Miklós Bánffy - They Were Found Wanting

Back in the centre of the room politics were once more being discussed. In the previous summer, in August, Edward VII, King of England, had visited the Emperor Franz-Josef at Ischl. Officially it was merely a visit of personal friendship with no political significance whatever. But rumour held otherwise. It maintained that it was a political visit and this view was strengthened by the fact that King Edward, as soon as he had returned to Marienbad where he was taking his annual cure, was visited by some other important international statesmen; first Clemenceau, and then the Russian minister Izvolsky. It was more than anyone was prepared to believe that these two gentlemen had come, just at that moment, merely to take the waters.

The Franco-Russian alliance had been in existence for some time. It was also a matter of common knowledge that the Belcassé pact — the Entente Cordiale — had been agreed between France and England three years before. This pact brought definite agreement between those two powers regarding their colonial differences in Africa; and even the friction that had grown at the time of the Boer War had gradually been worn down and the old friendly relationship re-established. The way that both powers handled the Moroccan situation had made this clear to the rest of the world. The French had been allowed a completely free hand there to do as they wished and, to everyone’s surprise, they had been encouraged in this by Germany who hoped that adventures in Africa would tie down the French army for many years to come. In Berlin they forgot, or ignored the fact, that most Frenchmen had never forgiven Germany for their defeat in 1870 … and never would.

But that summer had also brought an unexpected turn to international affairs.

After settling the African disputes Edward the Peacemaker had turned his attention to matters further east and further north. One Asian problem was quickly solved. The centuries-old rivalry between Russia and England had been brought effectively to an end when England, taking advantage of Russia’s preoccupation with the Russo-Japanese War (which she had lost most ignominiously), achieved an impregnably strong influence over both Tibet and Afghanistan, which formerly had been real bones of contention between the two countries. The new-found accord between England and Russia was to be celebrated, it was announced, by an official visit of the King of England and the principal units of his enormous fleet to Reval in the following Spring.

And having achieved all this King Edward turns up at Ischl just before having even more discussions with French and Russian leaders.

Any outsider might well be pardoned if he looked at the King of England’s movements and then decided they could have had one purpose and one purpose only — the encirclement and isolation of Germany.

It was this that was being discussed in front of the fire at Jablanka; and in particular what had really taken place at Ischl.

Irma Szent-Gyorgyi, Countess Illesvary, sat in an armchair close to the fire. She was tall and thin, like her brother, and in her long fingers she held a medium-sized Havana cigar, which was then unusual for a woman. Countess Irma, however, again like her brother, held herself to be above criticism and so felt no compunction in braving public opinion. When she spoke of some facts of which she was certain she would underline the words with extra-strong puffs of cigar-smoke.

‘I don’t believe a word of all this gossip!’ (she used the words toutes ces blagues as she habitually spoke mostly in French). ‘One of my friends who was staying with the Emperor at the time said it was merely a friendly visit, an act of politeness — une visite de politesse . After all, it would be only natural to call on Europe’s oldest ruler if one found oneself visiting his domains!’

Pfaffulus, rather cautiously, tried to interject a note of contradiction. Surely, he said, England possessed similar watering places to Marienbad? If King Edward was so anxious to rid himself of his excess weight why, he dared ask, was it necessary to go all the way to Bohemia?

It was now Slawata’s turn. He embarked on a lengthy exposition feeling that he should in some way sing for the supper to which he, as did his host, felt he really had no right, by revealing something of the secrets of the Ballplatz, the foreign ministry in Vienna. He decided to let drop a small secret — nothing that could be thought of as streng geheim — or ‘top secret’ as it would come to be known in later years — but something that could be told in confidence to reliable people of standing knowing it would go no further. Even so he still spoke cautiously, mincing his words so as not to get himself into trouble.

‘According to reports from London,’ he said, ‘the King of England certainly had the intention, if possible, to wean the Emperor away from the German alliance. He was going to offer, in the event of a war between England and Germany, to support the Habsburg monarchy on condition that Austria-Hungary remained neutral. That, of course, would have been tantamount to suggesting the automatic dissolution of the Tri-partite Alliance. However it never came to this for, before any such offer could be made, his Majesty made it quite clear to King Edward that he would never desert his old friends. Of course we can’t know exactly what was said, word for word, between the two monarchs, but this is the gist of the communiqué that we at the Ballplatz sent round to the German ambassador. Berlin had been understandably nervous, as you can imagine, for if Austria-Hungary had joined up with the other great powers then Germany would indeed have been encircled.’

‘Why on earth,’ cried Wuelffenstein, ‘should the King of England wish to destroy the Emperor Wilhelm, his own nephew?’

Slawata smiled.

‘When relations don’t get on, their dislike of each other is far stronger than that for a stranger! However the real reason has nothing to do with that. What has led England on is nothing less than the build-up of the German fleet. That is something that England will never accept.’

‘Unfortunately,’ murmured the priest in his modest manner, ‘the real risk is ours. In the event of war, we could easily lose not only our provinces in Italy but also our friendship with that country. Italy could hardly do otherwise than side with England. She is surrounded by sea — and the English rule the seas. I heard talk of this when I was in Rome recently. So the danger is not just the encirclement of Germany, but the encirclement of both central powers — in other words, us !’

Behind his thick glasses Slawata glared.

‘ Dann müsste man eben Prevenire spielen — then we must play our cards so as to prevent it!’ he said mysteriously.

The fat little priest turned towards him, his face as always calm and enigmatic, and all he did was to raise his bushy black eyebrows. He was about to speak when Countess Illesvary sighed deeply and said, quite quietly, ‘Perhaps, after all, it was a mistake not to listen to King Edward?’

Her brother interrupted her before she could say any more. ‘Surely his Majesty knows best what is right for us all?’ he said in a hard decisive tone that brooked no argument.

Slawata quickly grasped this heaven-sent opportunity to agree with his host. He said at once that the situation of the Dual Monarchy itself would be impossible if ever it were to turn against Germany. They would then be the first victims of any war for whatever might happen elsewhere in Europe the far-flung boundaries of Austria-Hungary were untenable, even indefensible. Bohemia, where the Skoda Works, their only ordnance factories, were situated, would be in German hands in a matter of days and then their only defence would be the Moravian hills! All Bohemia would at once be a battlefield. Up until this moment Slawata had spoken with professional restraint, objectively, as became a diplomat. Now his voice rang with personal conviction, deeply moved by the thought of the possible fate of his own homeland. As he said himself, he was, first and foremost, a Czech.