We have already told the story of Austria-Hungary's dealings with Servia after the first victorious month of the Balkan War with Turkey: how Servia was compelled, owing to lack of support from Russia, to give satisfaction to Austria-Hungary in the Prochaska incident, to withdraw her troops from Durazzo and from before Scutari; and how the Powers saved the peace of Europe in May, 1913, by compelling Montenegro to abandon Scutari.
Ever since the Treaty of Bukarest, Austria-Hungary watched Servia keenly for an opportunity to pick a quarrel with her. It is marvellous how the Servians, elated as they naturally were by their military successes against Turkey and Bulgaria, avoided knocking the chip off the shoulder of their jealous and purposely sensitive neighbour.
It was one thing to be able to keep a perfectly correct official attitude towards the Austro-Hungarian Government. This the Servian Government had promised to do in the note wrung from it on March 31, 1909. This it did do. But it was a totally different thing to expect the authorities at Belgrade to stifle the national aspirations of twelve million Servians, the majority of whom were outside of her jurisdiction. Even if it had been the wiser course for her to pursue—and this is doubtful,—could Servia have been able to repress the thoroughly awakened and triumphant nationalism of her own subjects who had borne so successfully and so heroically the sufferings and sacrifices of two wars within one year?
Individual Servians, living within the kingdom of Servia, were irredentists, but without official sanction. They were undoubtedly in connection with the revolutionaries created by Austrian and Hungarian methods in the Servian provinces of the Dual Monarchy. There was undoubtedly a dream of Greater Servia, and a strong hope in the hearts of nationalists on both sides of the frontiers that the day would dawn by their efforts when Greater Servia would be a reality. No government could have continued to exist in Servia which tried to suppress the Narodna Obrana. I make this statement without hesitation. King Peter did not intend to become another Charles Albert.
Ought the Vienna and Berlin statesmen to have expected Servia to do so? What answer would Switzerland or Holland or Belgium or Brazil receive, were their ministers to present a note at Wilhelmstrasse or Ballplatz, calling attention to the menace to their independence of the Pan-Germanic movement, citing speeches delivered by eminent professors in universities, books written by officials of the imperial Governments, and asking that certain societies be suppressed and certain geographies be removed from use in German schools? Their cause would have been as just, and their right as clear, for exactly the same reasons, as that of the Austrian Government in its attitude towards Servia. The only difference between Pan-Servianism and Pan-Germanism—and you must remember that the latter is not only encouraged, but also subsidized, by the Berlin and Vienna governments—is that the former is the aspiration of twelve millions while the latter is the aspiration of ninety millions. Is not the answer the old Bismarckian formula that might makes right?
During the winter following the Treaty of Bukarest the Austro-Hungarian agents and police continued their careful surveillance of the Narodna Obrana, and followed all its dealings with Servians of Austro-Hungarian nationality. But it could find no casus belli. The attitude of the Servian Government was perfectly correct at all times. Traps were laid, but Servian officials did not fall into them. The occasion for striking Servia came in a most tragic way.
It seems like tempting Providence to have sent the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife to Sarajevo on the anniversary of the battle of Kossova. Things had been going from bad to worse in Bosnia. Flags of the Dual Monarchy had been burned in Sarajevo and Mostar, and the garrisons called upon to intervene to restore order. The Constitution of 1910 had been modified in 1912, so that the military Governor was invested with civil power. The local Bosnian Diet had been twice prorogued. In May, 1913, the constitution was suspended, and a state of siege declared in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Throughout the winter of 1913-1914, incipient rebellions had to be checked by force in many places. It was known to the police that Servian secret societies were active, and that the provinces were in a state of danger and insecurity. The Servian Government was apprehensive concerning the announced visit of the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. In fact, so greatly was it feared that some attempt might be made against the life of Franz Ferdinand, and that this would be used as an excuse for an attack upon Servia, that the Servian Minister at Vienna, a week before the date announced for the visit, informed the Government that there was reason to fear a plot to assassinate the Archduke.
On June 28, 1914, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, the Duchess of Hohenberg, were assassinated in the streets of Sarajevo. Austria-Hungary realized that her moment had come. Germany was sounded, and found to be ready to prevent outside interference in whatever measures Vienna might see fit to take with Belgrade.
In the spring of 1914, the Pasitch Cabinet had almost succumbed in the struggle between civil and military elements. Premier Pasitch retained his power by agreeing to a dissolution of Parliament, and binding himself to the necessity of following the leadership of the military part. So far were the chiefs of the military party from being in a mood to consider the susceptibilities of Austria-Hungary that they were actually, according to a telegram from a well-informed source in Agram on June 26, 1914, debating the means of uniting Servia and Montenegro. The difficult question of dynasties was in the way of being solved, and, despite Premier Pasitch's misgivings, the ballon d'essai of the project of union had been launched in Europe. It was at this critical and delicate moment for the Belgrade Cabinet that the storm broke.