The numerous burgomasters, town councillors, professors of the
universities, deputies--in short, men of the people and of
science--had for years prostrated themselves before the Emperor
William; a word from him intoxicated them--but how many of them are
there now amongst those who condemn the former régime with its abuses
and, above all, the Emperor himself!

His political advisers experienced great difficulty in their business
dealings with the Emperor William during the war, as he was generally
at Headquarters and seldom in Berlin. The Emperor Charles's absence
from Vienna was also at times most inconvenient.

In the summer of 1917, for instance, he was at Reichenau, which
necessitated a two hours' motor drive; I had to go there twice or
three times a week, thus losing five or six hours which had to be made
good by prolonged night work. On no account would he come to Vienna,
in spite of the efforts made by his advisers to persuade him to do so.
From certain remarks the Emperor let fall I gathered that the reason
of this persistent refusal was anxiety concerning the health of the
children. He himself was so entirely free from pretensions that it
cannot have been a question of his own comfort that prevented his
coming.

The Emperor's desire to restore the Archduke Joseph Ferdinand to a
post of command was for me a source of much unpleasantness. The
Archduke is said to have been to blame for the Luck failure. I cannot
judge whether wrongly--as the Emperor maintained--or rightly; but the
fact remains that the public no longer had confidence in him. Quite
accidentally I learnt that his reinstatement was imminent. As a matter
of fact, this purely military proceeding in no way concerned me, but I
had to reckon with the feeling of the populace, who were in no mood
for further burdens, and also with the fact that, since Conrad had
gone, none of those in the Emperor's entourage showed the slightest
disposition to acquaint him with the truth. The only general who, to
my personal knowledge, was in the habit of speaking frankly to the
Emperor, was Alvis Schonburg, and he was at this time somewhere on the
Italian front. I therefore told the Emperor that the reinstatement was
an impossibility, giving as my reason the fact that the Archduke had
forfeited the confidence of the country, and that no mother could be
expected to give up her son to serve under a general whom everyone
held to be guilty of the Luck catastrophe. The Emperor insisted that
this view was unjust, and that the Archduke was not culpable. I
replied that, even so, the Archduke would have to submit. Everyone had
lost confidence in him, and the most strenuous exertions of the people
could neither be expected nor obtained if the command were handed to
generals who were unanimously regarded as unworthy of the confidence
placed in them.

My efforts were vain.

I then adopted another course. I sent an official from the Department
of Foreign Affairs to the Archduke with the request that he would
resign voluntarily.

It must be admitted that Joseph Ferdinand took both a loyal and a
dignified attitude, as he himself notified the Emperor that he would
relinquish his command at the front. A short correspondence followed
between the Archduke and myself, which on his side was couched in an
indignant and not over-polite tone; this, however, I did not take
amiss, as my interference had been successful in preventing his
resuming the command.

His subsequent appointment as Chief of the Air Force was made without
my knowledge; but this was of no importance when compared to the
previous plans.

There is no doubt that the Byzantine atmosphere of Berlin took a more
objectionable form than ever was the case in Vienna. The very idea of
high dignitaries kissing the Emperor's hand, as they did in Berlin,
would have been impossible in Vienna. I never heard of anyone, even
among the keenest sycophants, who demeaned themselves by such an act,
which in Berlin, as I know from personal observation, was an everyday
occurrence. For instance, after a trip on the _Meteor_, during the
"Kiel Week," the Emperor presented two German officials with
scarf-pins as a souvenir. He handed the pins to them himself, and
great was my surprise to see them kiss his hand as they thanked him.

Many foreigners were in the habit of coming for the Kiel Week:
Americans, French, and English. The Emperor paid them much attention,
and they nearly always succumbed to the charm of his personality.
Apparently William II. had a preference for America; on the subject
of his feelings regarding England it is difficult to express an
opinion. My impression always was that the Emperor resented the scant
sympathy shown him in England; he strove to make himself beloved, and
the failure of his efforts caused him a certain annoyance. He was
quite aware that the extent of his popularity in England would
proportionately influence Anglo-German relations, and his desire to
find favour in England did not proceed from personal vanity, but from
political interests.

King Edward was known to be one of the best judges of men in all
Europe, and his interest in foreign policy was predominant. He would
have been an ideal ambassador. There was never a very good
understanding between uncle and nephew. When the nephew was already
Emperor, and his much older uncle still only a prince, the difference
in their positions was characterised by the satirical Kiderlen-Waechter
in the following terms: "The Prince of Wales cannot forgive his nephew,
eighteen years younger than himself, for making a more brilliant career
than has fallen to his lot."

Personal sympathy and personal differences in leading circles are
capable of influencing the world's history. Politics are, and always
will be, made by men, and individual personal relations will always
play a certain part in their development. Who can to-day assert that
the course of the world might not have been different had the monarchs
of Germany and England been more alike in temperament? The encircling
policy of King Edward was not brought into play until he was persuaded
that an understanding with the Emperor William was impossible.

The difficulty the Emperor experienced in adapting himself to the
ideas and views of others increased as the years went by, a state of
things largely the fault of his entourage.

The atmosphere in which he lived would have killed the hardiest plant.
Whatever the Emperor said or did, whether it was right or wrong, was
received with enthusiastic praise and admiration. Dozens of people
were always at hand to laud him to the skies.

For instance, a book was published during the war entitled, "Der
Kaiser im Felde," by Dr. Bogdan Kriegen. The Emperor presented me with
a copy when at Kreuznach in May, 1917, and wrote a suitable
inscription inside. The book contained an accurate account of all the
Emperor had done during the campaign--but it was entirely superficial
matter; where he had driven to, where breakfasted, with whom he had
spoken, the jokes he had made, what clothes he wore, the shining light
in his eyes, etc., etc. It also recorded his speeches to the troops;
dull and uninteresting words that he addressed to individual soldiers,
and much more in the same strain. The whole book is impregnated and
permeated with boundless admiration and unqualified praise. The
Emperor gave me the book when I was leaving, and I read it through
when in the train.

I was asked a few weeks later by a German officer what I thought of
the book. I replied that it was trash and could only harm the Emperor,
and that it should be confiscated. The officer shared my opinion, but
said that the Emperor had been assured on all sides that the book was
a splendid work and helped to fire the spirit of the army; he
therefore had it widely distributed. Once, at a dinner at Count
Hertling's, I called his attention to the book and advised him to
suppress it, as such a production could only be detrimental to the
Emperor. The old gentleman was very angry, and declared: "That was
always the way; people who wished to ingratiate themselves with the
Emperor invariably presented him with such things." A professor from
the University had warmly praised the book to me, but he went on to
say: "The Emperor had, of course, no time to read such stuff and
repudiate the flattery; neither had he himself found time to read it,
but would make a point of doing so now." I did not know much of that
professor, but he certainly was not in frequent touch with the
Emperor, nor was the author of the book.

In this instance, as in many others, I concluded that many of the
members of the Emperor's suite were far from being in sympathy with
such tendencies. The court was not the principal offender, but was
carried away by the current of sycophancy.

During my period of office Prince Hohenlohe, the ambassador, had
numerous interviews with the Emperor William, and invariably spoke
most freely and openly to him, and yet always was on the best footing
with him. This was, of course, an easier matter for a foreign
ambassador than for a German of the Empire, but it proves that the
Emperor accepted it when done in proper form.

In his own country the Emperor was either glorified and exalted to the
skies or else scorned and scoffed at by a minority of the Press in a
prejudicial manner. In the latter case it bore so evidently the stamp
of personal enmity that it was discredited _a priori_. Had there
existed earnest papers and organs that would, in dignified fashion,
have discussed and criticised the Emperor's faults and failings, while
recognising all his great and good qualities, it would have been much
more satisfactory. Had there been more books written about him showing
that the real man is quite different from what he is made to appear to
be; that he is full of the best intentions and inspired with a
passionate love of Germany; that in a true and profound religious
sense he often wrestles with himself and his God, asking himself if he
has chosen the right way; that his love for his people is far more
genuine than that of many of the Germans for him; that he never has
deceived them, but was constantly deceived by them--such literature
would have been more efficacious and, above all, nearer the truth.

Undoubtedly the German Emperor's gifts and talents were above the
average, and had he been an ordinary mortal would certainly have
become a very competent officer, architect, engineer, or politician.
But for lack of criticism he lost his bearings, and it caused his
undoing. According to all the records the Emperor William I. was of a
very different nature. Yet Bismarck often had a hard task in dealing
with him, though Bismarck's loyalty and subservience to the dynastic
idea made him curb his characteristically ruthless frankness. But
William I. was a self-made man. When he came to the throne and began
to govern his kingdom was tottering. Assisted by the very capable men
he was able to find and to retain, he upheld it, and by means of
Königgrätz and Sedan created the great German Empire. William II. came
to the throne when Germany had reached the zenith of her power. He had
not acquired what he possessed by his own work, as his grandfather
had; it came to him without any effort on his part; a fact which had a
great and far from favourable influence on his whole mental
development.

The Emperor William was an entertaining and interesting _causeur_. One
could listen to him for hours without wearying. Emperors usually enjoy
the privilege of finding a ready audience, but even had the Emperor
William been an ordinary citizen he would always have spoken to a
crowded house. He could discourse on art, science, politics, music,
religion, and astronomy in a most animated manner. What he said was
not always quite correct; indeed, he often lost himself in very
questionable conclusions; but the fault of boring others, the greatest
of social faults, was not his.

Although the Emperor was always very powerful in speech and gesture,
still, during the war he was much less independent in his actions than
is usually assumed, and, in my opinion, this is one of the principal
reasons that gave rise to a mistaken understanding of all the
Emperor's administrative activities. Far more than the public imagine
he was a driven rather than a driving factor, and if the Entente
to-day claims the right of being prosecutor and judge combined in
order to bring the Emperor to his trial, it is unjust and an error,
as, both preceding and during the war, the Emperor William never
played the part attributed to him by the Entente.

The unfortunate man has gone through much, and more is, perhaps, in
store for him. He has been carried too high and cannot escape a
terrible fall. Fate seems to have chosen him to expiate a sin which,
if it exists at all, is not so much his as that of his country and his
times. The Byzantine atmosphere in Germany was the ruin of Emperor
William; it enveloped him and clung to him like a creeper to a tree; a
vast crowd of flatterers and fortune-seekers who deserted him in the
hour of trial. The Emperor William was merely a particularly
distinctive representative of his class. All modern monarchs suffer
from the disease; but it was more highly developed in the Emperor
William and, therefore, more obvious than in others. Accustomed from
his youth to the subtle poison of flattery, at the head of one of the
greatest and mightiest states in the world, possessing almost
unlimited power, he succumbed to the fatal lot that awaits men who
feel the earth recede from under their feet, and who begin to believe
in their Divine semblance.

He is expiating a crime which was not of his making. He can take with
him in his solitude the consolation that his only desire was for the
best. And notwithstanding all that is said and written about William
II. in these days, the beautiful words of the text may be applied to
him: "Peace on earth to men of goodwill."[4]

In his retirement from the world his good conscience will be his most
precious possession.

Perhaps in the evening of his days William II. will acknowledge that
there is neither happiness nor unhappiness in mortal life, but only a
difference in the strength to endure one's fate.

2

War was never in William II.'s programme. I am not able to say where,
in his own mind, he had fixed the limits he proposed for Germany and
whether it was justifiable to reproach him with having gone too far in
his ambition for the Fatherland. He certainly never thought of a
_unified_ German world dominion; he was not so simple as to think he
could achieve that without a war, but his plan undoubtedly was
permanently to establish Germany among the first Powers of the world.
I know for certain that the Emperor's ideal plan was to come to a
world agreement with England and, in a certain sense, to divide the
world with her. In this projected division of the world a certain
part was to be played by Russia and Japan, but he paid little heed to
the other states, especially to France, convinced that they were all
nations of declining power. To maintain that William intentionally
prepared and started this war is in direct opposition to his long
years of peaceful government. Helfferich, in his work "Die
Vorgeschichte des Weltkrieges," speaks of the Emperor's attitude
during the Balkan troubles, and says:

  A telegram sent by William II. at that time to the Imperial
  Chancellor explains the attitude of the German Emperor in this
  critical position for German politics, being similar to the
  situation in July, 1914. The contents of the telegram are as
  follows: "The Alliance with Austria-Hungary compels us to take
  action should Austria-Hungary be attacked by Russia. In that case
  France would also be involved, and in those circumstances England
  would not long remain quiescent. The present prevailing questions
  of dispute cannot be compared with that danger. It cannot be the
  intention of the Alliance that we, the life interest of our ally
  not being endangered, should enter upon a life-and-death conflict
  for a caprice of that ally. Should it become evident that the
  other side intend to attack, the danger must then be faced."

  This calm and decided standpoint which alone could maintain peace
  was also the German policy observed in further developments. It
  was upheld when confronted by strong pressure from Russia, as also
  against other tendencies and a certain transitory ill-feeling in
  Vienna.

Whether such feeling did exist in Vienna or not I cannot say, but I
believe the account is correct.

It has already been mentioned that all the warlike speeches flung into
the world by the Emperor were due to a mistaken understanding of their
effect. I allow that the Emperor wished to create a sensation, even to
terrify people, but he also wished to act on the principle of _si vis
pacem para bellum_, and by emphasising the military power of Germany
he endeavoured to prevent the many envious enemies of his Empire from
declaring war on him.

It cannot be denied that this attitude was often both unfortunate and
mistaken, and that it contributed to the outbreak of war; but it is
asserted that the Emperor was devoid of the _dolus_ of making war;
that he said and did things by which he unintentionally stirred up
war.

Had there been men in Germany ready to point out to the Emperor the
injurious effects of his behaviour and to make him feel the growing
mistrust of him throughout the world, had there been not one or two
but dozens of such men, it would assuredly have made an impression on
the Emperor. It is quite true that of all the inhabitants of the
earth, the German is the one the least capable of adapting himself to
the mentality of other people, and, as a matter of fact, there were
perhaps but few in the immediate entourage of the Emperor who
recognised the growing anxiety of the world. Perhaps many of those who
so continuously extolled the Emperor were really honestly of opinion
that his behaviour was quite correct. It is, nevertheless, impossible
not to believe that among the many clever German politicians of the
last decade there were some who had a clear grasp of the situation,
and the fact remains that, in order to spare the Emperor and
themselves, they had not the courage to be harsh with him and tell him
the truth to his face. These are not reproaches, but reminiscences
which should not be superfluous at a time when the Emperor is to be
made the scapegoat of the whole world. Certainly, the Emperor, being
such as he is, the experiment would not have passed off without there
being opposition to encounter and overcome. The first among his
subjects to attempt the task of enlightening the Emperor would have
been looked upon with the greatest surprise; hence no one would
undertake it. Had there, however, been men who, regardless of
themselves, would have undertaken to do it, it would certainly have
succeeded, as not only was the Emperor full of good intentions, but he
was also impressionable, and consistent purposefulness on a basis of
fearless honesty would have impressed him. Besides, the Emperor was a
thoroughly kind and good man. It was a genuine pleasure for him to be
able to do good, neither did he hate his enemies. In the summer of
1917 he spoke to me about the fate of the deposed Tsar and of his
desire to help him and subsequently bring him to Germany, a desire due
not to dynastic but to human motives. He stated repeatedly that he had
no desire for revenge, but "only to succour his fallen adversary."

I firmly believe that the Emperor clearly saw the clouds grow blacker
and blacker on the political horizon, but he was sincerely and
honestly persuaded that it was not through any fault of his that they
had accumulated, that they were caused by envy and jealousy, and that
there was no other way of keeping the threatening war danger at bay
than by an ostentatious attitude of strength and fearlessness.
"Germany's power and might must daily be proclaimed to the world, for
as long as they fear us they will do us no harm"--that was the
doctrine that obtained on the Spree. And the echo came back from the
world, "This continued boasting of German power and the perpetual
attempts at intimidation prove that Germany seeks to tyrannise the
world."

When war broke out the Emperor was firmly convinced that a war of
defence was being forced on him, which conviction was shared by the
great majority of the German people. I draw these conclusions solely
from my knowledge of the Emperor and his entourage and from other
information obtained indirectly. As I have already mentioned, I had
not had the slightest connection with Berlin for some years previous
to the war, and certainly not for two years after it broke out.

In the winter of 1917, when I met the Emperor again in my capacity as
Minister for Foreign Affairs, I thought he had aged, but was still
full of his former vivacity. In spite of marked demonstrations of the
certainty of victory, I believe that William II. even then had begun
to doubt the result of the war and that his earnest wish was to bring
it to an honourable end. When in the course of one of our first
conversations I urged him to spare no sacrifice to bring it to an end,
he interrupted me, exclaiming: "What would you have me do? Nobody
longs for peace more intensely than I do. But every day we are told
that the others will not hear a word about peace until Germany has
been crushed." It was a true answer, for all statements made by
England culminated in the one sentence _Germanium esse delendam_. I
endeavoured, nevertheless, to induce the Emperor to consent to the
sacrifice of Alsace-Lorraine, persuaded that if France had obtained
all that she looked upon in the light of a national idea she would not
be inclined to continue the war. I think that, had the Emperor been
positively certain that it would have ended the war, and had he not
been afraid that so distressing an offer would have been considered
unbearable by Germany, he would personally have agreed to it. But he
was dominated by the fear that a peace involving such a loss, and
after the sacrifices already made, would have driven the German people
to despair. Whether he was justified in this fear or not cannot now be
confirmed. In 1917, and 1918 as well, the belief in a victorious end
was still so strong in Germany that it is at least doubtful whether
the German people would have consented to give up Alsace-Lorraine. All
the parties in the Reichstag were opposed to it, including the Social
Democrats.

A German official of high standing said to me in the spring of 1918:
"I had two sons; one of them fell on the field of battle, but I would
rather part with the other one too than give up Alsace-Lorraine," and
many were of the same opinion.

In the course of the year and a half when I had frequent opportunities
of meeting the Emperor, his frame of mind had naturally gone through
many different phases. Following on any great military success, and
after the collapse of Russia and Roumania, his generals were always
able to enrol him on their programme of victory, and it is quite a
mistake to imagine that William II. unceasingly clung to the idea of
"Peace above all." He wavered, was sometimes pessimistic, sometimes
optimistic, and his peace aims changed in like manner. Humanly
speaking, it is very comprehensible that the varying situation in the
theatre of war must have influenced the individual mind, and everyone
in Europe experienced such fluctuations.

Early in September, 1917, he wrote to the Emperor Charles on the
subject of an impending attack on the Italian front, and in this
letter was the following passage: "I trust that the possibility of a
common offensive of our allied armies will raise the spirits of your
Foreign Minister. In my opinion, and in view of the general situation,
there is no reason to be anything but confident." Other letters and
statements prove the Emperor's fluctuating frame of mind. He, as well
as the diplomats in the Wilhelmstrasse, made use, with regard to the
"war-weary Austria-Hungary," of such tactics as demonstrated a
pronounced certainty of victory in order to strengthen our powers of
resistance.

The Archduke Friedrich deserves the greatest praise for having kept up
the friendly relations between Vienna and Berlin. It was not always
easy to settle the delicate questions relating to the conduct of the
war without giving offence. The honest and straightforward nature of
the Archduke and his ever friendly and modest behaviour saved many a
difficult situation.

After our collapse and overthrow, and when the Imperial family could
be abused with impunity, certain newspapers took a delight in covering
the Archduke Friedrich with contumely. It left him quite indifferent.
The Prince is a distinguished character, of faultless integrity and
always ready to put down abuse. He prevented many disasters, and it
was not his fault if he did not succeed every time.

When I saw the Crown Prince Wilhelm again after several years, in the
summer of 1917, I found him very tired of war and most anxious for
peace. I had gone to the French front on purpose to meet him and to
try if it were possible through him to exercise some conciliatory
pressure, above all, on the military leaders. A long conversation that
I had with him showed me very clearly that he--if he had ever been of
warlike nature--was then a pronounced pacifist.

_Extract from my Diary._

"On the Western front, 1917. We drove to the Camp des Romains, but in
detachments in order not to attract the attention of the enemy
artillery to our cars, for in some places the road was visible to the
enemy. I drove together with Bethmann. When discussing the military
leaders, he remarked: 'The generals will probably throw hand grenades
at me when they see me.'

"An enemy flier cruised high up in the clouds over our heads. He
circled around, paying little heed to the shrapnel bursting on all
sides. The firing ceased, and the human bird soared into
unapproachable heights. The artillery fire a long way off sounded like
distant thunder.

"The French lines are not more than a couple of hundred metres distant
from the camp. A shot fell here and there and a shell was heard to
whistle; otherwise all was quiet. It was still early. The firing
usually begins at ten and ceases at noon--interval for lunch--and
begins again in the afternoon.

"Poincaré's villa is visible on the horizon in the green landscape. A
gun has been brought to bear on the house--they mean to destroy it
before leaving--they call this the extreme unction.

"The daily artillery duel began on our return drive, and kept up an
incessant roar.

"_St. Mihiel._

"We stopped at St. Mihiel, where many French people still remain. They
were detained as hostages to prevent the town from being fired at.
People were standing about in the streets watching the cars go by.

"I spoke to an old woman, who sat by herself on her house-steps. She
said: 'This disaster can never be made good, and it cannot well be
worse than it is now. It is quite the same to me what happens. I do
not belong here; my only son has been killed and my house is burnt.
Nothing is left me but my hatred of the Germans, and I bequeath that
to France.' And she gazed past me into vacancy. She spoke quite
without passion, but was terribly sad.

"This terrible hatred! Generations will go to their graves before the
flood of hatred is abated. Would a settlement, a peace of
understanding, be possible with this spirit of the nations? Will it
not end by one of them being felled to earth and annihilated?

"_St. Privat._

"We passed through St. Privat on our way to Metz. Monuments that tell
the tale of 1870 stand along the road. Everywhere the soil is
historic, soaked in blood. Every spot, every stone, is reminiscent of
past great times. It was here that the seed was sown that brought
forth the plan of revenge that is being fought for now.

"Bethmann seemed to divine my thoughts. 'Yes,' he said, 'that
sacrifice would be easier for Germany to bear than to part with
Alsace-Lorraine, which would close one of the most brilliant episodes
in her history.'

"_Sedan._

"On the way to the Crown Prince's quarters. There stands the little
house where the historic meeting between Napoleon III. and Bismarck
took place. The woman who lived there at the time died only a few
weeks ago. For the second time she saw the Germans arrive, bringing a
Moltke but no Bismarck with them, a detail, however, that cannot
deeply have interested the old lady.

"_With the Crown Prince._

"A pretty little house outside the town. I found a message from the
Crown Prince asking me to proceed there immediately, where I had
almost an hour's private conversation with him before supper.

"I do not know if the Crown Prince ever was of a warlike disposition,
as people say, but he is so no longer. He longs for peace, but does
not know how to secure it. He spoke very quietly and sensibly. He was
also in favour of territorial sacrifices, but seemed to think that
Germany would not allow it. The great difficulty lay in the contrast
between the actual military situation, the confident expectations of
the generals, and the fears entertained by the military laymen.
Besides, it is not only Alsace-Lorraine. The suppression of German
militarism spoken of in London means the one-sided disarmament of
Germany. Can an army far advanced on enemy soil whose generals are
confident of final victory, can a people still undefeated tolerate
that?

"I advised the Crown Prince to speak to his father on the question of
abdication, in which he fully agreed. I then invited him to come to
Vienna on behalf of the Emperor, which he promised to do as soon as he
could get leave."

On my return the Emperor wrote him a letter, drawn up by me, which
contained the following passage:

  My Minister for Foreign Affairs has informed me of the interesting
  conversation he had the honour to have with you, and it has been a
  great pleasure to me to hear all your statements, which so exactly
  reflect my own views of the situation. Notwithstanding the
  superhuman exertions of our troops, the situation throughout the
  country demands that a stop be put to the war before winter, in
  Germany as well as here. Turkey will not be with us much longer,
  and with her we shall also lose Bulgaria; we two will then be
  alone, and next spring will bring America and a still stronger
  Entente. From other sources there are distinct signs that we could
  win over France if Germany could make up her mind to certain
  territorial sacrifices in Alsace-Lorraine. With France secured to
  us we are the conquerors, and Germany will obtain elsewhere ample
  compensation. But I cannot allow Germany to be the only one to
  make a sacrifice. I too will take the lion's share of sacrifice,
  and have informed His Majesty your father that under the above
  conditions I am prepared not only to dispense with the whole of
  Poland, but to cede Galicia to her and to assist in combining that
  state with Germany, who would thus acquire a state in the East
  while yielding up a portion of her soil in the West. In 1915, at
  the request of Germany and in the interests of our Alliance, we
  offered the Trentino to faithless Italy without asking for
  compensation in order to avert war. Germany is now in a similar
  situation, though with far better prospects. You, as heir to the
  German Imperial crown, are privileged to have a say in the matter,
  and I know that His Majesty your father entirely shares this view
  respecting your co-operation. I beg of you, therefore, in this
  decisive hour for Germany and Austria-Hungary, to consider the
  whole situation and to unite your efforts with mine to bring the
  war to a rapid and honourable end. If Germany persists in her
  standpoint of refusal and thus wrecks the hope of a possible peace
  the situation in Austria-Hungary will become extremely critical.

  I should be very glad to have a talk with you as soon as possible,
  and your promise conveyed through Count Czernin soon to pay us a
  visit gives me the greatest pleasure.

The Crown Prince's answer was very friendly and full of anxiety to
help, though it was also obvious that the German military leaders had
succeeded in nipping his efforts in the bud. When I met Ludendorff
some time afterwards in Berlin this was fully confirmed by the words
he flung at me: "What have you been doing to our Crown Prince? He had
turned very slack, but we have stiffened him up again."

The game remained the same. The last war period in Germany was
controlled by one will only, and that was Ludendorff's. His thoughts
were centred on fighting, his soul on victory.

FOOTNOTES:

[4] This is a literal rendering of the famous text from the German.

CHAPTER IV

ROUMANIA

1

My appointment as ambassador to Bucharest in the autumn of 1913 came
as a complete surprise to me, and was much against my wishes. The
initiative in the matter came from the Archduke Franz Ferdinand. I had
never had any doubt that sooner or later the Archduke would take part
in politics, but it took me by surprise that he should do so in the
Emperor Francis Joseph's lifetime.

A great difference of opinion prevailed then in Vienna on the
Roumanian question, a pro-Roumanian spirit fighting against an
anti-Roumanian one. The head of the former party was the Archduke
Franz, and with him, though in less marked degree, was Berchtold.
Tisza was the leader on the other side, and carried with him almost
the entire Hungarian Parliament. The pro-Roumanians wished Roumania to
be more closely linked to the Monarchy; the others, to replace that
alliance by one with Bulgaria; but both were unanimous in seeking for
a clear knowledge of how matters stood with the alliance, and whether
we had a friend or a foe on the other side of the Carpathians. My
predecessor, Karl Fürstenberg, had sent in a very clear and correct
report on the subject, but he shared the fate of so many ambassadors:
his word was not believed.

The actual task assigned to me was, first of all to find out whether
this alliance was of any practical value, and if I thought not to
suggest ways and means of justifying its existence.

I must mention in this connection that my appointment as ambassador to
Bucharest had raised a perfect storm in the Hungarian Parliament. The
reason for this widely spread indignation in Hungary at my selection
for the post was owing to a pamphlet I had written some years
previously, in which I certainly had attacked the Magyar policy
somewhat vehemently. I maintained the standpoint that a policy of
suppression of the nations was not tenable in the long run, and that
no future was in store for Hungary unless she definitely abolished
that policy and allowed the nations equal rights. This pamphlet gave
serious displeasure in Budapest, and representatives in the Hungarian
Parliament were afraid I should introduce that policy in Roumania,
which, following the spirit of the pamphlet, was directed against the
official policy of Vienna and Budapest. It was at this period that I
made Tisza's acquaintance. I had a long and very frank conversation
with him on the whole subject, and explained to him that I must uphold
the standpoint I put forward in my pamphlet, as it tallied with my
convictions, but that I clearly saw that from the moment I accepted
the post of ambassador I was bound to consider myself as a part of the
great state machinery, and loyally support the policy emanating from
the Ballplatz. I still maintain that my standpoint is perfectly
justifiable. A unified policy would be utterly impossible if every
subordinate official were to publish his own views, whether right or
wrong, and I for my part would never, as Minister, have tolerated an
ambassador who attempted to pursue an independent policy of his own.
Tisza begged me to give my word of honour that I would make no attempt
to introduce a policy opposed to that of Vienna and Budapest, to which
I readily agreed, provided that the Archduke was agreeable to such
decision. I then had a conversation with the latter, and found that he
quite agreed with my action, his argument being that as long as he was
the heir to the throne he would never attempt to introduce a policy
opposed to that of the Emperor; consequently he would not expect it
from me either. But should he come to the throne he would certainly
make an effort to carry out his own views, in which case I should no
longer be at Bucharest, but probably in some post where I would be in
a position to support his efforts. The Archduke begged me for the sake
of my friendship for him to accept the post, which I finally decided
to do after I obtained a promise from Berchtold that, at the end of
two years as the longest term, he would put no obstacle in the way of
my retirement.

The Archduke Franz drew his pro-Roumanian proclivities from a very
unreliable source. He hardly knew Roumania at all. So far as I know,
he had only once been in the country, and paid a short visit to King
Carol at Sinaia; but the friendly welcome accorded to himself and his
wife by the old King and Queen entirely took his warm heart by storm,
and he mistook King Carol for Roumania. This is again a proof how
greatly the individual relations of great personalities can influence
the policy of nations. The royal couple met the Archduke at the
station; the Queen embraced and kissed the duchess and, placing her at
her right side, drove with her to the castle. In short, it was the
first time that the Duchess of Hohenberg had been treated as enjoying
equal privileges with her husband. During his short stay in Roumania
the Archduke had the pleasure of seeing his wife treated as his equal
and not as a person of slight importance, always relegated to the
background. At the court balls in Vienna the duchess was always
obliged to walk behind all the archduchesses, and never had any
gentleman allotted to her whose arm she could take. In Roumania she
was _his wife_, and etiquette was not concerned with her birth. The
Archduke valued this proof of friendly tactfulness on the part of the
King very highly, and always afterwards Roumania, in his eyes, was
endowed with a special charm. Besides which he very correctly
estimated that a change in certain political relations would effect a
closer alliance between Roumania and ourselves. He felt, rather than
knew, that the Transylvanian question lay like a huge obstacle between
Vienna and Bucharest, and that this obstacle once removed would alter
the entire situation.

To find out the real condition of the alliance was my first task, and
it was not difficult, as the first lengthy conferences I had with King
Carol left no doubt in my mind that the old King himself considered
the alliance very unsafe. King Carol was an exceptionally clever man,
very cautious and deliberate, and it was not easy to make him talk if
he intended to be silent. The question of the vitality of the alliance
was settled by my suggesting to the King that the alliance should
receive pragmatic sanction, i.e. be ratified by the Parliaments at
Vienna, Budapest, and Bucharest. The alarm evinced by the King at the
suggestion, the very idea that the carefully guarded secret of the
existence of an alliance should be divulged, proved to me how totally
impossible it would be, in the circumstances, to infuse fresh life
into such dead matter.

My reports sent to the Ballplatz leave no doubt that I answered this
first question by declaring in categorical fashion that the alliance
with Roumania was, under the existing conditions, nothing but a scrap
of paper.

The second question, as to whether there were ways and means of
restoring vitality to the alliance, and what they were, was
theoretically just as easy to answer as difficult to carry out in
practice. As already mentioned, the real obstacle in the way of closer
relations between Bucharest and Vienna was the question of Great
Roumania; in other words, the Roumanian desire for national union with
her "brothers in Transylvania." This was naturally quite opposed to
the Hungarian standpoint. It is interesting, as well as characteristic
of the then situation, that shortly after my taking up office in
Roumania, Nikolai Filippescu (known later as a war fanatic) proposed
that Roumania should join with Transylvania and the whole of united
Great Roumania enter into relations with the Monarchy similar to the
relation of Bavaria to the German Empire. I admit that I welcomed the
idea warmly, for if it were launched by a party which justly was held
to be antagonistic to the Monarchy there can be no doubt that the
moderate element in Roumania would have accepted it with still greater
satisfaction. I still believe that had this plan been carried out it
would have led to a real linking of Roumania to the Monarchy, that the
notification would have met with no opposition, and consequently the
outbreak of war would have found us very differently situated.
Unfortunately the plan failed at its very first stage owing to
Tisza's strong and obstinate resistance. The Emperor Francis Joseph
held the same standpoint as Tisza, and it was out of the question to
achieve anything by arguing. On the other hand, nobody had any idea
then that the great war, and with it the testing of the alliance, was
so imminent, and I consoled myself for my unsuccessful efforts in the
firm hope that this grand plan, as it seemed to me both then and now,
would be realised one day under the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.

When I arrived in Roumania a change was proceeding in the Government.
Majorescu's Conservative Ministry gave way to the Liberal Ministry of
Bratianu. King Carol's policy of government was very peculiar. From
the very first his principle was never to proceed with violence or
even much energy against injurious tendencies in his own country; but,
on the contrary, always to yield to the numerous claims made by
extortioners. He knew his people thoroughly, and knew that both
parties, Conservatives and Liberals, must alternately have access to
the manger until thoroughly satisfied and ready to make room the one
for the other. Almost every change in the Government was accomplished
in that manner: the Opposition, desirous of coming into power, began
with threats and hints at revolution. Some highly unreasonable claim
would be put forward and vehemently insisted upon and the people
incited to follow it up; the Government would retire, unable to accede
to the demands, and the Opposition, once in power, would show no
further signs of keeping their promise. The old King was well versed
in the game; he allowed the opposition tide to rise to the highest
possible limit, when he effected the necessary change of individuals
and looked on until the game began again. It is the custom in
Roumania, when a new party comes into power, to change the whole
personnel, even down to the lowest officials. This arrangement,
obviously, has its drawbacks, though on the other hand it cannot be
denied that it is a practical one.

In this manner the Bratianu Ministry came into office in 1913.
Majorescu's Government gave entire satisfaction to the King and the
moderate elements in the country. In the eyes of the Roumanians he had
just achieved a great diplomatic success by the Peace of Bucharest and
the acquisition of the Dobrudsha, when Bratianu came forward with a
demand for vast agrarian reforms. These reforms are one of the
hobby-horses of Roumanian policy which is always mounted when it is a
question of making use of the poor unfortunate peasants, and the
manoeuvre invariably succeeds, largely owing to the lack of
intelligence prevailing among the peasant population of Roumania, who
are constantly made the tools of one or other party, and simply pushed
on one side when the object has been obtained. Bratianu also, once he
was in office, gave no thought to the fulfilment of his promises, but
calmly proceeded on the lines Majorescu had laid down in his time.

Still, it was more difficult to arrive at a satisfactory settlement in
foreign affairs with Bratianu than it had been with Majorescu, as the
former was thoroughly conversant with all West European matters, and
at the bottom of his heart was anti-German. One of the distinctions to
be made between Liberals and Conservatives was that the Liberals had
enjoyed a Parisian education: they spoke no German, only French; while
the Conservatives, taking Carp and Majorescu as models, were offshoots
of Berlin. As it was impossible to carry out the plan of firmly and
definitely linking Roumania to us by a change of Hungarian internal
policy, the idea naturally, almost automatically, arose to substitute
Bulgaria for Roumania. This idea, which found special favour with
Count Tisza, could be carried out, both because, since the Bucharest
peace of 1913, it was out of the question to bring Roumania and
Bulgaria under one roof, and because an alliance with Sofia would have
driven Roumania straight into the enemy camp. But Berchtold, as well
as the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, was opposed to this latter
eventuality, nor would the Emperor Francis Joseph have approved of
such proceedings. Hence no change was made; Roumania was not won, nor
was Bulgaria substituted for her, and they were content in Vienna to
leave everything to the future.

In a social sense the year that I spent in Roumania before the war was
not an unpleasant one. The relations of an Austrian-Hungarian
Ambassador with the court, as with the numerous _Bojars_, were
pleasant and friendly, and nobody could then have imagined what
torrents of hatred were so soon to be launched against the
Austro-Hungarian frontiers.

Social life became less pleasant during the war, as will be seen from
the following instance. There lived at Bucharest a certain
Lieut.-Colonel Prince Sturdza, who was a noted braggart and brawler
and an inveterate enemy of Austria-Hungary. I did not know him
personally, and there was no personal reason for him to begin one day
to abuse me publicly in the papers as being an advocate of the
Monarchy. I naturally took not the slightest notice of his article,
whereupon he addressed an open letter to me in the _Adeverul_, in
which he informed me that he would box my ears at the first
opportunity. I telegraphed to Berchtold and asked the Emperor's
permission to challenge this individual, as, being an officer, he was,
according to our ideas, entitled to satisfaction. The Emperor sent
word that it was out of the question for an ambassador to fight a duel
in the country to which he was accredited, and that I was to complain
to the Roumanian Government. I accordingly went to Bratianu, who
declared that he was totally unable to move in the matter. According
to the laws and regulations of the country it was impossible to
protect a foreign ambassador against such abuse. If Sturdza carried
out his threats he would be arrested. Until then nothing could be
done.

Upon this I assured Bratianu that if such were the case I would in
future arm myself with a revolver, and if he attacked me shoot the man;
if one lived in a country where the habits of the Wild West obtained,
one must act accordingly. I sent word to the lieutenant-colonel that
each day, at one o'clock, I could be found at the Hotel Boulevard,
where he would find a bullet awaiting him.

The next time I saw the Emperor Francis Joseph he asked for further
information concerning the episode, and I told him of my conversation
with Bratianu and of my firm intention to be my own helper. The
Emperor rejoined: "Naturally you cannot allow yourself to be beaten.
You are quite right; if he lays hands on you, shoot him."

I afterwards met Sturdza several times in restaurants and
drawing-rooms without his attempting to carry out his threats. This
man, whose nature was that of a daring adventurer, afterwards deserted
to the Russian army, and fought against us at a time when Roumania
still was neutral. I then completely lost sight of him.

The absolute freedom of the Press in the Balkan States, combined with
the brutality of the prevailing customs, produced the most varied
results, even going so far as abuse of their own kings. In this
connection King Carol gave me many drastic instances. While King
Ferdinand was still neutral, one of the comic papers contained a
picture of the King taking aim at a hare, while underneath were these
words, supposed to come from the hare: "My friend, you have long ears,
I have long ears; you are a coward, I am a coward. Wherefore would my
brother shoot me?"

On the day when war broke out this freedom of the Press was diverted
into a different channel and replaced by the severest control and
censorship.

Roumania is a land of contrasts, both as regards the landscape, the
climate, and social conditions. The mountainous north, with the
wonderful Carpathians, is one of the most beautiful districts. Then
there are the endless, unspeakably monotonous, but fertile plains of
Wallachia, leading into the valley of the Danube, which is a very
Paradise. In spring particularly, when the Danube each year overflows
its banks, the beauty of the landscape baffles description. It is
reminiscent of the tropics, with virgin forests standing in the water,
and islands covered with luxuriant growth scattered here and there. It
is an ideal country for the sportsman. All kinds of birds, herons,
ducks, pelicans, and others, are to be met with, besides wolves and
wild cats, and days may be spent in rowing and walking in this
Paradise without wearying of it.

The Roumanians usually care but little for sport, being averse to
physical exertion. Whenever they can they leave the country and spend
their time in Paris or on the Riviera. This love of travel is so
strong in them that a law was passed compelling them to spend a
certain portion of the year in their own country or else pay the
penalty of a higher tax. The country people, in their sad poverty,
form a great contrast to the enormously wealthy _Bojars_. Although
very backward in everything relating to culture, the Roumanian peasant
is a busy, quiet, and easily satisfied type, unpretentious to a
touching degree when compared with the upper classes.

Social conditions among the upper ten thousand have been greatly
complicated owing to the abolition of nobility, whereby the question
of titles plays a part unequalled anywhere else in the world. Almost
every Roumanian has a title derived from one or other source; he
values it highly, and takes it much amiss when a foreigner betrays his
ignorance on the subject. As a rule, it is safer to adopt the plan of
addressing everyone as "_Mon prince_." Another matter difficult for a
foreigner to grasp is the real status of Roumanian society, owing to
the incessant divorce and subsequent remarriages. Nearly every woman
has been divorced at least once and married again, the result being,
on the one hand, the most complicated questions of relationship, and,
on the other, so many breaches of personal relations as to make it the
most difficult task to invite twenty Roumanians, particularly ladies,
to dinner without giving offence in some quarter.

In the days of the old régime it was one of the duties of the younger
members of the Embassy to develop their budding diplomatic talents by
a clever compilation of the list for such a dinner and a wise
avoidance of any dangerous rock ahead. But as the question of rank in
Roumania is taken just as seriously as though it were authorised,
every lady claims to have first rank--the correct allotment of places
at a dinner is really a question for the most efficient diplomatic
capacities. There were about a dozen ladies in Bucharest who would
actually not accept an invitation unless they were quite sure the
place of honour would be given to them.

My predecessor cut the Gordian knot of these difficulties by arranging
to have dinner served at small separate tables, thus securing several
places of honour, but not even by these means could he satisfy the
ambition of all.

2

While at Sinaia I received the news of the assassination of the
Archduke from Bratianu. I was confined to bed, suffering from
influenza, when Bratianu telephoned to ask if I had heard that there
had been an accident to the Archduke's train in Bosnia, and that both
he and the duchess were killed. Soon after this first alarm came
further news, leaving no doubt as to the gravity of the catastrophe.
The first impression in Roumania was one of profound and sincere
sympathy and genuine consternation. Roumania never expected by means
of war to succeed in realising her national ambitions; she only
indulged in the hope that a friendly agreement with the Monarchy would
lead to the union of all Roumanians, and in that connection Bucharest
centred all its hopes in the Archduke and heir to the throne. His
death seemed to end the dream of a Greater Roumania, and the genuine
grief displayed in all circles in Roumania was the outcome of that
feeling. Take Jonescu, on learning the news while in my wife's
drawing-room, wept bitterly; and the condolences that I received were
not of the usual nature of such messages, but were expressions of the
most genuine sorrow. Poklewski, the Russian Ambassador, is said to
have remarked very brutally that there was no reason to make so much
out of the event, and the general indignation that his words aroused
proved how strong was the sympathy felt in the country for the
murdered Archduke.

When the ultimatum was made known the entire situation changed at
once. I never had any illusions respecting the Roumanian psychology,
and was quite clear in my own mind that the sincere regret at the
Archduke's death was due to egotistical motives and to the fear of
being compelled now to abandon the national ambition. The ultimatum
and the danger of war threatening on the horizon completely altered
the Roumanian attitude, and it was suddenly recognised that Roumania
could achieve its object by other means, not by peace, but by war--not
_with_, but _against_ the Monarchy. I would never have believed it
possible that such a rapid and total change could have occurred
practically within a few hours. Genuine and simulated indignation at
the tone of the ultimatum was the order of the day, and the universal
conclusion arrived at was: _L'Autriche est devenue folle._ Men and
women with whom I had been on a perfectly friendly footing for the
last year suddenly became bitter enemies. Everywhere I noticed a
mixture of indignation and growing eagerness to realise at last their
heart's dearest wish. The feeling in certain circles fluctuated for
some days. Roumanians had a great respect for Germany's military
power, and the year 1870 was still fresh in the memory of many of
them. When England, however, joined the ranks of our adversaries their
fears vanished, and from that moment it became obvious to the large
majority of the Roumanians that the realisation of their aspirations
was merely a question of time and of diplomatic efficiency. The wave
of hatred and lust of conquest that broke over us in the first stage
of the war was much stronger than in later stages, because the
Roumanians made the mistake we all have committed of reckoning on too
short a duration of the war, and therefore imagined the decision to be
nearer at hand than it actually was. After the great German successes
in the West, after Görlitz and the downfall of Serbia, certain
tendencies pointing to a policy of delay became noticeable among the
Roumanians. With the exception of Carp and his little group all were
more or less ready at the very first to fling themselves upon us.

Like a rock standing in the angry sea of hatred, poor old King Carol
was alone with his German sympathies. I had been instructed to read
the ultimatum to him the moment it was sent to Belgrade, and never
shall I forget the impression it made on the old King when he heard
it. He, wise old politician that he was, recognised at once the
immeasurable possibilities of such a step, and before I had finished
reading the document he interrupted me, exclaiming: "It will be a
world war." It was long before he could collect himself and begin to
devise ways and means by which a peaceful solution might still be
found. I may mention here that a short time previously the Tsar, with
Sassonoff, had been in Constanza for a meeting with the Roumanian
royal family. The day after the Tsar left I went to Constanza myself
to thank the King for having conferred the Grand Cross of one of the
Roumanian orders on me, obviously as a proof that the Russian visit
had not made him forget our alliance, and he gave me some interesting
details of the said visit. Most interesting of all was his account of
the conversations with the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs. On
asking whether Sassonoff considered the situation in Europe to be as
safe as he (the King) did, Sassonoff answered in the affirmative,
"_pourvu que l'Autriche ne touche pas à la Serbie_." I at once, of
course, reported this momentous statement to Vienna; but neither by
the King nor by myself, nor yet in Vienna, was the train of thought
then fully understood. The relations between Serbia and the Monarchy
were at that time no worse than usual; indeed, they were rather
better, and there was not the slightest intention on our part to
injure the Serbians. But the suspicion that Sassonoff already then was
aware that the Serbians were planning something against us cannot be
got rid of.

When the King asked me whether I had reported Sassonoff's important
remark to Vienna, I replied that I had done so, and added that this
remark was another reason to make me believe that the assassination
was a crime long since prepared and carried out under Russian
patronage.

The crime that was enacted at Debruzin, which made such a sensation at
the time, gave rise to suspicions of a Russo-Roumanian attempt at
assassination.

On February 24, 1914, the Hungarian Correspondence Bureau published
the following piece of news:

  A terrible explosion took place this morning in the official
  premises of the newly-instituted Greek-Catholic Hungarian
  bishopric, which are on the second floor of the Ministry of Trade
  and Commerce in the Franz Deak Street. It occurred in the office
  of the bishop's representative, the Vicar Michael Jaczkovics,
  whose secretary, Johann Slapowszky, was also present in the room.
  Both of them were blown to pieces. The Greek-Catholic bishop,
  Stephan Miklossy, was in a neighbouring room, but had a most
  marvellous escape. Alexander Csatth, advocate and solicitor to the
  bishopric, who was in another room, was mortally wounded by the
  explosion. In a third room the bishop's servant with his wife were
  both killed. All the walls in the office premises fell in, and the
  whole building is very much damaged. The explosion caused such a
  panic in the house that all the inhabitants took flight and
  vanished. All the windows of the neighbouring Town Hall in the
  Verboczy Street were shattered by the concussion. Loose tiles were
  hurled into the street and many passers-by were injured. The four
  dead bodies and the wounded were taken to the hospital. The
  bishop, greatly distressed, left the building and went to a
  friend's house. The daughter of the Vicar Jaczkovics went out of
  her mind on hearing of her father's tragic death. The cause of the
  explosion has not yet been discovered.

I soon became involved in the affair when Hungary and Roumania began
mutually to blame one another as originators of the outrage. This led
to numerous interventions and adjustments, and my task was intensified
because a presumed accomplice of the murderer Catarau was arrested in
Bucharest, and his extradition to Hungary had to be effected by me.
This man, of the name of Mandazescu, was accused of having obtained a
false passport for Catarau.

Catarau, who was a Roumanian Russian from Bessarabia, vanished
completely after the murder and left no trace. News came, now from
Serbia, then from Albania, that he had been found, but the rumours
were always false. I chanced to hear something about the matter in
this way. I was on board a Roumanian vessel bound from Constanza to
Constantinople, when I accidentally overheard two Roumanian naval
officers talking together. One of them said: "That was on the day
when the police brought Catarau on board to help him to get away
secretly."

Catarau was heard of later at Cairo, which he appears to have reached
with the aid of Roumanian friends.

It cannot be asserted that the Roumanian Government was implicated in
the plot--but the Roumanian authorities certainly were, for in the
Balkans, as in Russia, there are many bands like the _Cerna Ruka_, the
_Narodna Odbrena_, etc., etc., who carry on their activities alongside
the Government.

It was a crime committed by some Russian or Roumanian secret society,
and the Governments of both countries showed surprisingly little
interest in investigating the matter and delivering the culprits up to
justice.

On June 15 I heard from a reliable source that Catarau had been seen
in Bucharest. He walked about the streets quite openly in broad
daylight, and no one interfered with him; then he disappeared.

To return, however, to my interview with the old King. Filled with
alarm, he dispatched that same evening two telegrams, one to Belgrade
and one to Petersburg, urging that the ultimatum be accepted without
fail.

The terrible distress of mind felt by the King when, like a sudden
flash of lightning from the clouds, he saw before him a picture of the
world war may be accounted for because he felt certain that the
conflict between his personal convictions and his people's attitude
would suddenly be known to all. The poor old King fought the fight to
the best of his ability, but it killed him. King Carol's death was
caused by the war. The last weeks of his life were a torture to him;
each message that I had to deliver he felt as the lash of a whip. I
was enjoined to do all I could to secure Roumania's prompt
co-operation, according to the terms of the Alliance, and I was even
obliged to go so far as to remind him that "a promise given allows of
no prevarication: that a treaty is a treaty, and _his honour_ obliged
him to unsheathe his sword." I recollect one particularly painful
scene, where the King, weeping bitterly, flung himself across his
writing-table and with trembling hands tried to wrench from his neck
his order _Pour le Mérite_. I can affirm without any exaggeration that
I could see him wasting away under the ceaseless moral blows dealt to
him, and that the mental torment he went through undoubtedly shortened
his life.

Queen Elizabeth was well aware of all, but she never took my action
amiss; she understood that I had to deliver the messages, but that it
was not I who composed them.

Queen Elizabeth was a good, clever and touchingly simple woman, not a
_poet qui court après l'esprit_, but a woman who looked at the world
through conciliatory and poetical glasses. She was a good
conversationalist, and there was always a poetic charm in all she did.
There hung on the staircase a most beautiful sea picture, which I
greatly admired while the Queen talked to me about the sea, about her
little villa at Constanza, which, built on the extreme end of the
quay, seems almost to lie in the sea. She spoke, too, of her travels
and impressions when on the high seas, and as she spoke the great
longing for all that is good and beautiful made itself felt, and this
is what she said to me: "The sea lives. If there could be found any
symbol of eternity it would be the sea, endless in greatness and
everlasting in movement. The day is dull and stormy. One after another
the glassy billows come rolling in and break with a roar on the rocky
shore. The small white crests of the waves look as if covered with
snow. And the sea breathes and draws its breath with the ebb and flow
of the tide. The tide is the driving power that forces the mighty
waters from Equator to North Pole. And thus it works, day and night,
year by year, century by century. It takes no heed of the perishable
beings who call themselves lords of the world, who live only for a
day, coming and going and vanishing almost as they come. The sea
remains to work. It works for all, for men, for animals, for plants,
for without the sea there could be no organic life in the world. The
sea is like a great filter, which alone can produce the change of
matter that is necessary for life. In the course of a century
numberless rivers carry earth to the sea. Each river carries without
ceasing its burden of earth and sand to the ocean; and the sea
receives the load which is carried by the current far out to sea, and
slowly and by degrees in the course of time the sea dissolves or
crushes all it has received. No matter to the sea if the process lasts
a thousand years or more--it may even last for ages, who can tell?

"But one day, quite suddenly, the sea begins to wander. Once there was
sea everywhere, and all continents are born from the sea. One day land
arose out of the sea. The birth was of a revolutionary nature, there
were earthquakes, volcanic craters, falling cities and dying men--but
new land was there. Or else it moves slowly, invisibly, a metre or two
in a century, and returns to the land it used to possess. Thus it
restores the soil it stole from it, but cleaner, refined and full of
vitality to live and to create. Such is the sea and its work."

These are the words of the old half-blind Queen, who can never look
upon the beloved picture again, but she told me how she always
idolised the sea, and how her grand nephews and nieces shared her
feelings, and how she grew young again with them when she told them
tales of olden times.

One could listen to her for hours without growing weary, and always
there was some beautiful thought or word to carry away and think over.

Doubtless such knowledge would be more correct were it taken from some
geological work. But Carmen Sylva's words invariably seemed to strike
some poetic chord; that is what made her so attractive.

She loved to discourse on politics, which for her meant King Carol. He
was her all in all. After his death, when it was said that all states
in the world were losing in the terrible war, she remarked: "Roumania
has already lost her most precious possession." She never spoke of her
own poems and writings. In politics her one thought besides King Carol
was Albania. She was deeply attached to the Princess of Wied, and
showed her strong interest in the country where she lived. Talking
about the Wieds one day afforded me an opportunity of seeing the King
vexed with his wife; it was the only time I ever noticed it. It was
when we were at Sinaia, and I was, as often occurred, sitting with the
King. The Queen came into the room, which she was otherwise not in the
habit of entering, bringing with her a telegram from the Princess of
Wied in which she asked for something--I cannot now remember what--for
Albania. The King refused, but the Queen insisted, until he at last
told her very crossly to leave him in peace, as he had other things to
think of than Albania.

After King Carol's death she lost all her vital energy, and the change
in the political situation troubled her. She was very fond of her
nephew Ferdinand--hers was a truly loving heart--and she trembled lest
he should commit some act of treachery. I remember once how, through
her tears, she said to me: "Calm my fears. Tell me that he will never
be guilty of such an act." I was unable to reassure her, but a kind
Fate spared her from hearing the declaration of war.

Later, not long before her death, the old Queen was threatened with
total blindness. She was anxious to put herself in the hands of a
French oculist for an operation for cataract, who would naturally be
obliged to travel through the Monarchy in order to reach Bucharest. At
her desire I mentioned the matter in Vienna, and the Emperor Francis
Joseph at once gave the requisite permission for the journey.

After a successful operation, the Queen sent a short autograph poem to
one of my children, adding that it was her _first_ letter on
recovering her sight. At the same time she was again very uneasy
concerning politics.

I wrote her the following letter:

  Your Majesty,--My warmest thanks for the beautiful little poem you
  have sent to my boy. That it was granted to me to contribute
  something towards the recovery of your sight is in itself a
  sufficient reward, and no thanks are needed. That Your Majesty has
  addressed the first written lines to my children delights and
  touches me.

  Meanwhile Your Majesty must not be troubled regarding politics. It
  is of no avail. For the moment Roumania will retain the policy of
  the late King, and God alone knows what the future will bring
  forth.

  We are all like dust in this terrible hurricane sweeping through
  the world. We are tossed helplessly hither and thither and know
  not whether we are to face disaster or success. The point is not
  whether we live or die, but how it is done. In that respect King
  Carol set an example to us all.

  I hope King Ferdinand may never forget that, together with the
  throne, his uncle bequeathed to him a political creed, a creed of
  honour and loyalty, and I am persuaded that Your Majesty is the
  best guardian of the bequest.

  Your Majesty's grateful and devoted

  CZERNIN.

When I said that King Carol fought the fight to the best of his
ability, I intended to convey that no one could expect him to be
different from what he always was. The King never possessed in any
special degree either energy, strength of action, or adventurous
courage, and at the time I knew him, as an old man, he had none of
those attributes. He was a clever diplomat, a conciliatory power, a
safe mediator, and one who avoided trouble, but not of a nature to
risk all and weather the storm. That was known to all, and no one,
therefore, could think that the King would try to put himself on our
side against the clearly expressed views of all Roumania. My idea is
that if he had been differently constituted he could successfully have
risked the experiment. The King possessed in Carp a man of quite
unusual, even reckless, activity and energy, and from the first moment
he placed himself and his activities at the King's disposal. If the
King, without asking, had ordered mobilisation, Carp's great energy
would have certainly carried it through. But, in the military
situation as it was then, the Roumanian army would have been forced to
the rear of the Russian, and in all probability the first result of
the battlefields would have changed the situation entirely, and the
blood that was shed mutually in victorious battles would have brought
forth the unity that the spirit of our alliance never succeeded in
evolving. But the King was not a man of such calibre. He could not
change his nature, and what he did do entirely concurred with his
methods from the time he ascended the throne.

As long as the King lived there was the positive assurance that
Roumania would not side against us, for he would have prevented any
mobilisation against us with the same firm wisdom which had always
enabled him to avert any agitation in the land. He would then have
seen that the Roumanians are not a warlike people like the Bulgarians,
and that Roumania had not the slightest intention of risking anything
in the campaign. A policy of procrastination in the wise hands of the
King would have delayed hostilities against us indefinitely.

Immediately after the outbreak of war Bratianu began his game, which
consisted of entrenching the Roumanian Government firmly and willingly
in a position between the two groups of Powers, and bandying favours
about from one to the other, reaping equal profits from each, until
the moment when the stronger of the two should be recognised as such
and the weaker then attacked.

Even from 1914-16 Roumania was never really neutral. She always
favoured our enemies, and as far as lay in her power hindered all our
actions.

The transport of horses and ammunition to Turkey in the summer of 1915
that was exacted from us was an important episode. Turkey was then in
great danger, and was asking anxiously for munitions. Had the
Roumanian Government adopted the standpoint not to favour any of the
belligerent Powers it would have been a perfectly correct attitude,
viewed from a neutral standpoint, but she never did adopt such
standpoint, as is shown by her allowing the Serbians to receive
transports of Russian ammunition via the Danube, thus showing great
partiality. When all attempts failed, the munitions were transmitted,
partially at any rate, through other means.

At that time, too, Russian soldiers were allowed in Roumania and were
not molested, whereas ours were invariably interned.

Two Austrian airmen once landed by mistake in Roumania, and were, of
course, interned immediately. The one was a cadet of the name of
Berthold and a pilot whose name I have forgotten. From their prison
they appealed to me to help them, and I sent word that they must
endeavour to obtain permission to pay me a visit. A few days later the
cadet appeared, escorted by a Roumanian officer as guard. This
officer, not being allowed without special permission to set foot on
Austro-Hungarian soil, was obliged to remain in the street outside the
house. I had the gates closed, put the cadet into one of my cars, sent
him out through the back entrance, and had him driven to Giurgui,
where he got across the Danube, and in two hours was again at liberty.
After a lengthy and futile wait the officer departed. His protests
came too late.

The unfortunate pilot who was left behind was not allowed to come to
the Embassy. One night, however, he made his escape through the window
and arrived. I kept him concealed for some time, and he eventually
crossed the frontier safely and got away by rail to Hungary.

Bratianu reproached me later for what I had done, but I told him it
was in consequence of his not having strictly adhered to his
neutrality. Had our soldiers been left unmolested, as in the case of
the Russians, I should not have been compelled to act as I had done.

Bratianu can never seriously have doubted that the Central Powers
would succumb, and his sympathies were always with the Entente, not
only on account of his bringing up, but also because of that political
speculation. During the course of subsequent events there were times
when Bratianu to a certain extent seemed to vacillate, especially at
the time of our great offensive against Russia. The break through at
Görlitz and the irresistible advance into the interior of Russia had
an astounding effect in Roumania. Bratianu, who obviously knew very
little about strategy, could simply not understand that the Russian
millions, whom he imagined to be in a fair way to Vienna and Berlin,
should suddenly begin to rush back and a fortress like Warsaw be
demolished like a house of cards. He was evidently very anxious then
and must have had many a disturbed night. On the other hand, those who
to begin with, though not for, still were not against Austria began to
raise their heads and breathe more freely. The victory of the Central
Powers appeared on the horizon like a fresh event. That was the
historic moment when Roumania might have been coerced into active
co-operation, but not the Bratianu Ministry. Bratianu himself would
never in any case have ranged himself on our side, but if we could
have made up our minds then to instal a Majorescu or a Marghiloman
Ministry in office, we could have had the Roumanian army with us. In
connection with this were several concrete proposals. In order to
carry out the plan we should have been compelled to make territorial
concessions in Hungary to a Majorescu Ministry--Majorescu demanded it
as a primary condition to his undertaking the conduct of affairs, and
this proposal failed owing to Hungary's obstinate resistance. It is a
terrible but a just punishment that poor Hungary, who contributed so
much to our definite defeat, should be the one to suffer the most from
the consequences thereof, and that the Roumanians, so despised and
persecuted by Hungary, should gain the greatest triumphs on her
plains.

One of the many reproaches that have been brought against me recently
is to the effect that I, as ambassador at Bucharest, should have
resigned if my proposals were not accepted in Vienna. These reproaches
are dictated by quite mistaken ideas of competency and responsibility.
It is the duty of a subordinate official to describe the situation as
he sees it and to make such proposals as he considers right, but the
responsibility for the policy is with the Minister for Foreign
Affairs, and it would lead to the most impossible and absurd state of
things if every ambassador whose proposals were rejected were to draw
the conclusion that his resignation was a necessary consequence
thereof. If officials were to resign because they did not agree with
the view of their chief, it would mean that almost all of them would
send in their resignations.

Espionage and counter-espionage have greatly flourished during the
war. In that connection Russia showed great activity in Roumania.

In October, 1914, an event occurred which was very unfortunate for me.
I drove from Bucharest to Sinaia, carrying certain political
documents with me in a dispatch-case, which, by mistake, was fastened
on behind instead of being laid in the car. On the way the case was
unstrapped and stolen. I made every effort to get it back, and
eventually recovered it after a search of three weeks, involving much
expense. It was found at last in some peasant's barn, but nothing had
apparently been abstracted save the cigarettes that were in it.

Nevertheless, after the occupation of Bucharest copies and photographs
of all my papers were found in Bratianu's house.

After the loss of the dispatch-case I at once tendered my resignation
in Vienna, but it was not accepted by the Emperor.

The Red Book on Roumania, published by Burian, which contains a
summary of my most important reports, gives a very clear picture of
the several phases of that period and the approaching danger of war.
The several defeats that Roumania suffered justified the fears of all
those who warned her against premature intervention. In order to
render the situation quite clear, it must here be explained that
during the time immediately preceding Roumania's entry into war there
were really only two parties in the country: the one was hostile to us
and wished for an immediate declaration of war, and the other was the
"friendly" one that did not consider the situation ripe for action and
advised waiting until we were weakened still more. During the time of
our successes the "friendly" party carried the day. Queen Marie, I
believe, belonged to the latter. From the beginning of the war, she
was always in favour of "fighting by the side of England," as she
always looked upon herself as an Englishwoman, but, at the last moment
at any rate, she appears to have thought the time for action
premature. A few days before the declaration of war she invited me to
a farewell lunch, which was somewhat remarkable, as we both knew that
in a very few days we should be enemies. After lunch I took the
opportunity of telling her that I _likewise_ was aware of the
situation, but that "the Bulgarians would be in Bucharest before the
Roumanians reached Budapest." She entered into the conversation very
calmly, being of a very frank nature and not afraid of hearing the
truth. A few days later a letter was opened at the censor's office
from a lady-in-waiting who had been present at the lunch. It was
evidently not intended for our eyes; it contained a description of the
_déjeuner fort embêtant_, with some unflattering remarks about me.

Queen Marie never lost her hope in a final victory. She did not
perhaps agree with Bratianu in all his tactics, but a declaration of
war on us was always an item on her programme. Even in the distressing
days of their disastrous defeat she always kept her head above water.
One of the Queen's friends told me afterwards that when our armies,
from south, north and west, were nearing Bucharest, when day and night
the earth shook with the ceaseless thunder of the guns, the Queen
quietly went on with her preparations for departure, and was firmly
persuaded that she would return as "Empress of all the Roumanians." I
have been told that after the taking of Bucharest Bratianu collapsed
altogether, and it was Queen Marie who comforted and encouraged him.
Her English blood always asserted itself. After we had occupied
Wallachia, I received absolutely reliable information from England,
according to which she had telegraphed to King George from Jassy,
recommending "her little but courageous people" to his further
protection. After the Peace of Bucharest strong pressure was brought
to bear on me to effect the abdication of the King and Queen. It would
not in any way have altered the situation, as the Entente would
naturally have reinstated them when victory was gained; but I opposed
all such efforts, not for the above reason, which I could not foresee,
but from other motives, to be mentioned later, although I was
perfectly certain that Queen Marie would always remain our enemy.

The declaration of war created a very uncomfortable situation for all
Austro-Hungarians and Germans. I came across several friends in the
Austro-Hungarian colony who had been beaten by the Roumanian soldiers
with the butt-ends of their rifles on their way to prison. I saw wild
scenes of panic and flight that were both grotesque and revolting, and
the cruel sport lasted for days.

In Vienna all subjects of an enemy state were exempt from deportation.
In my capacity as Minister I ordered reprisals on Roumanian citizens,
as there were no other means to relieve the fate of our poor refugees.
As soon as the neutral Powers notified that the treatment had become
more humane, they were set free.

If we showed ourselves at the windows or in the garden of the Embassy
the crowd scoffed and jeered at us, and at the station, when we left,
a young official whom I asked for information simply turned his back
on me.

A year and a half later I was again in Bucharest. The tide of victory
had carried us far, and we came to make peace. We were again subjects
of interest to the crowds in the streets, but in very different
fashion. A tremendous ovation awaited us when we appeared in the
theatre, and I could not show myself in the street without having a
crowd of admirers in my wake.

Before all this occurred, and when war was first declared, the members
of the Embassy, together with about 150 persons belonging to the
Austro-Hungarian colony, including many children, were interned, and
spent ten very unpleasant days, as we were not sure whether we should
be released or not. We had occasion during that time to witness three
Zeppelin raids over Bucharest, which, seen in the wonderful moonlight,
cloudless nights under the tropical sky, made an unforgettable
impression on us.

I find the following noted in my diary:

"_Bucharest, August, 1916._

"The Roumanians have declared war on my wife and daughter too. A
deputation composed of two officials from the Ministry for Foreign
Affairs, in frock-coats and top hats, appeared last night at eleven
o'clock in my villa at Sinaia. My wife was roused out of her sleep,
and by the light of a single candle--more is forbidden on account of
the Zeppelin raids--they informed her that Roumania had declared war
on us.

"As the speaker put it, '_Vous avez déclaré la guerre_.' He then read
the whole declaration of war aloud to them both. Bratianu sent word
to me that he would have a special train sent to take my wife and
daughter and the whole personnel of the Embassy to Bucharest.

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Roumanians really expected a Zeppelin attack at once. So far it
has not occurred, and they begin to feel more at ease, and say that it
is too far for the Zeppelins to come all the way from Germany. They
seem not to be aware that Mackensen has Zeppelins in Bulgaria. But who
can tell whether they really will come?

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"Last night a Zeppelin did come. About three o'clock we were roused by
the shrill police whistles giving the alarm. The telephone notified us
that a Zeppelin had crossed the Danube, and all the church bells began
to peal. Suddenly darkness and silence reigned, and the whole town,
like some great angry animal, sullen and morose, prepared for the
enemy attack. Nowhere was there light or sound. The town, with a
wonderful starry firmament overhead, waited in expectation. Fifteen,
twenty minutes went by, when suddenly a shot was fired and, as though
it were a signal, firing broke out in every direction. The
anti-aircraft guns fired incessantly, and the police, too, did their
best, firing in the air. But what were they firing at? There was
absolutely nothing to be seen. The searchlights then came into play.
Sweeping the heavens from east to west, from north to south, they
searched the firmament, but could not find the Zeppelin. Was it really
there, or was the whole thing due to excited Roumanian nerves?

"Suddenly a sound was heard: the noise of the propeller overhead. It
sounded so near in the clear, starry night, we felt we must be able to
see it. But the noise died away in the direction of Colbroceni. Then
we heard the first bomb. Like a gust of wind it whistled through the
air, followed by a crash and an explosion. A second and third came
quickly after. The firing became fiercer, but they can see nothing
and seem to aim at where the sound comes from. The searchlights sway
backwards and forwards. Now one of them has caught the airship, which
looks like a small golden cigar. Both the gondolas can be seen quite
distinctly, and the searchlight keeps it well in view, and now a
second one has caught it. It looks as though this air cruiser is
hanging motionless in the sky, brilliantly lit up by the searchlights
right and left. Then the guns begin in good earnest. Shrapnel bursts
all around, a wonderful display of fireworks, but it is impossible to
say if the aim is good and if the monster is in danger. Smaller and
smaller grows the Zeppelin, climbing rapidly higher and higher, until
suddenly the miniature cigar disappears. Still the searchlights sweep
the skies, hoping to find their prey again.

"Suddenly utter silence reigns. Have they gone? Is the attack over?
Has one been hit? Forced to land? The minutes go by. We are all now on
the balcony--the women, too--watching the scene. Again comes the
well-known sound--once heard never forgotten--as though the wind were
getting up, then a dull thud and explosion. This time it is farther
away towards the forts. Again the firing breaks out, and machine-guns
bark at the friendly moon; searchlights career across the heavens, but
find nothing. Again there falls a bomb--much nearer this time--and
again comes the noise of the propellers louder and louder. Shrapnel
bursts just over the Embassy, and the Zeppelin is over our heads. We
hear the noise very distinctly, but can see nothing. Again a sudden
silence everywhere, which has a curious effect after the terrible
noise. Time passes, but nothing more is heard. The first rays of dawn
are seen in the east; the stars slowly pale.

"A child is heard to cry somewhere, far away: strange how clearly it
sounds in the silent night. There is a feeling as though the terrified
town hardly dared breathe or move for fear the monster might return.
And how many more such nights are there in prospect? In the calm of
this fairylike dawn, slowly rising, the crying of the child strikes a
note of discord, infinitely sad. But the crying of the child--does it
not find an echo among the millions whom this terrible war has driven
to desperation?

"The sun rises like a blood-red ball. For some hours the Roumanians
can take to sleep and gather fresh strength, but they know now that
the Zeppelin's visit will not be the last.

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Press is indignant about the nocturnal attack. Bucharest is
certainly a fortress, but it should be known that the guns are no
longer in the forts. It was stated in the _Adeverul_ that the heroic
resistance put up in defence was most successful. That the airship,
badly damaged, was brought down near Bucharest, and that a commission
started off at once to make sure whether it was an aeroplane or a
Zeppelin!

"_Bucharest, September, 1916._

"The Zeppelin returned again this evening and took us by surprise. It
seemed to come from the other side of Plojest, and the sentries on the
Danube must have missed it. Towards morning the night watch at the
Embassy whose duty it is to see that there is no light in the house
saw a huge mass descending slowly over the Embassy till it almost
touched the roof. It hovered there a few minutes, making observations.
No one noticed it until suddenly the engines started again, and it
dropped the first bomb close to the Embassy. A direct hit was made on
the house of the Ambassador Jresnea Crecianu, and twenty gendarmes who
were there were killed. The royal palace was also damaged. The
Government is apparently not satisfied with the anti-aircraft forces,
but concludes that practice will make them perfect. Opportunity for
practice will certainly not be lacking.

"Our departure is being delayed by every sort of pretext. One moment
it seems as though we should reach home via Bulgaria. This idea suited
Bratianu extremely well, as the Bulgarian willingness to grant
permission was a guarantee that they had no plans of attack. But he
reckoned in this without his host. E. and W. are greatly alarmed
because the Roumanians intend to detain them, and will probably hang
them as spies. I have told them, 'Either we all stay here or we all
start together. No one will be given up.' That appears to have
somewhat quieted their fears.

"As might be expected, these nocturnal visits had disagreeable
consequences for us. The Roumanians apparently thought that it was not
a question of Zeppelins, but of Austro-Hungarian airships, and that my
presence in the town would afford a certain protection against the
attacks; after the first one they declared that for every Roumanian
killed ten Austrians or Bulgarians would be executed, and the hostile
treatment to which we were subjected grew worse and worse. The food
was cut down and was terribly bad, and finally the water supply was
cut off. With the tropical temperature that prevailed and the
overcrowding of a house that normally was destined to hold twenty, and
now housed 170, persons, the conditions within the space of
twenty-four hours became unbearable and the atmosphere so bad that
several people fell ill with fever, and neither doctor nor medicine
was obtainable. Thanks to the energetic intervention of the Dutch
Ambassador, Herr von Vredenburch, who had undertaken the charge of our
State interests, it was finally possible to alter the conditions and
to avert the outbreak of an epidemic."

It was just about that time that our Military Attaché, Lieut.-Colonel
Baron Randa, made a telling remark. One of our Roumanian slave-drivers
was in the habit of paying us a daily visit and talking in the
bombastic fashion the Roumanians adopted when boasting of their
impending victories. The word "Mackensen" occurred in Randa's answer.
The Roumanian was surprised to hear the name, unknown to him, and
said: "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce Mackensen? Je connais beaucoup
d'Allemands, mais je n'ai jamais fait la connaissance de M.
Mackensen." "Eh bien," replied Randa, patting him on the shoulder,
"vous la ferez cette connaissance, je vous en guarantie." Three months
after that Mackensen had occupied all Wallachia and had his
headquarters at Bucharest. By that time, therefore, his name must have
been more familiar to our Roumanian friend.

At last we set off for home via Russia and had a very interesting
journey lasting three weeks, via Kieff, Petersburg, Sweden, and
Germany. To spend three weeks in a train would seem very wearisome to
many; but as everything in this life is a matter of habit we soon grew
so accustomed to it that when we arrived in Vienna there were many of
us who could not sleep the first few nights in a proper bed, as we
missed the shaking of the train. Meanwhile, we had every comfort on
the special train, and variety as well, especially when, on Bratianu's
orders, we were detained at a little station called Baratinskaja, near
Kieff. The reason of this was never properly explained, but it was
probably owing to difficulties over the departure of the Roumanian
Ambassador in Sofia and to the wish to treat us as hostages. The
journey right through the enemy country was remarkable. Fierce battles
were just then being fought in Galicia, and day and night we passed
endless trains conveying gay and smiling soldiers to the front, and
others returning full of pale, bandaged wounded men, whose groans we
heard as we passed them. We were greeted everywhere in friendly
fashion by the population, and there was not a trace of the hatred we
had experienced in Roumania. Everything that we saw bore evidence of
the strictest order and discipline. None of us could think it possible
that the Empire was on the eve of a revolution, and when the Emperor
Francis Joseph questioned me on my return as to whether I had reason
to believe that a revolution would occur, I discountenanced the idea
most emphatically.

This did not please the old Emperor. He said afterwards to one of his
suite: "Czernin has given a correct account of Roumania, but he must
have been asleep when he passed through Russia."

3

The development of Roumanian affairs during the war occurs in three
phases, the first of which was in King Carol's reign. Then neutrality
was guaranteed. On the other hand, it was not possible during those
months to secure Roumania's co-operation because we, in the first
period of the war, were so unfavourably situated in a military sense
that public opinion in Roumania would not voluntarily have consented
to a war at our side, and, as already mentioned, such forcible action
would not have met with the King's approval.

In the second phase of the war, dating from King Carol's death to our
defeat at Luck, conditions were quite different. In this second phase
were included the greatest military successes the Central Powers ever
obtained. The downfall of Serbia and the conquest of the whole of
Poland occurred during this period, and, I repeat, in those months we
could have secured the active co-operation of Roumania. Nevertheless,
I must make it clearly understood here that if the political
preliminaries for intervention on the part of Roumania were not
undertaken, the fault must not be ascribed to the then Minister of
Foreign Affairs, but to the _vis major_ which opposed the project
under the form of a Hungarian veto. As previously stated, Majorescu,
as well as Marghiloman, would only have given his consent to
co-operation if Roumania had been given a slice of the Hungarian
state. Thanks to the attitude of absolute refusal observed at the
Ballplatz, the territory in question was never definitely decided on,
but the idea probably was Transylvania and a portion of the Bukovina.
I cannot say whether Count Burian, if he had escaped other influences,
would have adopted the plan, but certain it is that however ready and
willing he was to act he would never have carried out the plan against
the Hungarian Parliament. According to the Constitution, the Hungarian
Parliament is sovereign in the Hungarian State, and without the use of
armed means Hungary could never have been induced to cede any part of
her territory.

It is obvious, however, that it would have been impossible during the
world war to have stirred up an armed conflict between Vienna and
Budapest. My then German colleague, von dem Busche, entirely agreed
with me that Hungary ought to make some territorial sacrifices in
order to encourage Roumania's intervention. I firmly believe that
then, and similarly before the Italian declaration of war, a certain
pressure was brought to bear direct on Vienna by Berlin to this end--a
pressure which merely contributed to strengthen and intensify Tisza's
opposition. For Germany, the question was far simpler; she had drawn
payment for her great gains from a foreign source. The cession of the
Bukovina might possibly have been effected, as Stürgkh did not object,
but that alone would not have satisfied Roumania.

It was quite clear that the opposition to the ceding of Transylvania
originated in Hungary. But this opposition was not specially Tisza's,
for whichever of the Hungarian politicians might have been at the head
of the Cabinet he would have adopted the same standpoint.

I sent at that time a confidential messenger to Tisza enjoining him to
explain the situation and begging him in my name to make the
concession. Tisza treated the messenger with great reserve, and wrote
me a letter stating once for all that the voluntary cession of
Hungarian territory was out of the question; "whoever attempts to
seize even one square metre of Hungarian soil will be shot."

There was nothing to be done. And still I think that this was one of
the most important phases of the war, which, had it been properly
managed, might have influenced the final result. The military advance
on the flank of the Russian army would have been, in the opinion of
our military chiefs, an advantage not to be despised, and through it
the clever break through at Görlitz would have had some results; but
as it was, Görlitz was a strategical trial of strength without any
lasting effect.

The repellent attitude adopted by Hungary may be accounted for in two
ways: the Hungarians, to begin with, were averse to giving up any of
their own territory, and, secondly, they did not believe--even to the
very last--that Roumania would remain permanently neutral or that
sooner or later we would be forced to fight _against_ Roumania unless
we in good time carried her with us. In this connection Tisza always
maintained his optimism, and to the very last moment held to the
belief that Roumania would not dare take it upon herself to attack us.
This is the only reason that explains why the Roumanians surprised us
so much by their invasion of Transylvania and by being able to carry
off so much rich booty. I would have been able to take much better
care of the many Austrians and Hungarians living in Roumania--whose
fate was terrible after the declaration of war, which took them also
by surprise--if I had been permitted to draw their attention more
openly and generally to the coming catastrophe; but in several of his
letters Tisza implored me not to create a panic, "which would bring
incalculable consequences with it." As I neither did, nor could, know
how far this secrecy was in agreement with our military
counter-preparations, I was bound to observe it. Apparently, Burian
believed my reports to a certain extent; at any rate, for some time
before the declaration of war he ordered all the secret documents and
the available money to be conveyed to Vienna, and entrusted to Holland
the care of our citizens; but Tisza told me long after that he
considered my reports of too pessimistic a tendency, and was afraid to
give orders for the _superfluous_ evacuation of Transylvania.

After the unexpected invasion, the waves of panic and rage ran high in
the Hungarian Parliament. The severest criticism was heaped upon me,
as no one doubted that the lack of preparation was due to my false
reports. Here Tisza was again himself when, in a loud voice, he
shouted out that it was untrue; my reports were correct; I had warned
them in time and no blame could be attached to me; he thus took upon
himself the just blame. Fear was unknown to him, and he never tried to
shield himself behind anyone. When I arrived back in Vienna after a
journey of some weeks in Russia, and only then heard of the incident,
I took the opportunity to thank Tisza for the honourable and loyal
manner in which he had defended my cause. He replied with the ironical
smile characteristic of him that it was simply a matter of course.

But for an Austro-Hungarian official it was by no means such a matter
of course. We have had so many cowards on the Ministerial benches, so
many men who were brave when dealing with their subordinates, toadied
to their superiors, and were intimidated by strong opposition, that a
man like Tisza, who was such a contrast to these others, has a most
refreshing and invigorating effect. The Roumanians attempted several
times to make the maintenance of their _neutrality_ contingent on
territorial concessions. I was always opposed to this, and at the
Ballplatz they were of the same opinion. The Roumanians would have
appropriated these concessions and simply attacked us later to obtain
more. On the other hand, it seemed to me that to gain _military
co-operation_ a cession of territory would be quite in order, since,
once in the field, the Roumanians could not draw back and their fate
would be permanently bound up with ours.

Finally, the third phase comprises the comparatively short period
between our defeat at Luck and the outbreak of the war in Roumania,
and was simply the death throes of neutrality.

War was in the air and could be foreseen with certainty.

As was to be expected, the inefficient diplomacy displayed in the
preparations for the world war brought down severe criticism of our
diplomatic abilities, and if the intention at the Ballplatz was to
bring about a war, it cannot be denied that the preparations for it
were most inadequate.

Criticism was not directed towards the Ballplatz only, but entered
into further matters, such as the qualifications of the individual
representatives in foreign countries. I remember an article in one of
the most widely-read Viennese papers, which drew a comparison between
the "excellent" ambassador at Sofia and almost all of the others; that
is, all those whose posts were in countries that either refused their
co-operation or even already were in the field against us.

In order to prevent any misunderstanding, I wish to state here that in
my opinion our then ambassador to Sofia, Count Tarnowski, was one of
the best and most competent diplomats in Austria-Hungary, but that the
point of view from which such praise was awarded to him was in itself
totally false. Had Count Tarnowski been in Paris, London or Rome,
these states, in spite of his undeniable capabilities, would not have
adopted a different attitude; while, on the other hand, there are
numbers of distinguished members of the diplomatic corps who would
have carried out his task at Sofia just as well as Count Tarnowski.

In other words, I consider it is making an unwarrantable demand to
expect that a representative in a foreign land should have a leading
influence on the policy of the state to which he is accredited. What
may be demanded of a diplomatic representative is a correct estimate
of the situation. The ambassador must know what the Government of the
state where he is will do. A false diagnosis is discreditable. But it
is impossible for a representative, whoever he may be, to obtain such
power over a foreign state as to be able to guide the policy of that
state into the course desired by him. The policy of a state will
invariably be subservient to such objects as the Government of that
period deem vital, and will always be influenced by factors which are
quite outside the range of the foreign representative.

In what manner a diplomatic representative obtains his information is
his own affair. He should endeavour to establish intercourse, not only
with a certain class of society, but also with the Press, and also
keep in touch with other classes of the population.

One of the reproaches made to the "old régime" was the assumed
preference for aristocrats in diplomacy. This was quite a mistake. No
preference was shown for the aristocracy, but it lay in the nature of
the career that wealth and social polish were assets in the exercise
of its duties. An attaché had no salary. He was, therefore, expected
to have a tolerably good income at home in order to be able to live
conformably to his rank when abroad. This system arose out of
necessity, and was also due to the unwillingness of the authorities to
raise salaries in the Ministry for Foreign Affairs. The consequence
was that only sons of wealthy parents could adopt such a career. I
once told some delegates who interviewed me in connection with the
subject that a change of the system depended entirely on themselves
and their increased munificence.

A certain amount of social polish was just as necessary for diplomats
of the old régime as was the requisite allowance for their household
and a knowledge of foreign languages. So long as courts exist in
Europe, the court will always be the centre of all social life, and
diplomats must have the entrée to such circles. A young man who does
not know whether to eat with his fork or his knife would play a sorry
part there--his social training is not an indifferent matter.
Preference is, therefore, not given to the aristocracy, but to young
men of wealth familiar with European society etiquette.

That does not mean that a diplomat is to consider it his duty only to
show himself at all the parties and fêtes given by the upper ten
thousand, but it is one of his duties, as at such places he might gain
information unobtainable elsewhere. A diplomat must be in touch with
all sources from which he can glean information.

Individual capabilities and zeal will naturally play a great part; but
the means that a Government places at the disposition of its foreign
missions are also of the highest importance.

There are people in the East--I do not know whether to say in
contradistinction to the West--who are not immune to the influence of
gold. In Roumania, for instance, Russia, before the war, had
completely undermined the whole country and had lavished millions long
before the war in the hope of an understanding with that country. Most
of the newspapers were financed by Russians, and numbers of the
leading politicians were bound by Russian interests, whereas neither
Germany nor Austria-Hungary had made any such preparations. Thus it
happened that, on the outbreak of war, Russia was greatly in advance
of the Central Powers, an advance that was all the more difficult to
overtake as from the first day of war Russia opened still wider the
floodgates of her gold and inundated Roumania with roubles.

If the fact that the scanty preparation for war is a proof of how
little the Central Powers reckoned on such a contingency it may on the
other hand explain away much apparent inactivity on the part of their
representatives. Karl Fürstenberg, my predecessor at Bucharest, whose
estimate of the situation was a just one, demanded to have more funds
at his disposal, which was refused at Vienna on the plea that there
was no money. After the war began the Ministry stinted us no longer,
but it was too late then for much to be done.

Whether official Russia, four weeks in advance, had really counted on
the assassination of the Archduke and the outbreak of a war ensuing
therefrom remains an open question. I will not go so far as to assert
it for a fact, but one thing is certain, that Russia within a
measurable space of time had prepared for war as being inevitable and
had endeavoured to secure Roumania's co-operation. When the Tsar was
at Constanza a month before the tragedy at Sarajevo, his Minister for
Foreign Affairs, Sassonoff, paid a visit to Bucharest. When there, he
and Bratianu went on a walking tour together to Transylvania. I did
not hear of this tactless excursion until it was over, but I shared
Berchtold's surprise at such a proceeding on the part of both
Ministers.

I once, in 1914, overheard by chance a conversation between two
Russians. It was at the Hotel Capsa, known later as a resort for
anti-Austrians. They were sitting at the table next to mine in the
restaurant and were speaking French quite freely and openly. They
appeared to be on good terms with the Russian Ambassador and were
discussing the impending visit of the Tsar to Constanza. I discovered
later that they were officers in mufti. They agreed that the Emperor
Francis Joseph could not live very much longer, and that when his
death occurred and a new ruler came to the throne It would be a
favourable moment for Russia to declare war on us.

They were evidently exponents of the "loyal" tendency that aimed at
declaring war on us without a preceding murder; and I readily believe
that the majority of the men in Petersburg who were eager for war held
the same view.

CHAPTER V

THE U-BOAT WARFARE

1

My appointment as Minister for Foreign Affairs was thought by many to
indicate that the Emperor Charles was carrying out the political
wishes of his uncle, Ferdinand. Although it had been the Archduke's
intention to have made me his Minister for Foreign Affairs, my
appointment to the post by the Emperor Charles had nothing to do with
that plan. It was due, above all, to his strong desire to get rid of
Count Burian and to the lack of other candidates whom he considered
suitable. The Red Book that was published by Count Burian after the
outbreak of war with Roumania may have attracted the Emperor's
attention to me.

Although the Emperor, while still Archduke, was for several years my
nearest neighbour in Bohemia--he was stationed at Brandeis, on the
Elbe--we never became more closely acquainted. In all those years he
was not more than once or twice at my house, and they were visits of
no political significance. It was not until the first winter of the
war, when I went from Roumania to the Headquarters at Teschen, that
the then Archduke invited me to make the return journey with him.
During this railway journey that lasted several hours politics formed
the chief subject of conversation, though chiefly concerning Roumania
and the Balkan questions. In any case I was never one of those who
were in the Archduke's confidence, and my call to the Ballplatz came
as a complete surprise.

At my first audience, too, we conversed at great length on Roumania
and on the question whether the war with Bucharest could have been
averted or not.

The Emperor was then still under the influence of our first peace
offer so curtly rejected by the Entente. At the German Headquarters at
Pless, where I arrived a few days later, I found the prevailing
atmosphere largely influenced by the Entente's answer. Hindenburg and
Ludendorff, who were apparently opposed to Burian's _démarche_ for
peace, merely remarked to me that a definite victory presented a
possibility of ending the war, and the Emperor William said that he
had offered his hand in peace but that the Entente had given him a
slap in the face, and there was nothing for it now but war to the
uttermost.

It was at this time that the question of the unrestricted U-boat
warfare began to be mooted. At first it was the German Navy only, and
Tirpitz in particular, who untiringly advocated the plan.
Hohenlohe,[5] who, thanks to his excellent connections, was always
very well informed, wrote, several weeks before the fateful decision
was taken, that the German Navy was determined and bent on that aim.
Bethmann and Zimmermann were both decidedly against it. It was
entirely in keeping with the prudent wisdom of the former not to risk
such experiments; Bethmann was an absolutely dependable, honourable
and capable partner, but the unbounded growth of the military
autocracy must be imputed to his natural tendency to conciliate. He
was powerless against Ludendorff and little by little was turned aside
by him. My first visit to Berlin afforded me the opportunity of
thoroughly discussing the U-boat question with the Imperial
Chancellor, and we were quite agreed in our disapproval of that method
of warfare. At all events, Bethmann pointed out that such essentially
military matters should in the first instance be left to military
decision, as they alone were able to form a correct estimate of the
result, and these reflections made me fear from the very first that
all reasonable political scruples would be upset by military
arguments. On this my first visit to Berlin, when this question
naturally was the dominating one, the Chancellor explained to me how
difficult his position was, because the military leaders, both on land
and at sea, declared that if the unrestricted U-boat warfare were not
carried out they would not be able to guarantee the Western front.
They thus brought an iron pressure to bear on him, for how could he,
the Chancellor, undertake to guarantee that the Western front could
hold out? As a matter of fact, the danger of introducing the
unrestricted U-boat campaign became greater and greater, and the
reports sent by Hohenlohe left no doubt as to the further development
of affairs in Berlin.

On January 12 he reported as follows:

  The question of the extension of the U-boat warfare, as Your
  Excellency is aware from the last discussions in Berlin, becomes
  daily more acute.

  On the one hand, all leading military and naval authorities insist
  on making use of this means as speedily as possible, as they
  declare it will end the war much more rapidly; on the other hand,
  all statesmen have grave fears as to what effect it will have on
  America and other neutrals.

  The Supreme Military Command declares that a new offensive on a
  very large scale is imminent in the West and that the armies which
  are to resist this attack will not be able to understand why the
  navy should not do all that lies in its power to prevent, or at
  any rate to decrease, the reserves and ammunition being sent to
  our adversaries. The absence of co-operation on the part of the
  navy in the terrible battles the troops on the Western front will
  again have to face will have a most _injurious_ effect on their
  _moral_.

  The objections put forward as to the effect the proceeding might
  have on America are met in military circles by the assumption that
  America will take good care not to go to war; that she, in fact,
  would not be able to do so. The unfortunate failure of the United
  States military machine in the conflict with Mexico clearly proves
  what is to be expected from America in that respect. Even a
  possible breaking off relations with America does not necessarily
  signify war.

  Meanwhile all the leading naval authorities reassert that they may
  be relied on, even though they are not considered capable of
  crushing England, at least to be able, _before_ America can come
  in, so to weaken the British Island Empire that only one desire
  will be left to English politicians, that of seating themselves
  with us at the Conference table.

  To this the Chancellor asked who would give him a guarantee that
  the navy was right and in what position should we find ourselves
  in case the admirals were mistaken, whereupon the Admiralty
  promptly asked what sort of position the Chancellor expected to
  find when autumn arrived without having made a proper use of the
  U-boats and we found ourselves, through exhaustion, compelled to
  _beg_ for peace.

  And thus the scales went up and down, weighing the chances for or
  against the U-boat war, and there was no possibility of positively
  determining which decision was the right one.

  Doubtless the German Government in the near future will be
  constrained to take up a definite standpoint respecting the
  question, and it is obvious--whatever the decision may be--that we
  also shall be largely involved. Nevertheless, it appears to me
  that when the German Government does approach us in that
  connection we should act with all possible reserve. As the matter
  now stands, a positive decision as to which course is the right
  one is not possible. I have, therefore, thought it inadvisable to
  take side definitely with either party and thus remove much of the
  responsibility from the German Government and render it possible
  for them to lay it upon us.

  The Imperial and Royal Ambassador,

  G. HOHENLOHE, M.P.

The concluding passage of the above cited report had already been
anticipated by me in a telegraphic communication in which I begged the
ambassador with all possible energy to urge the political arguments
opposed to the unrestricted U-boat warfare, which is proved by a
telegram from Hohenlohe on January 13 as follows:

  Reply to yesterday's telegram No. 15.

  In accordance with the telegram mentioned, and after discussing it
  with Baron Flotow, I went to the Secretary of State--not being
  able to see the Chancellor to-day--and in conformity with Your
  Excellency's intentions called his attention to the fact that we
  should participate in the results of the U-boat war just as much
  as Germany and that, therefore, the German Government is bound to
  listen to us also. All the leading German statesmen know that Your
  Excellency, during your stay here, expressed _yourself as opposed
  to the movement_, but that I had come once more as Your
  Excellency's representative to repeat the _warning against too
  hasty action_. I further emphasised all the arguments against the
  U-boat warfare, but will not trouble Your Excellency with a
  repetition of them, nor yet with the counter-arguments, already
  known to Your Excellency, that were put forward by the Secretary.
  I gave a brief summary of both these standpoints in my yesterday's
  report No. 6 P.

  Herr Zimmermann, however, laid special stress on the fact that the
  information he was receiving convinced him more and more that
  America, especially after the Entente's answer to Mr. Wilson,
  which was in the nature of an insult, would very probably not
  allow it to come to a breach with the Central Powers.

  I did all I possibly could to impress upon him the responsibility
  Germany was taking for herself and for us by her decision in this
  question, pointing out very particularly that before any decision
  was arrived at our opinion from a nautical-technical standpoint
  must also be heard, in which the Secretary of State fully
  concurred.

  I have the feeling that the idea of carrying out the U-boat
  warfare is more and more favourably received, and Your Excellency
  had the same impression also when in Berlin. The last word as to
  the final attitude to be adopted by the German Government will no
  doubt come from the military side.

  In conformity with the instructions received, _I will nevertheless
  uphold with all firmness the political arguments against the
  U-boat warfare_.

  Baron Flotow will have occasion to meet the Secretary of State
  this afternoon.

I had sent Baron Flotow, a Chief of Department, to Berlin at the same
time, in order that he might support all Hohenlohe's efforts and spare
no pains to induce Germany to desist from her purpose.

Flotow sent me the following report on January 15:

  After a two-days' stay in Berlin my impression is that the
  question of the unrestricted U-boat warfare has again been brought
  to the front by the leading men in the German Empire. This
  question--according to Herr Zimmermann--under conditions of the
  greatest secrecy where the public is concerned, is now under
  debate between the heads of the Army and Navy and the Foreign
  Office; they insist on a decision. For if the unrestricted U-boat
  warfare is to be opened it must be at a time when, in view of the
  vast impending Anglo-French offensive on the Western front, it
  will make itself felt. The Secretary of State mentioned the month
  of February.

  I wish in the following account to summarise the reasons put
  forward by the Germans for the justification of the unrestricted
  U-boat warfare:

  Time is against us and favours the Entente; if, therefore, the
  Entente can keep up the desire for war there will be still less
  prospect of our obtaining a peace on our own terms. The enemy's
  last Note to Wilson is again a striking example of their war
  energy.

  It will be impossible for the Central Powers to continue the war
  after 1917 with any prospect of success. Peace must, therefore,
  unless it finally has to be proposed by the enemy, be secured in
  the course of this year, which means that we must enforce it.

  The military situation is unfavourable owing to the impending
  Anglo-French offensive, which, it is presumed, will open with
  great force, as in the case of the last offensive on the Somme. To
  meet the attack, troops will have to be withdrawn from other
  fronts. Consequently, an offensive against Russia with intent to
  bring that enemy to his knees, which perhaps a year ago would have
  been possible, can no longer be reckoned on.

  If, therefore, the possibility of enforcing a decision in the East
  becomes less and less, an effort must be made to bring it about in
  the West, and to do it at a time when the unrestricted U-boat
  warfare would affect the coming Anglo-French offensive by impeding
  the transport of troops and munitions sailing under a neutral
  flag.

  In estimating the effect on England of the unrestricted U-boat
  warfare, there will be not only the question of hindering the
  transport of provisions, but also of curtailing the traffic to
  such a degree as would render it impossible for the English to
  continue the war. In Italy and in France this will be felt no less
  severely. The neutrals, too, will be made to suffer, which,
  however, might serve as a pretext to bring about peace.

  America will hardly push matters further than breaking off
  diplomatic relations; we need not, therefore, count for certain on
  a war with the United States.

  It must not be overlooked that the United States--as was the case
  in regard to Mexico--are not well prepared for war, that their one
  anxiety is Japan. Japan would not allow a European war with
  America to pass unheeded.

  But even if America were to enter the war it would be three to
  four months before she could be ready, and in that space of time
  peace must have been secured in Europe. According to the estimate
  of certain experts (among others, some Dutch corn merchants),
  England has only provisions sufficient for six weeks, or three
  months at the outside.

  It would be possible to carry on the U-boat warfare on England
  from fifteen bases in the North Sea, so _that the passage of a
  large vessel through to England would be hardly conceivable_.
  Traffic in the Channel, even if not entirely stopped, would be
  very limited, as travelling conditions in France exclude the
  possibility of suitable connection.

  And if the unrestricted U-boat warfare once were started, the
  terror caused by it (the sinking of the vessels without warning)
  would have such an effect that most vessels would not dare to put
  to sea.

  The above already hints at the rejoinder to be put forward to the
  arguments advanced by us against the opening of the unrestricted
  U-boat warfare, and also combats the view that the corn supply
  from the Argentine is not at the present moment so important for
  the United States as would be a prompt opening of the U-boat
  campaign, which would mean a general stoppage of all traffic.

  The fact that America would not be ready for war before the end of
  three months does not exclude the possibility that it might even
  be as long as six or eight months, and that she therefore might
  join in the European war at a time when, without playing our last
  card, it might be possible to end it in a manner that we could
  accept. It must not be forgotten, however, that in America we have
  to do with an Anglo-Saxon race, which--once it had decided on
  war--will enter on it with energy and tenacity, as England did,
  who, though unprepared for war as to military matters, can
  confront to-day the Germans with an army of millions that commands
  respect. I cannot with certainty make any statement as to the
  Japanese danger to America at a time when Japan is bound up with
  Russia and England through profitable treaties and Germany is shut
  out from that part of the world.

  Among other things I referred to the great hopes entertained of
  the Zeppelins as an efficient weapon of war.

  Herr Zimmermann said to me: "Believe me, our fears are no less
  than yours; they have given me many sleepless nights. There is no
  positive certainty as to the result; we can only make our
  calculations. We have not yet arrived at any decision. Show me a
  way to obtain a reasonable peace and I would be the first to
  reject the idea of the U-boat warfare. As matters now stand, both
  I and several others have almost been converted to it."

  But whether, in the event of the ruthless U-boat warfare being
  decided on, it would be notified in some way, has not yet been
  decided.

  Zimmermann told me he was considering the advisability of
  approaching Wilson, and, while referring to the contemptuous
  attitude of the Entente in the peace question, give the President
  an explanation of the behaviour of the German Government, and
  request him, for the safety of the life and property of American
  citizens, to indicate the steamers and shipping lines by which
  traffic between America and other neutrals could be maintained.

  _Vienna, January 15, 1917._

  FLOTOW, M.P.

On January 20 Zimmermann and Admiral Holtzendorff arrived in Vienna,
and a council was held, presided over by the Emperor. Besides the
three above-mentioned, Count Tisza, Count Clam-Martinic, Admiral Haus
and I were also present. Holtzendorff expounded his reasons, which I
recapitulate below. With the exception of Admiral Haus, no one gave
unqualified consent. All the arguments which appear in the official
documents and ministerial protocols were advanced but did not make the
slightest impression on the German representatives. The Emperor, who
took no part in the debate, finally declared that he would decide
later. Under his auspices a further conference was held in the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs at 2 o'clock; the report is as follows:

  Report of a conference held January 20, 1917, in the Imperial and
  Royal Ministry of Home and Foreign Affairs. Members: Dr.
  Zimmermann, Secretary of State of the German Foreign Affairs
  Department; Admiral von Holtzendorff, Chief of the German Naval
  Staff; Count Czernin, Imperial and Royal Minister for Foreign
  Affairs; Count Tisza, Royal Hungarian Prime Minister; Count
  Clam-Martinic, Imperial and Royal Prime Minister; Admiral Haus,
  the German naval attaché in Vienna; Baron von Freyburg, the
  Imperial and Royal naval attaché in Berlin; Count B.
  Colloredo-Mannsfeld.

  On January 20 a discussion took place in the Ministry of Foreign
  Affairs on the question of establishing unrestricted U-boat
  warfare.

  As evidenced by Admiral v. Holtzendorff's statements, the German
  naval authorities hold the standpoint that there exists an
  absolute necessity for the quickest possible inauguration of an
  unrestricted U-boat campaign. The arguments employed in support of
  this thesis are known from the reports of the Imperial and Royal
  Ambassador in Berlin (report of 12/1/17 Nr. 6/P, and telegram of
  13/1 Nr. 22), and may be summarised in the following sentences:
  Lack of time, decreasing human material in the Central Powers,
  progressive deterioration of the harvest, impending Anglo-French
  offensive on the Western front with improved and increased means
  for fighting, and the necessity arising therefrom to prevent or at
  least check the reinforcements required for such undertaking, the
  impossibility of obtaining a decision on land, the necessity of