, ‘that Admiral Limpus commanded the fleet. I thought he was
merely there as an adviser and instructor. If the fact be as stated by Sir L
Mallet we are not on perfectly unassailable ground in demurring to the
appointment of the German General.’ When Nicolson, who promptly searched out
Limpus’ contract, discovered that, in addition to naval adviser, he was named
Commander of the Fleet, with a proviso only that he was not to perform active
service in time of war, the realization must have been disconcerting. ‘I do
not deny’, he was forced to argue ineffectually, ‘that there is a difference
between commander of an inefficient navy and that of C-in-C of the garrison of
the capital. Still a point could be made against us.’
Nicolson pursued the same line of reasoning when replying to Mallet, although he
did have the decency to alter ‘inefficient navy’ – which was as much a
slur against Limpus – to ‘a fleet which is hardly yet in existence.’
Grey was also obviously disquieted: ‘I did not realize the nature of Admiral
Limpus’s command’, he admitted, before adding, ‘We must certainly go very
carefully.’
Grey’s fears were quickly realized. O’Beirne discussed the matter on
8 December with the German Ambassador in St Petersburg, Count Pourtalès, who
could not understand what the fuss was about: Liman’s appointment was
analogous to Limpus’. Further, he maintained, Liman’s position was less important than von der Goltz who had been Inspector General
while Liman would merely command an army corps; ultimately, as a sovereign
state, Turkey was free to appoint whomsoever she chose. O’Beirne was aware
that Pourtalès had been making the most of the analogy of the British Admiral
and German General to Sazonov. It was, therefore, hardly a coincidence that
Sazonov was now complaining to him (O’Beirne) that the work of Limpus ‘was a
serious thing for Russia.’ The Chargé pointed out that the Turks were
determined to have a strong fleet to cope with the Greeks and, if the British
did not assist, it was ‘perfectly obvious’ some other Power would. If there
were any question of Turkey seriously threatening the Russian naval position in
the Black Sea the objection might have some validity, ‘but that was really too
remote a contingency to be considered at present.’
Sazonov’s temper was not improved when he became aware of the iradé
published in Turkey on 4 December which confirmed the details of the agreement
with Germany signed a week previously. The Foreign Minister, speaking to
O’Beirne about the matter ‘with greater seriousness and openness than on any
other occasion’ O’Beirne could remember no longer attached great importance
to the purely military aspect of the appointment. Liman, he argued, may very
likely not be more successful than von der Goltz with the Turkish army, but he
was ‘firmly convinced that the command of the First Army Corps will give
Germany such a complete political preponderance at Constantinople that other
Powers will find themselves definitely reduced to a secondary position in
Turkey.’ It was now ‘a test of the value of the Triple Entente’ and while
Germany may have weighed the chances of a conflict with France and Russia she
could not afford, if Britain became involved, the additional danger of a naval
war. The Entente Powers would have to take ‘a really decided stand’ and,
therefore, Sazonov was relying greatly on Britain. If Turkey refused to heed the
representations, Sazonov proposed to apply pressure by means of a financial
boycott, a refusal to agree to the customs increase, and a withdrawal of the
Ambassadors (upon which he was particularly insistent). To O’Beirne’s
objections on this point, Sazonov countered that once having withdrawn the
Ambassadors and to avoid complete loss of prestige even more active measures
must be taken; he provocatively suggested ‘the occupation of certain Turkish
ports.’
Threats of this nature made it all the more imperative that a solution be
found quickly, preferably involving Russo-German discussions, in the hope of
avoiding the problem posed by the presence of the British naval mission. There
seemed little likelihood of this when Mallet reported that the whole position of
Britain in relation to the fleet and the dockyard concession was ‘much dwelt
upon in the Press and in political circles’. Besides, if the intention of the
Entente in blocking Liman’s appointment was realized, it was entirely possible
that the Triple Alliance would be similarly obstructive regarding the command of
the fleet when Limpus’ two year term expired in April 1914. A further
complication was that Limpus, under the impression that his prospects for
advancement in the Royal Navy were suffering because of his Turkish duty, now
showed signs of not wishing to renew his appointment; indeed, he would do so
only if pressed. The only way around the recurrence of this obstacle was, in
Mallet’s opinion, for an officer to be chosen who would reach natural
retirement from the active list within the period of his Turkish tenure and so
would have nothing to lose by staying on, a suggestion which found little
sympathy in the Foreign Office. As Crowe pointed out, the task of organizing the
Turkish fleet required the best abilities of a first-rate officer, who was not
likely to be found among the candidates for early retirement.
Nevertheless, Mallet continued in his attempts to defuse the growing
crisis. To do so he used three separate arguments to try to influence Grey:
first, he spelt out the extent of Limpus’ power, which included the
‘absolute command’ of the Turkish fleet in peacetime — Limpus ‘could do
anything except break the law or exceed the budget.’ Second, Vickers and
Armstrong had just obtained a thirty-year concession to modernize the
Constantinople dockyard and construct an arsenal and floating dock in the Gulf
of Ismid, which made it all the more difficult for Britain to take a strong
line. Third, Liman’s command of the First Army Corps would be ‘entirely
innocuous to our interests.’
While the first two contentions were undeniably true, the last might have seemed
an optimistic judgment until it became clear that Liman’s powers were not as
great as first thought and did not, for example, extend to control of the
Straits. Grey however could not ignore the unrelenting Russian pressure,
as Sazonov pushed for a joint démarche at the Porte. Grey preferred a more
simple verbal inquiry, an option certainly preferred by Mallet who foresaw (in
addition to the riposte regarding Limpus) that joint action would only harden
the resolve of Germany and Turkey to resist. ‘Would it be possible’, Mallet
suggested, for the British Government ‘to attempt some kind of mediation on
the basis of an assurance from the German Government that the German General
will, after, say, one month here to study local conditions, propose either to
remove the command to Adrianople or be content with the position of adviser, or
some other expedient which Russia could accept?’
In anticipation of being able to offer the Germans a quid pro quo the Russian Ambassadors in Constantinople and London
approached Mallet and Grey with a compromise to try to break the deadlock:
Mallet telegraphed on 12 December that the Russian suggestion was for Liman to
remain in Constantinople as titular head of the mission while his assistant
became head of the Army Corps at Adrianople; then, on Britain’s part, the
headquarters of the naval mission might be transferred to Ismid and Limpus’
title changed to ‘Adviser’ when his term ended in April 1914.
Grey replied that he, too, had been approached regarding the relocation to Ismid,
adding, ‘if it is practicable and consistent with performance of his duties by
Admiral Limpus and if Turkish Government will agree, I not only will not object,
but will encourage the transfer, if it will help to a solution of difficulty
about German command.’
Unfortunately, no-one had yet quizzed Limpus as to the practicality of the
transfer and when Mallet eventually got round to this the Admiral pointed out
the obvious objection that, as the proposed dockyards and arsenal there had not
even been begun, he would command little more than a building site. Limpus
however did agree, reluctantly, for the new contract to refer to ‘naval
adviser’ whose duties ‘would comprise any service assigned to him by the
Turkish Government’ but felt obliged to stress – as if Grey needed reminding
– the delicate position of the naval mission in that the Turks, determined to
have a good navy, would simply turn elsewhere if Britain adopted an intransigent
tone or made difficulties when the contract expired.
Limpus was also upset to find that his one tangible accomplishment, the
successful outcome of the protracted negotiations leading to the Docks’
concession being granted to a British consortium, was now being used by one
Power to score points against another.
To complicate matters further (if that were possible) Mallet had also become
aware that the Turks had recently been involved in secret talks to purchase the
super-dreadnought building in England for the Brazilian navy, possession of
which would profoundly alter the naval balance in the eastern Mediterranean.
Unlike Lowther’s continual reports of secret negotiations for the purchase of
non-existent battleships this time there appeared to be substance in Mallet’s
information. Although such a ship would lend undoubted prestige to the work of
the naval mission it was also likely to result in the Turks adopting a more
forward policy.
Grey could do no more than hope that the Germans would agree to modify
both Liman’s title and position if that of Limpus were similarly modified and,
in looking for an indication that the Germans would be willing, the Foreign
Secretary believed that the reply of the Grand Vizier to the collective inquiry,
scheduled to be presented on 13 December, might present an opening.
Grey was fortunate that it was Mallet, and not Lowther, who now faced the
audience with Said Halim; indeed, Mallet’s conciliatory approach was
favourably commented upon by the German Embassies in both London and
Constantinople. The former reported to Berlin on 12 December for example that,
although known as a champion of the Triple Entente, Mallet’s attitude as shown
in his dispatches (which had been obtained by ‘confidential and secret
means’) was ‘thoroughly moderate and not calculated to decide Sir E Grey to
take part in any steps in Constantinople.’ The Germans, being particularly
well informed, were aware of the ‘extraordinarily strong pressure’ being
brought to bear by the Russians, backed up by the threat that the Russian
Government would be bound to regard Grey’s attitude in the matter as ‘a
touchstone for England’s feelings towards Russia’, while all the time
knowing that Grey’s policy was to avoid a breach with Russia. Unhappily, this
abundance of information was not enough to sway Wilhelm from his baser judgment:
the Russians were ‘scoundrels’ and Grey was a ‘donkey’ who was betraying
his country’s true interests. The Emperor’s lively marginalia displayed
slightly more prescience when he was informed that, for forms sake, Britain
would join in the collective representation at the Porte, but without Grey
himself ‘bringing strong interest to bear’ — ‘That will annoy the Grand
Vizier’, he gleefully noted.
On the afternoon of the 13th the three Entente Ambassadors took turns to
read an identical ‘questionnaire’ to the Grand Vizier, the main thrust of
which concerned a warning of the possible loss of Turkish independence and the
question of the control of the Dardanelles. Having told the representatives of
the Powers that this was none of their business, Said Halim asked the Russian
Ambassador to leave his copy of the questionnaire; Giers refused. When pressed
again two days later by Giers, the Grand Vizier declared that ‘the Straits,
the fortifications, and the preservation of order in the capital, are not within
the competence of the [German] General. These, as well as the declaration of the
state of siege, are directly dependent on the Secretary of War.’
Sazonov remained unsatisfied: as far as he was concerned the Entente itself was
now under threat. He complained to O’Beirne on 14 December that the matter had
provided ‘the first question seriously involving Russian interests’ in which
Russia had sought British support, ‘and therefore as furnishing a test of the
support which they can expect.’ Sazonov warned further that, if the Entente
suffered a defeat on the question, the Turks would conclude definitely ‘that
the strength lies on the side of the Triple Alliance’. The result then would
be that they would become intractable on the subject of Armenian reforms which
might lead to an uprising in that province which, in turn, would ‘necessarily
induce the armed intervention of Russia’; the result would certainly be war.
As Sazonov delivered this chilling warning, Liman and the first ten
officers of a projected party of forty-two were arriving at Constantinople.
Yet, despite the Russian’s dire prediction – which reached the Foreign
Office at 11.30 p.m. on 14 December – when Grey had a long conversation with
the German Ambassador the next day Lichnowsky could not but comment on how the
Foreign Secretary appeared to be in ‘excellent spirits’; though this could,
of course, also be accounted for by the prospect of the forthcoming holidays.
Grey believed that the main point at issue was whether Liman’s position
corresponded to that of von der Goltz or whether it was something entirely new.
Although, he admitted, this was personally a matter of indifference to him,
He
could not but fear, however, that if the powers granted to the German officers
now in Constantinople represented any considerable extension of their executive
functions, Russia might demand compensations in Constantinople in the form of
the transfer to her of a command in Armenia. Such a solution seemed to him to be
fraught with danger, as it might mean the beginning of the end — the beginning
of the partition of Turkey in Asia. He would do everything in his power to
prevent things taking such a turn, but in view of the excitement in St
Petersburg he could not guarantee that his efforts would be crowned with
success.
Inevitably,
Lichnowsky raised the question of Limpus, which, just as inevitably, Grey
parried: Limpus, he asserted, held the same position as his predecessor, whereas
Liman’s appointment was a significant departure from that of von der Goltz;
besides, Grey added (exhibiting his usual lack of strategic awareness), the
Russians ‘were much less touchy with regard to the fleet than with regard to
Constantinople.’ For his part, Lichnowsky maintained that, in Germany, little
importance was attached to the dispatch of the officers to Turkey and that, in
any case, it was improbable that a few officers could influence the course of
foreign policy in Constantinople. Throughout, the conversation had been
conducted in a friendly tone and Lichnowsky was left with the clear impression
that Grey found the whole affair ‘very unpleasant and exceedingly
embarrassing.’
Although signs began to appear that the German resolve was weakening, in
the days leading up to Christmas Sazonov continued to play a dangerous game. Sir
George Buchanan, the British Ambassador at St Petersburg, had now returned from
leave and Sazonov lost no time in warning him that irresoluteness – the
appearance of being afraid of war – would just as surely lead to war; however,
when questioned directly as to whether Russia would risk a war over the Liman
affair, Sazonov replied, ‘Certainly not.’
Similarly, when Goschen saw Jagow on Christmas Day the German Foreign Minister
was also keen to play down the whole affair. Jagow had just received a lengthy
communication from Wangenheim in which the Ambassador argued that the Russians
would have reacted badly whether or not Liman had been named to command the
First Army Corps, and, moreover, it was his opinion that the dual
responsibilities of training the Turkish Army and the command duties were too
onerous. Wangenheim suggested instead that Liman should be promoted to
Inspector, with his place in the First Army Corps being taken by a Turk, while
the German General Bronsart could command the army corps in Adrianople. He
envisaged however that the Turks would be loathe to agree to a higher command
for Liman as they were also in no mood to yield and that Liman himself, being a
‘passionate man’, would not take kindly to playing the part of a pawn.
Jagow was able to tell Goschen that, in addition to everything else, ‘the
Ottoman Government seemed rather inclined to make difficulties’ and, besides,
it had been the Turks themselves who had insisted Liman be given a slightly
superior position than von der Goltz as ‘the latter had, comparatively
speaking, failed owing to his not being in a position to enforce the necessary
discipline.’
With conciliation now in the air, it was to general chagrin that Sazonov
now proposed a joint démarche at Berlin!
When the Russian Chargé put this to Eyre Crowe (Grey being away on holiday) the
Assistant Under-Secretary decided it was time to get some firm answers: what,
exactly, did Russia want — the cancellation of Liman’s appointment or else
suitable compensation? If Turkey refused to accede, what coercive measures were
proposed? If Germany supported Turkish resistance to Russia, would the Russians
contemplate, as a last resort, war with the Triple Alliance?
It is not difficult to imagine the relief felt by Grey at being able to set
Crowe on the Russians and it was no surprise that Grey fully approved his
language. Goschen was informed on 2 January 1914 that, as far as Sazonov’s
proposed Berlin démarche was concerned, Grey did not want the Germans to know
that the request had been made and that Britain had rejected it. It would be, he
argued, ‘neither moral nor expedient to make capital at Berlin out of having
refused a Russian request. But I must tell Lichnowsky when I next see him that
the Russians are more concerned than ever and must be satisfied somehow…I
don’t believe the thing is worth all the fuss Sazonow makes about it; but as
long as he does make a fuss it will be important and very embarrassing to us:
for we can’t turn our back upon Russia.’
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