Meanwhile, European diplomacy was loth to believe that the last chance of peace was gone. Efforts were made to come to some agreement. These attempts to keep a peace that was already so seriously compromised were only forlorn hopes. It is just possible that, in spite of everything, they might have succeeded had it not been for various pieces of trickery. Germany, whose reputation for honesty still stood high, did not hesitate to stop important telegrams which were on their way to Austria. She had made such costly preparations for war that she considered that it would be inadvisable to withdraw now. Austria was allowed no chance of reconsidering her decision, although Germany knew that it had been made upon false premises.

The Viennese, now thoroughly frightened at the future, wished ardently for peace. The war for which they had clamoured turned out something very different from what they had expected. They would have to meet enemies on all sides; only the frontier towards Germany was safe. The city of Vienna was hastily fortified. It was no use taking chances. Huge mounds were thrown up on the immense March plain beyond the Danube, where many battles had been fought in the past. Meanwhile, the public took enormous interest in the negotiations which were still being carried on. Sir Edward Grey was the most popular man in the capital for several days. He had always succeeded in keeping peace before. Would he be able to do so again? The reply soon came. Under similar circumstances he had been successful twice before because Germany was not ready. Now she had finished the last of her preparations, and did not wish for compromise.

When the news came that Britain was to stand by Russia and France, there was a burst of rage throughout the country. So much had been hoped from her neutrality. “The English were shopkeepers. Why had they not taken the opportunity that fate afforded them and become rich by supplying the belligerents with arms and provisions?” asked the Austrians, who now said that Germany had deceived them with promises of Italian help and British indifference.

The British living in populous centres felt the sudden change of temperature. Instead of being the most popular among the foreigners, they were suddenly classed with the Italians, who were the most detested. This change affected people in various ways. Some stood firm and were merely amused at the sudden change; other Englishmen, middle-class gentlemen of pure race who had lived for half a lifetime in Austria and Hungary, were hastily naturalised. This was hardly a matter for surprise. They knew that the goods of British subjects might be confiscated and their money forfeited. Having worked all their lives for a competency which they wished to enjoy in their old age, they were naturally loth to see it disappear before their eyes. In their newly-acquired zeal for Austria, however, they could not let the matter rest here. They wrote to the local papers saying that they renounced their country. They had always regretted their nationality and had never been happy under the rule of their rightful King. The Austrians read these ebullitions with surprise. They said that they were sorry that these men had chosen to join their nation instead of another; they did not want such skunks. The Government then decided to ask all renegades of means to contribute handsomely to the Red Cross funds. Those who wished to remain in the country of their adoption must give a third of their capital to this object. The newly-made Austrians hurried off to the British consul, only to discover that, by becoming naturalised, they had forfeited all right to the assistance usually given to British subjects.

In seaports in Austria and Hungary other Englishmen denounced their friends and acted as spies in the service of the Austrian Government. They were men of means. Conduct that might be condoned, if not excused, in members of the poverty-stricken international colony, which knows no country and floats from capital to capital in search of a bare subsistence, was regarded as detestable in men of pure Anglo-Saxon nationality without the slightest admixture of foreign blood.

The women, curiously enough, trusted to the Austrians and Hungarians to do them no ill. British diplomatists, fearing for the younger women, gave their last ready money to get them out before the declaration of war; but the English girls were not impressed with the necessity of leaving. They were convinced that Austria did not intend to imperil her chance of future negotiation by ill-treating women and children.

At the same time there was no show of love for the enemy. They preferred to lose all they possessed rather than to attempt to become naturalised. In the same way the British sportsmen went almost to a man to concentration camps rather than toady to the enemy. These men were born in Austria-Hungary for the most part. Many came of families that were virtually Austrian, as they had lived generation after generation in the country. Some sporting instinct had prevented their grandfathers from taking out naturalisation papers. The same feeling stopped the grandsons from any truckling to the enemy.

The most remarkable result of the war was perhaps the stripping off of all pretences. People who had always posed as being excessively rich suddenly confessed themselves to be paupers or to have lived beyond their means. Brave men became cowards; and people whose courage had often been doubted were revealed as creatures of the old bulldog type. The diplomatist had a difficult time. The consuls dealt out passports by the hundred. Sometimes, with a dozen girls all clamouring for their papers at once and literally hanging on to their coat-tails, they looked more like stage-managers surrounded by chorus girls than anything else. “My dear ladies, we are at war,” a plaintive voice was heard. “You really must put down the age you look.”... “No, I don’t doubt your word; I know you are only twenty-four, but at the frontier they will say the passport is stolen.... Forty-five now ... yes, that is more like it.” “No, it really can’t be done.... As I told the lady over there, you will have trouble when you want to cross.... We know you have had a wearing life, and are really much younger than you look ... six children does take it out of one ... yes, yes ... fifty-five will do.”

CHAPTER XXIX
AUSTRIA’S AWAKENING

“Entrance to these barracks is forbidden.” Sentries stood there to enforce the new regulation. What did it mean? The steady tramping of troops had been heard all night. It was not the irregular tread of Austrians or Hungarians, who walk rather than march. The new troops kept step; they moved with the precision of machinery. In a wineshop round the corner from the barracks old Viennese burghers were sitting, and although it was only 9 a.m. they were taking their mid-morning lunch. They ate their rye bread and salami, washed down by white wine from the vineyards on the mountains round the city, which rivalled champagne in taste. Slowly and deliberately they discussed recent events. Prussian troops had come on in the night. Vienna was under German rule.