Wilhelm’s fertile, restless brain had hardly abandoned one project before it conceived another. He left his bevy of handsome sons at home, but took his only daughter with him to Vienna. The heir to the Austrian throne, Archduke Francis Ferdinand, had made a morganatic marriage; his children could not succeed. Archduke Carl Francis Joseph, the son of Archduke Otto, who had lately died a horrible death, would be the next heir. Why should Princess Louise not become Empress of Austria and Queen of Hungary? There was the little difficulty about religion, but that could be managed. Louise and her mother, the Empress, were informed that they would be allowed to accompany the Kaiser. It is likely that the ladies had but small notice, for Princess Louise wore skirts that were perfectly appropriate to the palace at Potsdam, where she ranked as the greatest tomboy of the family, but they were decidedly too short and too tight for the Austrian Court, where ample petticoats are de rigueur. A tall, thin girl, looking absolutely irrepressive, stalked up the platform by her mother’s side. Distracted ladies-in-waiting had attempted to teach her the Austrian Court curtsey—a most complicated manœuvre that takes years to learn. They also tried to instil some ideas of the strictness of the Austrian Court etiquette into her mind. She was the terror of the palace at home; the ladies-in-waiting stood in great awe of the spoilt child. They trembled when their turn to attend upon Her Royal Highness came round. They feared what would happen when she got to Vienna. The change from the free and easy manners of the Berlin Court to the unchangeable rules and regulations of Vienna was enough to upset a more placid girl. All the bowing and smiling upset Princess Louise, whose education had been very “Protestant.” She put out her tongue at one of the stately Archduchesses—behind her back, it is true, but the incident did not go unnoticed. She dropped a bouquet that had been presented to her because the weight annoyed her. The Empress of Germany looked dismayed at the dismal failure. She had some idea of the Kaiser’s plans, and was aware five minutes after the special train had pulled up on the platform that the project had fallen through. Wilhelm, who is not by any means sensitive, had not marked the by-play. The look on the horrified face of the Empress should have warned him from committing a further error; but he was always quite oblivious to atmospheres. He turned round and, with a rough shoulder movement that was visible to everyone on the platform, he actually “shoved”—no other word can describe the movement—the Princess towards the young Archduke. The Princess, well used to her father’s abrupt manners, smiled at the young Archduke, who rose to the occasion in a manner worthy of the traditions of his family, which is celebrated for its fine manners. But Kaiser Wilhelm’s matrimonial plans had failed before they were really made. All the women were against it. The Habsburgs objected to the presence of a Protestant in their midst even though she might forsake her religion. They knew that anything so foreign to themselves could never preside at the Court of Vienna. Their opinion was shared by their guest, who hated the gloomy Hofburg, and cared but little for Schönbrunn, where the strict etiquette rendered the mother of the future heir to the throne a mere puppet in the hands of attendants, who would not even allow her to educate or control the destinies of her children. Princess Louise put a final seal upon any possibility of negotiations being renewed by her very decided conduct during the subsequent proceedings. Vienna was full of stories of the strong-mindedness of the Kaiser’s only daughter. It had had experience of strong-minded Princesses in the past. It wished for nothing more of the same kind. Kaiser Wilhelm had lost.

Baulked in his matrimonial schemes, he now turned to the political situation. Emperor Francis Joseph was irritable. The visit, although on a much smaller scale than had been originally planned, cost him much money, and, though he had been extremely generous in his youth, the Emperor had become strangely parsimonious in his old age. He grudged the great expense that was invariably entailed by the Kaiser’s State visits. The programme usually included some expensive outing. Sometimes five miles of road had to be improved up to the royal automobile standard. At another time Wilhelm would take a fancy to go shooting after his stay in Vienna, and could not be induced to accept the simple life that was the joy of the Emperor of Austria when among the peasants. The hunting-box, the whole forest, had to be brought up to the standard of an American millionaire. The Habsburgs, whose claim to rank was too ancient and too secure to need any artificial pomp to keep it up, rode through the deep forests on small, hardy ponies. The Emperor of Germany required a road, and insisted upon its being cut right through the forest. He was never secure of his position. Beyond all these minor inconveniences he expected to be treated with the utmost ceremony, and considered that it was incumbent upon the frail old monarch in Schönbrunn to fetch him at the railway station, to take him to his rooms along the chilly corridors of Schönbrunn Palace, and to expose himself, in season and out of season, in order to magnify the importance of his guest. It was further reported in Vienna that Kaiser Wilhelm, ever penurious, had come to borrow money from the aged Emperor—one of the richest sovereigns in Europe, if, indeed, not the richest of all. All these things did not endear Emperor Wilhelm to the Viennese. They showed their feelings by refusing to get out the best bunting and by cheering their Emperor frantically when alone, and pointedly refraining from any exhibition of enthusiasm when the visitors passed. The people, too, perhaps, had a true perception of what Kaiser Wilhelm sought, and recognised that he was really patronising the old Emperor, suggesting that it was time he took a back seat in a dozen insidious ways. Kaiser Wilhelm hoped Archduke Francis Ferdinand would be easy to manage, but was not convinced of this. Emperor Francis Joseph watched the growing intimacy between his heir and the Kaiser with great misgivings. He knew that toils were being wound round the Archduke, who believed that he could accept obligations and not be called upon to pay for them. The aged diplomatist at his side knew better. The experience of three-quarters of a century had taught him the true inwardness of things. It was vain, however, to utter warnings. He was not even discreet. When in a fit of rage—such as attacks all the Habsburgs who are epileptic—nothing was sacred. A man who was not able to control himself could not be trusted with secrets that might imperil Austria’s relations with Germany. Thus things drifted. Germany obtained increasing power in Austrian councils; the only man who could lay a restraining hand upon his heir was old and weary and unwilling for anything that spelt change or unrest.

CHAPTER VIII
AFFAIRS IN TURKEY

It was clear to everyone who followed the course of events in the Near East that the dissolution of the Turkish Empire was at hand. The race towards ruin, that had gone on slowly before the introduction of the telegraph and telephone, now began to suit its pace to the times. Corruption of every kind was the order of the day in Turkey. Nothing could be obtained without bribery. Every kind of enterprise was stopped by the extortions of the tax-gatherer. Any man who was known to possess ready money was plundered by corrupt officials. The system of land-tenure prevented the peasants from putting any money into improvements. The great mineral wealth in Turkey and the subject lands could not be touched, for the law said that only the surface of the land belonged to the proprietor; all mining rights remained the property of the State. Mining engineers who came to search for hidden wealth were murdered by the peasants, who feared that the Government would confiscate their land. Men who went down to Turkey to do business always spoke of the necessity of adopting quite other methods than elsewhere. Money, even in the case of respectable firms, was not kept in the bank, where it would fetch interest, but distributed among a number of more or less distant relatives. Thus the stranger had no means of discovering whether his customer could pay or could not pay. The latter always had a clear case for the Courts, and could prove absolute penury whether the necessity arose in connection with taxation or with a tiresome customer. At the same time all business there was done on the credit system. The European agent, therefore, never dealt direct, but depended upon the local agent, who had a profound and up-to-date knowledge of his customer’s financial standing. The fact that no man could be forced to pay made tradesmen very honest, and the Turk, even before the revolution, had an excellent reputation for uprightness throughout South-Eastern Europe. “The Turk is a gentleman; he always pays,” they said in Austria and in Hungary. Just as large transactions were carried out in the latter countries without the interposition of any legal man, and sums running into thousands passed from hand to hand in small notes to avoid the heavy stamp duty, so the Turk transacted business without documents, always keeping to his word. The Austrian and German agent who overran Turkey and dumped his least marketable goods upon the people, felt he was dealing with a kindred soul, but, to avoid all risks, he fixed his prices to allow for long waiting, and also to cover any unavoidable bad debts. He had a serious competitor in business in the Balkans, and was gradually being routed from his long-established haunts by the Italian “drummer.” The Bohemian textile manufacturers had been accustomed to regard Turkey and the Balkans as a kind of dumping-ground for bales of goods that had not “taken” colour properly and for wares that showed some deficiency. The arrival of cases of excellent wares from Milan at about two-thirds of the price of the Austrian article naturally damaged their market very considerably. It is certain that much of the friction between Austria-Hungary and Italy was due to the growing keenness of competition in trade upon the Balkans, and just at this period it was getting very active.

Turkey hung thus, like an over-ripe pear, the wasps swarming around her, her Sultan Abdul Hamid committing crimes that cried to heaven, when the news reached Vienna that the Third Army Corps at Salonica was marching upon Constantinople. The revolution and the deposition of Abdul Hamid were accomplished with a celerity that gave rise to the suspicion that Austria knew more of the whole affair than she chose to admit. The Austrian Government made desperate efforts to keep the news from getting out until everything was accomplished, and it is more than probable that the Young Turks were financed by the Austrian Government. It is equally certain, however, that the Young Turks chose a moment that suited themselves, and had not consulted Austria as to details such as dates. Austria had set a vast machine in motion, and could only stand aghast at the completeness of the success of the rebels. It was not what she intended. With the opening of a Turkish Parliament many questions that might have drifted indefinitely became pressing. The chief of these was the future of Bosnia and Herzegowina. Austria-Hungary had occupied these lands. For many years she had carried on a rule that was not pleasing to the population, formed almost exclusively of Serbo-Croats, who wished to join their Servian neighbours across the frontier. With what the Austro-Hungarian administrators regarded as singular blindness, they felt that they would prefer the very progressive rule of King Peter to the retrogressive government of subject-nations by the Central Power. The few Mohammedan Albanians in Bosnia were content with the existing state of affairs, which differed little from that under Turkish rule. As they were merely 3 per cent. of the population, however, they were of minor importance, although men of prominent position in most cases.

The establishment of the Turkish Constitution changed the whole aspect of affairs as regards Bosnia and Herzegowina. The countries, although occupied by Austria-Hungary, were still under the suzerainty of Turkey. They would have the right to send deputies to represent them at the new Turkish National Assembly. If this were permitted, Austria felt that it would be only a question of time before she was called upon to evacuate the annexed lands. Turkey might become regenerate. She would, then exercise the leading rôle in the Balkans that Austria had reserved for herself.

Austria-Hungary decided that it was the moment for action. Only one course was open to her. She must proclaim the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegowina. Kaiser Wilhelm was consulted upon the advisability of this step. He said that the step must be taken without warning. It must come upon Europe as a surprise. Other countries had proclaimed annexations—why not Austria-Hungary?

Archduke Francis Ferdinand bitterly disapproved of Austria’s attention being turned to the East instead of to Italy. His influence was at a very low ebb at this particular time. Emperor Francis Joseph had regained his health. It was even thought that the robust old man might outlive the heir to the throne.

CHAPTER IX
THE ANNEXATION

The proclamation of the Annexation of Bosnia and Herzegowina in 1908, with the evacuation of the Sanjak as a compensation to Turkey, took Europe by surprise. The general feeling was one of utter astonishment, that Austria-Hungary, herself far along the road to bankruptcy, should presume to annex anything. It is doubtful whether any one realised that Germany stood firm behind her in her high-handed action. Even if this were known vaguely, no one was aware that Germany had been consulted, had fathered the plan, and perhaps even conceived it in all its naked unscrupulousness. When the spasm of astonishment was over there was a loud outcry. Austria-Hungary had “torn up” the Treaty of Berlin in violating Article 29. An army, that was ready for the eventualities that the country shrewdly suspected might ensue, was hastily thrown upon the Bosnian frontier, another was pushed up towards Russia. Germany also despatched a large force to the Russian front. The country resounded with the noise and confusion of a mobilisation, for, strange to say, Austria-Hungary, although aware her troops would be required, had made no definite preparations. Stories of Bohemian regiments, driven into troop trains covered by their officers’ revolvers, ran like wildfire through the country. Further reports soon proved that the mobilisation was simply organised confusion. Germany heard and marked. There could be no war under such conditions. Meanwhile, the Austro-Hungarian mobilisation was followed by rapid action on the other frontiers. Russia put troops on her frontiers. Servia, feeling concerned for her safety, increased her frontier forces. Count Aehrenthal, besides promising to evacuate the Sanjak, undertook to compensate Turkey financially for the loss of her provinces. In all these arrangements it must be noted that Turkey was never consulted. She had to look on while her territory was taken away, powerless to defend her interests. This was a matter of quite secondary interest to the Great Powers, who simply demanded to know what were the intentions of Austria-Hungary. The winter of 1908–09 was spent in negotiation. The soldiers, carefully provided with winter clothing, spent the months on the chilly frontiers, and pitiful letters of complaint of the severity of the Galician and Servian climates reached Vienna. These were from the common soldiers, whose lot has always been a hard one. They were subjected to the severe discipline that prevails in the Prussian army, but whereas the Prussian gets his full allowance of food-stuff and has the proper clothing for the climate at the end of October, the Austrian trooper is, as often as not, supplied with ice-making machines in December and woollen sleeping-sacks in July. New needs that cropped up at the front were only met long after the cold that made them indispensable had changed to spring-like warmth and the armies felt the inconveniences of an inefficient officialdom very severely.