Part 9

The children were always first in church, occupying the most comfortable chairs in the chancel. Once they actually established themselves in the large velvet chairs placed for the Prince and Princess. Billy could not succeed in dislodging them, and Claire and I, on arrival, had to use force--to the amusement of all the peasant children--which so insulted Stefan that he sulked during Mass till he conceived the brilliant idea of stretching out his foot far enough to trip up an altar boy. The priest stumbled in the "Lavabo inter innocentes manus meas," and the old church servant, who had in earlier days been the village schoolmaster, shot out of the sacristy, as was his custom when the attention of the acolytes wandered, and soundly cuffed the unfortunate altar-boy. Happily the Countess had seen, and Stefan had a very bad quarter of an hour afterwards in the Schloss.

IV--DARK DAYS AFTER THE TRAGEDY

There were days of tension after the ultimatum went to Serbia. The press was very restrained but clearly uneasy, and did not attempt to justify the extravagant tone of the ultimatum. General opinion as to whether the Serbs would fight or not was not very divided, and there were few who did not agree that Serbia was never intended to fight. She was simply to behave herself in future and Austria was to see that she did it. General T---- was indignant at the ultimatum.

"Berchtold again! Soft-headed fool--pooh! There are so many ways of getting what one wants--he must just choose this one! This way may really lead to war, and we are not prepared--no money, no munitions--nothing, nothing! Ach, it's an awful business! Perhaps Serbia won't dare to fight ... if the Russians back her she will!"

"You surely can scarcely imagine that any country could take such an ultimatum lying down?" I suggested.

"Pooh," he replied, "you can't deny that they've always been a thorn in our flesh. But my country is mad--mad! Nobody seems to realise what this can lead to. The Serbs are good fighters too. If Russia backs them we're done for. Na, I must get back to Vienna now, for Walther will have to go if there's war. Pooh--they're all crazy everywhere."

Even the Man of Art grew mournful among his rosebushes. He was Croatian and bitterly anti-Austrian.

"Ach, Fräulein! There are sad days coming, for that wasn't an ultimatum that went to Serbia--it was a declaration of war. The Serbs will fight, Fräulein. I know the race; they are brave men such as we have in Croatia. Of course they'll fight. They are real soldiers and have real officers--old General Putnik--that's a man! They'll beat us, Fräulein, and I'll have to go and fight against them too--against my own race. Bah! we're slaves here in Austria."

V--THE PRINCE WAS "IRRITATED BY THE WAR"

Then came the Serbs' reply and the partial mobilisation of the Austrian army. Everybody looked grave and the Prince became distinctly irritable.

"Just in the middle of the harvest, too! What a time of year to send an ultimatum! How the devil do they expect me to get my harvest in, if they take my men away? The lifting of the beets won't even begin for six weeks yet."

"War will be finished by then," said Billy, "and Serbia will have ceased to exist."

"And what of little Poli--the beautiful Dragoon with the sky-blue coat?" asked Claire. "Won't you have to return to Göding and join your regiment now?"

"This upsets all my plans for the summer," replied the soldier, "and it's very annoying, and it's too bad of them to spring a war upon peace-loving soldiers like this. They'll telephone to me if they want me, and I won't move from here till they do."

"And if the telephone is out of order, as it usually is, you'll be shot as a deserter," said Billy.

"Nevertheless, I won't go," said Poli, for the Einjährigerfreiwilliger was a man of peace and did not appreciate a Government which enforced days of warlike pursuits upon him each year.

But Poli had to go, for one morning about four o'clock, as the church bells were ringing the Angelus, the order for a general mobilisation was "drummed out"--in Hungary the town crier always uses a drum. Being much too sleepy to grasp what he said, I promptly went to sleep again, and in the morning discovered that I was the one person in the Schloss who had not been at all upset by the news, and that I was regarded by all as something approaching a monster of callousness. There was the wildest confusion inside and outside the Schloss when I came downstairs; all the outdoor servants had gathered in the courtyard to say good-bye before leaving to report themselves at their "Kaders"; indoors the housemaids were crying as they went about their work, and it was with difficulty that the Princess, Claire, and I managed at last to get some sort of a breakfast served by a scared-looking butler. The Prince and Billy had been up at the stables for some time, for the officials had already arrived to claim the horses on the Government list. "And all our riding-horses will have to go--every one of them," sobbed the Princess, "yes, even Hadur--nothing but Claire's little horses, which are too young, and one other pair will be left."

VI--WEEPING PEASANTS FLOCK TO WAR

The road was simply alive--peasants leading in their horses, recruits wearing the Hungarian red, white and green in their hats, cartloads of Jews huddled together weeping and wailing because their Moishes and Aarons had to go, wild-looking gipsies who had never done military service, dancing and singing in the gladness of their hearts that when others were taken they were left to steal and sing.

* * * * *

The town of S---- was seething with excited gesticulating crowds of people--all soldiers and recruits were drunk--the women-folk sobbing and screaming--the gipsies who lived in the town drunken and singing and dancing like their brethren in the country--every one was hurried and anxious, men, women, children and horses were all mixed up and military automobiles rushing about everywhere.... We reached the Oberstuhlrichter's door in safety, but so bruised and breathless that we could hardly move. Our friend, the Oberstuhlrichter was so harassed and overworked, that he had nothing to say but--"For the love of Heaven, my dears, go away. I really know nothing myself except that Germany and Russia are now in the fray and I've got to get all the recruits away from here at once. Now go away and leave me."

VII--THE WISDOM OF UNCLE PISTA

From him we went to Aunt Sharolta and Uncle Pista--in Hungary all older people are addressed as uncle or aunt. Aunt Sharolta was nearly blind, but wonderfully sweet and gentle; and Uncle Pista was small, round and jovial--red-faced and white-haired. He always wore a piece of plaster on his nose, and we often speculated as to what might be below that plaster, for it certainly never was changed, and whether it had originally been black or pink no one knew, for from time immemorial it was grey. He was the most intrepid politician I have ever met. He had learned geography sixty years ago, had forgotten it for fifty, and I doubt if he rightly knew where Serbia lay from Austria. His daughters' geographical views were based on their father's.

When, on this particular day, we appeared in their house, hot and breathless and looking as if we had been picked out of the hay-stack, we found Uncle Pista bemoaning his horses and saying that if this sort of thing would continue he would have no nerves left. Aunt Sharolta was turning out all her drawers for things to manufacture into comforts for the soldiers, and having unearthed a piece of grey material embroidered with rose-buds she was making it into a chest-protector.

"Our boys," she explained, "will die of cold in Russia, if we don't make warm clothes for them."

"What's more to the point, my horses will die of cold in Russia," grumbled Uncle Pista.

"You don't think, then, that the Russians may break into Galicia?" I suggested.

"What an idea! Our army won't let them. Russia will take six weeks to mobilise--she can't do it in less--and by that time we shall have finished off Serbia and we can join the Germans in Russia. It's a pity though that the German Kaiser didn't keep quiet; of course he knows best, but there's no question but the Tsar was very impertinent to him lately, and William is hot-tempered. I've no doubt it's for the best, and it's one of God's mercies that we have the Kaiser behind us to help us against Russia. Our boys will be in St. Petersburg long before Christmas."

VIII--THE PRINCE CALLED THEM ALL FOOLS

Partridge shooting opened on August 1st, and the Prince and Billy--for the keepers were all away at their Kaders--collected some beaters--among whom the naughty and clever Joszo, resplendent in carpet slippers, a pair of old gaiters, and an old cartridge belt--and set out to a melancholy half-hearted shoot, from which Billy returned in a dismal humour. They had shot little and had thought all the time of the men--German, Austrian, Russian, and French--who had shot with them last year and who were now engaged in shooting one another; the Prince had spoken all the time, too, of his friend the Grand Duke Nicholai Nicholaievich, who had hitherto been such a charming and clever man, but who, now that he was to lead the Russians, was nothing but a mahogany-coloured giant; and it was a disgusting world, and how could anybody ever be happy again....

The days that followed were very anxious. France, the newspapers said, declared war on Germany; and Austria felt cross and shocked. How could France declare war on any country when she was herself, as the whole world knew, so little prepared? But there would be a revolution in France, and Poincaré would be guillotined for rushing his country into war like that. Oh, yes, all were agreed, nothing was surer than that Poincaré would meet the traitor's death he deserved.... My return to England had been planned for September, and I began to think that I ought to try to leave at once, but this was laughed down.

"How do you propose to go, Jerry--by private balloon? For everything on wheels is in the hands of the army at present. No, whatever happens you must just stay with us--even if England should join in, you will easily be home for Christmas--the war will be finished long before then. But England won't fight, so why should we break our heads about it?"

I pointed out that treaty obligations would hardly allow Great Britain to stand aside.

"Treaty obligations don't count any more," said the Prince; "the Germans are in Belgium."

"Great Britain, I imagine, does not accept the German view of treaty obligations. Can't you really see that Germany is committing a crime in going through Belgium like that?" I asked the Prince.

"No, absolutely not, when the French were already in Belgium before France declared war on Germany. And even supposing they were not there, Germany would still be right in forcing her way through--it's a case of the survival of the fittest. He's a nice fool that King of the Belgians! He had simply to allow the Germans through, and he would have been well paid for it by William. Old Leopold would not have been so silly."

"There you are right," I said, "he probably would have sold his country."

"Now, Jerry, don't be impertinent! Anything you say now will be used against you if England declares war on us. Don't forget you're our prisoner then."

* * * * *

When the declaration of war did come it sobered us somewhat! The Princess quickly recovered and said----

"Why do you worry about it, Jerry? It's not a matter between you and me, but between Grey and Berchtold--let them scratch each other's eyes out if they like. After all, I'm not sure that I'm so angry with them, for it means that now you've got to remain here indefinitely--nolens volens. I am very glad, for it will be fearfully dull here without our usual big shooting parties. And now come and play bridge."

That was the way in which the Princess looked at it all the time. It was impossible for me to persuade her that to have an enemy alien in the house might be very unpleasant for her: she could never see why, though England and Germany hated each other so cordially, she and I could not remain the good friends we had always been and live peacefully in the same house.

* * * * *

It was very easy for us to disagree, for, after a course of the _Neue Freie Presse_, the _Neues Wiener Tagblatt_ and the _Berliner Tagblatt_, with the exception of myself and the servants--the majority of whom were Slavs--the inmates of Schloss K---- were soon convinced that it was England that had been behind the whole conflagration: that jealous of Germany's dangerously increasing foreign trade, she sought to cripple it by a war, and accordingly it was at England's suggestion that Russia bribed the Serbs to assassinate the Archduke--an event which the Entente felt would certainly force Germany's hand....

"We are not strong enough to do anything ourselves, and Germany is the one hope of our existence. What can one do if one is so poor and so divided as we are? Oh, but Willy will save us--a plucky dashing fellow who will teach you all a lesson. You will shed bitter tears in England yet."

"We shall see, when the war is over, who will laugh and who will cry," I would reply.

IX--THE ROMANCE OF MARISCHA

I have said that all the servants were anti-Austrian. I wrong Marischa and probably also Therese. The latter was the maid who waited on me--a Vienna girl whose views were probably orthodox enough.... She was a scullery-maid--round as a barrel, with a large, good-humoured face, was always in a hurry and always smiling, and dressed always in the black and red costume of Moravia.... She had had a husband who left her years ago, going to America, from where he wrote to say that he had had enough of her and did not intend to return to her. Then Stefka Stefan came into her life and she found him irresistible.... He was small, sulky, and delicate looking, not as one pictures a hero of romance; but he was very devoted to Marischa and, if she could have got a divorce from her husband, he would have married her; but, as she explained to me in her inimitable way, this wasn't possible.

"Priest say no divorce, so Marischa yes just live like that with Stefan. Prince and Princess yes give Marischa and Stefan house. Marischa's husband no good man, but Stefan yes good man and yes want to marry Marischa: priest say no possible, so Marischa yes live just like that with Stefan."

Nevertheless her romance was a very real grief to Marischa, for the priest at confession would never give her absolution, and her enforced abstinence from communion pained her more than it would many of her class. The earthly tie was stronger and Stefka Stefan continued to work in the garden at Schloss K---- and to live in Marischa's cottage. In spite of many protests the Prince was obdurate and refused to send the couple away, saying, with easy Hungarian carelessness, that the life in Marischa's cottage was better and purer than in the next house where at one side the gamekeeper beat his wife, and at the other the butler was in turn beaten by his wife. Marischa's loyalty simply oozed out of her.

"Kaiser brave man, yes brave man. Kaiser fears only God, so God let Kaiser win."

"Which Kaiser, Marischa?"

"German Kaiser. Our King Kaiser yes old man now not know like German Kaiser yes know--fears God--fears God."

It was a pity to spoil this beautiful faith, so I always remained on very good terms with Marischa, who always greeted me with a smile of affection and pity that was touching.

X--STORIES THE PEASANTS BROUGHT HOME

News of great deeds soon came from Serbia, where the Austrians were supposed to be already in the heart of the country. No lie was ever too big for the Austrian papers, and the jubilation throughout the country over the imaginary successes in Serbia knew no bounds....

The fields had become very empty and sad: instead of the crowds of jolly handsome young peasant lads, singing their beautiful Slovak songs as they worked, there were now only a few old men and women, and gipsies who would follow one any distance begging all the time for "a Kreutzer for the love of God, Mistress."

The men-servants who had gone to their Kaders soon began to return. First came the Man of Art. We had all been sitting outside on the terrace when we heard that this first of the heroes had returned, and he was at once summoned to give his report. His heart was bad, so bad that the doctor feared that the exertion of even a few days' military service might kill him, therefore--with many shakes of his head--he would never fight for his country.

"Where did they tell you that?" I asked.

"In Agram, Fräulein," very mournfully.

"They didn't expect you to believe it, I hope?"

But the Princess interrupted. "Don't ask these awkward questions, Jerry. We're much too glad to have him back again to go very deeply into the details of his terrible illness. And now, Herr Gärtner, give us all your news of the war."

He did, and how they wished he didn't!

"The Herrschaft all thought Russia would take six weeks to mobilise--well, the Russians are in Galicia now. Our armies there were far too small and badly prepared, and they have been cut to pieces. The great body of troops is being withdrawn from Serbia up to Galicia, and we have had very serious reverses in Serbia too. It's our officers that are no good. I travelled with a Bulgarian who had come from Moscow to Agram through Roumania, and he says the Russian mobilisation is complete, and that he didn't think there were so many men on earth as he saw pouring through Moscow as the Siberian troops came up. The Herrschaft cannot hear those things, as they sit in the gardens here away from it all, but I know for a fact that the Russians are in Galicia and Lemberg is about to fall."

"And yet the newspapers speak only of the success of our offensive against Serbia," said Claire, in tears.

"Our newspapers are the most lying on earth, Highness, and I tell you that Austria will lose, and lose badly in this war."

Consternation of all! An Englishwoman to hear all this!

"That will do," said the Prince, shortly, "and I should advise you not to repeat in the village what you've just said, else you'll get yourself into trouble." The Princess then hurried the offender off to the gardens before more could be said.

In a few days the gamekeeper arrived back, to the annoyance of his wife, who had hoped that the war would end her beatings for some time. His uncle was an army doctor, and no reasonable being could expect the gamekeeper to be strong and well in such circumstances--heart disease again, of the most incurable kind. The butler and the first footman returned from Bohemia--the one with varicose veins, and the other with heart disease.

The newspapers were silent about the Russian front, but became more and more triumphant about events in Serbia, where Conrad von Hötzendorf expected the whole Serbian army to be surrounded in a few days by the Austrians under General Potiorek, who, in his capacity of Military Governor of Bosnia, when the Archduke and his wife were shot, had been sent to punish the Serbs.

I soon began to receive and to send English letters through Rome, and during the rest of the time I was in Hungary I had no trouble with my mails, despite the fact that foreign correspondence was forbidden to enemy aliens. It was very difficult for me to realise that I was an enemy alien, for my liberties were hindered in no way....

XI--THE OLD ADMIRAL ARRIVES

At the end of the month the Admiral arrived from Vienna. He was no longer young, but he was very enterprising, and, though for many years retired, he now offered himself to his country, which was ungrateful enough to evince no very pressing need of his services....

The Admiral brought us all the news of Vienna, which he described as being in a state of wild enthusiasm and satisfaction. Day by day Italy's declaration of war on the Allies was awaited, and, as expectancy gradually died, Vienna's rage against Italy knew no bounds. A popular joke in the city then was:--

"Was ist der Dreibund? Ein Zweibund und ein Vagabund!"

But, the Admiral assured us, everybody knew that the Zweibund would win without the Vagabund: Willy would see to that; he had all that was necessary to win a war, men, munitions, and brains. No, there never was a man so plucky as Willy. The Admiral's thoughts, from force of habit, lingered on things naval, and his morning greeting was, invariably--

"Good morning! To-day we shall hear something from the sea!"

We all grew impatient as time passed and the Admiral's big sea-battle failed to take place. I once dared to suggest that the German Fleet was afraid to come out. The Admiral's remaining hairs literally stood on end.

"Afraid! Oh, Miss Jerry! You must have patience--they will come out in time. What do you suppose Willy built his Dreadnoughts for? To sit in the Kiel Canal, perhaps?"

There was never even a hint in the Austrian papers of any doings at sea at all; but the Man of Arts knew of the clearing of enemy ships from the seas by the Allied Fleets. It was in the Slav papers.

"But how do you manage to get those papers?" I once asked.

"Na, Fräulein; don't ask me that. To have that known is as much as my life is worth. But you can be quite certain that I'm not the only person here who gets them."

Japan's declaration of war was the surprise of the Admiral's life, and his rage was almost classic. It was right, though, he said, for the Allies to welcome the yellow Japs to their rainbow collection of soldiers!

Uncle Pista was charmingly funny about Japan one afternoon when Claire, the Admiral, and I went to tea to Aunt Sharolta.

"Japan will regret what she has done," and in anticipation of this his face grew rounder and redder. "There won't be much left of her by the time that Germany's done with her."

"How is Germany going to manage it?"

"By sending ships and men there, of course," he replied, contemptuously.

"And how will Germany manage that?" asked the Admiral, greatly amused.

"How!" repeated the old gentleman. "How does any ship go anywhere? By crossing the sea, of course."

"What about the British Navy on the way?" asked Claire.

"Why--would the German boats go near the British Navy?" and Uncle Pista was surprised and disappointed.

"Not intentionally--but they might find the British Navy difficult to avoid," said the Admiral.

"Then they wouldn't avoid it at all," said Uncle Pista, recovering his spirits. "They would just smash it up, as they're smashing up the English in Flanders just now, and then go on, and they would be in Japan in a few days."

"Good sailing!" commented the Admiral.