took in hand with energy and pursued untiringly, in spite of all
obstacles, the organization of the army. A reliable and well-organized
armed force was the best security against internal trouble-mongers, and
the best argument in international relations, as subsequent events
amply proved.
The Rumanian political parties were at the outset personal parties,
supporting one or other of the candidates to the throne. When Greek
influence, emanating from Constantinople, began to make itself felt, in
the seventeenth century, a national party arose for the purpose of
opposing it. This party counted upon the support of one of the
neighbouring powers, and its various groups were known accordingly as
the Austrian, the Russian, &c., parties. With the election of Cuza the
external danger diminished, and the politicians divided upon principles
of internal reform. Cuza not being in agreement with either party, they
united to depose him, keeping truce during the period preceding the
accession of Prince Carol, when grave external dangers wore
threatening, and presiding in a coalition ministry at the introduction
of the new constitution of 1866. But this done, the truce was broken.
Political strife again awoke with all the more vigour for having been
temporarily suppressed.
The reforms which it became needful to introduce gave opportunity for
the development of strong divergence of views between the political
parties. The Liberals—the Red Party, as they were called at the
time—(led by C.A. Rosetti and Ioan Bratianu, both strong Mazzinists,
both having taken an important part in the revolutionary movements of
1848 and in that which led to the deposition of Cuza) were advocating
reforms hardly practicable even in an established democracy; the
Conservatives (led by Lascar Catargiu) were striving to stem the flood
of ideal liberal measures on which all sense of reality was being
carried away.[1] In little more than a year there were four different
Cabinets, not to mention numerous changes in individual ministers.
‘Between the two extreme tendencies Prince Carol had to strive
constantly to preserve unity of direction, he himself being the only
stable element in that ever unstable country.’ It was not without many
untoward incidents that he succeeded. His person was the subject of
more than one unscrupulous attack by politicians in opposition, who did
not hesitate to exploit the German origin and the German sympathies of
the prince in order to inflame the masses. These internal conflicts
entered upon an acute phase at the time of the Franco-German conflict
of 1870. Whilst, to satisfy public opinion, the Foreign Secretary of
the time, M.P.P. Carp, had to declare in parliament, that ‘wherever the
colours of France are waving, there are our interests and sympathies’,
the prince wrote to the King of Prussia assuring him that ‘his
sympathies will always be where the black and white banner is waving’.
In these so strained circumstances a section of the population of
Bucarest allowed itself to be drawn into anti-German street riots.
Disheartened and despairing of ever being able to do anything for that
‘beautiful country’, whose people ‘neither know how to govern
themselves nor will allow themselves to be governed’, the prince
decided to abdicate.
[Footnote 1: A few years ago a group of politicians, mainly of the old
Conservative party, detached themselves and became the
Conservative-Democratic party under the leadership of M. Take Ionescu.]
So strong was the feeling in parliament roused by the prince’s decision
that one of his most inveterate opponents now declared that it would be
an act of high treason for the prince to desert the country at such a
crisis. We have an inkling of what might have resulted in the letter
written by the Emperor of Austria to Prince Carol at the time, assuring
him that ‘my Government will eagerly seize any opportunity which
presents itself to prove by deeds the interest it takes in a country
connected by so many bonds to my empire’. Nothing but the efforts of
Lascar Catargiu and the sound patriotism of a few statesmen saved the
country from what would have been a real misfortune. The people were
well aware of this, and cheers lasting several minutes greeted that
portion of the message from the throne which conveyed to the new
parliament the decision of the prince to continue reigning.
The situation was considerably strengthened during a period of five
years’ Conservative rule. Prince Carol’s high principles and the
dignified example of his private life secured for him the increasing
respect of politicians of all colours; while his statesmanlike
qualities, his patience and perseverance, soon procured him an
unlimited influence in the affairs of the state. This was made the more
possible from the fact that, on account of the political ignorance of
the masses, and of the varied influence exercised on the electorate by
the highly centralized administration, no Rumanian Government ever
fails to obtain a majority at an election. Any statesman can undertake
to form a Cabinet if the king assents to a dissolution of parliament.
Between the German system, where the emperor chooses the ministers
independently of parliament, and the English system, where the members
of the executive are indicated by the electorate through the medium of
parliament, independently of the Crown, the Rumanian system takes a
middle path. Neither the crown, nor the electorate, nor parliament
possesses exclusive power in this direction. The Government is not,
generally speaking, defeated either by the electorate or by parliament.
It is the Crown which has the final decision in the changes of régime,
and upon the king falls the delicate task of interpreting the
significance of political or popular movements. The system—which comes
nearest to that of Spain—undoubtedly has its advantages in a young and
turbulent polity, by enabling its most stable element, the king, to
ensure a continuous and harmonious policy. But it also makes the
results dangerously dependent on the quality of that same element.
Under the leadership of King Carol it was an undoubted success; the
progress made by the country from an economic, financial, and military
point of view during the last half-century is really enormous. Its
position was furthermore strengthened by the proclamation of its
independence, by the final settlement of the dynastic question,[1] and
by its elevation on May 10, 1881, to the rank of kingdom, when upon the
head of the first King of Rumania was placed a crown of steel made from
one of the guns captured before Plevna from an enemy centuries old.
[Footnote 1: In the absence of direct descendants and according to the
constitution, Prince Ferdinand (born 1865), second son of King Carol’s
elder brother, was named Heir Apparent to the Rumanian throne. He
married in 1892 Princess Marie of Coburg, and following the death of
King Carol in 1914, he acceded to the throne as Ferdinand I.]
From the point of view of internal politics progress has been less
satisfactory. The various reforms once achieved, the differences of
principle between the political parties degenerated into mere
opportunism, the Opposition opposing, the Government disposing. The
parties, and especially the various groups within the parties, are
generally known by the names of their leaders, these denominations not
implying any definite political principle or Government programme. It
is, moreover, far from edifying that the personal element should so
frequently distort political discussion. ‘The introduction of modern
forms of state organization has not been followed by the
democratization of all social institutions…. The masses of the people
have remained all but completely outside political life. Not only are
we yet far from government of the people by the people, but our
liberties, though deeply graven on the facade of our constitution, have
not permeated everyday life nor even stirred in the consciousness of
the people.’[1]
[Footnote 1: C. Stere, _Social-democratizm sau Poporanizm_, Jassy.]
It is strange that King Carol, who had the welfare of the people
sincerely at heart, should not have used his influence to bring about a
solution of the rural question; but this may perhaps be explained by
the fact that, from Cuza’s experience, he anticipated opposition from
all political factions. It would almost seem as if, by a tacit
understanding, and anxious to establish Rumania’s international
position, King Carol gave his ministers a free hand in the rural
question, reserving for himself an equally free hand in foreign
affairs. This seems borne out by the fact that, in the four volumes in
which an ‘eyewitness’, making use of the king’s private correspondence
and personal notes, has minutely described the first fifteen years of
the reign, the peasant question is entirely ignored.[1]
[Footnote 1: The ‘eyewitness’ was Dr. Schaeffer, formerly tutor to
Prince Carol.]
Addressing himself, in 1871, to the Rumanian representative at the
Porte, the Austrian ambassador, von Prokesch-Osten, remarked: ‘If
Prince Carol manages to pull through without outside help, and make
Rumania governable, it will be the greatest _tour de force_ I have ever
witnessed in my diplomatic career of more than half a century. It will
be nothing less than a conjuring trick.’ King Carol succeeded; and only
those acquainted with Rumanian affairs can appreciate the truth of the
ambassador’s words.
7
_Contemporary Period: Foreign Affairs_
Up to 1866 Rumanian foreign politics may be said to have been
non-existent. The offensive or defensive alliances against the Turks
concluded by the Rumanian rulers with neighbouring princes during the
Middle Ages were not made in pursuance of any definite policy, but
merely to meet the moment’s need. With the establishment of Turkish
suzerainty Rumania became a pawn in the foreign politics of the
neighbouring empires, and we find her repeatedly included in their
projects of acquisition, partition, or compensation (as, for instance,
when she was put forward as eventual compensation to Poland for the
territories lost by that country in the first partition).[1] Rumania
may be considered fortunate in not having lost more than Bucovina to
Austria (1775), Bessarabia to Russia (1812), and, temporarily, to
Austria the region between the Danube and the Aluta, called Oltenia
(lost by the Treaty of Passarowitz, 1718; recovered by the Treaty of
Belgrade, 1739).
[Footnote 1: See Albert Sorel, _The Eastern Question in the Eighteenth
Century_ (Engl. ed.), 1898, pp. 141, 147 &c.]
While her geographical position made of Rumania the cynosure of many
covetous eyes, it at the same time saved her from individual attack by
exciting countervailing jealousies. Moreover, the powers came at last
to consider her a necessary rampart to the Ottoman Empire, whose
dissolution all desired but none dared attempt. Austria and Russia,
looking to the future, were continually competing for paramount
influence in Rumania, though it is not possible to determine where
their policy of acquisition ended and that of influence began.
The position of the principalities became more secure after the Paris
Congress of 1858, which placed them under the collective guarantee of
the great powers; but this fact, and the maintenance of Turkish
suzerainty, coupled with their own weakness, debarred them from any
independence in their foreign relations.
A sudden change took place with the accession of Prince Carol; a
Hohenzollern prince related to the King of Prussia and to Napoleon III
could not be treated like one of the native boyards. The situation
called for the more delicacy of treatment by the powers in view of the
possibility of his being able to better those internal conditions which
made Rumania ‘uninteresting’ as a factor in international politics. In
fact, the prince’s personality assured for Rumania a status which she
could otherwise have attained only with time, by a political, economic,
and military consolidation of her home affairs; and the prince does not
fail to remark in his notes that the attentions lavished upon him by
other sovereigns were meant rather for the Hohenzollern prince than for
the Prince of Rumania. Many years later even, after the war of 1878,
while the Russians were still south of the Danube with their lines of
communication running through Rumania, Bratianu begged of the prince to
give up a projected journey on account of the difficulties which might
at any moment arise, and said: ‘Only the presence of your Royal
Highness keeps them [the Russians] at a respectful distance.’ It was
but natural under these circumstances that the conduct of foreign
affairs should have devolved almost exclusively on the prince. The
ascendancy which his high personal character, his political and
diplomatic skill, his military capacity procured for him over the
Rumanian statesmen made this situation a lasting one; indeed it became
almost a tradition. Rumania’s foreign policy since 1866 may be said,
therefore, to have been King Carol’s policy. Whether one agrees with it
or not, no one can deny with any sincerity that it was inspired by the
interests of the country, as the monarch saw them. Rebuking Bismarck’s
unfair attitude towards Rumania in a question concerning German
investors, Prince Carol writes to his father in 1875: ‘I have to put
Rumania’s interests above those of Germany. My path is plainly mapped
out, and I must follow It unflinchingly, whatever the weather.’
Prince Carol was a thorough German, and as such naturally favoured the
expansion of German influence among his new subjects. But if he desired
Rumania to follow in the wake of German foreign policy, it was because
of his unshaken faith in the future of his native country, because he
considered that Rumania had nothing to fear from Germany, whilst it was
all in the interest of that country to see Rumania strong and firmly
established. At the same time, acting on the advice of Bismarck, he did
not fail to work toward a better understanding with Russia, ‘who might
become as well a reliable friend as a dangerous enemy to the Rumanian
state’. The sympathy shown him by Napoleon III was not always shared by
the French statesmen,[1] and the unfriendly attitude of the French
ambassador in Constantinople caused Prince Carol to remark that ‘M. de
Moustier is considered a better Turk than the Grand Turk himself’.
Under the circumstances a possible alliance between France and Russia,
giving the latter a free hand in the Near East, would have proved a
grave danger to Rumania; ‘it was, consequently, a skilful, if imperious
act, to enter voluntarily, and without detriment to the existing
friendly relations with France, within the Russian sphere of influence,
and not to wait till compelled to do so.’
[Footnote 1: See _Revue des Deux Mondes_, June 15, 1866, article by
Eugène Forcade.]
The campaigns of 1866 and 1870 having finally established Prussia’s
supremacy in the German world, Bismarck modified his attitude towards
Austria. In an interview with the Austrian Foreign Secretary, Count
Beust (Gastein, October 1871), he broached for the first time the
question of an alliance and, touching upon the eventual dissolution of
the Ottoman Empire, ‘obligingly remarked that one could not conceive of
a great power not making of its faculty for expansion a vital
question’.[2] Quite in keeping with that change were the counsels
henceforth tendered to Prince Carol. Early that year Bismarck wrote of
his sorrow at having been forced to the conclusion that Rumania had
nothing to expect from Russia, while Prince Anthony, Prince Carol’s
father and faithful adviser, wrote soon after the above interview
(November 1871), that ‘under certain circumstances it would seem a
sound policy for Rumania to rely upon the support of Austria’.
Persevering in this crescendo of suggestion, Austria’s new foreign
secretary, Count Andrassy, drifted at length to the point by plainly
declaring not long afterwards that ‘Rumania is not so unimportant that
one should deprecate an alliance with her’.
[Footnote 2: Gabriel Hanotaux, _La Guerre des Balkans et l’Europe_
(Beust, Mémoires), Paris, 1914, p. 297.]
Prince Carol had accepted the throne with the firm intention of shaking
off the Turkish suzerainty at the first opportunity, and not
unnaturally he counted upon Germany’s support to that end. He and his
country were bitterly disappointed, therefore, when Bismarck appealed
directly to the Porte for the settlement of a difference between the
Rumanian Government and a German company entrusted with the
construction of the Rumanian railways; the more so as the Paris
Convention had expressly forbidden any Turkish interference in
Rumania’s internal affairs. It thus became increasingly evident that
Rumania could not break away from Russia, the coming power in the East.
The eyes of Russia were steadfastly fixed on Constantinople: by joining
her, Rumania had the best chance of gaining her independence; by not
doing so, she ran the risk of being trodden upon by Russia on her way
to Byzantium. But though resolved to co-operate with Russia in any
eventual action in the Balkans, Prince Carol skilfully avoided
delivering himself blindfold into her hands by deliberately cutting
himself away from the other guaranteeing powers. To the conference
which met in Constantinople at the end of 1876 to settle Balkan affairs
he addressed the demand that ‘should war break out between one of the
guaranteeing powers and Turkey, Rumania’s line of conduct should be
dictated, and her neutrality and rights guaranteed, by the other
powers’. This _démarche_ failed. The powers had accepted the invitation
to the conference as one accepts an invitation to visit a dying man.
Nobody had any illusions on the possibility of averting war, least of
all the two powers principally interested. In November 1876 Ali Bey and
M. de Nelidov arrived simultaneously and secretly in Bucarest to sound
Rumania as to an arrangement with their respective countries, Turkey
and Russia. In opposition to his father and Count Andrassy, who
counselled neutrality and the withdrawal of the Rumanian army into the
mountains, and in sympathy with Bismarck’s advice, Prince Carol
concluded a Convention with Russia on April 16, 1877. Rumania promised
to the Russian army ‘free passage through Rumanian territory and the
treatment due to a friendly army’; whilst Russia undertook to respect
Rumania’s political rights, as well as ‘to maintain and defend her
actual integrity’. ‘It is pretty certain’, wrote Prince Carol to his
father, ‘that this will not be to the liking of most of the great
powers; but as they neither can nor will offer us anything, we cannot
do otherwise than pass them by. A successful Russian campaign will free
us from the nominal dependency upon Turkey, and Europe will never allow
Russia to take her place.’
On April 23 the Russian armies passed the Pruth. An offer of active
participation by the Rumanian forces in the forthcoming campaign was
rejected by the Tsar, who haughtily declared that ‘Russia had no need
for the cooperation of the Rumanian army’, and that ‘it was only under
the auspices of the Russian forces that the foundation of Rumania’s
future destinies could be laid’. Rumania was to keep quiet and accept
in the end what Russia would deign to give her, or, to be more correct,
take from her. After a few successful encounters, however, the Tsar’s
soldiers met with serious defeats before Plevna, and persistent appeals
were now urged for the participation of the Rumanian army in the
military operations. The moment had come for Rumania to bargain for her
interests. But Prince Carol refused to make capital out of the serious
position of the Russians; he led his army across the Danube and, at the
express desire of the Tsar, took over the supreme command of the united
forces before Plevna. After a glorious but terrible struggle Plevna,
followed at short intervals by other strongholds, fell, the peace
preliminaries were signed, and Prince Carol returned to Bucarest at the
head of his victorious army.
Notwithstanding the flattering words in which the Tsar spoke of the
Rumanian share in the success of the campaign, Russia did not admit
Rumania to the Peace Conference. By the Treaty of San Stefano (March
3,1878) Rumania’s independence was recognized; Russia obtained from
Turkey the Dobrudja and the delta of the Danube, reserving for herself
the right to exchange these territories against the three southern
districts of Bessarabia, restored to Rumania by the Treaty of Paris,
1856. This stipulation was by no means a surprise to Rumania, Russia’s
intention to recover Bessarabia was well known to the Government, who
hoped, however, that the demand would not be pressed after the
effective assistance rendered by the Rumanian army. ‘If this be not a
ground for the extension of our territory, it is surely none for its
diminution,’ remarked Cogalniceanu at the Berlin Congress. Moreover,
besides the promises of the Tsar, there was the Convention of the
previous year, which, in exchange for nothing more than free passage
for the Russian armies, guaranteed Rumania’s integrity. But upon this
stipulation Gorchakov put the jesuitical construction that, the
Convention being concluded in view of a war to be waged against Turkey,
it was only against Turkey that Russia undertook to guarantee Rumania’s
integrity; as to herself, she was not in the least bound by that
arrangement. And should Rumania dare to protest against, or oppose the
action of the Russian Government, ‘the Tsar will order that Rumania be
occupied and the Rumanian army disarmed’. ‘The army which fought at
Plevna’, replied Prince Carol through his minister, ‘may well be
destroyed, but never disarmed.’
There was one last hope left to Rumania: that the Congress which met in
Berlin in June 1878 for the purpose of revising the Treaty of San
Stefano, would prevent such an injustice. But Bismarck was anxious that
no ‘sentiment de dignité blessée’ should rankle in Russia’s future
policy; the French representative, Waddington, was ‘above all a
practical man’; Corti, the Italian delegate, was ‘nearly rude’ to the
Rumanian delegates; while Lord Beaconsfield, England’s envoy, receiving
the Rumanian delegates privately, had nothing to say but that ‘in
politics the best services are often rewarded with ingratitude’. Russia
strongly opposed even the idea that the Rumanian delegates should be
allowed to put their case before the Congress, and consent was obtained
only with difficulty after Lord Salisbury had ironically remarked that
‘having heard the representatives of Greece, which was claiming foreign
provinces, it would be but fair to listen also to the representatives
of a country which was only seeking to retain what was its own’.
Shortly before, Lord Salisbury, speaking in London to the Rumanian
special envoy, Callimaki Catargiu, had assured him of England’s
sympathy and of her effective assistance in case either of war or of a
Congress. ‘But to be quite candid he must add that there are questions
of more concern to England, and should she be able to come to an
understanding with Russia with regard to them, she would not wage war
for the sake of Rumania.’ Indeed, an understanding came about, and an
indiscretion enabled the _Globe_ to make its tenor public early in June
1878. ‘The Government of her Britannic Majesty’, it said, ‘considers
that it will feel itself bound to express its deep regret should Russia
persist in demanding the retrocession of Bessarabia…. England’s
interest in this question is not such, however, as to justify her
taking upon herself alone the responsibility of opposing the intended
exchange.’ So Bessarabia was lost, Rumania receiving instead Dobrudja
with the delta of the Danube. But as the newly created state of
Bulgaria was at the time little else than a detached Russian province,
Russia, alone amongst the powers, opposed and succeeded in preventing
the demarcation to the new Rumanian province of a strategically sound
frontier. Finally, to the exasperation of the Rumanians, the Congress
made the recognition of Rumania’s independence contingent upon the
abolition of Article 7 of the Constitution—which denied to
non-Christians the right of becoming Rumanian citizens—and the
emancipation of the Rumanian Jews.[1]
[Footnote 1: Rumania only partially gave way to this intrusion of the
powers into her internal affairs. The prohibition was abolished; but
only individual naturalization was made possible, and that by special
Act of Parliament. Only a very small proportion of the Jewish
population has since been naturalized. The Jewish question in Rumania
is undoubtedly a very serious one; but the matter is too controversial
to be dealt with in a few lines without risking misrepresentation or
doing an injustice to one or other of the parties. For which reason it
has not been included in this essay.]
It was only after innumerable difficulties and hardships that, at the
beginning of 1880, Rumania secured recognition of an independence which
she owed to nobody but herself. Whilst Russia was opposing Rumania at
every opportunity in the European conferences and commissions, she was
at pains to show herself more amenable in _tête-à-tête_, and approached
Rumania with favourable proposals. ‘Rather Russia as foe than
guardian,’ wrote Prince Carol to his father; and these words indicate
an important turning-point in Rumania’s foreign policy.
In wresting Bessarabia from Rumania merely as a sop to her own pride,
and to make an end of all that was enacted by the Treaty of Paris,
1856, Russia made a serious political blunder. By insisting that
Austria should share in the partition of Poland, Frederick the Great
had skilfully prevented her from remaining the one country towards
which the Poles would naturally have turned for deliverance. Such an
opportunity was lost by Russia through her short-sighted policy in
Bessarabia—that of remaining the natural ally of Rumania against
Rumania’s natural foe, Austria-Hungary.
Rumania had neither historical, geographical, nor any important
ethnographical points of contact with the region south of the Danube;
the aims of a future policy could only have embraced neighbouring
tracts of foreign territory inhabited by Rumanians. Whereas up to the
date of the Berlin Congress such tracts were confined to
Austria-Hungary, by that Congress a similar sphere of attraction for
Rumanian aspirations was created in Russia.[1] The interests of a
peaceful development demanded that Rumania should maintain friendly
relations with both the powers striving for domination in the Near
East; it was a vital necessity for her, however, to be able to rely
upon the effective support of at least one of them in a case of
emergency. Russia’s conduct had aroused a deep feeling of bitterness
and mistrust in Rumania, and every lessening of her influence was a
step in Austria’s favour. Secondary considerations tended to intensify
this: on the one hand lay the fact that through Russia’s interposition
Rumania had no defendable frontier against Bulgaria; on the other hand
was the greatly strengthened position created for Austria by her
alliance with Germany, in whose future Prince Carol had the utmost
confidence.
[Footnote 1: It is probable that this confederation had much to do with
the readiness with which Bismarck supported the demands of his good
friend, Gorchakov.]
Germany’s attitude towards Rumania had been curiously hostile during
these events; but when Prince Carol’s father spoke of this to the
German Emperor, the latter showed genuine astonishment: Bismarck had
obviously not taken the emperor completely into his confidence. When, a
few days later, Sturdza had an interview with Bismarck at the latter’s
invitation, the German Chancellor discovered once more that Rumania had
nothing to expect from Russia. Indeed, Rumania’s position between
Russia and the new Slav state south of the Danube might prove
dangerous, were she not to seek protection and assistance from her two
‘natural friends’, France and Germany. And, with his usual liberality
when baiting his policy with false hopes, Bismarck went on to say that
‘Turkey is falling to pieces; nobody can resuscitate her; Rumania has
an important role to fulfil, but for this she must be wise, cautious,
and strong’. This new attitude was the natural counterpart of the
change which was at that time making itself felt in Russo-German
relations. While a Franco-Russian alliance was propounded by Gorchakov
in an interview with a French journalist, Bismarck and Andrassy signed
in Gastein the treaty which allied Austria to Germany (September 1879).
As Rumania’s interests were identical with those of Austria—wrote Count
Andrassy privately to Prince Carol a few months later—namely, to
prevent the fusion of the northern and the southern Slavs, she had only
to express her willingness to become at a given moment the third party
in the compact. In 1883 King Carol accepted a secret treaty of
defensive alliance from Austria. In return for promises relating to
future political partitions in the Balkans, the monarch pledged himself
to oppose all developments likely to speed the democratic evolution, of
Rumania. Though the treaty was never submitted to parliament for
ratification, and notwithstanding a tariff war and a serious difference
with Austria on the question of control of the Danube navigation,
Rumania was, till the Balkan wars, a faithful ‘sleeping partner’ of the
Triple Alliance.
All through that externally quiet period a marked discrepancy existed
and developed between that line of policy and the trend of public
opinion. The interest of the Rumanians within the kingdom centred
increasingly on their brethren in Transylvania, the solution of whose
hard case inspired most of the popular national movements. Not on
account of the political despotism of the Magyars, for that of the
Russians was in no way behind it. But whilst the Rumanians of
Bessarabia were, with few exceptions, illiterate peasants, in
Transylvania there was a solidly established and spirited middle class,
whose protests kept pace with the oppressive measures. Many of them—and
of necessity the more turbulent—migrated to Rumania, and there kept
alive the ‘Transylvanian Question’. That the country’s foreign policy
has nevertheless constantly supported the Central Powers is due, to
some extent, to the fact that the generation most deeply impressed by
the events of 1878 came gradually to the leadership of the country; to
a greater extent to the increasing influence of German education,[1]
and the economic and financial supremacy which the benevolent passivity
of England and France enabled Germany to acquire; but above all to the
personal influence of King Carol. Germany, he considered, was at the
beginning of her development and needed, above all, peace; as Rumania
was in the same position the wisest policy was to follow Germany,
neglecting impracticable national ideals. King Carol outlined his views
clearly in an interview which he had in Vienna with the Emperor Franz
Joseph in 1883: ‘No nation consents to be bereaved of its political
aspirations, and those of the Rumanians are constantly kept at fever
heat by Magyar oppression. But this was no real obstacle to a friendly
understanding between the two neighbouring states.’
[Footnote 1: Many prominent statesmen like Sturdza, Maiorescu, Carp,
&c. were educated in Germany, whereas the school established by the
German community (_Evangelische Knaben und Realschule_), and which it
under the direct control of the German Ministry of Education, is
attended by more pupils than any other school in Bucarest.]
Such was the position when the Balkan peoples rose in 1912 to sever the
last ties which bound them to the decadent Turkish Empire. King Carol,
who had, sword in hand, won the independence of his country, could have
no objection to such a desire for emancipation. Nor to the Balkan
League itself, unfortunately so ephemeral; for by the first year of his
reign he had already approached the Greek Government with proposals
toward such a league, and toward freeing the Balkans from the
undesirable interference of the powers.[1] It is true that Rumania,
like all the other states, had not foreseen the radical changes which
were to take place, and which considerably affected her position in the
Near East. But she was safe as long as the situation was one of stable
equilibrium and the league remained in existence. ‘Rumania will only be
menaced by a real danger when a Great Bulgaria comes into existence,’
remarked Prince Carol to Bismarck in 1880, and Bulgaria had done
nothing since to allay Rumanian suspicions. On the contrary, the
proviso of the Berlin Convention that all fortifications along the
Rumania frontier should be razed to the ground had not been carried out
by the Bulgarian Government. Bulgarian official publications regarded
the Dobrudja as a ‘Bulgaria Irredenta’, and at the outset of the first
Balkan war a certain section of the Bulgarian press speculated upon the
Bulgarian character of the Dobrudja.
[Footnote 1: See Augenzeuge, op. cit., i. 178]
The Balkan League having proclaimed, however, that their action did not
involve any territorial changes, and the maintenance of the _status
quo_ having been insisted upon by the European Concert, Rumania
declared that she would remain neutral. All this jugglery of mutual
assurances broke down with the unexpected rout of the Turks; the
formula ‘the Balkans to the Balkan peoples’ made its appearance, upon
which Bulgaria was at once notified that Rumania would insist upon the
question of the Dobrudja frontier being included in any fundamental
alteration of the Berlin Convention. The Bulgarian Premier, M. Danev,
concurred in this point of view, but his conduct of the subsequent
London negotiations was so ‘diplomatic’ that their only result was to
strain the patience of the Rumanian Government and public opinion to
breaking point. Nevertheless, the Rumanian Government agreed that the
point in dispute should be submitted to a conference of the
representatives of the great powers in St. Petersburg, and later
accepted the decision of that conference, though the country considered
it highly unsatisfactory.
The formation of the Balkan League, and especially the collapse of
Turkey, had meant a serious blow to the Central Powers’ policy of
peaceful penetration. Moreover, ‘for a century men have been labouring
to solve the Eastern. Question. On the day when it shall be considered
solved, Europe will inevitably witness the propounding of the Austrian
Question.’[1] To prevent this and to keep open a route to the East
Austro-German diplomacy set to work, and having engineered the creation
of Albania succeeded in barring Serbia’s way to the Adriatic; Serbia
was thus forced to seek an outlet in the south, where her interests
were doomed to clash with Bulgarian aspirations. The atmosphere grew
threatening. In anticipation of a conflict with Bulgaria, Greece and
Serbia sought an alliance with Rumania. The offer was declined; but, in
accordance with the policy which Bucarest had already made quite clear
to Sofia, the Rumanian army was ordered to enter Bulgaria immediately
that country attacked her former allies. The Rumanians advanced
unopposed to within a few miles of Sofia, and in order to save the
capital Bulgaria declared her willingness to comply with their claims.
Rumania having refused, however, to conclude a separate peace, Bulgaria
had to give way, and the Balkan premiers met in conference at Bucarest
to discuss terms. The circumstances were not auspicious. The way in
which Bulgaria had conducted previous negotiations, and especially the
attack upon her former allies, had exasperated the Rumanians and the
Balkan peoples, and the pressure of public opinion hindered from the
outset a fair consideration of the Bulgarian point of view. Moreover,
cholera was making great ravages in the ranks of the various armies,
and, what threatened to be even more destructive, several great powers
were looking for a crack in the door to put their tails through, as the
Rumanian saying runs. So anxious were the Balkan statesmen to avoid any
such interference that they agreed between themselves to a short time
limit: on a certain day, and by a certain hour, peace was to be
concluded, or hostilities were to start afresh. The treaty was signed
on August 10, 1913, Rumania obtaining the line
Turtukai-Dobrich-Balchik, this being the line already demanded by her
at the time of the London negotiations. The demand was put forth
originally as a security against the avowed ambitions of Bulgaria; it
was a strategical necessity, but at the same time a political mistake
from the point of view of future relations. The Treaty of Bucarest,
imperfect arrangement as it was, had nevertheless a great historical
significance. ‘Without complicating the discussion of our interests,
which we are best in a position to understand, by the consideration of
other foreign, interests,’ remarked the President of the Conference,
‘we shall have established for the first time by ourselves peace and
harmony amongst our peoples.’ Dynastic interests and impatient
ambitions, however, completely subverted this momentous step towards a
satisfactory solution of the Eastern Question.
[Footnote 1: Albert Sorel, op, cit., p. 266.]
The natural counter-effect of the diplomatic activity of the Central
Powers was a change in Rumanian policy. Rumania considered the
maintenance of the Balkan equilibrium a vital question, and as she had
entered upon a closer union with Germany against a Bulgaria subjected
to Russian influence, so she now turned to Russia as a guard against a
Bulgaria under German influence. This breaking away from the
‘traditional’ policy of adjutancy-in-waiting to the Central Powers was
indicated by the visit of Prince Ferdinand—now King of Rumania—to St.
Petersburg, and the even more significant visit which Tsar Nicholas
afterwards paid to the late King Carol at Constanza. Time has been too
short, however, for those new relations so to shape themselves as to
exercise a notable influence upon Rumania’s present attitude.
8
_Rumania and the Present War_
_(a) The Rumanians outside the Kingdom_
The axis on which Rumanian foreign policy ought naturally to revolve is
the circumstance that almost half the Rumanian nation lives outside
Rumanian territory. As the available official statistics generally show
political bias it is not possible to give precise figures; but roughly
speaking there are about one million Rumanians in Bessarabia, a quarter
of a million in Bucovina, three and a half millions in Hungary, while
something above half a million form scattered colonies in Bulgaria,
Serbia, and Macedonia. All these live in more or less close proximity
to the Rumanian frontiers.
That these Rumanian elements have maintained their nationality is due
to purely intrinsic causes. We have seen that the independence of
Rumania in her foreign relations had only recently been established,
since when the king, the factor most influential in foreign politics,
had discouraged nationalist tendencies, lest the country’s internal
development might be compromised by friction with neighbouring states.
The Government exerted its influence against any active expression of
the national feeling, and the few ‘nationalists’ and the ‘League for
the cultural unity of all Rumanians’ had been, as a consequence, driven
to seek a justification for their existence in antisemitic agitation.
The above circumstances had little influence upon the situation in
Bucovina. This province forms an integral part of the Habsburg
monarchy, with which it was incorporated as early as 1775. The
political situation of the Rumanian principalities at the time, and the
absence of a national cultural movement, left the detached population
exposed to Germanization, and later to the Slav influence of the
rapidly expanding Ruthene element. That language and national
characteristics have, nevertheless, not been lost is due to the fact
that the Rumanian population of Bucovina is peasant almost to a man—a
class little amenable to changes of civilization.
This also applies largely to Bessarabia, which, first lost in 1812, was
incorporated with Rumania in 1856, and finally detached in 1878. The
few Rumanians belonging to the landed class were won over by the new
masters. But while the Rumanian population was denied any cultural and
literary activities of its own, the reactionary attitude of the Russian
Government towards education has enabled the Rumanian peasants to
preserve their customs and their language. At the same time their
resultant ignorance has kept them outside the sphere of intellectual
influence of the mother country.
The Rumanians who live in scattered colonies south of the Danube are
the descendants of those who took refuge in these regions during the
ninth and tenth centuries from the invasions of the Huns. Generally
known as Kutzo-Vlakhs, or, among themselves, as Aromuni, they are—as
even Weigand, who undoubtedly has Bulgarophil leanings, recognizes—the
most intelligent and best educated of the inhabitants of Macedonia. In
1905 the Rumanian Government secured from the Porte official
recognition of their separate cultural and religious organizations on a
national basis. Exposed as they are to Greek influence, it will be
difficult to prevent their final assimilation with that people. The
interest taken in them of late by the Rumanian Government arose out of
the necessity to secure them against pan-Hellenic propaganda, and to
preserve one of the factors entitling Rumania to participate in the
settlement of Balkan affairs.
I have sketched elsewhere the early history of the Rumanians of
Transylvania, the cradle of the Rumanian nation. As already mentioned,
part of the Rumanian nobility of Hungary went over to the Magyars, the
remainder migrating over the mountains. Debarred from the support of
the noble class, the Rumanian peasantry lost its state of autonomy,
which changed into one of serfdom to the soil upon which they toiled.
Desperate risings in 1324, 1437, 1514, 1600, and 1784 tended to case
the Hungarian oppression, which up to the nineteenth century strove
primarily after a political and religious hegemony. But the Magyars
having failed in 1848 in their attempt to free themselves from Austrian
domination (defeated with the assistance of a Russian army at Villagos,
1849), mainly on account of the fidelity of the other nationalities to
the Austrian Crown, they henceforth directed their efforts towards
strengthening their own position by forcible assimilation of those
nationalities. This they were able to do, however, only after
Königgrätz, when a weakened Austria had to give way to Hungarian
demands. In 1867 the Dual Monarchy was established, and Transylvania,
which up to then formed a separate duchy enjoying full political
rights, was incorporated with the new Hungarian kingdom. The Magyars
were handicapped in their imperialist ambitions by their numerical
inferiority. As the next best means to their end, therefore, they
resorted to political and national oppression, class despotism, and a
complete disregard of the principles of liberty and humanity.[1]
Hungarian was made compulsory in the administration, even in districts
where the bulk of the population did not understand that language. In
villages completely inhabited by Rumanians so-called ‘State’ schools
were founded, in which only Hungarian was to be spoken, and all
children upwards of three years of age had to attend them. The
electoral regulations were drawn up in such a manner that the Rumanians
of Transylvania, though ten times more numerous than the Magyars, sent
a far smaller number than do the latter to the National Assembly. To
quash all protest a special press law was introduced for Transylvania.
But the Rumanian journalists being usually acquitted by the juries a
new regulation prescribed that press offences should be tried only at
Kluj (Klausenburg)—the sole Transylvanian town with a predominating
Hungarian population—a measure which was in fundamental contradiction
to the principles of justice.[2] In 1892 the Rumanian grievances were
embodied in a memorandum which was to have been presented to the
emperor by a deputation. An audience was, however, refused, and at the
instance of the Hungarian Government the members of the deputation were
sentenced to long terms of imprisonment for having plotted against the
unity of the Magyar state.
[Footnote 1: The Rumanians inhabit mainly the province of Transylvania,
Banat, Crishiana, and Maramuresh. They represent 46.2 per cent. of the
total population of these provinces, the Magyars 32.5 per cent., the
Germans 11.5 per cent., and the Serbs 4.5 per cent. These figured are
taken from official Hungarian statistics, and it may therefore be
assumed that the Rumanian percentage represents a minimum.]
[Footnote 2: Over a period of 22 years (1886-1908) 850 journalists were
charged, 367 of whom were Rumanians; the sentences totalling 216 years
of imprisonment, the fines amounting to Fcs. 138,000.]
Notwithstanding these disabilities the Rumanians of Transylvania
enjoyed a long period of comparative social and economic liberty at a
time when Turkish and Phanariote domination was hampering all progress
in Rumania. Office under the Government growing increasingly difficult
to obtain, the Rumanians in Transylvania turned largely to commercial
and the open professions, and, as a result, a powerful middle class now
exists. In their clergy, both of the Orthodox and the Uniate
Church—which last, while conducting its ritual in the vernacular,
recognizes papal supremacy— the Rumanians have always found strong
moral support, while the national struggle tends to unite the various
classes. The Rumanians of Hungary form by far the sanest element in the
Rumanian nation. From the Rumanians within the kingdom they have
received little beside sympathy. The important part played by the
country at the Peace of Bucarest, and her detachment from
Austria-Hungary, must necessarily have stimulated the national
consciousness of the Transylvanians; while at the same time all hope
for betterment from within must have ceased at the death of Archduke
Francis Ferdinand, an avowed friend of the long-suffering
nationalities. It is, therefore, no mere matter of conjecture that the
passive attitude of the Rumanian Government at the beginning of the
present conflict must have been a bitter disappointment to them.
_(b) Rumania’s Attitude_
The tragic development of the crisis in the summer of 1914 threw
Rumania into a vortex of unexpected hopes and fears. Aspirations till
then considered little else than Utopian became tangible possibilities,
while, as suddenly, dangers deemed far off loomed large and near. Not
only was such a situation quite unforeseen, nor had any plan of action
been preconceived to meet it, but it was in Rumania’s case a situation
unique from the number of conflicting considerations and influences at
work within it. Still under the waning influence of the thirty years
quasi-alliance with Austria, Rumania was not yet acclimatized to her
new relations with Russia. Notwithstanding the inborn sympathy with and
admiration for France, the Rumanians could not be blind to Germany’s
military power. The enthusiasm that would have sided with France for
France’s sake was faced by the influence of German finance. Sympathy
with Serbia existed side by side with suspicion of Bulgaria. Popular
sentiment clashed with the views of the king; and the bright vision of
the ‘principle of nationality’ was darkened by the shadow of Russia as
despot of the Near East.
One fact in the situation stood out from the rest, namely, the
unexpected opportunity of redeeming that half of the Rumanian nation
which was still under foreign rule; the more so as one of the parties
in the conflict had given the ‘principle of nationality’ a prominent
place in its programme. But the fact that both Austria-Hungary and
Russia had a large Rumanian population among their subjects rendered a
purely national policy impossible, and Rumania could do nothing but
weigh which issue offered her the greater advantage.
Three ways lay open: complete neutrality, active participation on the
side of the Central Powers, or common cause with the Triple Entente.
Complete neutrality was advocated by a few who had the country’s
material security most at heart, and also, as a _pis aller_, by those
who realized that their opinion that Rumania should make common cause
with the Central Powers had no prospect of being acted upon.
That King Carol favoured the idea of a joint action with Germany is
likely enough, for such a policy was in keeping with his faith in the
power of the German Empire. Moreover, he undoubtedly viewed with
satisfaction the possibility of regaining Bessarabia, the loss of which
must have been bitterly felt by the victor of Plevna. Such a policy
would have met with the approval of many Rumanian statesmen, notably of
M. Sturdza, sometime leader of the Liberal party and Prime Minister; of
M. Carp, sometime leader of the Conservative party and Prime Minister;
of M. Maiorescu, ex-Prime Minister and Foreign Secretary, who presided
at the Bucarest Conference of 1913; of M. Marghiloman, till recently
leader of the Conservative party, to name only the more important. M.
Sturdza, the old statesman who had been one of King Carol’s chief
coadjutors in the making of modern Rumania, and who had severed for
many years his connexion with active politics, again took up his pen to
raise a word of warning. M. Carp, the political aristocrat who had
retired from public life a few years previously, and had professed a
lifelong contempt for the ‘Press and all its works’, himself started a
daily paper (_Moldova_) which, he intended should expound his views.
Well-known writers like M. Radu Rosetti wrote[1] espousing the cause
favoured by the king, though not for the king’s reasons: Carol had
faith in Germany, the Rumanians mistrusted Russia. They saw no
advantage in the dismemberment of Austria, the most powerful check to
Russia’s plans in the Near East. They dreaded the idea of seeing Russia
on the Bosphorus, as rendering illusory Rumania’s splendid position at
the mouth of the Danube. For not only is a cheap waterway absolutely
necessary for the bulky products forming the chief exports of Rumania;
but these very products, corn, petroleum, and timber, also form the
chief exports of Russia, who, by a stroke of the pen, may rule Rumania
out of competition, should she fail to appreciate the political
leadership of Petrograd. Paris and Rome were, no doubt, beloved
sisters; but Sofia, Moscow, and Budapest were next-door neighbours to
be reckoned with.
[Footnote 1: See R. Rosetti, _Russian Politics at Work in the Rumanian
Countries_, facts compiled from French official documents, Bucarest,
1914.]
Those who held views opposed to those, confident in the righteousness
of the Allies’ cause and in their final victory, advocated immediate
intervention, and to that end made the most of the two sentiments which
animated public opinion: interest in the fate of the Transylvanians,
and sympathy with France. They contended that though a purely national
policy was not possible, the difference between Transylvania and
Bessarabia in area and in number and quality of the population was such
that no hesitation was admissible. The possession of Transylvania was
assured if the Allies were successful; whereas Russia would soon
recover if defeated, and would regain Bessarabia by force of arms, or
have it once more presented to her by a Congress anxious to soothe her
‘sentiment de dignité blessée’. A Rumania enlarged in size and
population had a better chance of successfully withstanding any
eventual pressure from the north, and it was clear that any attempt
against her independence would be bound to develop into a European
question. Rumania could not forget what she owed to France; and if
circumstances had made the Transylvanian question one ‘à laquelle on
pense toujours et dont on ne parle jamais’, the greater was the duty,
now that a favourable opportunity had arisen, to help the brethren
across the mountains. It was also a duty to fight for right and
civilization, proclaimed M. Take Ionescu, the exponent of progressive
ideas in Rumanian politics; and he, together with the prominent
Conservative statesman, M. Filipescu, who loathes the idea of the
Rumanians being dominated by the inferior Magyars, are the leaders of
the interventionist movement. It was due to M. Filipescu’s activity,
especially, that M. Marghiloman was forced by his own party to resign
his position as leader on account of his Austrophil sentiments—an event
unparalleled in Rumanian politics.
These were the two main currents of opinion which met in conflict at
the Crown Council—a committee _ad hoc_ consisting of the Cabinet and
the leaders of the Opposition—summoned by the king early in August
1914, when Rumania’s neutrality was decided upon. The great influence
which the Crown can always wield under the Rumanian political system
was rendered the more potent in the present case by the fact that the
Premier, M. Bratianu, is above all a practical man, and the Liberal
Cabinet over which he presides one of the most colourless the country
ever had: a Cabinet weak to the point of being incapable of realizing
its own weakness and the imperative necessity at this fateful moment of
placing the helm in the hands of a national ministry. M. Bratianu
considered that Rumania was too exposed, and had suffered too much in
the past for the sake of other countries, to enter now upon such an
adventure without ample guarantees. There would always be time for her
to come in. This policy of opportunism he was able to justify by
powerful argument. The supply of war material for the Rumanian army had
been completely in the hands of German and Austrian arsenals, and
especially in those of Krupp. For obvious reasons Rumania could no
longer rely upon that source; indeed, Germany was actually detaining
contracts for war and sanitary material placed with her before the
outbreak of the war. There was the further consideration that, owing to
the nature of Rumania’s foreign policy in the past, no due attention
had been given to the defence of the Carpathians, nor to those branches
of the service dealing with mountain warfare. On the other hand, a
continuous line of fortifications running from Galatz to Focshani
formed, together with the lower reaches of the Danube, a strong barrier
against attack from the north. Rumania’s geographical position is such
that a successful offensive from Hungary could soon penetrate to the
capital, and by cutting the country in two could completely paralyse
its organization. Such arguments acquired a magnified importance in the
light of the failure of the negotiations with Bulgaria, and found many
a willing ear in a country governed by a heavily involved landed class,
and depending almost exclusively in its banking organization upon
German and Austrian capital.
From the point of view of practical politics only the issue of the
conflict will determine the wisdom or otherwise of Rumania’s attitude.
But, though it is perhaps out of place to enlarge upon it here, it is
impossible not to speak of the moral aspect of the course adopted. By
giving heed to the unspoken appeal from Transylvania the Rumanian
national spirit would have been quickened, and the people braced to a
wholesome sacrifice. Many were the wistful glances cast towards the
Carpathians by the subject Rumanians, as they were being led away to
fight for their oppressors; but, wilfully unmindful, the leaders of the
Rumanian state buried their noses in their ledgers, oblivious of the
fact that in these times of internationalism a will in common, with
aspirations in common, is the very life-blood of nationality. That
sentiment ought not to enter into politics is an argument untenable in
a country which has yet to see its national aspirations fulfilled, and
which makes of these aspirations definite claims. No Rumanian statesman
can contend that possession of Transylvania is necessary to the
existence of the Rumanian state. What they can maintain is that
deliverance from Magyar oppression is vital to the existence of the
Transylvanians. The right to advance such a claim grows out of their
very duty of watching over the safety of the subject Rumanians. ‘When
there are squabbles in the household of my brother-in-law,’ said the
late Ioan Bratianu when speaking on the Transylvanian question, ‘it is
no affair of mine; but when he raises a knife against his wife, it is
not merely my right to intervene, it is my duty.’ It is difficult to
account for the obliquity of vision shown by so many Rumanian
politicians. ‘The whole policy of such a state [having a large
compatriot population living in close proximity under foreign
domination] must be primarily influenced by anxiety as to the fate of
their brothers, and by the duty of emancipating them,’ affirms one of
the most ardent of Rumanian nationalist orators; and he goes on to
assure us that ‘if Rumania waits, it is not from hesitation as to her
duty, but simply in order that she may discharge it more
completely’.[1] Meantime, while Rumania waits, regiments composed
almost completely of Transylvanians have been repeatedly and of set
purpose placed in the forefront of the battle, and as often
annihilated. Such could never be the simple-hearted Rumanian peasant’s
conception of his duty, and here, as in so many other cases in the
present conflict, the nation at large must not be judged by the policy
of the few who hold the reins.
[Footnote 1: _Quarterly Review_, London, April, 1915, pp. 449-50.]
Rumania’s claims to Transylvania are not of an historical nature. They
are founded upon the numerical superiority of the subject Rumanians in
Transylvania, that is upon the ‘principle of nationality’, and are
morally strengthened by the treatment the Transylvanians suffer at the
hands of the Magyars. By its passivity, however, the Rumanian
Government has sacrificed the prime factor of the ‘principle of
nationality’ to the attainment of an object in itself subordinate to
that factor; that is, it has sacrificed the ‘people’ in order to make
more sure of the ‘land’. In this way the Rumanian Government has
entered upon a policy of acquisition; a policy which Rumania is too
weak to pursue save under the patronage of one or a group of great
powers; a policy unfortunate inasmuch as it will deprive her of freedom
of action in her external politics. Her policy will, in its
consequences, certainly react to the detriment of the position acquired
by the country two years ago, when independent action made her arbiter
not only among the smaller Balkan States, but also among those and her
late suzerain, Turkey.
Such, indeed, must inevitably be the fate of Balkan politics in
general. Passing from Turkish domination to nominal Turkish suzerainty,
and thence to independence within the sphere of influence of a power or
group of powers, this gradual emancipation of the states of
south-eastern Europe found its highest expression in the Balkan League.
The war against Turkey was in effect a rebellion against the political
tutelage of the powers. But this emancipation was short-lived. By their
greed the Balkan States again opened up a way to the intrusion of
foreign diplomacy, and even, as we now see, of foreign troops. The
first Balkan war marked the zenith of Balkan political emancipation;
the second Balkan war was the first act in the tragic _débâcle_ out of
which the present situation developed. The interval between August 1913
(Peace of Bucarest) and August 1914 was merely an armistice during
which Bulgaria and Turkey recovered their breath, and German and
Austrian diplomacy had time to find a pretext for war on its own
account.
‘Exhausted but not vanquished we have had to furl our glorious
standards in order to await better days,’ said Ferdinand of Bulgaria to
his soldiers after the conclusion of the Peace of Bucarest; and
Budapest, Vienna, and Berlin have no doubt done their best to keep this
spirit of revenge alive and to prevent a renascence of the Balkan
Alliance. They have succeeded. They have done more: they have succeeded
in causing the ‘principle of nationality’—that idea which involves the
disruption of Austria—to be stifled by the very people whom it was
meant to save. For whilst the German peoples are united in this
conflict, the majority of the southern Slavs, in fighting the German
battles, are fighting to perpetuate the political servitude of the
subject races of Austria-Hungary.
However suspicious Rumania may be of Russia, however bitter the
quarrels between Bulgars, Greeks, and Serbs, it is not, nor can it ever
be natural, that peoples who have groaned under Turkish despotism for
centuries should, after only one year of complete liberation, join
hands with an old and dreaded enemy not only against their fellow
sufferers, but even against those who came ‘to die that they may live’.
These are the Dead Sea fruits of dynastic policy. Called to the thrones
of the small states of the Near East for the purpose of creating order
and peace, the German dynasties have overstepped their function and
abused the power entrusted to them. As long as, in normal times,
political activities were confined to the diplomatic arena there was no
peril of rousing the masses out of their ignorant indolence; but, when
times are abnormal, it is a different and a dangerous thing to march
these peoples against their most intimate feelings. When, as the
outcome of the present false situation, sooner or later the dynastic
power breaks, it will then be for the powers who are now fighting for
better principles not to impose their own views upon the peoples, or to
place their own princes upon the vacant thrones. Rather must they see
that the small nations of the Near East are given a chance to develop
in peace and according to their proper ideals; that they be not again
subjected to the disintegrating influence of European diplomacy; and
that, above all, to the nations in common, irrespective of their
present attitude, there should be a just application of the ‘principle
of nationality’.