They Were Found Wanting (49 page)

‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ she asked when they were standing beside the buffet table. ‘I think you’re going to be asked to Jablanka again this year. You mustn’t know anything about it, of course, but I’m telling you now so that you don’t go and accept any invitations for the first week in December.’

‘Thank you, Countess Lili. Did Uncle Antal say something about it?’

‘No! Nothing positive, but …’ and she turned away as if
reaching
for a cream cake. As she did so Balint just had time to notice that she was blushing. Blushing? Why should she blush at saying ‘nothing positive’?

There was, of course, a very good reason. Lili had just
remembered
the cunning she had had to employ to get Abady invited.

She had never herself said anything positive either; but every time she had been at Jablanka she had lost no opportunity of somehow inducing others to say something nice and
complimentary
about Balint Abady. The head
Jäger
– amazingly enough, for it was quite unjustified – had somehow been led into praising Balint’s skill with a gun; the stud groom had been slyly reminded how Count Abady had immediately recognized the best among the innumerable foals; and she herself, having cross-questioned Pfaffulus about Abady’s ancestors, had brought up the subject of his family tree in front of her uncle, knowing well that Count Antal set great store by such things and that noble birth and a long line of distinguished forebears were important elements in his approval or disapproval of other people.

In this way Balint’s name somehow kept on being mentioned at Jablanka, and often in Antal Szent-Gyorgyi’s hearing.

Only recently Lili had decided that the time had come to take more definite action. One day she talked to her cousin Magda and told her that she ought to lose no time in seeing that this year her beloved Peter Kollonich should be invited. Magda swallowed the bait and so was herself responsible for killing off Peter’s chances. Unwisely, not being a subtle or wise girl, Magda saw fit to ask her father outright and in this way Lili obtained what she wanted. Count Antal answered his daughter in his most icy
manner
, ‘I’m not asking any of our relations this year, except for Balint Abady!’

It was the memory of this that had made Lili blush, for she knew that she had knowingly prepared the trap for Magda and that, quite shamelessly, she had advised her to do the one thing which would annoy her father and stop any chance of Peter being asked to the shoot. For a moment or two Lili did not turn back to face Balint. Then an arm in formal evening dress stretched out between them and a voice said, ‘I beg your pardon!’

Lili and Balint both looked at the speaker. It was Count Slawata, who was just pushing a cream bun towards his mouth.

‘Oh,
Servus
–
at your service,’ he said when he had quickly swallowed his mouthful and, with his short-sighted eyes peered at Abady and recognized him. Then he said, bowing to the girl, ‘I kiss your hand, Countess Lili. Please don’t think I’m always so greedy …’ and he reached for another titbit, ‘but
Seine
Hoheit
– his Highness – has only just left.’

He was referring to the Archduke Franz-Ferdinand, whose confidential adviser he was, and who had ostentatiously left for Vienna the moment the King and Queen of Spain had taken their leave.

‘There were masses of telegrams to send and a lot of official reports; so I didn’t get any supper.’

‘Schwerer
Dienst
– very hard work!’ said Abady, with a hint of irony.

‘Not really. But interesting, you know, especially now. And especially today when we have got some results for once. Today is the third of October and success has crowned our efforts!’

Balint realized that Slawata was unusually happy and pleased with himself. His whole body radiated a sort of nervous, tense joyfulness. His round snub-nosed face seemed almost about to split, so tightly was his skin stretched across the chubby cheeks. His eyes flashed behind his thick-lensed glasses.

‘What was today’s great success?’

The adviser to the Ministry for Foreign Affairs had been
waiting
for just that question. With a theatrical movement he stepped back and pulled out a watch from his waistcoat pocket with
studied
slowness. ‘Here it is five minutes to midnight. In Paris it will be five to eleven and the leading article in tomorrow’s
Le
Temps
will already be in the press. As soon as the paper is on the streets the whole world will know what has happened – so I am now free to tell you the news: it is that our ambassador in Paris today informed the President of the Republic of our annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina. At last we have been able to bring this about: it was effective from midday today!’

Something tightened in Balint’s throat. He remembered all at once that argument with Slawata a year before, in his bedroom at Jablanka, when the politician had talked about the need for a war. Now, as a thousand fears and questions crowded into Balint’s mind, the music started up again and people streamed from the buffet table back into the ballroom. Lili was whisked off to dance again and Balint found himself briefly separated from Slawata.

Standing alone by the buffet table Balint remembered that the Congress of Berlin had indeed given paper approval for the annexation, but no date had even been mentioned by any of the great powers. Furthermore it was implicitly accepted that
Bosnia-Herzegovina
, though until now still nominally a province of the Ottoman Empire, would never be handed back to Turkey. All Europe would have objected. It was therefore clear that, though it was one of the Congress’s official aims to uphold the integrity and sovereignty of the Ottoman Empire, no one thought of this as anything other than a face-saving formula not to be taken
literally
. Still, Turkish sovereignty had been guaranteed by
international
decree and could not lightly be discarded unless all the guaranteeing powers agreed. If the Ballplatz had not taken care to obtain such accord by undercover diplomatic negotiations, then Austria’s unilateral action might well be considered an unforgivable breach of internationally valid agreements and so, whether the annexation was justified or not, Austria would be vulnerable to attack which might lead to untold complications.

Dismayed by his own thoughts, Balint turned once again to Slawata and said, ‘But surely this could lead to trouble? Has the way been properly prepared? Diplomatically, I mean?’

‘I-wo!
–
sowas
ist
doch
ganz
unmöglich
– that is quite impossible!’ replied Slawata unconcernedly; but then, seeing how worried his companion looked, he piled his plate high with galantine and foie-gras, and beckoned to Balint to follow him to a nearby sofa, saying, ‘
Komm,
alter
Freund,
ich
werde
dir’s
erklären.
So
ganz
leichtsin
ning
sind
wir
eben
auch
nicht!
– come, old friend, and I will explain it all to you. We are not as irresponsible as all that!’

Slawata seemed now to take Balint into his confidence,
apparently
speaking quite openly and giving chapter and verse for each statement he made. On the question of diplomatic consultation he said that there would have been no point in asking the opinion of the subscribing powers in advance. This would only have led to lengthy discussions which at best would have had inconclusive results. Only two countries had any real interest in the matter: Russia, which was bound to oppose any extension of Austrian power; and Turkey, whose new government, unless faced with a
fait
accompli
, could hardly be expected to agree to the loss of one of its own provinces.

On the other hand, he went on, if the annexation happened now, it would probably be accepted in Turkey as part of the
payment
to be made for the removal of the old order and the final elimination of the sins of the Sultan’s imperial policies. Since at the same time Austria was to restore to Turkey the control of the Sanjak of Novibazar, this could be advertised by the Porte as a triumph for the new leaders in Istanbul. There only remained the Russians. They had, to a certain extent, been prepared in advance. When the Russian foreign minister Izvolsky had called upon the ambassador Berchtold at Buchlau, his Austrian opposite number, Aehrenthal, had brought up the question of
Bosnia-Herzegovina
, stating that unless action was taken soon the new rulers of the Ottoman Empire would be bound by their
constitution
to insist that Bosnia send representatives to the Turkish
parliament
, which would not only be absurd but also unacceptable to all the signatory powers. Izvolsky had offered no objections to this argument, which could be taken as acquiescence even though no ‘protocol’ had been signed at the end of the meetings. Of course, no doubt both sides had made notes so that even if the Russian minister was taken by surprise by the timing of the annexation, he could hardly claim that he knew nothing about it! And in these circumstances there was little that England and France could do; after all, they could hardly pretend to be more Balkan than the Russians!

Berlin had not been informed either, for the simple reason that if one of the powers had been told then Italy would have to have been told too – and this was most undesirable as the news would swiftly be passed on to the Entente.

‘
Und
die
guten
Italiener
hätten
ausserdem
gleich
irgend
ein
Equivalent
verlangt
– and the good Italians will no doubt have an equivalent claim of their own!’ said Slawata ironically.

‘But the alliance consists of three members and all information ought to be shared. If it’s not, then the Italians are no longer in honour bound.’ suggested Balint.

‘So much the better! So much the better!’ cried his companion. ‘In spite of Aehrenthal I agree with Conrad. The best thing would be an Austrian attack upon Italy. But, of course, Aehrenthal will do anything to hold the alliance together.’

And then he returned to one of his favourite subjects. If events followed the lines he suggested then the world would soon see which was the stronger: ‘… Franz-Josef –
Der
alter
Herr,
oder
wir,
Jung
Österreich
–
the Old Gentleman, or we, Young Austria!’

And so it came about that the international crisis provoked by the Austrian annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina heralded a new era in European politics. Aehrenthal, quite unwittingly, created a diplomatic precedent by presenting all Europe with a
fait
accom
pli
that was contrary to the Treaty of Berlin and bypassed all international discussion.

On the very same day as the annexation of
Bosnia-Herzegovina
, Bulgaria declared itself an autonomous kingdom instead of only a semi-independent principality nominally subject to the Sultan in Istanbul; this, of course, was done with the full knowledge and approval of the Ballplatz. Both these events were to prove the models for Italy’s occupation of Libya in 1911,
without
either legal or diplomatic reason and without declaring war on Turkey, and also for the 1912 Balkan war. Together, Austria’s annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina and the unilateral declaration of Bulgarian independence, though only formal provocations and not actual acts of war, served as precedents for more violent and more cynical acts of oppression and effectively killed off that moral force which until then had been accorded to the given word. And at the end of the line came that most dramatic and least morally justified – of such acts: Germany’s 1914 invasion of Belgium. And that started the First World War.