The two Balkan wars were as summer lightning before the coming European thunderstorm.  It was obvious to anyone acquainted with Balkan conditions that the peace there had produced no definite result, and the Peace of Bucharest in 1913, so enthusiastically acclaimed by Roumania, carried the germ of death at its birth.  Bulgaria was humiliated and reduced; Roumania and, above all, Serbia, enlarged out of all proportion, were arrogant to a degree that baffles description.  Albania, as the apple of discord between Austria-Hungary and Italy, was a factor that gave no promise of relief, but only of fresh wars.  In order to understand the excessive hatred prevailing between the separate nations, one must have lived in the Balkans.  When this hatred came to an outburst in the world war the most terrible scenes were enacted, and as an example it was notorious that the Roumanians tore their Bulgarian prisoners to pieces with their teeth, and that the Bulgarians, on their part, tortured the Roumanian prisoners to death in the most shocking manner.  The brutality of the Serbians in the war can best be described by our own troops.  The Emperor Francis Joseph clearly foresaw that the peace after the second Balkan war was merely a respite to draw breath before a new war.  Prior to my departure for Bucharest in 1913 I was received in audience by the aged emperor, who said to me:  “The Peace of Bucharest is untenable, and we are faced by a new war.  God grant that it may be confined to the Balkans.”  Serbia, which had been enlarged to double its size, was far from being satisfied; but, on the contrary, was more than ever ambitious of becoming a Great Power.

Apparently the situation was still quiet.  In fact, a few weeks before the catastrophe at Sarajevo the prevailing state of affairs showed almost an improvement in the relations between Vienna and Belgrade.  But it was the calm before the storm.  On June 28 the veil was rent asunder, and from one moment to the next a catastrophe threatened the world.  The stone had started rolling.

At that time I was ambassador to Roumania.  I was therefore only able from a distance to watch developments in Vienna and Berlin.  Subsequently, however, I discussed events in those critical days with numerous leading personalities, and from all that I heard have been able to form a definite and clear view of the proceedings.  I have no doubt whatever that Berchtold, even in his dreams, had never thought of a world war of such dimensions as it assumed; that he, above all, was persuaded that England would remain neutral; and the German Ambassador, Tschirsky, confirmed him in the conviction that a war against France and Russia would inevitably end in victory.  I believe that the state of mind in which Count Berchtold addressed the ultimatum to Serbia was such that he said to himself, either—­and this is the most favourable view—­Serbia will accept the ultimatum, which would mean a great diplomatic success; or she will