SEVEN YEARS IN VIENNA
[Illustration: THE GERMAN EMPEROR AND THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA, DRIVING
IN VIENNA, IN 1908.]
SEVEN YEARS
IN
VIENNA
(_August, 1907-August, 1914_)
_A RECORD OF INTRIGUE_
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
1917
_Printed in Great Britain._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
KING EDWARD AT ISCHL--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 1
CHAPTER II.
THE EMPEROR’S ILLNESS 11
CHAPTER III.
ARCHDUKE FRANCIS FERDINAND 18
CHAPTER IV.
COUNTESS CHOTEK 27
CHAPTER V.
VIENNA 37
CHAPTER VI.
SALONICA 44
CHAPTER VII.
KAISER WILHELM IN VIENNA 53
CHAPTER VIII.
AFFAIRS IN TURKEY 61
CHAPTER IX.
THE ANNEXATION 67
CHAPTER X.
PRINCE EGON FÜRSTENBERG AND COUNT TCHIRSKY: HOW THE KAISER
“WORKED” VIENNA 76
CHAPTER XI.
THE “GREAT SERVIA” IDEA--SERVIAN ORGANISATION 84
CHAPTER XII.
ALBANIA AND MACEDONIA 92
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BALKAN WAR 101
CHAPTER XIV.
KING FERDINAND OF BULGARIA, THE VAINEST MAN IN EUROPE 111
CHAPTER XV.
THE PRINCE OF WIED 120
CHAPTER XVI.
THE KING OF THE BLACK MOUNTAINS 132
CHAPTER XVII.
EMIGRATION PROMOTED BY GERMANY--SOCIAL QUESTIONS IN THE DUAL
MONARCHY 139
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE AGRARIANS AND THE SHORTAGE OF FOOD 147
CHAPTER XIX.
COUNT LEOPOLD BERCHTOLD AND COUNT STEPAN TISZA, THE MEN WHO
DECIDED ON WAR 157
CHAPTER XX.
AUSTRIA-HUNGARY AS A MILITARY AND NAVAL POWER 171
CHAPTER XXI.
ARCHDUKE CARL FRANCIS JOSEPH 180
CHAPTER XXII.
AUSTRIA-HUNGARY FACED BY REVOLUTION OR WAR--THE FINANCIAL
FACTOR 192
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE AUSTRO-HUNGARIAN CONSTITUTION 203
CHAPTER XXIV.
WHO MURDERED THE ARCHDUKE? 211
CHAPTER XXV.
WHY GERMANY DECIDED UPON WAR 222
CHAPTER XXVI.
DIPLOMATIC METHODS: A COMPARISON 231
CHAPTER XXVII.
PUNITIVE EXPEDITION OR WORLD-WAR? 244
CHAPTER XXVIII.
WHAT WOULD ENGLAND SAY? 255
CHAPTER XXIX.
AUSTRIA’S AWAKENING 263
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_From Photographs supplied by Newspaper Illustrations, Ltd._
The German Emperor and the Emperor of Austria
driving in Vienna in 1908 _Frontispiece_
_facing page_
The Duchess Hohenberg 24
The Archduke Francis Ferdinand 24
Baron Aehrenthal 46
Prince Max Egon Fürstenberg 78
King Ferdinand of Bulgaria 114
King Nikita of Montenegro 114
The Prince of Wied 126
Count Berchtold 168
Count Tisza 168
Archduke Carl Francis Joseph 184
Princess Zita of Parma 184
SEVEN YEARS IN VIENNA
CHAPTER I
KING EDWARD AT ISCHL--THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
It was mid-August in 1907. King Edward of England, who had been
undergoing a “cure” at Marienbad, was expected at Ischl, where the
Austrian Court was in residence. The whole place was hung with
flags that were put up at the last moment, as the “Gem of the
Salzkammergut,” as Ischl is often called, is one of the wettest spots
in the country. The local trains brought large numbers of peasants,
in their picturesque costume, who wanted to take advantage of the
opportunity of seeing the King of England. Other “peasants,” in
badly-fitting costumes, also came down in the Vienna night express.
Their white knees, left bare beneath the short leather breeches,
plainly showed that they were not accustomed to wearing the Styrian
costume. The peasant girls eyed them dubiously; one suggested that a
little walnut-juice would improve matters, while their little brothers
whispered “police.” The real peasants crowded around the station,
and watched the red carpet being laid, ready for royalty. They then
turned to see Emperor Francis Joseph drive up to the gates. He arrived
twenty minutes before the train was expected, as usual, for being
a great stickler for etiquette he always feared that some accident
or _contretemps_ might delay him, and the visitor reach the station
before the host. He dreaded nothing so much as a breach of etiquette
or good manners, and was willing to take any trouble to avoid even the
possibility of such a thing. The train from Marienbad steamed into the
station, the monarchs embraced; their intercourse had always been most
cordial. The King respected the simple old man, who had until then
guided the destinies of his country with great astuteness; while the
Emperor of Austria esteemed the statesman, for in Austria-Hungary and
the Balkans King Edward was reckoned as the most skilful diplomatist
of his time. As the Imperial carriage, with the gilt wheels, drove
through the streets, the people cheered heartily. King Edward was
the most popular of foreign monarchs in Austria, and the minimum of
precautions were taken for his safety. In spite of this the Austrian
police, ever watchful, took stock of every fresh arrival in the place
for days before the King appeared. On the morning of the visit they
ascertained what persons would be seated in windows commanding the line
of route, and carefully watched the houses that might harbour anarchist
or other assassins. The uninitiated suspected nothing of all this. The
long line of firemen that lined the streets looked like members of the
local brigade. It was not suspected that they were specially trained
men, who knew how to act and to co-operate at the right moment with
the “peasants,” also members of the same highly-organised force. They
all stood apparently careless and inattentive. Presently a carriage,
in which a spare, tall, pock-marked man was seated, drove through the
street. He was the Emperor’s private detective. His appearance always
heralded that of the monarchs, and the firemen braced themselves for a
combined movement, either to the right or left, forwards or backwards,
as previously arranged. The police behind helped with the work, and
just as the Imperial carriage flashed by, everyone in the crowd pushed
forward, sideways, or backwards, as though by accident. Any intending
assassin would have lost his place at the front, and have missed the
golden opportunity, through this clever manœuvre of the police. These
precautions were always taken for every Royal visitor, for although
Emperor Francis Joseph himself was accustomed to stroll about the Ischl
woods, and went hunting in the forests quite unattended, he took care
that his guests were exposed to no risks.
Everything went off as arranged, although there was a strained feeling
in the air, partly due to the thundery weather. It was known, too, that
King Edward was on a diplomatic tour throughout Europe, and the people
knew that meetings of monarchs in summer are often of great importance,
even when they are unaccompanied by their Ministers. Emperor Francis
Joseph is practically a despotic monarch, for the Austro-Hungarian
Constitution exists merely on paper. He alone decides the foreign
policy of the country, and determines whether there shall be peace
or war. Thus he is in a position to make decisions for his country,
without consulting his Ministers. Austria-Hungary had long been quiet,
almost to the point of stagnation. Her statesmen had been fully
occupied in paying off the burdens incurred during the last war, and
were now delighted that, after a succession of deficits, they could at
length turn out Budgets with surpluses at the end of the financial year.
There was trouble with Servia, it is true, Austrian machinations had
deprived Servia of an outlet to the sea. Servia, being a pastoral and
agricultural country, wished to sell her products, and Austria, the
natural market, was closed to her.
The Austrians, who were very short of meat, promised to take over
Servian meat, but the Hungarian agrarians, or large land-owners, who
wanted to keep up the prices of their own products, managed to prevent
this. They appointed veterinary surgeons to examine imported meat; and
by unjustly condemning the Servian meat at the frontier, they succeeded
in preventing its import. This line of conduct caused much greater
discontent among the Servs than a downright refusal to admit their
products would have done. They naturally objected to being cheated by
their powerful and unscrupulous neighbours, and the friction caused
by the “Servian Pig” question was continual. Otherwise the Balkans
were strangely, almost uncannily, quiet. There were no massacres to
report, no bands who roamed the country and committed depredations.
It seemed that the two monarchs could have nothing to discuss. As the
Emperor brought the King back to the Hotel Elisabeth in the afternoon,
the faces of both monarchs could be seen very plainly in the blaze of
the sun that was pouring down with great fierceness. Emperor Francis
Joseph looked much older than he had done that morning. His face was
drawn, the fine lines on the parchment-like skin were deepened. It did
not need any unusual acuteness to see that something had gone wrong.
King Edward walked up to his suite of rooms with something weary in his
step. The Emperor, freed from the restraint of the King’s presence,
returned to the Imperial villa, his slight frame shrunken to half its
usual size, his soldierly bearing gone.
All Ischl went home to dress for the gala performance at the tiny Court
theatre. It was always difficult to get tickets at the bijou theatre
when members of the Imperial family were expected; on the night of King
Edward’s visit it was impossible to obtain them. The police excluded
all foreigners by careful manipulation. By evening it was already
known in Ischl that the Emperor and the King had quarrelled violently.
Attendants, posted behind doors, ready to spring to attention,
overhear many things. They could give no details of what the subject
under discussion had been, but they said that Emperor Francis Joseph
had lost his temper in the presence of a foreign King, and although
outbursts of this kind were common enough within the family, it was an
unprecedented thing in the presence of a stranger. They knew that the
occasion had been no ordinary one, and that the future policy of the
country had been under consideration.
Just as the curtain went up for the performance of some light musical
comedy, the sort of play that is at its very best in Vienna, the
thunderstorm that had been threatening all day long, broke outside.
The rain rattled down on the roof of the theatre. The real heroine of
the piece, who had been brought down from the capital on purpose, was
a dazzlingly beautiful woman; she laughed, danced, and pirouetted all
over the stage. She was the very embodiment of Vienna “cheek.” Just
at the end of the first act--royalty never sees a piece through when
on State visits--she abruptly turned her back towards the Imperial
box. She was lightly clad, even for the Austrian stage, as she tripped
laughingly to the front, and carried out her instructions. A thrill
went through the audience. Would the King understand? His British
phlegm stood him in good stead. He remained in his seat, although
he was sufficiently acquainted with Austrian manners and customs to
comprehend the somewhat heavy witticism. Only when the curtain fell did
he rise and leave the theatre. “What was the meaning of the insult?”
asked all Ischl. “What did it portend?” They learnt the answer just
seven years later to the very day.
The people about the palace discussed the incident at the theatre. They
understood that it was meant as a hint to the King that his presence in
Austria was not desired, if he came to discuss politics. As a private
friend and a brother monarch he was always welcome. He had attempted
to show the Emperor that the close alliance with Germany was not for
the good of Europe. Not merely that, but Austria-Hungary herself would
imperil her existence as a great Power if she allowed herself to become
merged in Germany. The aged Emperor, who had long been accustomed to
depend upon Germany for assistance against the Slavs, would not listen
to the King. He was perhaps aware that his policy was wrong, but being
obstinate, like all the Habsburgs, he would not acknowledge it. He did
not intend to alter his policy at the eleventh hour, in any case. If
there must be a change let his successor see to it. King Edward made
due allowance for the Emperor’s age, but it is doubtful whether he ever
again made any direct effort to turn Austria from her fatal path. She
stood at the parting of the ways. Her Emperor chose her destiny that
summer day in Ischl. Diplomatists and Ambassadors took up the King’s
task; they repeatedly pointed out the disastrous consequences of the
close alliance with Germany. Instead of discussing the situation with
Italy, Austria-Hungary informed Germany of what was happening. Instead
of keeping the balance equal between Italy and Germany, Austria-Hungary
really concluded a partnership with Germany; the Triple Alliance
degenerated into a Dual Alliance that kept up an understanding with
the third partner. Italy was quick to realise this. So long as Russia
and France were allied, and occupied a position that was a set-off to
that held by Germany and an Austria that had not given up her liberty
of action, European peace was assured. Great Britain and Italy were not
bound to their Allies to any great extent.
The result of the meeting at Ischl soon made itself felt. Italian
diplomatists began to back out of their obligations towards Germany
and Austria-Hungary. Their policy of “cooling down,” at first barely
perceptible, took form somewhat later, at the renewal of the Triple
Alliance, when Italy promised very little in return for the many
“benefits” heaped upon her by Germany. Great Britain, aware of the
danger of the centre of the European chessboard being occupied by one
vast State, stretching from the North Sea and Baltic to the Adriatic,
was more inclined to listen to advances from France and Russia, and
to deliberate upon the advantages of a closer contact with Germany’s
enemies. The suggestion made by France, that Great Britain should
introduce conscription, prevented the understanding becoming anything
more. France pointed out the necessity of preparing for an aggressive
move on the part of Germany, but Great Britain would not even
consider a proposition so far from her theories of government as was
conscription.