CHAPTER II.THE WEEKS OF WAITING

June 29 to July 23, 1914

Brutal as the accusation may seem, it is necessary to say that Austria-Hungary appeared determined to exploit the murder of the Archduke as a providential chance, which made it possible to enlist the sympathy of Europe for an assault on Serbia. Down to the 28th June any open attack on the little Kingdom would have met with instant reprobation from many quarters, and if pushed too far might goad Russia at least into a reluctant intervention. The moral aspect of affairs seemed to be changed by the double murder at Serajevo. By representing it as the outcome of Serbian aspirations, and even as the deliberate work of the Serbian Government the official newspapers of Austria-Hungary all took up this theme it would be possible to persuade Europe that Belgrade was simply a nest of assassins, and no one would move a finger to save them. The key-note to be struck for foreign ears was a lamentation over the atrocious character of the murder, dwelling on the pathetic fate of the unhappy pair, their high hopes, their orphan children, and the misery of their Imperial great-uncle, left once more bereaved of an heir in his old age. As a matter of fact this sort of propaganda had an excellent success all over Europe, and more especially in Great Britain, where almost the whole press launched out into condolences with Austria and denunciation of the Serbians.

If this had been the attitude of Hungary alone, it might have been less surprising. But at Vienna also the want of any real sympathy for the victims of Serajevo was most surprising. The Archduke’s personal friends complained that the ceremonies of his funeral were scamped in the most unfeeling fashion. It would have been seemly to have deputed one or more members of the numerous Imperial family to accompany the remains from Serajevo to Vienna. The coffins were deliberately timed to arrive at the Austrian capital by night, and were taken through the streets in the dark with no great state. The actual funeral service was held in the Burg chapel, which was so small that only a few official personages could be admitted. The presence of foreign princes was declined. The German Emperor had announced his intention of being present, in company with his brother, Prince Henry. When he had received a note from Kaiser Franz Joseph deprecating any such visit, an official attack of lumbago had to be improvised to account for the abandonment of his expressed purpose, t The ceremony in the Burg chapel was cut very short, “in order that the aged Emperor might be spared any avoidable fatigue” it took no more than half an hour. As the two coffins lay in the center, it was noted that while the velvet cushion at the head of the Archduke’s coffin was loaded with two crowns and a mass of glittering decorations, that of his consort had on it nothing but a black fan, crossed by a pair of long white gloves. This looked like a posthumous slight, as there might have been there at least her coronet as a duchess, and the crosses of the Austrian and Maltese orders which had been given her. The subsequent transport of the bodies to the Castle of Artstetten was carried out in the most unobtrusive fashion: a party of the Archduke’s military and civil friends, all persons of note, had to thrust themselves unasked into the funeral cortege, as they had received no invitations to be present. Objectors were told that the ceremony had been conducted correctly according to the old Spanish etiquette of the Imperial house, and that much had been conceded when the coffin of the Duchess of Hohenberg had been allowed to stand by that of her husband. At Artstetten the burial took place with great unpunctuality, owing to a heavy downfall of rain, which caused a delay of many hours. Some of the Imperial family appeared, but it was evidently resented in the highest quarter that the Archduke had directed in his will that he should be buried not with his relations in the vaults of the Capuchins at Vienna, but alone with his wife, in the castle where they had been wont to dwell together, so as to avoid the company of the Imperial kinswomen who had so persistently slighted the lady.

The corpses of the unfortunate pair having been shuffled out of sight with the minimum of state, it remained to exploit their death to the utmost for political ends. The murder afforded a good excuse for making an end of the independence of Serbia. The first preparations were made through the medium of the press of the Dual Monarchy, both official and unofficial. In countries with a free press, like Great Britain, France, or Italy, there may not be much importance in newspaper tirades. The reverse1 was the case in a monarchy like Austria-Hungary. To quote an Austrian State document, “the proposition that utterances in the press are not subject to official control is absolutely antagonistic to the institutions of modern States.” When, therefore, Hungarian and Austrian journals continued for three weeks to pour insults on Serbia, to proclaim (before a word of evidence had been published by their own authorities) that the Royal Government was implicated in the Serajevo plot, to declare that Hungarians were being murdered in riots at Belgrade, and to clamor for war without delay and without further enquiry, it was a very ominous sign. The propaganda could have been stopped at once, if the Government had so desired. Its character may be summarized from an article in the Neue Freie Presse, quoted by the British Ambassador at Vienna in his dispatch of the 14th July:

“The Dual Monarchy will have the sympathies of the whole of Europe with her, if she takes severe measures against Serbia. Even Russia would approve a campaign undertaken against a nation tainted with the guilt of regicide at home, and the rest of Europe would certainly stand by Austria in a war of self defense against murder and outrage.”

The press, in short, continued to point out the political opportunity was unique, and to declare that the atrocious character of the Serajevo crime must prevent Russia from intervening, as she might have done had the Austrian casus belli been of a different sort.

There was a certain amount of truth in this view. The Russian Government, like every other government in Europe, had been shocked by the story of Serajevo, and had advised Belgrade from the first to show a yielding disposition, and to accept all possible Austrian demands.

The Russian counsel of moderation was obeyed by the Serbian Government, which, when the crisis came on the 23rd July, conceded much more than British observers had thought conceivable, and humbled itself as no sovereign State has ever consented to do in modern times. There can be no doubt whatever that the outbreak of the Great War had as its direct determining cause the astounding details of the Austrian Ultimatum (it is absurd to call it a demarche, as Vienna purists preferred to name it) with their inordinate and insulting demands and their deliberate refusal of time to negotiate.

From the 29th June to the 23rd July no one save those in the plot knew what these Austrian demands would be. The responsible authorities observed a cryptic silence at Vienna, and anxious enquirers could get no definite pronouncement from them. As late as the 22nd July the Hungarian Prime Minister declined to answer interpellations in Parliament on the Serbian question, ‘because a definite statement would be contrary to the interests of the State. His words were serious in tone, but committed him to nothing. The situation was quite uncertain, and could be settled by peaceful means, though the possibility of grave complications remained open. We now know, from Count Tisza’s own declaration of the 24th October, 1918, that the text of the Ultimatum was drawn up at a joint ministerial conference on the 19th July, at which no representative of Germany was present. The one thing that was obvious was the growing storm of anti-Serbian propaganda in the press of Vienna and Buda-Pest, punctuated by occasional riots and demonstrations, in which the Serbian flag was burnt and violent demonstration made before the residence of the Serbian Minister. The British Ambassador at Vienna duly reported to Whitehall comments of the most diverse kind from various sources. His Russian colleague M. Schebeko, told him:

“That he doubted if the animosity to Serbia penetrated far down among the people, though it certainly pervaded upper society circles. It was incredible that the country would allow itself to be rushed into war for an isolated combat with Serbia. A Serbian war meant a general war in Europe, and Austria was still suffering too painfully from the economic effects of her mobilization of 1913 to embark lightly on the much greater efforts that would be necessary, if she were to become involved in actual warfare.”

Similar views were expressed to Sir Maurice some days later by his Italian colleague, the Duca de Avarna, who had been told by Count Berchtold that the situation was not grave, though it required “clearing up,” and was far from “serene.” The duke had drawn the conclusion that the Austrian demands would not be “unreasonable,” and that neither of the two Ministers for Foreign Affairs (Berchtold and Tisza) nor the Emperor would sanction such an unwise proceeding as the serving of an Ultimatum on Belgrade. It was still more reassuring to learn from Mr. Crackanthorpe, the English Charge d’Affaires at Belgrade, that his Austrian colleague, Baron Giesl, had informed him that he was not personally in favor of pushing Serbia too hard, that M. Pasitch was ready to make reasonable reparation; and he did not view the situation in a pessimistic light. Meanwhile the...