Chapter I

War imminent with Denmark—New Year’s Eve—Return to garrison—The
Schleswig-Holstein Campaign—Story of the quarrel.

The remaining two weeks in Vienna were no joyous time for me. My happiness was again darkened by this fatal prospect of war. Over all my joys there seemed ever to hang some imminent anguish. Are there not sufficient catastrophes in the natural course of events to keep one in a sense of uncertainty? Why should man wilfully add fresh tortures to the category of natural calamities which might at any time beset him? Some people have learned to look upon war as a natural phenomenon like earthquake and drought, but I had ceased to see it so. Instead of resignation I felt only pain and opposition. Why should Schleswig-Holstein and the Danish Constitution upset us? What matter to us if the “Protocol Prince” repealed or confirmed the constitutional law of November 13, 1863? What if the papers did make it the most important matter in the world, should our husbands and sons therefore be shot down? Should our belonging to the German Alliance necessitate taking up all their quarrels? Had I foreseen two years later how these same German brothers broke into the bitterest enmity, and the Austrians hated the Prussians with a fiercer hate than that which they now entertained for Denmark, I should have realised that all these arguments given out to justify war are mere pretexts and empty phrases.

On New Year’s Eve at my father’s house he proposed a toast to the hour, and “might it be a glorious one to our arms.” I refused to concur. When we returned to the hotel I found myself disturbed even to tears. My husband comforted me: “Do not weep over the bare possibility of war; nothing is yet definite.”

“It is the possibility which makes me cry. Were there a certainty I should be shrieking and wailing. Oh that in this first year you should be torn from me by war!”

“Come, my dear Martha, when a child is born to you, you must face the possibility of death like every man on the battle-field. Let us enjoy our life now and not waste it thinking of the death which hangs over every head.”

“You talk of Destiny just like Aunt Marie. No, it is the thoughtlessness, cruelty, and folly of mankind! Where is there a necessity of a war with Denmark?”

“But that is not yet declared——”

“Yes, I know, accidents may still avert the evil; but it should depend, not on accidents, intrigues, humours, but upon the righteous will of humanity. Do not try to quiet me with evasive words when I know that your whole soul shudders with repugnance. My only consolation is that you condemn with me what brings so much unhappiness.”

“Yes, yes, dear, I do not hide from you my feelings; when the disaster happens I will not conceal from you my hate for legalised slaughter. But to-day let us not think of destruction; let us be happy while nothing separates us. No joy can last for ever. It is not the length of our days, but the degree of the beauty of our days which makes life so blessed.”

And I let myself sink into the sweet rest of the moment and forget the threatening future.

* * * * *

We returned to the garrison on January 10. There was no longer any doubt of war. In Vienna I still heard of some small hope that the dispute could be settled, but in our military circle this was out of the question. The officers and their wives were greatly, even joyfully excited. Did it mean hope for promotion and distinction, or only a restless desire for action?

“Ah, this war will be immensely popular,” said the Colonel at a jolly supper. “And our own territory cannot suffer.”

“It is the noble motive that inspires me,” said a young lieutenant. “We defend the rights of our oppressed brothers the Prussians. We cannot be vanquished when we fight together, and it will strengthen the national ties. The ideal of nationality——”

“Nonsense,” interrupted the Colonel with severity, “that is humbug to an Austrian. Louis Napoleon rode the same sort of a hobby-horse in ’59: ‘Italy for the Italians.’ Why talk of banding with the Germans when we have the Bohemians, Hungarians, Croats?—our bond of unity lies in our loyalty to our dynasty. The thing which must inspire us is not the nationality of our allies but the good, faithful service we can render our beloved ruler. Long live the Emperor!”

All rose and pledged the toast. Even my quaking heart stirred for a moment with enthusiasm. That thousands could be inspired by one motive, one person, into a desire for self-sacrifice, this is really a lofty sense of love. But to think that through this love the high fulfilment of duty leads men into the most horrible work of the deadliest hatred—War! My heart chilled again at the thought.

My anxiety grew with the succeeding days. On January 16 the allies demanded that Denmark revoke a certain law against which the Holsteiners had protested asking the protection of the German Alliance, and to do this in twenty-four hours. Denmark refused, and had been expected to refuse, for Austrian and German troops stood massed on the frontier, and on February 1 they crossed the Eider.

So the die was cast and the bloody game began.

A hasty letter of congratulation came from father:—

Rejoice, my children! We may now repair the defeat of ’59 with a few
sharp blows at Denmark. When we return conquerors from the north we
can again turn our faces southward. With the Prussians as our allies
those shabby Italians and the wily Napoleon can do nothing against us.

Frederick’s regiment, to the great chagrin of the Colonel and corps, was not ordered north. This brought a fatherly letter of commiseration:—

Such ill-luck, not to be called into the opening to a glorious
campaign! This will rejoice Martha. But you, Frederick, though
philosophically opposed to war, must regret it. If you got into the
fight, certainly your manly enthusiasm would awaken. To be forced to
stay at home is truly hard on a soldier!

“Is it hard on you to stay with me, Frederick?” The silent answer was enough.

But my peace was gone. The order might come any day. If the campaign would only end quickly! I watched the newspapers eagerly. I prayed for the termination of the war before my “all on earth” was called. What cared I what became of that little scrap of country? Their rulers were quarrelling only over their jealousies, not over the wrongs of their people, or to better the conditions.

If a number of dogs are fighting over some bones, it is only the hungry dogs that tear each other, but in human history it is the “bones” that have to fight for their devourers.

The Austrians held that they were justified in maintaining the “balance of power.” The Danes maintained the opposite principle with equal emphasis. If two States disagree and cannot come to an understanding, why not call in a third Power as arbitrator? Why go on shouting oneself hoarse, and then finally decide by force of arms? Is it not savage? And when a third Power comes in it does not do so judicially, but with blows again. And this is what they call world politics. Why not name it primitive savagery—or parliamentary nonsense—or international barbarism?

I found myself greatly troubled by this mysterious power called “reasons of State,” and I began a careful study of history to find out where the historic right lay over which they were quarrelling.

I found the disputed district ceded to Denmark in 1027. So in reality the Danes are right. They are the legitimate kings. However, two hundred years later it was turned over to a younger house, and it was ranked only as a fief of Denmark. In 1326 Count Gerhard of Holstein received Schleswig, and the Waldemar constitution provided that Denmark should never again claim any ownership. Oh! then, indeed, the right is with the allies! We are really fighting for the Waldemar Constitution of 1326. That is very good, for if these paper securities are not upheld of what worth are they?

In 1448 this constitution was again ratified by King Christian I. So how dare Denmark ever again claim sovereignty? But what has the Protocol Prince to do with the matter? Twelve years later the Schleswig ruler dies with heirs, and the National Assembly met at Ripon (so important to know exactly where these assemblies always convene). Well then at Ripon, in 1460, they proclaimed the Danish king the Duke of Schleswig, and he thereupon promised that the countries should remain together “for ever undivided.” Ah, that is a bit confusing; but remember, they shall remain united “for ever.” This little “for ever” is chiefly responsible for the historical confusion, for straightway they divide up the provinces among the king’s sons, and under later kings they are again reunited. They are hardly together before they are sliced up again. What a tangle! How can I find my way out, and historically establish the point upon which finally our Austrian countrymen must shed their blood?

Again, I find during the Thirty Years’ War, Charles IV. fell upon the duchy. Then a treaty made in 1658 forced the Danish sovereignty to surrender for ever. So we have gotten rid of the Danish feudal lordship “for ever,” thank God, and our way is clear again.

But here comes an agreement on August 22, 1721, and Schleswig becomes a dependency of Denmark once more, and on June 1, 1773, Holstein also becomes a simple Danish province. This alters the case again, and, certainly, now the Danes have a perfect right. But hold, not quite—for the Vienna Congress of 1815 declared Holstein a part of the German Alliance. This enraged the Danes, who raised the battle-cry “Denmark to the Eider!” and strove for the complete possession of Schleswig. In the year 1846 King Christian writes a public letter in which he proposed the integrity of the entire state. But the Germans protest. Then the announcement of the complete union is made from the throne, and a rebellion breaks out on the part of the Germans. The Danes win one battle, the Schleswig-Holsteiners the other. Hereupon the Alliance interfered. Prussia took some strategic points, but the struggle continues. At last Prussia and Denmark conclude a peace, so Schleswig-Holstein now stands alone to fight the Danes, and is defeated.

The Alliance calls the “revolters” to discontinue, and they do. Austria takes possession of Holstein, and the two duchies are separated. What has become of all the paper promises to hold them together “for ever”? It is incomprehensible.

But here comes the Protocol of London, May 8, 1852. (So wise that we know the exact date of these flimsy agreements!) This secures to Prince Christian of Glucksburg the succession to Schleswig. So this is where the “Protocol Prince” originated.

In 1854, after each little duchy had adopted a Constitution of its own, both were again appended to Denmark. In ’58 Denmark was compelled to lay down its claim. Now history brings us quite close to the present time, and yet with all this eager study it is not clear to me to whom these two countries should rightly belong. November 18, 1858, the German Parliament passed a “Fundamental Law for the Mutual Relations between Denmark and Schleswig.” Two days afterwards the king died and left no heir.

Relying on this two-days’-old law, Frederick of Augustenburg raised his claim and turned to the German Alliance for support. (I had completely forgotten to follow that Augustenburg family.) The Alliance at once occupied and proclaimed Augustenburg the duke. But why? Prussians disagreed with Austrians in the proceedings. But why? I cannot understand it to this day.

The London Protocol must be respected. Why? Are protocols things so absolute and supreme that we must pour out the blood of our sons to defend them? Ah, yes, there comes in the mysterious “reason of State.” The gentlemen around the green diplomatic table are all wise, and they know how to bring about the greatest security of national supremacy. Of course, the London Protocol of 1852 must be upheld and the constitutional decree of Copenhagen of 1863 must be revoked within twenty-four hours. Yes, Austria’s honour and welfare depended upon that. The dogma was a bit hard to believe, but in politics, even more than in religion, the mass allows itself to be led by the rule of _quis absurdum_—to reason about it is forbidden. With the sword once unsheathed, they shout the unquestioning “hurrah” and struggle for victory. Besides, can we not invoke the blessing of Heaven upon our side? And is it not of great consequence to the Almighty that the London Protocol should be maintained, and the decrees of January 13 be revoked? Is it not His duty to see that the exact numbers bleed to death, and that certain villages be destroyed, in order that the family of Gluckstadt or that of Augustenburg may rule over a certain trifling scrap of His footstool?

Oh what a foolish, cruel, and misguided world, still in the leading strings of infancy! Thus my historical studies left me quite as confused as they found me.