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The constitutional procedure which prevails in every parliamentary state is ordered so that the minister is responsible to a body of representatives. He is obliged to account for what he has done. His action is subject to the judgment and criticism of the body of representatives. If the majority of that body are against the minister, he must go.
The control of foreign policy in the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy was in the hands of the delegations.
Besides which, however, there existed in the Hungarian Constitution a regulation to the effect that the Hungarian Prime Minister was responsible to the country for the foreign policy, and, consequently, the "foreign policy of the Monarchy had to be carried out, in conjunction, by the then Minister for Foreign Affairs in office and the Prime Minister."
It depended entirely on the personality of the Hungarian Prime Minister how he observed the regulation. Under Burian's régime it had become the custom for all telegrams and news, even of the most secret nature, to be communicated at once to Count Tisza, who then brought his influence to bear on all decisions and tactical events. Tisza possessed a most extraordinary capacity for work. He always found time to occupy himself very thoroughly with foreign policy, notwithstanding his own numerous departmental duties, and it was necessary, therefore, to gain his consent to every step taken. The control of our foreign policy was, therefore, twofold—both by the delegation and the Prime Minister.
Great as was my esteem and respect for Count Tisza and close the friendship between us, still his constant supervision and intervention put boundless difficulties in the way of the discharge of business. It was not easy, even in normal times, to contend with, on top of all the existing difficulties that confront a Minister for Foreign Affairs; in war, it became an impossibility. The unqualified presumption behind such twofold government would have been that the Hungarian Prime Minister should consider all questions from the standpoint of the entire Monarchy, and not from that of the Magyar centre, a presumption which Tisza ignored like all other Hungarians. He did not deny it. He has often told me that he knew no patriotism save the Hungarian, but that it was in the interests of Hungary to keep together with Austria; therefore, he saw most things with a crooked vision. Never would he have ceded one single square metre of Hungarian territory; but he raised no objection to the projected cession of Galicia. He would rather have let the whole world be ruined than give up Transylvania; but he took no interest whatever in the Tyrol.
Apart from that, he applied different rules for Austria than for Hungary. He would not allow of the slightest alteration in Hungary's internal conditions, as they must not be effected through external pressure. When I, forced thereto by the distress due to lack of provisions, yielded to Ukrainian wishes and notified the Austrian Ministry of the Ukrainian desire to divide Galicia in two, Tisza was fully in accordance therewith. He went even further. He opposed any expansion of the Monarchy as it might weaken Hungary's influence. All his life he was an opponent of the Austro-Polish solution, and a mortal enemy of the tripartist project; he intended that Poland at most should rank as an Austrian province, but would prefer to make her over to Germany. He did not even wish Roumania to be joined with Hungary, as that would weaken the Magyar influence in Hungary. He looked upon it as out of the question to grant the Serbians access to the sea, because he wanted the Serbian agricultural products when he was in need of them; nor would he leave an open door for the Serbian pigs, as he did not wish the price of the Hungarian to be lowered. Tisza went still further. He was a great stickler for equality in making appointments to foreign diplomatic posts, but I could not pay much heed to that. If I considered the Austrian X better fitted for the post of ambassador than the Hungarian Y, I selected him in spite of eventual disagreement.
This trait in the Hungarian, though legally well founded, was unbearable and not to be maintained in war, and led to various disputes between Tisza and myself; and now that he is dead, these scenes leave me only a feeling of the deepest regret for many a hasty word that escaped me. We afterwards made a compromise. Tisza promised never to interfere except in cases of the greatest urgency, and I promised to take no important step without his approval. Soon after this arrangement he was dismissed by the Emperor for very different reasons.
I greatly regretted his dismissal, in spite of the difficulties he had caused me. To begin with, the Magyar-central standpoint was not a speciality of Tisza's; all Magyar politicians upheld it. Secondly, Tisza had one great point in his favour: he had no wish to prolong the war for the purpose of conquest; he wished for a rectification of the Roumanian frontier and nothing beyond that. If it had come to peace negotiations, he would have supported me in taking as a basis the status quo ante. His support—and that was the third reason—was of great value, for he was a man who knew how to fight. He had become hard and old on the battlefield of parliamentary controversy. He stood in awe of nothing and nobody—and he was true as gold. Fourthly, this upright man was one of the few who openly told the Emperor the truth, and the Emperor made use of this, as we all did.
I was, therefore, convinced beforehand that a change would not improve the situation for me. Esterhazy, who succeeded Tisza, certainly never put obstacles in the way of my policy. At the same time, I missed the strong hand that had kept order in Hungary, and the stern voice that warned the Emperor, and I did not place the same reliance on Wekerle as on Tisza, perhaps because I was not on the same terms of friendship with him as with Tisza.
Although I had many disputes with Tisza, it is one of the dearest reminiscences of my time of office that, up to the death of this remarkable man, our friendship remained unchanged. For many years Hungary and Stephen Tisza were as one. Tisza was a man whose brave and manly character, stern and resolute nature, fearlessness and integrity raised him high above the average man. He was a thorough man, with brilliant qualities and great faults; a man whose like is rare in Europe, in spite of those faults. Great bodies cast long shadows; and he was great, and modelled out of the stuff from which the heroes of old were made—heroes who understood how to fight and die. How often did I reproach him with his unhappy "puszta" patriotism, that was digging a grave for him and all of us. It was impossible to change him; he was obstinate and unbending, and his greatest fault was that, all his life, he was under the ban of a petty ecclesiastical policy. Not a single square metre would he yield either to Roumania in her day, nor to the Czechs or the Southern Slavs. The career of this wonderful man contains a terrible tragedy. He fought and strove like none other for his people and his country; for years he filled the breach and protected his people and his Hungary with his powerful personality, and yet it was his obstinate, unyielding policy that was one of the chief reasons of Hungary's fall; the Hungary he so dearly loved; the fall that he saw when he died, killed by the accursed hand of some cowardly assassin.
Tisza once told me, with a laugh, that someone had said to him that his greatest fault was that he had come into the world as a Hungarian.
I consider this a most pertinent remark. As a human being and as a man, he was prominent; but all the prejudices and faults of the Magyar way of thinking spoilt him.
Hungary and her Constitution—dualism—were one of our misfortunes in the war.
Had the Archduke Franz Ferdinand had no other plan but that of doing away with dualism, he would on that account alone have merited love and admiration. In Aehrenthal's and Berchtold's time Hungarian policy settled the Serbian disputes; it made an alliance with Roumania an impossibility; it accomplished the food blockade in Austria during the war; prevented all internal reforms; and, finally, at the last moment, through Karolyi's petty shortsighted selfishness, the front was beaten. This severe judgment on Hungary's influence on the war remains true, in spite of the undoubtedly splendid deeds of the Magyar troops. The Hungarian is of a strong, courageous, and manly disposition; therefore, almost always an excellent soldier; but, unfortunately, in the course of the last fifty years, Hungarian policy has done more injury than the Hungarian soldier possibly could make good in the war. Once, during the war, a Hungarian met my reproaches with the rejoinder that we could be quite sure about the Hungarians, they were so firmly linked to Austria. "Yes," said I; "Hungary is firmly linked to us, but like a stone a drowning man has tied round his own neck."
If we had not lost the war a fight to the death with the Magyars would have been inevitable, because it is impossible to conceive that any sensible European consortium would consent to be brought into partnership with Magyar aspirations and plans for dominion.
But, of course, during the war an open fight with Budapest was impossible.
Whether the nations that once composed the Habsburg Empire will ever be reunited is an open question; should it come to pass, may a kind fate preserve us from a return of dualism.