GERMANY’S PROGRAMME
Germany’s programme, then, from the beginning of the crisis resolves
itself into two parts: to restrict the war in the sense that Austria’s
enemy was to have no allies, and to extend it by letting loose against
Servia as many of the Balkan States as could be enlisted by enticing
promises. Congruously with the first object, the seemingly humane
movement in favour of “localization” was approved by the Chancellor,
localization being construed to mean the neutrality of Russia. And for
a time it was not merely hoped, but believed, that Russia would remain
quiescent. Indeed, this belief was, as we have seen, the groundwork
of the policy with which the German Ambassador in Vienna identified
himself.
M. von Tschirschky is one of those convinced, acidulous Russophobes
who are obsessed by racial hatred of an intensity which men of the
English-speaking races are unable to realize. His diplomatic methods
extend far beyond the limits within which the average Ambassador and
diplomatist feels it his duty to keep his activity. In proselytizing he
is an adept; but his limitations are those of countrymen and class. He
had lived in St. Petersburg, where his diplomatic career was Sisyphus
work, and ever since then the keyword of his policy has been _delenda
est Moscovia_. Nor was he concerned to dissemble his passion. Every
politician in Austria, native and foreign, was aware of it, and when
diplomatists there heard that he had been enjoined by his Chief to
plead the cause of moderation in Vienna, they shrugged their shoulders
and grinned. He assured the Austrian Government that, from information
in possession of the Wilhelmstrasse, Russia was powerless to strike
a blow. “She is a negligible quantity,” he repeated. “If her armies
were to take the field the dynasty would fall. And the Tsar, alive
to the danger, is resolved to steer clear of it. Were he prevailed
upon to run the risk, the whole political and financial structure
would fall to pieces like a pack of cards.” And he was certain of
what he advanced. He honestly deceived himself before misleading his
friends. Parenthetically, it may be well to remind the reader that
this contention about Russia’s military impotence, which was accepted
in Vienna as well as Berlin, makes short work of the plea now advanced
that it was Russia’s bellicose attitude that provoked Germany. The
contrary proposition is true. Germany was aggressively insolent because
Russia was believed to be militarily powerless. That is why Austria’s
ultimatum to Servia was so indited that a refusal could be counted upon.
The history of that Note is curious. The assassination of the
Archduke Franz Ferdinand was fastened upon as a fitting pretext for
mutilating the Servian State. Servia’s Government and the entire
class of intellectuals from which it was drawn were stigmatized as
the real authors of the crime. The murder itself was declared to be
but a typical act of an unprincipled political organization which had
ramifications all over the land, including all political parties, the
clergy, and the teaching bodies. Bomb-throwing, assassination, and
a subversive propaganda in Bosnia and Herzegovina were alleged to
be among its recognized methods. Austria-Hungary, it was contended,
could not lead a normal life so long as this state of affairs was
allowed to endure. It must, therefore, be transformed radically. But no
transformation could be effected until Servia was brought to her knees
by the Habsburgs and forced into the groove of chronic quiescence which
had been destined for her by the murdered Archduke. In other words, she
must become a satellite of her powerful neighbour, and subordinate her
policy, military, commercial, and foreign, to that of the Ballplatz.
This was the programme, most of which had been adopted some eighteen
months before, during the factitious excitement about the imaginary
murder of the Austrian Consul, Prochaska, by the Serbs. I announced it
in the _Daily Telegraph_ at the time. Since then it had been kept in
abeyance, and now the crime at Sarajevo was held to have supplied a
favourable conjuncture for reviving it.
That official way of stating the grounds of the quarrel had one great
advantage. It identified Servia with monstrous crime and Austria with
law and justice. Foreign Governments which set a high value on the
reign of order and tranquillity would, it was hoped, be deterred from
giving countenance to such a nation of criminals as Servia was alleged
to be. By way of strengthening this deterrent, they were reminded of
the stain on Servia’s honour contracted when King Alexander and his
consort were brutally done to death. By that crime, it was alleged, the
present King himself had been compromised, and was consequently now
powerless to curb his unprincipled subjects, on whose goodwill his own
tenure of office depended. From Servia’s goodwill, therefore, there was
nothing to be hoped. But if regeneration could not come from within, it
must proceed from outside. And as Austria’s political interests were
also at stake, she would undertake the work of sternly punishing crime
and efficaciously preventing its recurrence. To this rôle no civilized
Power could reasonably demur without laying itself open to a charge of
fomenting a vast criminal organization which it behoves monarchs and
people alike to put down by every means in their power. This was the
argument by which Russia was to be floored. It was also the bridge over
which she would, it was assumed, recoil from Servia when Servia was at
grips with Austria-Hungary.
Now in that chain of allegations there was at least one link of truth.
Servian propaganda in Bosnia and Herzegovina had certainly been
unceasing, resourceful, and dangerous. It had also inflicted enormous
losses on the population of the Dual Monarchy. And the Vienna Cabinet
had undoubtedly a strong case for putting forth energetic action and
exacting substantial guarantees. Had it contented itself with thus
redressing real grievances all Europe would have endorsed its claims
and the war would have been postponed.
For Bosnia and Herzegovina, whose inhabitants are all Serbs by race and
language, were honeycombed with disaffection. No outsider realized or
even yet realizes the extent to which Austrian rule there was burrowed.
During the exhaustive investigation into the origins of the crime of
Sarajevo, the Central Governments learned with dismay that disaffection
was rife everywhere. This sensational revelation was the only result
of the inquiry, which was hidden from the public gaze, lest it should
compromise the local authorities and discredit the administration in
the eyes of the peoples.
But Austria had other interests besides her own to consider. Once more
it had fallen to her lot to discharge the functions of “brilliant
second” to her ally. And this was her undoing.
So much depended on the reception which her demands would meet in
Servia and Europe generally that the utmost care was bestowed on the
wording of it. The task of drawing it up was confided to the Hungarian
Premier, Count Tisza, partly on intrinsic grounds--this statesman
having displayed a keen interest in foreign politics generally and
in Balkan affairs in particular--and partly for political reasons,
Austria being desirous of bestowing upon Hungary an active rôle in
what was a fateful enterprise for both halves of the Monarchy. Before
the text of the document was fixed, the results of the inquiry into
the assassination were committed to writing, in the form of a _pièce
justificative_, intended to bring the outside world into dynamic
contact with what Austria brandmarked as a realm of assassins and
anarchists. Hardly any mystery was made of the object which the demands
were meant to attain. It was expected and intended that M. Pasitch
would find it impossible to assent to the terms laid down, some of
which could only be complied with by his treating the Constitution as a
worthless scrap of paper. It was felt that if he yielded an indignant
people would sweep away his Government, return a negative answer, and
possibly inaugurate a saturnalia of anarchy, to which the Emperor Franz
Josef’s troops would put a speedy end.
Sir Maurice de Bunsen, the British Ambassador in Vienna, in one of
his despatches, writes of this ultimatum: “Its integral acceptance by
Servia was neither expected nor desired, and when, on the following
afternoon, it was at first rumoured in Vienna that it had been
unconditionally accepted, there was a moment of keen disappointment.”
I was in Vienna at the time, and I know that that is a correct
presentment of the facts.
A long period of anxious suspense had preceded the publication of
the Note. In diplomatic circles curiosity became painfully intense.
Every hint of what was coming was eagerly snatched up, commented, and
transmitted to headquarters. Italian diplomacy, weighed down by a sense
of heavy responsibility and intuitive apprehension of imminent danger,
was treated to vague phrases about the heinous nature of the crime, the
necessity of preventing its recurrence, and Austria’s resolve to have
her relations with the Slav kingdom placed on a new and stable basis.
But beyond these generalities nothing concrete was submitted either to
the Duke of Avarna in Vienna or to the Marquis di San Giuliano in Rome.
The Russian Ambassador in the Austrian capital was led to infer that
no sweeping stroke would be dealt against Servia, and that the demands
contemplated would be compatible with her integrity, independence, and
honour. And he accordingly took a fortnight’s leave of absence a few
days before the Note was presented.
Very different was the attitude of the Austrian Government towards
Germany, who was vigilantly watching for every new phase of the
historic transaction in order to subordinate the whole to her own
vaster design. Nothing was kept back from the politicians of the
Wilhelmstrasse but the rough draft of the Note. The German Ambassador,
von Tschirschky, however, was one of the few who were initiated into
that mystery. This, it must be confessed, was natural. For without the
resolute backing of Germany the position taken up by Austria-Hungary
would have been untenable. Congruously with this privileged position,
Germany’s representative, von Tschirschky, saw the proposed text of the
ultimatum. Not that his advice on the subject was taken or solicited.
His views were known in advance. But it was he who telegraphed the
wording of the document to the Kaiser, who was then ostentatiously
absent from Germany. I advance this statement with full knowledge of
what actually took place. This communication was made not merely for
the purpose of keeping the War Lord informed of what it behoved him
to know, but also and mainly in order to secure his express assent
to the set terms of an official paper which was intended to bring
about hostilities between Austria and Servia, and might incidentally
precipitate a European conflict.
Well, the rough draft as originally drawn up by Count Tisza did not
obtain the Emperor’s unconditional approval. The versatile monarch
suggested a certain amendment to the wording and fixed the time-limit,
the alleged object of which was to leave no room for evasion, no
loophole for escape. And as a matter of course the verbal modifications
he proposed--I only know that their purpose was to sharpen
(scharfmachen) the terms--were embodied in the ultimatum which, thus
amended and sanctioned, was duly presented. I further had it on the
same indisputable authority that the time-limit of forty-eight hours
was the result of a proposal coming direct from Kaiser Wilhelm, who
held that Servia must not be allowed to deliberate or to take counsel
with Russia, but should be confronted with the necessity of giving
a categorical answer at once. His own mode of action towards Russia
and Belgium, to each of which States he allowed but twelve hours for
deliberation, was conceived in the same spirit and prompted by a like
calculation.