CHAPTER XV
Attitude of Austria in the Franco-German War—Proposed alliance of France, Italy, and Austria against Prussia—General Türr’s interview with Francis Joseph—Victor Emmanuel’s conditions—The bargain concluded—The French plan of campaign drafted by the Archduke Albert—Beust’s letter to Richard Metternich—Reasons why the Austrian promises were not fulfilled.
What was Austria doing in 1870? What did she mean to do? What did she promise to do? Was there a sudden right-about face? And, if so, why? Those are our problems, and the solution of them is supposed to be one of the secrets of the political coulisses. Doors and windows have been opened here and there, however, affording peeps at the mystery; and enough can be seen to make it clear that, just as Austria astonished the world with her ingratitude in 1854, so, if the full truth had been made known, she would have astonished the world with her perfidy in 1870.
There is, of course, an official Austrian version of the events: that any promises made were contingent upon conditions which were not fulfilled. There is also an official French version: that France was lured on, and treacherously left in the lurch. By no means all the documents bearing on the matter have been made public,—there may still be surprises in store for us; but future revelations are likely to throw light upon motives rather than facts. This much, at any rate, is certain: that an Austrian Archduke—Archduke Albert, the victor of Custozza—drafted the French plan of campaign against Prussia for the French War Office, on the assumption that Austria would take part in that campaign, and that the Austrian pledge of assistance was only withdrawn at the eleventh hour.
Now let us go back and note the circumstances and atmosphere in which the plot was laid.
Long before the Franco-Prussian War came, the feeling that it was bound to come was in the air. It was understood that Prussia, having fought Austria for the hegemony of Germany, would fight France for the hegemony of Europe. What the pretext would be was doubtful, but it was certain that a pretext would be found. The quarrel about Luxembourg was a symptom of a deeply-seated rivalry. Napoleon foresaw the peril, and determined to anticipate it by forming an irresistible Triple Alliance with Italy and Austria for his partners. The story of that alliance—and of its failure—can be pieced together from the “indiscretions” of various persons charged with the negotiations.
It was in 1869 that Napoleon began to negotiate with both Victor Emmanuel and Francis Joseph; and Francis Joseph and Victor Emmanuel, either simultaneously or soon afterwards, entered into negotiations with each other. The actual phrase Triple Alliance occurs in this connection in a letter from Victor Emmanuel to Napoleon, first printed in the Giornale d’Italia. This is the essential passage:—
“I cannot possibly refuse to give my adherence to the idea of a Triple Alliance between France, Austria, and Italy; for the union of these Powers will present a strong barrier against unjust pretensions, and so help to establish the peace of Europe on a more solid basis.”
Peace, of course, is always the ostensible object of alliances of the kind. It is very seldom their real object; and it was not in this case. Victor Emmanuel desired as little as Napoleon to limit it in that way. What was at the back of Victor Emmanuel’s mind appears from his negotiations with Francis Joseph—negotiations which he entrusted to General Türr, a Hungarian officer in the Italian service. General Türr is one of those who have been indiscreet. He eventually told the correspondent of a German newspaper what had passed between him and Francis Joseph, and how, after reviewing the subject in its general aspects, he went into details from the Italian point of view, and raised the inevitable question of Italia Irredenta:—
“I mentioned the Trentino to Francis Joseph, and he interrupted me.
“‘Ah!’ he objected, ‘it is always I who am expected to give something up.’
“‘Naturally,’ I replied. ‘But it is also clearly understood that your Majesty will obtain compensation for the surrender in some other quarter.’”
It was a proposal by which Francis Joseph might very well have been tempted, especially as he had not yet realised that the future of Austria was in the Balkans. We have already seen him hinting that he might be able to give up Venetia if he could obtain “an extension of the Empire in the direction of Germany”; and the same bribe might very well have induced him to part with the Trentino. Of course, too, the memory of Sadowa rankled; and, with the French and the Italians for his allies, he could hardly fail to avenge that humiliation. The chance of thus playing off his various enemies against each other was not one to be scoffed at.
He did not scoff at it, but the three-cornered bargain was too intricate to be settled in a hurry. In particular, Victor Emmanuel was in no hurry, but was hanging back in order to make conditions with France as well as with Austria. With him, the position of the Pope was the obstacle. He wanted the Pope’s temporal dominions in order that he might fix his capital at Rome; and the Pope was protected in those temporal dominions by French bayonets. Victor Emmanuel, therefore, stipulated that the French troops should be withdrawn from Rome.
Napoleon himself was willing enough to withdraw them, but the Clericals, with the Empress Eugénie at their head, objected. He was afraid of the Clericals; and so the negotiations hung fire. When he did recall his troops, because he wanted them in the field, it was too late. Victor Emmanuel had heard the news of the French defeat at Wörth, and he uttered the memorable words:—
“The poor Emperor! I am very sorry for him; but I have had a narrow escape.”
Even so, however, Victor Emmanuel would have signed the proposed treaty if his Ministers would have let him, as he told the German Emperor frankly when he met him in 1873:—
“Your Majesty knows, no doubt, that if it had not been for these gentlemen (Minghetti and Visconti-Venosta) I should have declared war on you in 1870.”
But “these gentlemen” had only held Victor Emmanuel back because they were themselves held back by the counsels of the Austrian Cabinet. “Too late!” was their verdict; for they, too, had heard of Wörth. But if they drew back when Victor Emmanuel was willing to go on, they could also be reproached for having pledged themselves more deeply than he: a piece of secret history which those who held the secret have only recently revealed.
The essential “new fact” is that already set forth in this chapter: that on the eve of the declaration of war the Archduke Albert, whose success at Custozza had gained him the reputation of a great strategist, was sent to Paris by Francis Joseph to concert a joint plan of campaign against Prussia. He conferred there with Lebœuf, Lebrun, Frossard, Jarras, and other leading French soldiers, and Lebrun was sent off to pursue the negotiations at Vienna.
France, it transpired in the course of the discussions, was much readier to take the field than either of her allies. She claimed to be able to mobilise in a fortnight, whereas it was admitted that it would take both Austria and Italy about six weeks to mobilise. The Archduke proposed, therefore, that the three Powers should begin their mobilisation simultaneously, but that Austria, instead of declaring war before she was ready, should affect neutrality while concentrating two army corps at Pilsen and Olmütz. Lebrun did not altogether like the arrangement. He smelt a rat, and suspected a disposition on the part of the Austrians to wait and see which way the cat would jump. Still, there was something to be said for it; for it could be no advantage to France that her ally should be crushed while in the act of mobilising. So a formal agreement between France and Austria was concluded on June 13th, 1870.
That was the occasion on which the Archduke Albert drafted the plan of campaign: not merely a general scheme of joint action between the two Powers, but a detailed plan of campaign for the distribution and employment of the French army. His draft still lies in the archives of the French War Office, though naturally it is not shown to everyone; and the plan itself conforms in almost every particular to the plan which Napoleon adopted. The criticism passed on it by the few military experts who have since reviewed it is this: that it was an excellent plan on paper—excellent on the assumption that the French generals could direct the enemy’s movements as well as their own, but that it was composed without regard to the actual conditions of the case, allowing nothing for independent Prussian initiative, and therefore was, on the whole, a bad plan.
The premature attack on Saarbrücken—the first skirmish of the war—was undertaken in accordance with the plan. It was a good move on the assumption that the French were ready to follow it up; but they were not ready to follow it up, and therefore it was a bad move. The failure to follow it up was as fatal in the diplomatic as in the military sense, for it gave point to the Archduke Albert’s report that the French army did not seem to him as strong as he had been led to expect. It served, consequently, as a starting-point for hesitations; but Austria was nevertheless committed, though she drew back from her commitments; and the Archduke’s visit to Paris and his proceedings there give special point to Grammont’s grandiloquent words, addressed on July 15th to the Finance Commission, which he had kept waiting:—
“If I have kept the members of the Commission waiting, my excuse is that I had with me, at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, the Austrian Ambassador and the Italian Minister. I am confident that the Commission will not require me to say any more.”
Grammont, when he spoke thus, believed, and had reason to believe, that the proposed Triple Alliance was a real thing. The Austrian contention is that he had mistaken courteous expressions of sympathy for specific pledges; but that view can hardly be maintained in the face of the facts disclosed as to the Archduke Albert’s mission; and other correspondence which has been published is equally at variance with it.
Only two days after his speech to the Finance Commission, Grammont wrote a request to Austria for the help promised. He asked that 70,000 or 80,000 Italian troops should be allowed to march through Austria to Bavaria, and that Austria should herself send 150,000 men to Bohemia. If that were done, he said, the peace would be signed in Berlin, and the memories of 1866 would be effaced. But everything depended upon promptitude:—
“Never again” (Grammont concluded) “will such an opportunity present itself. Never again will you obtain such effective support. Never will France be so strong as she is to-day, or better armed and equipped, or animated by a more intense enthusiasm.”
Whereto Beust replied in a letter addressed to Count Richard Metternich, the Austrian Ambassador, in Paris:—
“Be so good as to assure the Emperor and his Ministers once again that, faithful to the engagements defined in the letters exchanged by the two Sovereigns at the end of last year, we consider the cause of France our own, and shall contribute in every way possible to the success of French arms. Our neutrality is only a means towards the true end of our policy: the sole means of completing our armaments without exposing ourselves to a premature attack on the part of Prussia or Russia.”
“Or Russia”: those are the words which hold the key to the position.
Austria, acting in conjunction with France and Italy, had no reason to be afraid of Prussia; but if Russia should side with Prussia, she might have a good deal to be afraid of. Count Nigra has specifically stated that Russia intimated her intention of doing so, and that it was by that intimation that the Triple Alliance was brought to nothing. Its collapse, it must be added, was a triumph not only for Prussia, but also for Hungary. Up to the last hour Austria was willing to take the risks, but Hungary declined them. An extension of the Austrian Empire in the direction of Germany was the last thing which the Hungarians desired, for its result would obviously be to increase German, at the expense of Magyar, influence in the dual monarchy. Moreover, the Hungarians, owing to their geographical position, had more to fear than the Austrians from a Russian invasion.
So Andrássy argued, putting his foot down, and Francis Joseph gave way to him. Our chapter, therefore, concludes with the ironical spectacle of Francis Joseph reversing his foreign policy and breaking his word to a friendly Power in deference to the wishes of a rebel whom he had hanged in effigy: a spectacle which we may view as a humiliation or a proof of sagacious flexibility, as we prefer.