Ten Years Near the German Frontier: A Retrospect and a Warning

by Maurice Francis Egan

'If the Allies do not accept the Chancellor's peace note, I give them up!' cried Szchenyi. 'People talk democracy and the need of it among us! Why, Hungary is verging on a democracy of which you Americans, with your growing social distinctions, have no conception of. What we want is peace, to save the world!'

When the new Emperor Karl ascended the Austro-Hungarian throne, Szchenyi, whose ideas were more liberal than some of the old régime liked, became a prime favourite at court, and was removed to the Foreign Office.

Before the fall of Russia, it was generally conceded that Germany, in holding Turkey and Bulgaria, had gained her main purpose. Both of these countries hated her in their hearts. We had proof of this. What more did she want? Only peace on her own terms, perhaps slightly modified, owing to the hardness of the hearts of the English; if she could gain England, she could deal with France and easily with Russia. Before the Czar abdicated, it was understood in diplomatic circles that Germany believed it was time to stop. While there was no immediate danger of starvation in Germany, there was great inconvenience. Moreover, the great commercial position of Germany was each day that prolonged the war melting like ice on summer seas; and a short war had been promised to the German nation. Parties in Germany were divided as to indemnities and the retention of Belgium. Antwerp was as a cannon levelled at the breast of England (Hamburg had good reason for not wanting Antwerp retained as a rival city in German territory); but the way to the Persian Gulf, the submission of Bulgaria and Turkey, the possession of the key to the Balkans, the Near East, meant the confusion of the English in India. The Germans were ready to oust the English from their place in the sun! It was plain that the diplomatists, at least, looked on the Alsace-Lorraine question as of small importance in comparison. Alsace-Lorraine, as Bismarck admitted, had nothing to do with national glory. It was a proposition of iron and potash. As to Italy, 'We must always live on good terms with such a dangerous neighbour,' said the Austrians. 'Prussia would throw us over to-morrow for any advantage in the East. If she could hamstring the Slavs, we might appeal in vain against her destroying our scraps of paper!'

We knew that the Austrian distrust of Prussia never slept. But Austria and Germany were absolute monarchies—against the world.

It was the general belief that Rumania would not be drawn into the war. The Swedish Legation at Rome seemed to be of a different opinion. It was noted for the accuracy of its information, but this time we doubted. As observers, it seemed incredible to us in Copenhagen, that she should be allowed to sacrifice herself; but the rumours from Rome persisted. One well-known British diplomatist, Sir Henry Lowther, formerly the British Minister at Copenhagen, had never wavered in his doubts as to the solidarity of Russia. At the beginning of the war, he had said, to my astonishment, 'Our great weakness is Russia; if you do not come in and offset it, I fear greatly.' Events proved that he was right.

For those of the diplomatic corps who came in contact with people from the Near East, or with the Turkish diplomatists, the great question was—the designs of Germany in the East. One of the advantages of diplomatic life is that one comes in contact with the most interesting people. In spite of a determination to follow all the rules of the protocol as closely as possible Terence's announcement, through the lips of Chremes, was good enough for me,—'Homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto,' and consequently, I made profit out of good talk wherever I found it. I saw too little of Dr. Morris Jastrow, of the University of Pennsylvania, in 1908, when he came to Copenhagen with a group of distinguished orientalists; but one of his sentences remained in my mind (I quote from memory), 'The crucial question, and a terrible answer it may be when Germany gives it to the world, is, Who shall control Bulgaria and Serbia and Constantinople. Settle the matter of the road to the East, so that Germany and Austria may not join in monopolising it, and then, we can begin to talk of a tranquil Europe.'

Much later, I had a long talk with Rudolph Slatin, who had been a close friend of King Edward's, and who knew the East. He had had too many favours from England to be willing to take arms against her; he was Austrian, but not pro-Prussian. His views were not exactly those of Dr. Jastrow's, as Dr. Jastrow afterwards expressed them,[17] but one could read between the lines. The Eastern route was the real core of the war. Russia knew this when she began to make preparations for mobilisation in the early spring of 1914. All the Turks I met, including the two ministers, confirmed this.

Lady Paget, the wife of the British Minister, who came to Copenhagen in 1916, knew more of the inside history of the war in the Balkans than the soi-disant experts who talked. She seldom talked; but the Serbians, who adored her, did not hesitate to sing the praises of her knowledge and of her efforts to save them. To her very few intimates it was plain that she, as well as her husband, looked on the Balkans as the key to the cause of the war. The Serbians that I knew, men of all classes, said that, if Lady Paget had been listened to, Serbia would have been saved to herself and the Allies. Whether this was true or not, the Serbians believed it.

The missionaries driven out of Turkey who came to the Legation were full of the Eastern situation, and the wrongs of the Armenians. The stories of the missionaries, driven out, made one feel that Germany was paying—even from the point of view of her longed-for conquest—too high a price for the possession of Turkey. The Turkish Ministers were more French than German in their sympathies, but to them the Armenians were deadly parasites. They looked on them as the [Russian] Yunker looked on the lower class of Jews.

Miss Patrick of Roberts College, passed our way. She was ardent, sincere, naturally diplomatic,—discreet is a better word. But one could see that the Turks and the Balkan peoples, whatever might be their difference of opinion, or their own desire for territory, felt that the German control meant the closing of the steel fist upon them. The young Turks believed that they could hold the Dardanelles, when they once turned the Germans out, and that Turkey might be the land of the Turks. To attain this, they did not fail to appeal to all the bigotry of the Moslem. One could see that Serbia despaired of the Allies, that the Bulgarians believed that their untenable position was due to the intrigues of Czar Ferdinand and to the blundering of these same Allies. America was a land of promise, the hope of freedom; but America seemed too far off. The Balkans peoples felt that even America, had, while conserving her democracy at home, cared little for the rights of the people abroad. This feeling existed in all the neutral nations. A graduate of Roberts College with whom I had talked of our interest in the small nations, smiled. 'The attitude of your country to the smaller nations reminds me of a famous speech of the author of Utopia when one of his household congratulated him on Henry VIII.'s putting his arms about the Chancellor's neck. 'If the King's Grace could gain a castle in France by giving up my head, off it would go.' I did not dream, in January 1916, how soon we should begin to 'make the world safe for democracy.' Mr. Vopika, our Minister to Rumania, came on the way home from Bucharest about this time. He was full of interesting information, and very cheerful, though practically imprisoned in Copenhagen, as no boats were running. More and more it became plain that Russia was breaking, and that Germany would soon be lifted from that doubt which had begun to worry her statesmen. There was talk of the Grand Rabbi going to Washington as Ambassador, which seemed to infuriate the young Turkish Party.