Chapter Sixteen- The King of Three Peoples
“The Croatian nation has made its firm desire for territorial and legal representation commensurate with its sense of national identity known. As the imperial father, the great shared aspect of the lives of all my peoples, I would be derelict in my duty if I did not pay this fact proper heed… Now, speaking as King of Hungary and absolute master of the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen I, Karl IV, do hereby recognise the declaration of independence of the Triune Kingdom of Croatia, Slavonia, and Dalmatia... I assume its historic royal mantle, in continuance with my predecessors, as King Karlo IV… May our heavenly Father bless this Kingdom and its people.”
- Emperor Karl I recognising Croatia-Slavonia
"This is an insult! What claim does this emperor have, if he pays no heed to the fabric of our union? He is playing with fire and had best be careful..."
-Istvan Tisza, upon hearing of Karl's desire to reform the empire regardless of Hungary's wishes.
The Austro-Hungarian Empire’s roots dated back to the thirteenth century. It had experienced a painful transition to the modern age, which had culminated in alignment with Germany and compromise with the Hungarians. What felt like a lifetime ago, pride had led it to declare war on Serbia, throwing Europe into the fire. Yet, its planned revenge had gone awry; Serbian arms had repulsed the Dual Monarchy not once but twice, and Germans and Bulgarians had had to step in to ensure victory. Diplomatically, Austria-Hungary had been humiliated in its own capital city, forced to give up territory to the puny Italians. Galicia had spent several months under Russian occupation before German troops came in to pull their chestnuts out of the fire. While Germany’s Sturmtruppenkorps had achieved glory in the last weeks of the Eastern war, Austro-Hungarian forces had been thrown forward in diversionary attacks in western Ukraine, or worse still, wasted on garrison duty in Poland. And the Dual Monarchy’s only reward was occupation duty in half of Serbia. National consciousness in the empire’s minorities was at its highest since the revolutions of 1848, and the economy was tottering. The empire had only one real advantage; a steady hand rested on the rudder in the form of Emperor Franz Joseph. The octogenarian ruler had sat atop the throne since he was eighteen years old, and his court knew its business. True, his health was fading, but surely he’d just stick around for a little while when he was most needed… surely?
Evidently not.
Franz Joseph died on 7 November 1916, four days before the peace treaty with Russia. His successor Archduke Karl was a 29-year-old with plenty of idealism and little experience. What could go wrong?
Karl was immediately confronted by the fallout of the war. Domestically, the Austro-Hungarians had suffered the most of any of the Central Powers. Before the war, the backbone of the empire had been the exchange between Austria and Hungary; Austrian industrial goods kept rural Hungary modernised, Hungarian grain kept the cities of the west fed. The war had fatally disrupted this symbiosis. For the past three years, Hungarian grain had gone primarily to the army and the remainder had mostly stayed at home, leaving Vienna hungry. (1) To Budapest, this was perfectly reasonable- they were making their own sacrifices and needed to look after their own people first. But from the perspective of Viennese bureaucrats, their Hungarian cousins were jealously hoarding resources the entire empire needed, forcing them to drift further under humiliating German control. Every time Vienna approached Budapest to resolve the issue, they were met with smooth oratory worth its weight in gold. Thus, relations between the two halves of the empire had become bitter by the time of Franz Joseph’s death. However, that was not the only ethnic problem facing the new Emperor. The other peoples of the empire- the Czechs, South Slavs, Poles, and Ukrainians (amongst others) had all fought and died for Vienna, and in the process had re-discovered themselves, in a way. Czechs had fought alongside Czechs, Ukrainians alongside Ukrainians, etc. They had survived by fighting alongside their countrymen, sharing a language and culture. Bonds had been formed that would never break, and these bonds were often stronger than loyalty to an unknown emperor.
Beyond that, there was the fact that Serbia now lay under imperial military occupation. Slavic nationalism, one of the causes of the war, had been put on pause as the Croats and Bosnians went off to the front, but now it had received a shot in the arm. Although the old Black Hand had been hunted to extinction, successors had risen, and these had one advantage their predecessors had lacked: all of their operations were now conducted in the same country. For a Bosnian, say, to slip into Serbia, all he needed was the appropriate papers; Serbs had a harder time leaving their respective military districts, but it could be done. And if one of those Bosnians just so happened to be carrying a pistol or a bomb… Small wonder that officials in occupied Serbia all drew hazardous-duty pay. A growing South Slavic consciousness was awakening within the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Some postwar nationalists felt that change within the system was possible, others saw a war of independence as the only solution.
All this to say: the empire’s framework was tottering.
Fate gave Karl a unique opportunity to address these challenges. The Compromise of 1867 was to be renewed every ten years; managing this would be Karl’s first task as emperor. Like the late Franz Ferdinand, he held the liberal position that every nationality within the empire deserved greater representation. His coronation speech praised the empire’s quasi-independent Croatian polity (2)- the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia- and he clearly wanted to give it full equality. Imperial minorities had long held a unique identity as “Czech Habsburgs” or “Croatian Habsburgs”, identifying with their nationality within the larger imperial framework. Intellectuals in Prague and Zagreb put their pens at the service of Karl, hoping that he’d fulfill the dreams of their people. This line of thought fell into two categories.
The trialists, as best exemplified by the late Franz Ferdinand, advocated creating a third Kingdom within the empire on the same terms as Hungary. As it had been in the empire the longest, Croatia was the centre of trialist vision. While no two ideas were identical, most trialists advocated removing Croatia-Slavonia from Hungarian influence and making it a truly equal part of the empire. The acquisitions of Bosnia-Herzegovina in 1908 and Serbia and Montenegro in 1916 had only furthered trialist sentiment. Uniting these regions with Croatia-Slavonia under the Imperial banner could please both the empire and Slavic nationalists: the former would see its power extended south and hopefully a reduction in Pan-Slav terrorism; the latter would finally have a united state, fulfilling decades of aspiration. However, two problems ailed the trialist cause. As Magyar intellectuals pointed out, Croatia-Slavonia had belonged to Hungary for nine hundred years; the present ‘sub-kingdom’ was very much controlled by Budapest. Asking Hungary to relinquish control over the region would be to uproot one of Europe’s oldest borders. One satirist pointed out that more time had elapsed between Hungary’s acquisition of Croatia and the present than Hungary’s acquisition of Croatia and the fall of the Roman Empire. (3) There was another issue facing trialism which Hungarian pride had nothing to do with: Serbia. If the Empire now declared that it was going to make a place for Slavic nationalists the imperial system, surely the peoples of Serbia would want to join. After all, pan-Slavism had been one of the factors leading Gavrilo Princip to pull the trigger that fateful June day. If the Serbs were given co-equal status in the empire, wouldn’t that just be rewarding Princip’s actions? The irony that Franz Ferdinand himself had been a trialist was conveniently papered over, but these assaults harmed the cause.
The second proposal for reorganising the empire was federalism. Federalists were a more diverse group than the mostly South Slavic trialists, both in terms of geography and ideology. Essentially, their theory revolved around taking each of the major ethnic groups of the empire and making them co-equals. Just as the Empire of Austria and the Kingdom of Hungary existed under the same roof in personal union, so too would the Kingdom of Bohemia, the Kingdom of Transylvania, and such. One significant advantage federalism enjoyed was that it wasn’t mutually exclusive with trialism. A South Slavic kingdom, proponents of federalism stressed time and time again, was possible under their system. The other, obvious, advantage was that all the minorities had a stake in its implementation, not just South Slavs; the flip side of this coin was that opponents of reform could still point to Bosnia-Herzegovina and Serbia to attack federalism with. However, the idea was simply too radical. If trialism suffered from a dispute about Hungarian sovereignty in Croatia, the federalists had to discern the existence of whole nationalities. For example, the concept of a “Czech” identity was clearly defined and broadly accepted. But what about the Sudeten Germans? They lived side-by-side with Czechs yet had no cultural links with Prague; should they be hung out to dry? The Czech example was fairly clear-cut because everyone agreed that a ‘Czech’ identity existed- this wasn’t universally true. Did the Slovaks exist? While some identified as such, plenty of Slovak speakers considered themselves Hungarian subjects. Still others believed their fate lay with the Czechs rather than as an independent state. What was to be done in Galicia? While self-identifying Poles and Ukrainians lived there, fully matching a border to ethnicity would be impossible without population transfers. Furthermore, the great mass of the Polish and Ukrainian peoples lived outside imperial control. If Polish and Ukrainian nationalism received imperial recognition, might they not try to break away and unite with their brothers on the other side of the border? Added to this were conservative howls. Few in Budapest were eager to cede Slovakia, theirs since before Columbus discovered America, and few Viennese wanted to end four centuries of rule over Bohemia. Taken together, this left federalisation dead in the water.
When the time came to renegotiate the Compromise, Karl knew what he wanted to achieve.
The Compromise Session was scheduled for 1 May 1917. A genuine spirit of reform hung in the air that spring. With the war won and a new man on the throne, people of all races felt their aspirations to be within weeks of finally coming true. Some wanted autonomy for Transylvania, some wanted Bohemia to be elevated to the status of a co-equal kingdom, some wanted a separate Polish kingdom in Galicia in personal union with the King of Poland… the ideas went on and on. As Stefan Zweig wrote in his Die Welt von Morgen, “there seemed in those months a great spirit of civic pride and energy scarcely seen before or since…” Sudeten Germans and their Czech brethren united in a shared imperial spirit, bitter acrimonies in Transylvania died down, and even the Slav terrorists in Bosnia-Herzegovina quieted somewhat. Forgetting the nationalist rhetoric they’d spouted only weeks before, people now thought what difference does it make what language we speak, or if we are Catholic or Orthodox? We are all subjects of His Imperial Majesty, after all. The last days of April saw drinking and dancing in the streets, and a gaiety in the air not felt since long before the war. As the mythical first of May approached, everyone was happy and excited, with one exception.
Hungary’s Prime Minister was not amused. Istvan Tisza saw his political mission as defending Hungary’s place in the system by any means necessary, even opposing the occupation of Serbia for fear of adding more Slavs into the empire. Karl’s rhetoric had already alienated Tisza from his new monarch, and he was determined that Hungary would walk away from the renegotiation with the prewar status quo- nothing more, nothing less.
The first day of negotiations saw Karl hammer hard on trialism. He wanted Hungary to relinquish all its claims to Croatia-Slavonia and render the Croatian-Hungarian Settlement null and void. An inch of frost in his voice, Tisza replied that “perhaps His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty should remember that he is the king of two peoples, and that he is the monarch of Hungary in addition to Austria, and not of one state to be treated and divided according to whim.” Tisza had a liberal history on Croatia, but Hungary was an independent nation, and Karl had no more right to force it to cede territory than Tisza had to strip Bohemia from Vienna. Furthermore, he added, this meeting was supposed to have been over economic issues. The text of the 1867 Compromise specifically stated that economic matters were subject to a ten-year review, and made no mention of political ones. Karl’s protest that the Compromise text didn’t forbid discussion of politics at these sessions sounded hollow even to him. Debate over the legality of this consumed the entire first day, after which both sides frustratedly retreated to their luxury quarters.
Austro-Hungarian internal divisions; Croatia-Slavonia was number 17, and would later be expanded to include 7, 4, 5, and 18 (Bosnia-Herzegovina)
Emperor Karl saw his desire to do the right thing crumble in the face of cold hard facts. The nature of the 1867 Compromise meant that Hungary had to agree to all changes made, and Tisza’s obstinance could kill everything. Yet, Karl saw ruin in the current structure. If conservatives refused to grant minority rights, the tension in the empire would reach lethal levels. The fate of the union was at stake.
Hungarian Prime Minister Istvan Tisza, the man who tried to walk a tightrope to save his country from war.
Istvan Tisza saw the same issues. He may have been a Magyar nationalist, but he was also a patriot. If the 1867 Compromise collapsed, his people would be no freer than any of Austria’s subjects. Furthermore, he was a wily man who saw a way to turn this to his advantage. If he could get Karl to put his radical ideas on paper, Tisza could take that to the Budapest Parliament as a symbol of the new emperor’s madness. Negotiation would make him appear reasonable in front of his countrymen, and Karl would appear in the wrong. Thus, Istvan Tisza and his colleagues returned to the negotiating table on 2 May with a new strategy.
The day opened with a conciliatory note at breakfast. Tisza requested that both sides abstain from discussing Croatia for the moment. They were here to discuss economics, not nationalities. If they failed, he reminded everyone, the union which they all so cherished (4) would die. Karl was visibly touched by this, and reached across the table to shake Tisza’s hand. “Thank you”, he said, “for doing what must be done and placing your fealty to the union above your fealty to your nation.” Tisza’s thoughts must have been dark and unprintable. With that out of the way, both sides moved on to Great War debt. Tisza proposed that “only those entities which were under His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty’s rule during the Great War be made to pay for its conduct.” This was a roundabout way of saying since no Croat state currently existed, debt should be proportioned between Austria and Hungary. This, in turn, set the default of the Croatian question to ‘no’. Reconciliation demanded that no one call out Tisza’s diplomatic sleight of hand. In the end, it was agreed that urban Austria would pay two-thirds of the debt and rural Hungary one-third. Conversation then moved onto equally non-controversial points. When the session adjourned on 4 May, a decade of Austro-Hungarian burden-sharing was set in stone. Both sides had set their differences aside to form a working agreement. Emperor Karl had proved that his raison d’etre wasn’t to parcel out the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen to a dozen different ethnicities, while Istvan Tisza had proven less intractable than feared. Karl and Tisza had compromised on the Compromise...
...but no one was happy. Tisza still felt threatened by Karl’s liberal instincts, while the emperor still believed in reform. With the economic compromise finished, the nationalities debate was ready to rear its ugly head. Least satisfied of all, though, were the Croatians. They’d looked to Karl as their saviour, and he’d let them down. Protests began in the second week of May across Croatia-Slavonia. “King Karl, Serve your People!”, “Tisza Return to Vienna!”, and “Be the King of Three Peoples!” were the favoured chants. Several incidents of violence took place against Hungarians in Croatia, though fortunately these were few and far between. Croatian intellectuals castigated the emperor’s decision, but noted that Karl could change it easily. Pamphlets crisscrossed Croatia calling for trialism to be implemented. “What have the Croatian people fought for”, Viceroy Ivan Skerlecz asked, “if not that, having served our imperial father with great distinction, we might be awarded a territorial state for our nation?” Frederic Penfield, US ambassador to the Dual Monarchy, poured gasoline on the fire. “The United States is home to many thousands of Croatians, and on behalf of these people who are privileged to call both lands home, President Hughes calls for a peaceful resolution to the Croatian question which leaves that nationally conscious people with a proper homeland.”
Istvan Tisza was livid. What was happening in Croatia, he thundered, was nothing less than armed rebellion. On 16 May, he declared the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia to be in rebellion. Hungarian troops crushed protests in Zagreb, Osijek, Rijeka, and Zadar. Tisza then composed a long letter to Karl, telling him that “Your Imperial Majesty’s territory as King of Hungary in the land of Croatia-Slavonia has been safeguarded.” Hungarian territorial integrity appeared to have won over Croat nationalism. However, Tisza couldn’t have predicted what Karl would do next.
On 18 May 1917, Karl declared his intention to travel to Budapest. The “Croatian crisis”- his words- had gotten so out of hand that only by intervening as King of Hungary could he help measures. Tisza was deeply suspicious, but agreed, hoping that if Karl saw how deeply opposed the Hungarian people were to Croat independence, he’d finally drop the matter. Thus, all due pomp and ceremony greeted King Karl IV as he stepped off the train in Budapest, in the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen. Like most conservatives, Istvan Tisza simply wanted to keep the status quo without any upset. He didn’t object to the semi-autonomous Croatia-Slavonia- in fact, he’d helped construct it- but his basic line was that Hungary could not be forced to do anything by Karl. It was that, and not Croatia itself, he found offensive. Thus, Karl began the negotiations in a very poor way. After exchanging pleasantries in Tisza’s office, he pulled out a three-by-six map of the empire’s eighteen crownlands. (5) Doubtless trying to soothe Tisza, he prefaced his argument by professing his “utmost respect” for Hungary’s territorial integrity. Nothing that was “truly Hungarian” would be touched. Karl’s proposal was twofold. On the one hand, Croatia-Slavonia would be granted co-equal status as the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia, with all the provisions of the Compromise of 1867. Second, joint rule over Bosnia-Herzegovina would be abolished; this would be given to Croatia-Slavonia. Karl emphasised that this would entail a concession from Austria, too. Finally, Serbia and Montenegro would pass from military rule to Croatia-Slavonia. Tisza sat agape at his monarch, at this young man for whom idealism seemed to outstrip reality, who sat atop half a millennium of history, before telling him that the Hungarian Parliament would never vote to approve such a thing. Nevertheless, Karl was determined to go ahead, and Tisza could not stop him.
When Karl staggered out of the Hungarian Diet (Parliament) building at the end of 7 June, nursing his broken reputation, he could not claim he hadn’t been warned. Though the Croats had universally approved his programme, the Magyars had rejected it. Not a single member of either group had crossed the line. When he visited the emperor that night, Istvan Tisza was magnanimous. It was time for both to move forward for the sake of the union. This wasn’t enough for Karl, who still saw nothing but doom for his empire. He was determined to bypass the deadlock and implement trialism, come what may.
This is where historians turn on Karl. He was aware of the history he was part of, and of the problems his state faced. His youth gave him a fresher perspective on the empire’s issues than the grey bureaucrats and politicians in the twin capitals- first of whom was Istvan Tisza. The young emperor’s goals were both prudent and moral, but unfortunately the time had not yet come. A consensus exists that Karl erred in placing his eminently reasonable goals above respect for the current institutions even though those institutions were obstacles to what needed doing. Istvan Tisza, a conservative who believed in the Compromise of 1867 and genuinely wanted to work with the emperor, was alienated by Karl’s distorted priorities. So were many others. Karl was a good man, but his idealism did lasting harm to the Habsburg Monarchy.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Austria-Hungary was now on the path to war.
The Croatian people were stunned to hear the news. They shouldn’t have been, of course- it was simply the nature of imperial politics- but they’d assumed that if he made the appropriate effort, Karl could achieve the desired outcome. Finding out that this wasn’t true was a terrible shock. Furthermore, the presence of Hungarian troops in the major cities was seen as an insult. There was only one thing for it, the Croatian people decided.
9 June saw renewed protests against Hungarian rule. These were strongest in the major cities, where the Hungarian presence was most felt. The goal was unchanged: for Karl to use his imperial power to achieve trialism. “With the promise of a better future dangling before our eyes”, one historian wrote years ex post facto, “suddenly the status quo of the past fifty years seemed grossly inadequate.” The protests were about Hungarian colonisation, not imperial rule, as they went out of their way to emphasise. Croat nationalists simply wanted a governing share in the empire- independence from the Habsburg crown was unthinkable. The culmination came on the 18th, when at a hastily convened emergency session, the Parliament of Croatia-Slavonia declared its independence from the Kingdom of Hungary. The newly declared Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia’s first act was to telephone Karl and request his presence in Zagreb.
This audacity caught the empire by surprise. Croatia and Hungary had been joined, as mentioned above, for nearly a thousand years. While Parliament expected that Karl’s trialism would lead him to accept their fait accompli, they also acknowledged the possibility that under Hungarian pressure, Karl would punish them for their iconoclasm. Istvan Tisza certainly hoped for the latter. Six hours after the declaration of sovereignty, Tisza declared Croatia-Slavonia in rebellion. Hungarian reinforcements attempted to arrest Parliament, but were beaten back by Croatian Home Guard units. Confusion reigned. News of the fighting was slow to spread throughout the empire- the inhabitants of Lemberg, for instance, only read about the Croat-Slavonic declaration of independence on the 21st. This was an issue in more substantial ways than newspaper sales. Conflicting and delayed intelligence reports were no basis for a stable strategy. Finally, after a week of confusion Karl stepped in. As “the master of all the nations of this empire”- he pondered every word like a footstep in a minefield- he would take it upon himself to mediate.
A postwar conspiracy theory postulated that Istvan Tisza was planning to have Karl suffer an accident on his peace trip to Zagreb. The notion originated as an officially sanctioned rumour in the coming civil war, and was immensely popular amongst those who suffered because of the fighting. However, it is flatly untrue. By the middle of June, Tisza was coming to view himself as a foe of Karl’s, but he was a patriotic gentleman. Attempting a political assassination- much less the assassination of a sitting monarch- would have been unthinkable. The upcoming war would damage the Hungarian people’s image, and dispelling this falsehood helps to set right the score.
That said, after what Karl did next one imagines Tisza may have fantasised about murder.
When he entered Zagreb on 25 June 1917, Karl I of Austria-Hungary conferred with a Croatian Home Guard commander. The city was currently in Croat hands, but that could change at any moment. The colonel advised Karl to keep his presence secret. With the spectre of chaos hanging in the air like a toxin, some madman might well try and take a shot at him. The last thing Austria-Hungary needed was for another Gavrilo Princip to decapitate the empire. Karl stroked his chin for a moment before shaking his head. Croats and Hungarians alike needed to be reminded of their common fealty to him personally, and the only way they could do that was to see him speak unafraid. A colonel’s better judgement counted for very little against an emperor’s will, and part of the 25th Home Guard Regiment found themselves protecting the Zagreb parliament house. A message was sent to the Hungarian forces in the area that since Karl was negotiating in Zagreb, they were to refrain from moving in. (As an aside, the willingness of Croat troops to obey imperial authority gives the lie to Hungarian stories of “chaotic rebellion in Croatia.”) Six hours after getting off the train, a platoon of guards accompanied Karl onto the floor of the Croatian-Slavonian Parliament. There, in front of the men who’d voted for Croat independence two weeks previous, he extended recognition to the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia. “The Croatian nation has made its firm desire for territorial and legal representation commensurate with its sense of national identity known. As the imperial father, the great shared aspect of the lives of all my peoples, I would be derelict in my duty if I did not pay this fact proper heed… Now, speaking as King of Hungary and absolute master of the Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen I, Karl IV, do hereby recognise the declaration of independence of the Triune Kingdom of Croatia, Slavonia, and Dalmatia... I assume its historic royal mantle, in continuance with my predecessors, as King Karlo IV… May our heavenly Father bless this Kingdom and its people.”
Istvan Tisza’s initial remarks are best left untranslated.
His recognising Croatia-Slavonia’s independence is a fine example of how Karl’s idealism outstripped reality. The existing framework of Austria-Hungary meant that Budapest had to agree to any constitutional changes- Karl’s writ as “King of Hungary” only went so far. In simply declaring Croatia-Slavonia’s rule legitimate, he had shoved the traditional power structures of the empire aside, and that was deeply offensive to Istvan Tisza. “It was in that moment”, the Hungarian Prime Minister wrote years later, “that I realised that the emperor was not a man with whom I could work. It was not the Croat issue I objected to per se, but rather the utter disregard shown for our institutions. I would have been derelict in my duty if I allowed the great and noble Magyar race to accept the status of a colony.” Few men have stood at so painful a crossroads in their lives. The two things he loved most- Magyar nationalism on one hand, and the Austro-Hungarian union on the other- were now diametrically opposed. “It is well that so few men seek power in their lives”, he wrote in his diary on the 27th, “for this world would be a far darker place if all men were forced to make the decisions which confront me.”
In his state of weakness, Tisza fell prey to a man whom the Twentieth Century has painted as a villain par excellence.
Mihaly Karolyi lambasts Emperor Karl's reform policies to a crowd, June 1917
Mihaly Karolyi had been born in 1875 to a wealthy Budapest family. (6) Much like Kaiser Wilhelm II, backlash against a physical defect had shaped his personality- just as the Kaiser had struggled to overcome his damaged left arm, so too did Karolyi face torment for having been born with a cleft palate. Psychologists have suggested that a desire to ‘prove himself’ against his handicap gave Karolyi an impulsive, adventurous personality- his early years of thrill-seeking, car-racing, and dabbling in radical politics (7) lend weight to this. Time dulled Karolyi’s appetite for the first two, but he was still a radical in 1914. Whereas most Hungarians viewed Magyar nationalism within a Habsburg context, Karolyi dreamt of an independent Hungary. When the time came to vote for war credits, Karolyi and his clique of supporters refused; in 1915 he dabbled in treason by talking about Hungarian secession from the union with Entente diplomats in Switzerland. One wonders what would’ve happened had he been caught. Karolyi was just as offended as Tisza about Karl’s actions in Croatia, but unlike the Prime Minister he was unencumbered by scruples.
On 28 June 1917- three years to the day after Franz Ferdinand’s death had set the world ablaze- Karolyi paid a call to Istvan Tisza in the latter’s office. Mindful of the acrimony between the two (8), Karolyi was conciliatory. “Are you not offended by the same things as I, Prime Minister? Surely, in spite of our myriad differences we can agree on a love of these Lands of the Crown of St. Stephen?” Tisza stroked his beard. Fatigue and stress had weakened him over the past few days, and though the rational part of his brain protested, what Karolyi was saying sounded right. “Go on.” Playing the tired Prime Minister like a violin, Mihaly Karolyi explained. Karl was manifestly unfit to rule, he said. Clearly, Hungary’s historic rights counted for nothing under his rule. If something didn’t change, Karolyi said, soon Vienna- he went out of his way to mention the German capital- would strip the Burgenland, Slovakia, and Transylvania. Pulling a folded map from his breast pocket, Karolyi shaded in what would be left. “Is this what you want to be remembered for? Do you want generations of Magyars to remember you, Prime Minister, as the man who stood aside as half of Hungary was shorn away?” The unspoken answer hung in the air. “Prime Minister, I do wish I was not here. I do wish circumstance had not made this necessary. Yet the world is as we find it, not as we wish it. You know what needs doing.”
Tisza turned very pale. “I… I cannot!” Tears formed beneath his spectacles. Smiling, Karolyi left the coloured map on his desk. “Prime Minister.” He obsequiously left.
Istvan Tisza now found himself trapped between Scylla and Charybidis. If he accepted Karl’s fait accompli, well, the map on his desk told him what the end-game would be. Yet from his tired perspective, the only way out was secession. If Hungary could exit the union, Karl’s writ would no more extend to Budapest than into British India. But Tisza had spent his whole life supporting that union; secession would be a betrayal of everything he’d ever worked for. But, declared the cynic in the back of his head, isn’t letting Karl ignore our rights within the union a betrayal as well? Tisza couldn’t tell the cynical voice no. He chewed the matter over all night, pacing his office like a caged animal, hardly noticing that he was chewing on his cigar. At four AM on the 29th, he reached his decision. No matter what injustices Karl had committed against the system, Tisza could not stomach secession. He called for an emergency session of the Hungarian Diet to discuss the crisis the next day. Pens, not swords, would see Hungary through this.
When the Hungarian Diet convened at nine AM on 30 June, there was a very visible symbol of the crisis. The seats belonging to Croatia-Slavonia’s MPs were all vacant; those men were seated in Zagreb, in what Tisza considered an illegal assembly. Only the steel and cordite of the Croat Home Guard kept them there. Tisza realised what was at stake. This was not just about refusing to recognise Croatia-Slavonia- what happened here would decide the future of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The proceedings opened with a vote on whether or not to recognise Croatia-Slavonia’s internal secession. In what is surely one of the more memorable scenes from the grey, stiff world of 20th century parliamentary politics, the chorus of boos lasted for a full fifteen minutes, and several gentlemen were warned for the use of ‘un-Parliamentary language’. One man went so far as to throw his bowler hat across the room. Once everyone had worked that out of their system, Tisza thought he was on safe ground. The Austro-Hungarian Compromise insisted that Budapest confirm all changes made to the system; Budapest had refused to do so. He could take this to Emperor Karl and insist on Hungarian troops reoccupying Croatia-Slavonia, and that would hopefully be the end of that. A few formalities later, Parliament adjourned.
Tisza’s letter to Karl on 5 July was polite yet curt. The Hungarian parliament had rejected his changes to the system, thus they were illegitimate. Croatia-Slavonia was not an equal kingdom within the empire; it was a region in revolt against Hungary. Hungarian troops would be entering the province to restore order. Moments after sending the letter off, Prime Minister Tisza declared Croatia-Slavonia to be in revolt and sent troops in. Tisza knew he was playing with fire by marching up the escalation ladder, but he had no choice. If Tisza acquiesced to what he saw as a rebellion, his government would collapse and his nation disrespected. By the end of the week, three Hungarian divisions were sitting in Zagreb, and the Parliament of Croatia-Slavonia were sitting in prison, awaiting trial for treason.
This was unacceptable for Karl. In his eyes, Croatia-Slavonia was as legitimate a part of the empire as Austria or Hungary. He, the King of Hungary, had declared it so! It was Istvan Tisza, in mounting an unprovoked attack on another imperial kingdom, who was the traitor. Though he prayed for a peaceful outcome, Karl saw war clouds on the horizon. Shortly after reading Tisza’s letter- which he described as “unverschämt”, “impertinent”- he conferred with his military supremo Franz Conrad von Hotzendorf (9). There was a very real chance, the emperor said, that the present crisis could spill over into war, and von Hotzendorf needed to be ready for that. In the meantime, he was dispatching forces to Croatia-Slavonia. The goal wasn’t to provoke a war with Hungary, but rather to prove how serious Karl was about protecting Croatia-Slavonia. Marching up the escalation ladder was risky, but preferable to accepting a snub from Tisza.
The first shots of the Austro-Hungarian Civil War were fired four days later though they wouldn’t be recognised as such for another week. Karlovac was a middle-sized town in northwestern Croatia under the control of a Home Guard regiment; another regiment of Austrian soldiers was stationed there. The regiment’s colonel had been thoroughly briefed on rules of engagement; while these men were to announce their presence to the Hungarians and make clear that they’d fight back if threatened, they were not to fire first under any circumstances. At eleven AM, with Hungarian and Croat forces clashing, the colonel announced his presence to his Hungarian opposite number. “In the name of our shared ruler and the lives of the men under us”, he said, “we ask that you withdraw.” A brief interlude followed, during which the Hungarian commander telephoned his superiors. Fifteen minutes later, the silence was broken by an artillery shell. One trigger-happy gunner had thought he heard something and pre-empted an attack which existed only in his mind. The shell exploded dead on target, though, and seven Austrians were killed. Rules of engagement went out the window as the Austrian battery commander observed a simple rule: if fired upon, fire back. Within moments, a full-fledged firestorm had erupted, with both commanders powerless to control events. Half an hour later, Karlovac lay in Hungarian hands, at a cost of 180 men and all hopes of peace dead.
The reactions of Karl and Istvan Tisza to the battle were nearly identical. Both, receiving jaded reports from commanders, believed the other to have struck first unjustly. Both realised that what was going on in Croatia looked more like a war and less like a political crisis every day. Finally, both recognised that in killing one another’s men they had crossed the Rubicon. Neither side wanted war, but neither were willing to back down now. Even approaching the other would’ve been too much- both sides knew exactly how the other would react to their demands. So the drama carried on, whipping through the last few scenes en route to the inevitable yet fatal conclusion.
8 July 1917 saw another terse missive cross from Vienna to Budapest. In it, Emperor Karl and the Austrian parliament had a simple message. If Hungarian forces did not evacuate the “Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia” within forty-eight hours, he would declare Hungary in rebellion.
Istvan Tisza wept when he read the ultimatum, for it took away the last of his room to manoeuvre. It was as much a fact that in two days time, he would have gravely wounded his career as it was that in that same period, the sun would rise in the east and set in the west twice. If he pulled all forces out of Croatia, the nationalists would slaughter him while Hungarian prestige would suffer. The folded map Karolyi had given him told him what the end-game would be. Yet, being declared a rebel would undo his entire life’s work. All he’d advocated for ever since this crisis began was for a return to the 1914 status quo. Now, he was faced with a war of rebellion or an end to his political career.
That night, Istvan Tisza chose to die for Hungary so that others wouldn’t have to.
Parliament reconvened on 9 July 1917. This time, the fevered energy was replaced by a grim hush. Even though Karl’s ultimatum hadn’t been published, people knew something was very wrong. The same fearful energy which had hung over Europe three years ago had returned. War hung in their air like a stench. Voice quaking, Istvan Tisza read out Karl’s ultimatum before announcing that he would be pulling troops from Croatia. Rhetorically asking if the delegates wanted to go to war with “our own king, with our Austrian and yes, I shall say it, with our Croat” brothers, he declared dishonour the “penultimate calamity this nation can suffer- only war exceeds it.” Publicly wiping tears from his spectacles, Tisza requested the delegates vote to ratify Karl’s proposal and accept Croatia-Slavonia.
The only sound was the chirping of a bird stuck in the rafters.
The hall exploded with boos. “Traitor!” and “Sell-Out!” were some of the favoured insults, as well as several which have yet to make it into phrasebooks and probably never shall. The idea that Istvan Tisza, the godfather of Hungarian politics for the past fourteen years, could suddenly abandon the nation was staggering. These men hadn’t thought it through as well as the Prime Minister. They saw Karl as a madman whose liberalising instincts posed a mortal threat to their way of life. Tisza was supposed to be their champion, the man who fought to keep historic Hungary under Magyar rule. Now he seemed to have deserted them. A cry from one of the opposition benches was heard three times, and echoed all across the hall till it formed a tsunami ready to sweep Istvan Tisza off of his feet and into the dustbin of history. “Vote of No Confidence!” Istvan Tisza could do nothing as the formalities commenced and men who’d been his allies thirty minutes ago voted him out of office. His government, and the National Party of Work, were no more.
Mihaly Karolyi now ascended the podium. Tisza was nothing less than a traitor to the nation! He had tried to reason with him, Karolyi said, but Tisza had refused to see reason. Now, “Emperor Karl of Austria” posed a mortal threat to Hungarian territorial integrity, and had “attacked Hungarian soldiers maintaining order in Croatia.” Only granting him the reins of state could save Hungary from “foreign humiliation.” Referring to his King as the ruler of a foreign nation and Austria as a foreign country, as well as his falsification of the Battle of Karlovac, made Karolyi’s positions clear. His government, Karolyi promised, would defend Hungary’s territorial integrity to the death! He received a standing ovation as even National Party of Work parliamentarians cheered him and voted in an ‘emergency government.’ King Karol IV’s ratification was not sought after. “So this is how Hungary dies”, Tisza muttered. “With thunderous applause.”
On 13 July 1917, Prime Minister Karolyi declared the independence of the Hungarian Republic, with a claim to the country’s 1914 borders. When Emperor Karl heard the news, he is said to have got down on his knees and crossed himself three times. “God preserve me”, he said, “for I have failed to keep my realm together. It could have ended so perfectly, but no.” Prominent Hungarians across the empire were informed that they would be protected, and that Emperor Karl wanted to talk to Karolyi. Their reactions varied from startled at Karolyi’s audacity and fully cooperative (even if they couldn’t contact Budapest), to cheekily asking if they could present their credentials as ambassadors of the Hungarian Republic to Vienna. Istvan Tisza, meanwhile, knew that Karolyi couldn’t win and wanted no part of his treason. The former Prime Minister fled Hungary for Romania; he would subsequently sail with his family to the United States. Heartbroken at the fracturing of his empire, Karl went to the Cathedral of Saint Stephen and prayed for four hours that God would grant him the wisdom to keep the empire intact.
Time would tell if He would answer Karl’s petition...
Comments?
- Yes, dreadful pun.
- This. And his mentioning them in the speech was OTL.
- For the record, it happened in 1102.
- Actually, many of them didn’t cherish it very much, but that’s neither here nor there.
- This map, except nicer-looking
- Technically, Budapest hadn’t been formed yet- “Buda” and “Pest” were still two separate things and Karolyi was born in Pest.
- All OTL. The really interesting bit is this: Sigmund Freud lived in Austria-Hungary during this time period, and I’ll bet in TTL he becomes famous for writing a paper on how Karolyi’s cleft palate shaped his ‘unconscious’ and thus led to the Austro-Hungarian Civil War! (oops, spoiler!)
- Basically, in OTL Tisza was very turned off by Karolyi’s radicalism, and Karolyi had walked away from Tisza’s National Party of Work. Also: Tisza was a duellist, and he and Karolyi had traded shots on the field of honour in 1913! So yeah, this meeting must’ve been just a tad awkward…
- Described by some as the greatest Entente asset of the war.
