Chapter IV: Roumania (2)

"Last night a Zeppelin did come. About three o'clock we were roused by the shrill police whistles giving the alarm. The telephone notified us that a Zeppelin had crossed the Danube, and all the church bells began to peal. Suddenly darkness and silence reigned, and the whole town, like some great angry animal, sullen and morose, prepared for the enemy attack. Nowhere was there light or sound. The town, with a wonderful starry firmament overhead, waited in expectation. Fifteen, twenty minutes went by, when suddenly a shot was fired and, as though it were a signal, firing broke out in every direction. The anti-aircraft guns fired incessantly, and the police, too, did their best, firing in the air. But what were they firing at? There was absolutely nothing to be seen. The searchlights then came into play. Sweeping the heavens from east to west, from north to south, they searched the firmament, but could not find the Zeppelin. Was it really there, or was the whole thing due to excited Roumanian nerves?

"Suddenly a sound was heard: the noise of the propeller overhead. It sounded so near in the clear, starry night, we felt we must be able to see it. But the noise died away in the direction of Colbroceni. Then we heard the first bomb. Like a gust of wind it whistled through the air, followed by a crash and an explosion. A second and third came quickly after. The firing became fiercer, but they can see nothing and seem to aim at where the sound comes from. The searchlights sway backwards and forwards. Now one of them has caught the airship, which looks like a small golden cigar. Both the gondolas can be seen quite distinctly, and the searchlight keeps it well in view, and now a second one has caught it. It looks as though this air cruiser is hanging motionless in the sky, brilliantly lit up by the searchlights right and left. Then the guns begin in good earnest. Shrapnel bursts all around, a wonderful display of fireworks, but it is impossible to say if the aim is good and if the monster is in danger. Smaller and smaller grows the Zeppelin, climbing rapidly higher and higher, until suddenly the miniature cigar disappears. Still the searchlights sweep the skies, hoping to find their prey again.

"Suddenly utter silence reigns. Have they gone? Is the attack over? Has one been hit? Forced to land? The minutes go by. We are all now on the balcony--the women, too--watching the scene. Again comes the well-known sound--once heard never forgotten--as though the wind were getting up, then a dull thud and explosion. This time it is farther away towards the forts. Again the firing breaks out, and machine-guns bark at the friendly moon; searchlights career across the heavens, but find nothing. Again there falls a bomb--much nearer this time--and again comes the noise of the propellers louder and louder. Shrapnel bursts just over the Embassy, and the Zeppelin is over our heads. We hear the noise very distinctly, but can see nothing. Again a sudden silence everywhere, which has a curious effect after the terrible noise. Time passes, but nothing more is heard. The first rays of dawn are seen in the east; the stars slowly pale.

"A child is heard to cry somewhere, far away: strange how clearly it sounds in the silent night. There is a feeling as though the terrified town hardly dared breathe or move for fear the monster might return. And how many more such nights are there in prospect? In the calm of this fairylike dawn, slowly rising, the crying of the child strikes a note of discord, infinitely sad. But the crying of the child--does it not find an echo among the millions whom this terrible war has driven to desperation?

"The sun rises like a blood-red ball. For some hours the Roumanians can take to sleep and gather fresh strength, but they know now that the Zeppelin's visit will not be the last.

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Press is indignant about the nocturnal attack. Bucharest is certainly a fortress, but it should be known that the guns are no longer in the forts. It was stated in the _Adeverul_ that the heroic resistance put up in defence was most successful. That the airship, badly damaged, was brought down near Bucharest, and that a commission started off at once to make sure whether it was an aeroplane or a Zeppelin!

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Zeppelin returned again this evening and took us by surprise. It seemed to come from the other side of Plojest, and the sentries on the Danube must have missed it. Towards morning the night watch at the Embassy whose duty it is to see that there is no light in the house saw a huge mass descending slowly over the Embassy till it almost touched the roof. It hovered there a few minutes, making observations. No one noticed it until suddenly the engines started again, and it dropped the first bomb close to the Embassy. A direct hit was made on the house of the Ambassador Jresnea Crecianu, and twenty gendarmes who were there were killed. The royal palace was also damaged. The Government is apparently not satisfied with the anti-aircraft forces, but concludes that practice will make them perfect. Opportunity for practice will certainly not be lacking.

"Our departure is being delayed by every sort of pretext. One moment it seems as though we should reach home via Bulgaria. This idea suited Bratianu extremely well, as the Bulgarian willingness to grant permission was a guarantee that they had no plans of attack. But he reckoned in this without his host. E. and W. are greatly alarmed because the Roumanians intend to detain them, and will probably hang them as spies. I have told them, 'Either we all stay here or we all start together. No one will be given up.' That appears to have somewhat quieted their fears.

"As might be expected, these nocturnal visits had disagreeable consequences for us. The Roumanians apparently thought that it was not a question of Zeppelins, but of Austro-Hungarian airships, and that my presence in the town would afford a certain protection against the attacks; after the first one they declared that for every Roumanian killed ten Austrians or Bulgarians would be executed, and the hostile treatment to which we were subjected grew worse and worse. The food was cut down and was terribly bad, and finally the water supply was cut off. With the tropical temperature that prevailed and the overcrowding of a house that normally was destined to hold twenty, and now housed 170, persons, the conditions within the space of twenty-four hours became unbearable and the atmosphere so bad that several people fell ill with fever, and neither doctor nor medicine was obtainable. Thanks to the energetic intervention of the Dutch Ambassador, Herr von Vredenburch, who had undertaken the charge of our State interests, it was finally possible to alter the conditions and to avert the outbreak of an epidemic."

* * * * *

It was just about that time that our Military Attaché, Lieut.-Colonel Baron Randa, made a telling remark. One of our Roumanian slave-drivers was in the habit of paying us a daily visit and talking in the bombastic fashion the Roumanians adopted when boasting of their impending victories. The word "Mackensen" occurred in Randa's answer. The Roumanian was surprised to hear the name, unknown to him, and said: "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce Mackensen? Je connais beaucoup d'Allemands, mais je n'ai jamais fait la connaissance de M. Mackensen." "Eh bien," replied Randa, patting him on the shoulder, "vous la ferez cette connaissance, je vous en guarantie." Three months after that Mackensen had occupied all Wallachia and had his headquarters at Bucharest. By that time, therefore, his name must have been more familiar to our Roumanian friend.

At last we set off for home via Russia and had a very interesting journey lasting three weeks, via Kieff, Petersburg, Sweden, and Germany. To spend three weeks in a train would seem very wearisome to many; but as everything in this life is a matter of habit we soon grew so accustomed to it that when we arrived in Vienna there were many of us who could not sleep the first few nights in a proper bed, as we missed the shaking of the train. Meanwhile, we had every comfort on the special train, and variety as well, especially when, on Bratianu's orders, we were detained at a little station called Baratinskaja, near Kieff. The reason of this was never properly explained, but it was probably owing to difficulties over the departure of the Roumanian Ambassador in Sofia and to the wish to treat us as hostages. The journey right through the enemy country was remarkable. Fierce battles were just then being fought in Galicia, and day and night we passed endless trains conveying gay and smiling soldiers to the front, and others returning full of pale, bandaged wounded men, whose groans we heard as we passed them. We were greeted everywhere in friendly fashion by the population, and there was not a trace of the hatred we had experienced in Roumania. Everything that we saw bore evidence of the strictest order and discipline. None of us could think it possible that the Empire was on the eve of a revolution, and when the Emperor Francis Joseph questioned me on my return as to whether I had reason to believe that a revolution would occur, I discountenanced the idea most emphatically.

This did not please the old Emperor. He said afterwards to one of his suite: "Czernin has given a correct account of Roumania, but he must have been asleep when he passed through Russia."

3

The development of Roumanian affairs during the war occurs in three phases, the first of which was in King Carol's reign. Then neutrality was guaranteed. On the other hand, it was not possible during those months to secure Roumania's co-operation because we, in the first period of the war, were so unfavourably situated in a military sense that public opinion in Roumania would not voluntarily have consented to a war at our side, and, as already mentioned, such forcible action would not have met with the King's approval.

In the second phase of the war, dating from King Carol's death to our defeat at Luck, conditions were quite different. In this second phase were included the greatest military successes the Central Powers ever obtained. The downfall of Serbia and the conquest of the whole of Poland occurred during this period, and, I repeat, in those months we could have secured the active co-operation of Roumania. Nevertheless, I must make it clearly understood here that if the political preliminaries for intervention on the part of Roumania were not undertaken, the fault must not be ascribed to the then Minister of Foreign Affairs, but to the _vis major_ which opposed the project under the form of a Hungarian veto. As previously stated, Majorescu, as well as Marghiloman, would only have given his consent to co-operation if Roumania had been given a slice of the Hungarian state. Thanks to the attitude of absolute refusal observed at the Ballplatz, the territory in question was never definitely decided on, but the idea probably was Transylvania and a portion of the Bukovina. I cannot say whether Count Burian, if he had escaped other influences, would have adopted the plan, but certain it is that however ready and willing he was to act he would never have carried out the plan against the Hungarian Parliament. According to the Constitution, the Hungarian Parliament is sovereign in the Hungarian State, and without the use of armed means Hungary could never have been induced to cede any part of her territory.

It is obvious, however, that it would have been impossible during the world war to have stirred up an armed conflict between Vienna and Budapest. My then German colleague, von dem Busche, entirely agreed with me that Hungary ought to make some territorial sacrifices in order to encourage Roumania's intervention. I firmly believe that then, and similarly before the Italian declaration of war, a certain pressure was brought to bear direct on Vienna by Berlin to this end--a pressure which merely contributed to strengthen and intensify Tisza's opposition. For Germany, the question was far simpler; she had drawn payment for her great gains from a foreign source. The cession of the Bukovina might possibly have been effected, as Stürgkh did not object, but that alone would not have satisfied Roumania.

It was quite clear that the opposition to the ceding of Transylvania originated in Hungary. But this opposition was not specially Tisza's, for whichever of the Hungarian politicians might have been at the head of the Cabinet he would have adopted the same standpoint.

I sent at that time a confidential messenger to Tisza enjoining him to explain the situation and begging him in my name to make the concession. Tisza treated the messenger with great reserve, and wrote me a letter stating once for all that the voluntary cession of Hungarian territory was out of the question; "whoever attempts to seize even one square metre of Hungarian soil will be shot."

There was nothing to be done. And still I think that this was one of the most important phases of the war, which, had it been properly managed, might have influenced the final result. The military advance on the flank of the Russian army would have been, in the opinion of our military chiefs, an advantage not to be despised, and through it the clever break through at Görlitz would have had some results; but as it was, Görlitz was a strategical trial of strength without any lasting effect.

The repellent attitude adopted by Hungary may be accounted for in two ways: the Hungarians, to begin with, were averse to giving up any of their own territory, and, secondly, they did not believe--even to the very last--that Roumania would remain permanently neutral or that sooner or later we would be forced to fight _against_ Roumania unless we in good time carried her with us. In this connection Tisza always maintained his optimism, and to the very last moment held to the belief that Roumania would not dare take it upon herself to attack us. This is the only reason that explains why the Roumanians surprised us so much by their invasion of Transylvania and by being able to carry off so much rich booty. I would have been able to take much better care of the many Austrians and Hungarians living in Roumania--whose fate was terrible after the declaration of war, which took them also by surprise--if I had been permitted to draw their attention more openly and generally to the coming catastrophe; but in several of his letters Tisza implored me not to create a panic, "which would bring incalculable consequences with it." As I neither did, nor could, know how far this secrecy was in agreement with our military counter-preparations, I was bound to observe it. Apparently, Burian believed my reports to a certain extent; at any rate, for some time before the declaration of war he ordered all the secret documents and the available money to be conveyed to Vienna, and entrusted to Holland the care of our citizens; but Tisza told me long after that he considered my reports of too pessimistic a tendency, and was afraid to give orders for the _superfluous_ evacuation of Transylvania.

After the unexpected invasion, the waves of panic and rage ran high in the Hungarian Parliament. The severest criticism was heaped upon me, as no one doubted that the lack of preparation was due to my false reports. Here Tisza was again himself when, in a loud voice, he shouted out that it was untrue; my reports were correct; I had warned them in time and no blame could be attached to me; he thus took upon himself the just blame. Fear was unknown to him, and he never tried to shield himself behind anyone. When I arrived back in Vienna after a journey of some weeks in Russia, and only then heard of the incident, I took the opportunity to thank Tisza for the honourable and loyal manner in which he had defended my cause. He replied with the ironical smile characteristic of him that it was simply a matter of course.

But for an Austro-Hungarian official it was by no means such a matter of course. We have had so many cowards on the Ministerial benches, so many men who were brave when dealing with their subordinates, toadied to their superiors, and were intimidated by strong opposition, that a man like Tisza, who was such a contrast to these others, has a most refreshing and invigorating effect. The Roumanians attempted several times to make the maintenance of their _neutrality_ contingent on territorial concessions. I was always opposed to this, and at the Ballplatz they were of the same opinion. The Roumanians would have appropriated these concessions and simply attacked us later to obtain more. On the other hand, it seemed to me that to gain _military co-operation_ a cession of territory would be quite in order, since, once in the field, the Roumanians could not draw back and their fate would be permanently bound up with ours.

Finally, the third phase comprises the comparatively short period between our defeat at Luck and the outbreak of the war in Roumania, and was simply the death throes of neutrality.

War was in the air and could be foreseen with certainty.

As was to be expected, the inefficient diplomacy displayed in the preparations for the world war brought down severe criticism of our diplomatic abilities, and if the intention at the Ballplatz was to bring about a war, it cannot be denied that the preparations for it were most inadequate.

Criticism was not directed towards the Ballplatz only, but entered into further matters, such as the qualifications of the individual representatives in foreign countries. I remember an article in one of the most widely-read Viennese papers, which drew a comparison between the "excellent" ambassador at Sofia and almost all of the others; that is, all those whose posts were in countries that either refused their co-operation or even already were in the field against us.

In order to prevent any misunderstanding, I wish to state here that in my opinion our then ambassador to Sofia, Count Tarnowski, was one of the best and most competent diplomats in Austria-Hungary, but that the point of view from which such praise was awarded to him was in itself totally false. Had Count Tarnowski been in Paris, London or Rome, these states, in spite of his undeniable capabilities, would not have adopted a different attitude; while, on the other hand, there are numbers of distinguished members of the diplomatic corps who would have carried out his task at Sofia just as well as Count Tarnowski.

In other words, I consider it is making an unwarrantable demand to expect that a representative in a foreign land should have a leading influence on the policy of the state to which he is accredited. What may be demanded of a diplomatic representative is a correct estimate of the situation. The ambassador must know what the Government of the state where he is will do. A false diagnosis is discreditable. But it is impossible for a representative, whoever he may be, to obtain such power over a foreign state as to be able to guide the policy of that state into the course desired by him. The policy of a state will invariably be subservient to such objects as the Government of that period deem vital, and will always be influenced by factors which are quite outside the range of the foreign representative.

In what manner a diplomatic representative obtains his information is his own affair. He should endeavour to establish intercourse, not only with a certain class of society, but also with the Press, and also keep in touch with other classes of the population.

One of the reproaches made to the "old régime" was the assumed preference for aristocrats in diplomacy. This was quite a mistake. No preference was shown for the aristocracy, but it lay in the nature of the career that wealth and social polish were assets in the exercise of its duties. An attaché had no salary. He was, therefore, expected to have a tolerably good income at home in order to be able to live conformably to his rank when abroad. This system arose out of necessity, and was also due to the unwillingness of the authorities to raise salaries in the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. The consequence was that only sons of wealthy parents could adopt such a career. I once told some delegates who interviewed me in connection with the subject that a change of the system depended entirely on themselves and their increased munificence.

A certain amount of social polish was just as necessary for diplomats of the old régime as was the requisite allowance for their household and a knowledge of foreign languages. So long as courts exist in Europe, the court will always be the centre of all social life, and diplomats must have the entrée to such circles. A young man who does not know whether to eat with his fork or his knife would play a sorry part there--his social training is not an indifferent matter. Preference is, therefore, not given to the aristocracy, but to young men of wealth familiar with European society etiquette.

That does not mean that a diplomat is to consider it his duty only to show himself at all the parties and fêtes given by the upper ten thousand, but it is one of his duties, as at such places he might gain information unobtainable elsewhere. A diplomat must be in touch with all sources from which he can glean information.

Individual capabilities and zeal will naturally play a great part; but the means that a Government places at the disposition of its foreign missions are also of the highest importance.

There are people in the East--I do not know whether to say in contradistinction to the West--who are not immune to the influence of gold. In Roumania, for instance, Russia, before the war, had completely undermined the whole country and had lavished millions long before the war in the hope of an understanding with that country. Most of the newspapers were financed by Russians, and numbers of the leading politicians were bound by Russian interests, whereas neither Germany nor Austria-Hungary had made any such preparations. Thus it happened that, on the outbreak of war, Russia was greatly in advance of the Central Powers, an advance that was all the more difficult to overtake as from the first day of war Russia opened still wider the floodgates of her gold and inundated Roumania with roubles.

If the fact that the scanty preparation for war is a proof of how little the Central Powers reckoned on such a contingency it may on the other hand explain away much apparent inactivity on the part of their representatives. Karl Fürstenberg, my predecessor at Bucharest, whose estimate of the situation was a just one, demanded to have more funds at his disposal, which was refused at Vienna on the plea that there was no money. After the war began the Ministry stinted us no longer, but it was too late then for much to be done.

Whether official Russia, four weeks in advance, had really counted on the assassination of the Archduke and the outbreak of a war ensuing therefrom remains an open question. I will not go so far as to assert it for a fact, but one thing is certain, that Russia within a measurable space of time had prepared for war as being inevitable and had endeavoured to secure Roumania's co-operation. When the Tsar was at Constanza a month before the tragedy at Sarajevo, his Minister for Foreign Affairs, Sassonoff, paid a visit to Bucharest. When there, he and Bratianu went on a walking tour together to Transylvania. I did not hear of this tactless excursion until it was over, but I shared Berchtold's surprise at such a proceeding on the part of both Ministers.

I once, in 1914, overheard by chance a conversation between two Russians. It was at the Hotel Capsa, known later as a resort for anti-Austrians. They were sitting at the table next to mine in the restaurant and were speaking French quite freely and openly. They appeared to be on good terms with the Russian Ambassador and were discussing the impending visit of the Tsar to Constanza. I discovered later that they were officers in mufti. They agreed that the Emperor Francis Joseph could not live very much longer, and that when his death occurred and a new ruler came to the throne It would be a favourable moment for Russia to declare war on us.

They were evidently exponents of the "loyal" tendency that aimed at declaring war on us without a preceding murder; and I readily believe that the majority of the men in Petersburg who were eager for war held the same view.