New York Times 100 years ago today, August 14, 1913:
The phrase attributed to the German Emperor, "I don't like Austria to rattle my sword," may be the invention of Maximilian Harden or some other audacious journalist, but it hits the present situation and throws light on some of the events of the last ten months. In a way Austria has been allowed and encouraged to rattle the sword of Germany ever since the Balkan war began, and even before when she annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina. How true this is and what effect it has had on the course of events can be seen by trying to imagine what would have been the result had Austria been allowed to rattle her own sword only. She would either have been laughed out of the futile operation or she would have involved herself in very perilous complications.
When Austria deliberately tore up the Treaty of Berlin of 1878 and defied Russia to protect her rights under that treaty, Germany massed troops on the eastern frontier and forced Russia to submit. It was this insolent departure from the avowed principles of the European Concert, with its demonstration of Turkey's helpless isolation, that, more than anything else, encouraged the Balkan States to undertake their attack on Turkey. When this attack proved so amazingly successful that the actual banishment of Turkey from Europe was threatened, with the complete possession of all her European provinces by the allies, Austria menaced Servia and attained the exemption of Albania from the rule of the allies. And in the latest phase of the situation, when Bulgaria undertook to seize territory won by Servian arms, the diplomatic aid of Austria was on the side of the aggressor. From the first to the last of these proceedings the German Government, whatever private influence it may have used with its pet ally, openly backed Austria. Whenever the peace of Europe seemed menaced — and it was frequently menaced — it was by the conduct of Austria, and always the question asked anxiously in the Chancelleries was, What will Germany do? There was sword rattling, plainly enough, that disturbed opinion in all the capitals. The doubt that perturbed all observers was whether it was the sword of Germany, and Germany would not deny it.
It is to be conceded, of course, that Germany did prevent the war which her favorite ally kept banging over Europe. Emperor William, it was plain, did not wish war, and the world owes him a great debt for the masterly manner in which he prevented it. But it is to be noted also that he made use of the obvious risk of war, a risk largely due to the conduct of Austria, to accomplish a very large increase in the military force of his empire and to confirm the superiority of that force against all comers. It would not be fair, with the evidence at hand, to say that he kept Europe racked by the thought of this risk for nearly a year in order to achieve this object. But Europe was racked, the object was achieved.
Perhaps it is because the object has been achieved that the German Government now feels more inclined openly to deal with the bellicosity of Austria, and it comes easy to attribute to the Kaiser the tart remark about rattling his sword. His sword obviously is more to be dreaded than it was a year ago, and his jealousy as to the use that may be made of it may have become deeper. The situation, as it now presents itself, is intensely interesting. The avowed, the somewhat boastful, fashion in which Germany "in shining armor" has stood by Austria has been the most striking and perhaps the most significant fact of the history of the past year. Now not only is Germany objecting to meddling with the Bucharest Treaty, as Austria wishes to do, but she is marking her emphatic approval of the treaty by decorating the Rumanian Premier, assuring the King of Rumania that he has made "a definite peace," and appointing King Constantine of Greece a Field Marshal in the German Army, perhaps because he did not "stay at home and comb his dogs," as it was intimated that Ferdinand of Bulgaria did.
And we have the unexpected spectacle of Vienna growling at Berlin and the Russian press scolding France because she shows no disposition to join Russia in favor of Austria and against Germany. The field of European politics, in which up to last week were arrayed the Triple Alliance and the Triple Entente over against each other, seems to have been turned into a kaleidoscope, with all the elements changing places in bewildering fashion. And it appears to be the peace-loving, peace-enforcing William II. of Germany who has set them dancing.
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