WHAT WOULD ENGLAND SAY?
Next morning the jubilant feeling that had pervaded Vienna the night
before was totally gone. A reaction had set in. Everyone realised
that the war was not to be a punitive expedition. It was a world-war.
The telegram sent by Russia was published to the world, and Austria
waited with ill-concealed anxiety to know what England intended to do.
Germany was convinced of England’s neutrality; she was certain that
Italy meant to go in with the two mighty Powers that were to sweep
the European chessboard with their mighty armies. Austria-Hungary was
not so confident as Germany. She knew that Italy was a most uncertain
factor. With diplomatic cunning she had concealed what she knew of
Italy’s intentions from her ally. She had feared that Germany might not
back her if she knew that the two Central Empires would be forced to
stand alone. The Kaiser had always said that he must have a fleet in
the Mediterranean at call before he began a world-war. If Italy stood
by him, everything was easy. Italy now declared her neutrality. The
Austrians expected this, and worse; they said quite freely, “Now that
Italy has the chance, she will turn upon us.” Guilty consciences helped
them to realise the truth. They had oppressed Italy for so long that
they never even expected her to do anything but take advantage of the
chance. Her statesmen were pessimists. They could never share Kaiser
Wilhelm’s optimism. They were aware that Austria had played the part
of tyrant, and did not expect gratitude. Unaccustomed to keep treaties
themselves, they did not expect other people to consider them as
binding when a chance of doing better presented itself. Austria, with
her cynicism, came much nearer the truth than Germany, who oppressed
her Slav subjects and then expected them to join in the song of
“Deutschland über Alles” and to love the Fatherland.
The Austrian politician, with a fineness of perception to which his
German _confrère_ is a stranger, understood that England would go
in with her allies. Germany argued, “It is Britain’s interest to
remain neutral, to capture the whole carrying-trade of Europe.” The
Austrian people hoped and believed that they might be right, but her
politicians had a conviction that Britain would not fall into Germany’s
carefully-spread toils. The Austrians also suspected that Britain knew
more of Germany’s aims than she acknowledged. They always complained
that Britain was an unknown factor. No statesman laid his cards on the
table as the Germans or as they themselves did.
Yet, having no cause to detest Britain, they naturally understood her
better than the Germans, who were blinded by the bitterest hate.
Meanwhile, European diplomacy was loth to believe that the last chance
of peace was gone. Efforts were made to come to some agreement. These
attempts to keep a peace that was already so seriously compromised were
only forlorn hopes. It is just possible that, in spite of everything,
they might have succeeded had it not been for various pieces of
trickery. Germany, whose reputation for honesty still stood high,
did not hesitate to stop important telegrams which were on their way
to Austria. She had made such costly preparations for war that she
considered that it would be inadvisable to withdraw now. Austria was
allowed no chance of reconsidering her decision, although Germany knew
that it had been made upon false premises.
The Viennese, now thoroughly frightened at the future, wished ardently
for peace. The war for which they had clamoured turned out something
very different from what they had expected. They would have to meet
enemies on all sides; only the frontier towards Germany was safe. The
city of Vienna was hastily fortified. It was no use taking chances.
Huge mounds were thrown up on the immense March plain beyond the
Danube, where many battles had been fought in the past. Meanwhile,
the public took enormous interest in the negotiations which were
still being carried on. Sir Edward Grey was the most popular man in
the capital for several days. He had always succeeded in keeping
peace before. Would he be able to do so again? The reply soon came.
Under similar circumstances he had been successful twice before
because Germany was not ready. Now she had finished the last of her
preparations, and did not wish for compromise.
When the news came that Britain was to stand by Russia and France,
there was a burst of rage throughout the country. So much had been
hoped from her neutrality. “The English were shopkeepers. Why had
they not taken the opportunity that fate afforded them and become rich
by supplying the belligerents with arms and provisions?” asked the
Austrians, who now said that Germany had deceived them with promises of
Italian help and British indifference.
The British living in populous centres felt the sudden change of
temperature. Instead of being the most popular among the foreigners,
they were suddenly classed with the Italians, who were the most
detested. This change affected people in various ways. Some stood
firm and were merely amused at the sudden change; other Englishmen,
middle-class gentlemen of pure race who had lived for half a lifetime
in Austria and Hungary, were hastily naturalised. This was hardly a
matter for surprise. They knew that the goods of British subjects
might be confiscated and their money forfeited. Having worked all
their lives for a competency which they wished to enjoy in their old
age, they were naturally loth to see it disappear before their eyes.
In their newly-acquired zeal for Austria, however, they could not let
the matter rest here. They wrote to the local papers saying that they
renounced their country. They had always regretted their nationality
and had never been happy under the rule of their rightful King. The
Austrians read these ebullitions with surprise. They said that they
were sorry that these men had chosen to join their nation instead of
another; they did not want such skunks. The Government then decided to
ask all renegades of means to contribute handsomely to the Red Cross
funds. Those who wished to remain in the country of their adoption must
give a third of their capital to this object. The newly-made Austrians
hurried off to the British consul, only to discover that, by becoming
naturalised, they had forfeited all right to the assistance usually
given to British subjects.
In seaports in Austria and Hungary other Englishmen denounced their
friends and acted as spies in the service of the Austrian Government.
They were men of means. Conduct that might be condoned, if not excused,
in members of the poverty-stricken international colony, which knows
no country and floats from capital to capital in search of a bare
subsistence, was regarded as detestable in men of pure Anglo-Saxon
nationality without the slightest admixture of foreign blood.
The women, curiously enough, trusted to the Austrians and Hungarians to
do them no ill. British diplomatists, fearing for the younger women,
gave their last ready money to get them out before the declaration of
war; but the English girls were not impressed with the necessity of
leaving. They were convinced that Austria did not intend to imperil her
chance of future negotiation by ill-treating women and children.
At the same time there was no show of love for the enemy. They
preferred to lose all they possessed rather than to attempt to become
naturalised. In the same way the British sportsmen went almost to a man
to concentration camps rather than toady to the enemy. These men were
born in Austria-Hungary for the most part. Many came of families that
were virtually Austrian, as they had lived generation after generation
in the country. Some sporting instinct had prevented their grandfathers
from taking out naturalisation papers. The same feeling stopped the
grandsons from any truckling to the enemy.
The most remarkable result of the war was perhaps the stripping off of
all pretences. People who had always posed as being excessively rich
suddenly confessed themselves to be paupers or to have lived beyond
their means. Brave men became cowards; and people whose courage had
often been doubted were revealed as creatures of the old bulldog
type. The diplomatist had a difficult time. The consuls dealt out
passports by the hundred. Sometimes, with a dozen girls all clamouring
for their papers at once and literally hanging on to their coat-tails,
they looked more like stage-managers surrounded by chorus girls than
anything else. “My dear ladies, we are at war,” a plaintive voice was
heard. “You really must put down the age you look.”... “No, I don’t
doubt your word; I know you are only twenty-four, but at the frontier
they will say the passport is stolen.... Forty-five now ... yes, that
is more like it.” “No, it really can’t be done.... As I told the lady
over there, you will have trouble when you want to cross.... We know
you have had a wearing life, and are really much younger than you look
... six children does take it out of one ... yes, yes ... fifty-five
will do.”