Book: In the World War

C >> Count Ottokar Czernin >> In the World War




In the days of the old regime it was one of the duties of the younger
members of the Embassy to develop their budding diplomatic talents by
a clever compilation of the list for such a dinner and a wise
avoidance of any dangerous rock ahead. But as the question of rank in
Roumania is taken just as seriously as though it were authorised,
every lady claims to have first rank--the correct allotment of places
at a dinner is really a question for the most efficient diplomatic
capacities. There were about a dozen ladies in Bucharest who would
actually not accept an invitation unless they were quite sure the
place of honour would be given to them.

My predecessor cut the Gordian knot of these difficulties by arranging
to have dinner served at small separate tables, thus securing several
places of honour, but not even by these means could he satisfy the
ambition of all.


2

While at Sinaia I received the news of the assassination of the
Archduke from Bratianu. I was confined to bed, suffering from
influenza, when Bratianu telephoned to ask if I had heard that there
had been an accident to the Archduke's train in Bosnia, and that both
he and the duchess were killed. Soon after this first alarm came
further news, leaving no doubt as to the gravity of the catastrophe.
The first impression in Roumania was one of profound and sincere
sympathy and genuine consternation. Roumania never expected by means
of war to succeed in realising her national ambitions; she only
indulged in the hope that a friendly agreement with the Monarchy would
lead to the union of all Roumanians, and in that connection Bucharest
centred all its hopes in the Archduke and heir to the throne. His
death seemed to end the dream of a Greater Roumania, and the genuine
grief displayed in all circles in Roumania was the outcome of that
feeling. Take Jonescu, on learning the news while in my wife's
drawing-room, wept bitterly; and the condolences that I received were
not of the usual nature of such messages, but were expressions of the
most genuine sorrow. Poklewski, the Russian Ambassador, is said to
have remarked very brutally that there was no reason to make so much
out of the event, and the general indignation that his words aroused
proved how strong was the sympathy felt in the country for the
murdered Archduke.

When the ultimatum was made known the entire situation changed at
once. I never had any illusions respecting the Roumanian psychology,
and was quite clear in my own mind that the sincere regret at the
Archduke's death was due to egotistical motives and to the fear of
being compelled now to abandon the national ambition. The ultimatum
and the danger of war threatening on the horizon completely altered
the Roumanian attitude, and it was suddenly recognised that Roumania
could achieve its object by other means, not by peace, but by war--not
_with_, but _against_ the Monarchy. I would never have believed it
possible that such a rapid and total change could have occurred
practically within a few hours. Genuine and simulated indignation at
the tone of the ultimatum was the order of the day, and the universal
conclusion arrived at was: _L'Autriche est devenue folle._ Men and
women with whom I had been on a perfectly friendly footing for the
last year suddenly became bitter enemies. Everywhere I noticed a
mixture of indignation and growing eagerness to realise at last their
heart's dearest wish. The feeling in certain circles fluctuated for
some days. Roumanians had a great respect for Germany's military
power, and the year 1870 was still fresh in the memory of many of
them. When England, however, joined the ranks of our adversaries their
fears vanished, and from that moment it became obvious to the large
majority of the Roumanians that the realisation of their aspirations
was merely a question of time and of diplomatic efficiency. The wave
of hatred and lust of conquest that broke over us in the first stage
of the war was much stronger than in later stages, because the
Roumanians made the mistake we all have committed of reckoning on too
short a duration of the war, and therefore imagined the decision to be
nearer at hand than it actually was. After the great German successes
in the West, after Goerlitz and the downfall of Serbia, certain
tendencies pointing to a policy of delay became noticeable among the
Roumanians. With the exception of Carp and his little group all were
more or less ready at the very first to fling themselves upon us.

Like a rock standing in the angry sea of hatred, poor old King Carol
was alone with his German sympathies. I had been instructed to read
the ultimatum to him the moment it was sent to Belgrade, and never
shall I forget the impression it made on the old King when he heard
it. He, wise old politician that he was, recognised at once the
immeasurable possibilities of such a step, and before I had finished
reading the document he interrupted me, exclaiming: "It will be a
world war." It was long before he could collect himself and begin to
devise ways and means by which a peaceful solution might still be
found. I may mention here that a short time previously the Tsar, with
Sassonoff, had been in Constanza for a meeting with the Roumanian
royal family. The day after the Tsar left I went to Constanza myself
to thank the King for having conferred the Grand Cross of one of the
Roumanian orders on me, obviously as a proof that the Russian visit
had not made him forget our alliance, and he gave me some interesting
details of the said visit. Most interesting of all was his account of
the conversations with the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs. On
asking whether Sassonoff considered the situation in Europe to be as
safe as he (the King) did, Sassonoff answered in the affirmative,
"_pourvu que l'Autriche ne touche pas a la Serbie_." I at once, of
course, reported this momentous statement to Vienna; but neither by
the King nor by myself, nor yet in Vienna, was the train of thought
then fully understood. The relations between Serbia and the Monarchy
were at that time no worse than usual; indeed, they were rather
better, and there was not the slightest intention on our part to
injure the Serbians. But the suspicion that Sassonoff already then was
aware that the Serbians were planning something against us cannot be
got rid of.

When the King asked me whether I had reported Sassonoff's important
remark to Vienna, I replied that I had done so, and added that this
remark was another reason to make me believe that the assassination
was a crime long since prepared and carried out under Russian
patronage.

The crime that was enacted at Debruzin, which made such a sensation at
the time, gave rise to suspicions of a Russo-Roumanian attempt at
assassination.

On February 24, 1914, the Hungarian Correspondence Bureau published
the following piece of news:

A terrible explosion took place this morning in the official
premises of the newly-instituted Greek-Catholic Hungarian
bishopric, which are on the second floor of the Ministry of Trade
and Commerce in the Franz Deak Street. It occurred in the office
of the bishop's representative, the Vicar Michael Jaczkovics,
whose secretary, Johann Slapowszky, was also present in the room.
Both of them were blown to pieces. The Greek-Catholic bishop,
Stephan Miklossy, was in a neighbouring room, but had a most
marvellous escape. Alexander Csatth, advocate and solicitor to the
bishopric, who was in another room, was mortally wounded by the
explosion. In a third room the bishop's servant with his wife were
both killed. All the walls in the office premises fell in, and the
whole building is very much damaged. The explosion caused such a
panic in the house that all the inhabitants took flight and
vanished. All the windows of the neighbouring Town Hall in the
Verboczy Street were shattered by the concussion. Loose tiles were
hurled into the street and many passers-by were injured. The four
dead bodies and the wounded were taken to the hospital. The
bishop, greatly distressed, left the building and went to a
friend's house. The daughter of the Vicar Jaczkovics went out of
her mind on hearing of her father's tragic death. The cause of the
explosion has not yet been discovered.

I soon became involved in the affair when Hungary and Roumania began
mutually to blame one another as originators of the outrage. This led
to numerous interventions and adjustments, and my task was intensified
because a presumed accomplice of the murderer Catarau was arrested in
Bucharest, and his extradition to Hungary had to be effected by me.
This man, of the name of Mandazescu, was accused of having obtained a
false passport for Catarau.

Catarau, who was a Roumanian Russian from Bessarabia, vanished
completely after the murder and left no trace. News came, now from
Serbia, then from Albania, that he had been found, but the rumours
were always false. I chanced to hear something about the matter in
this way. I was on board a Roumanian vessel bound from Constanza to
Constantinople, when I accidentally overheard two Roumanian naval
officers talking together. One of them said: "That was on the day
when the police brought Catarau on board to help him to get away
secretly."

Catarau was heard of later at Cairo, which he appears to have reached
with the aid of Roumanian friends.

It cannot be asserted that the Roumanian Government was implicated in
the plot--but the Roumanian authorities certainly were, for in the
Balkans, as in Russia, there are many bands like the _Cerna Ruka_, the
_Narodna Odbrena_, etc., etc., who carry on their activities alongside
the Government.

It was a crime committed by some Russian or Roumanian secret society,
and the Governments of both countries showed surprisingly little
interest in investigating the matter and delivering the culprits up to
justice.

On June 15 I heard from a reliable source that Catarau had been seen
in Bucharest. He walked about the streets quite openly in broad
daylight, and no one interfered with him; then he disappeared.

To return, however, to my interview with the old King. Filled with
alarm, he dispatched that same evening two telegrams, one to Belgrade
and one to Petersburg, urging that the ultimatum be accepted without
fail.

The terrible distress of mind felt by the King when, like a sudden
flash of lightning from the clouds, he saw before him a picture of the
world war may be accounted for because he felt certain that the
conflict between his personal convictions and his people's attitude
would suddenly be known to all. The poor old King fought the fight to
the best of his ability, but it killed him. King Carol's death was
caused by the war. The last weeks of his life were a torture to him;
each message that I had to deliver he felt as the lash of a whip. I
was enjoined to do all I could to secure Roumania's prompt
co-operation, according to the terms of the Alliance, and I was even
obliged to go so far as to remind him that "a promise given allows of
no prevarication: that a treaty is a treaty, and _his honour_ obliged
him to unsheathe his sword." I recollect one particularly painful
scene, where the King, weeping bitterly, flung himself across his
writing-table and with trembling hands tried to wrench from his neck
his order _Pour le Merite_. I can affirm without any exaggeration that
I could see him wasting away under the ceaseless moral blows dealt to
him, and that the mental torment he went through undoubtedly shortened
his life.

Queen Elizabeth was well aware of all, but she never took my action
amiss; she understood that I had to deliver the messages, but that it
was not I who composed them.

Queen Elizabeth was a good, clever and touchingly simple woman, not a
_poet qui court apres l'esprit_, but a woman who looked at the world
through conciliatory and poetical glasses. She was a good
conversationalist, and there was always a poetic charm in all she did.
There hung on the staircase a most beautiful sea picture, which I
greatly admired while the Queen talked to me about the sea, about her
little villa at Constanza, which, built on the extreme end of the
quay, seems almost to lie in the sea. She spoke, too, of her travels
and impressions when on the high seas, and as she spoke the great
longing for all that is good and beautiful made itself felt, and this
is what she said to me: "The sea lives. If there could be found any
symbol of eternity it would be the sea, endless in greatness and
everlasting in movement. The day is dull and stormy. One after another
the glassy billows come rolling in and break with a roar on the rocky
shore. The small white crests of the waves look as if covered with
snow. And the sea breathes and draws its breath with the ebb and flow
of the tide. The tide is the driving power that forces the mighty
waters from Equator to North Pole. And thus it works, day and night,
year by year, century by century. It takes no heed of the perishable
beings who call themselves lords of the world, who live only for a
day, coming and going and vanishing almost as they come. The sea
remains to work. It works for all, for men, for animals, for plants,
for without the sea there could be no organic life in the world. The
sea is like a great filter, which alone can produce the change of
matter that is necessary for life. In the course of a century
numberless rivers carry earth to the sea. Each river carries without
ceasing its burden of earth and sand to the ocean; and the sea
receives the load which is carried by the current far out to sea, and
slowly and by degrees in the course of time the sea dissolves or
crushes all it has received. No matter to the sea if the process lasts
a thousand years or more--it may even last for ages, who can tell?

"But one day, quite suddenly, the sea begins to wander. Once there was
sea everywhere, and all continents are born from the sea. One day land
arose out of the sea. The birth was of a revolutionary nature, there
were earthquakes, volcanic craters, falling cities and dying men--but
new land was there. Or else it moves slowly, invisibly, a metre or two
in a century, and returns to the land it used to possess. Thus it
restores the soil it stole from it, but cleaner, refined and full of
vitality to live and to create. Such is the sea and its work."

These are the words of the old half-blind Queen, who can never look
upon the beloved picture again, but she told me how she always
idolised the sea, and how her grand nephews and nieces shared her
feelings, and how she grew young again with them when she told them
tales of olden times.

One could listen to her for hours without growing weary, and always
there was some beautiful thought or word to carry away and think over.

Doubtless such knowledge would be more correct were it taken from some
geological work. But Carmen Sylva's words invariably seemed to strike
some poetic chord; that is what made her so attractive.

She loved to discourse on politics, which for her meant King Carol. He
was her all in all. After his death, when it was said that all states
in the world were losing in the terrible war, she remarked: "Roumania
has already lost her most precious possession." She never spoke of her
own poems and writings. In politics her one thought besides King Carol
was Albania. She was deeply attached to the Princess of Wied, and
showed her strong interest in the country where she lived. Talking
about the Wieds one day afforded me an opportunity of seeing the King
vexed with his wife; it was the only time I ever noticed it. It was
when we were at Sinaia, and I was, as often occurred, sitting with the
King. The Queen came into the room, which she was otherwise not in the
habit of entering, bringing with her a telegram from the Princess of
Wied in which she asked for something--I cannot now remember what--for
Albania. The King refused, but the Queen insisted, until he at last
told her very crossly to leave him in peace, as he had other things to
think of than Albania.

After King Carol's death she lost all her vital energy, and the change
in the political situation troubled her. She was very fond of her
nephew Ferdinand--hers was a truly loving heart--and she trembled lest
he should commit some act of treachery. I remember once how, through
her tears, she said to me: "Calm my fears. Tell me that he will never
be guilty of such an act." I was unable to reassure her, but a kind
Fate spared her from hearing the declaration of war.

Later, not long before her death, the old Queen was threatened with
total blindness. She was anxious to put herself in the hands of a
French oculist for an operation for cataract, who would naturally be
obliged to travel through the Monarchy in order to reach Bucharest. At
her desire I mentioned the matter in Vienna, and the Emperor Francis
Joseph at once gave the requisite permission for the journey.

After a successful operation, the Queen sent a short autograph poem to
one of my children, adding that it was her _first_ letter on
recovering her sight. At the same time she was again very uneasy
concerning politics.

I wrote her the following letter:

Your Majesty,--My warmest thanks for the beautiful little poem you
have sent to my boy. That it was granted to me to contribute
something towards the recovery of your sight is in itself a
sufficient reward, and no thanks are needed. That Your Majesty has
addressed the first written lines to my children delights and
touches me.

Meanwhile Your Majesty must not be troubled regarding politics. It
is of no avail. For the moment Roumania will retain the policy of
the late King, and God alone knows what the future will bring
forth.

We are all like dust in this terrible hurricane sweeping through
the world. We are tossed helplessly hither and thither and know
not whether we are to face disaster or success. The point is not
whether we live or die, but how it is done. In that respect King
Carol set an example to us all.

I hope King Ferdinand may never forget that, together with the
throne, his uncle bequeathed to him a political creed, a creed of
honour and loyalty, and I am persuaded that Your Majesty is the
best guardian of the bequest.

Your Majesty's grateful and devoted

CZERNIN.

When I said that King Carol fought the fight to the best of his
ability, I intended to convey that no one could expect him to be
different from what he always was. The King never possessed in any
special degree either energy, strength of action, or adventurous
courage, and at the time I knew him, as an old man, he had none of
those attributes. He was a clever diplomat, a conciliatory power, a
safe mediator, and one who avoided trouble, but not of a nature to
risk all and weather the storm. That was known to all, and no one,
therefore, could think that the King would try to put himself on our
side against the clearly expressed views of all Roumania. My idea is
that if he had been differently constituted he could successfully have
risked the experiment. The King possessed in Carp a man of quite
unusual, even reckless, activity and energy, and from the first moment
he placed himself and his activities at the King's disposal. If the
King, without asking, had ordered mobilisation, Carp's great energy
would have certainly carried it through. But, in the military
situation as it was then, the Roumanian army would have been forced to
the rear of the Russian, and in all probability the first result of
the battlefields would have changed the situation entirely, and the
blood that was shed mutually in victorious battles would have brought
forth the unity that the spirit of our alliance never succeeded in
evolving. But the King was not a man of such calibre. He could not
change his nature, and what he did do entirely concurred with his
methods from the time he ascended the throne.

As long as the King lived there was the positive assurance that
Roumania would not side against us, for he would have prevented any
mobilisation against us with the same firm wisdom which had always
enabled him to avert any agitation in the land. He would then have
seen that the Roumanians are not a warlike people like the Bulgarians,
and that Roumania had not the slightest intention of risking anything
in the campaign. A policy of procrastination in the wise hands of the
King would have delayed hostilities against us indefinitely.

Immediately after the outbreak of war Bratianu began his game, which
consisted of entrenching the Roumanian Government firmly and willingly
in a position between the two groups of Powers, and bandying favours
about from one to the other, reaping equal profits from each, until
the moment when the stronger of the two should be recognised as such
and the weaker then attacked.

Even from 1914-16 Roumania was never really neutral. She always
favoured our enemies, and as far as lay in her power hindered all our
actions.

The transport of horses and ammunition to Turkey in the summer of 1915
that was exacted from us was an important episode. Turkey was then in
great danger, and was asking anxiously for munitions. Had the
Roumanian Government adopted the standpoint not to favour any of the
belligerent Powers it would have been a perfectly correct attitude,
viewed from a neutral standpoint, but she never did adopt such
standpoint, as is shown by her allowing the Serbians to receive
transports of Russian ammunition via the Danube, thus showing great
partiality. When all attempts failed, the munitions were transmitted,
partially at any rate, through other means.

At that time, too, Russian soldiers were allowed in Roumania and were
not molested, whereas ours were invariably interned.

Two Austrian airmen once landed by mistake in Roumania, and were, of
course, interned immediately. The one was a cadet of the name of
Berthold and a pilot whose name I have forgotten. From their prison
they appealed to me to help them, and I sent word that they must
endeavour to obtain permission to pay me a visit. A few days later the
cadet appeared, escorted by a Roumanian officer as guard. This
officer, not being allowed without special permission to set foot on
Austro-Hungarian soil, was obliged to remain in the street outside the
house. I had the gates closed, put the cadet into one of my cars, sent
him out through the back entrance, and had him driven to Giurgui,
where he got across the Danube, and in two hours was again at liberty.
After a lengthy and futile wait the officer departed. His protests
came too late.

The unfortunate pilot who was left behind was not allowed to come to
the Embassy. One night, however, he made his escape through the window
and arrived. I kept him concealed for some time, and he eventually
crossed the frontier safely and got away by rail to Hungary.

Bratianu reproached me later for what I had done, but I told him it
was in consequence of his not having strictly adhered to his
neutrality. Had our soldiers been left unmolested, as in the case of
the Russians, I should not have been compelled to act as I had done.

Bratianu can never seriously have doubted that the Central Powers
would succumb, and his sympathies were always with the Entente, not
only on account of his bringing up, but also because of that political
speculation. During the course of subsequent events there were times
when Bratianu to a certain extent seemed to vacillate, especially at
the time of our great offensive against Russia. The break through at
Goerlitz and the irresistible advance into the interior of Russia had
an astounding effect in Roumania. Bratianu, who obviously knew very
little about strategy, could simply not understand that the Russian
millions, whom he imagined to be in a fair way to Vienna and Berlin,
should suddenly begin to rush back and a fortress like Warsaw be
demolished like a house of cards. He was evidently very anxious then
and must have had many a disturbed night. On the other hand, those who
to begin with, though not for, still were not against Austria began to
raise their heads and breathe more freely. The victory of the Central
Powers appeared on the horizon like a fresh event. That was the
historic moment when Roumania might have been coerced into active
co-operation, but not the Bratianu Ministry. Bratianu himself would
never in any case have ranged himself on our side, but if we could
have made up our minds then to instal a Majorescu or a Marghiloman
Ministry in office, we could have had the Roumanian army with us. In
connection with this were several concrete proposals. In order to
carry out the plan we should have been compelled to make territorial
concessions in Hungary to a Majorescu Ministry--Majorescu demanded it
as a primary condition to his undertaking the conduct of affairs, and
this proposal failed owing to Hungary's obstinate resistance. It is a
terrible but a just punishment that poor Hungary, who contributed so
much to our definite defeat, should be the one to suffer the most from
the consequences thereof, and that the Roumanians, so despised and
persecuted by Hungary, should gain the greatest triumphs on her
plains.

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