[From The London Times, Jan. 30, 1915.]
BERNE, Jan. 20.
The President of the Swiss Confederation is the symbol of a democracy so
perfect that the man in the street is not quite sure who the President
is. He knows that he is one of a council of seven, and that he is
elected for one year, and that is all. In the Federal Palace, the Berne
Westminster and Downing Street, the anonymity is almost as complete.
Officers pass and repass in the corridors--one of the signs, like the
waiting military motor cars at the door, of mobilization--but this does
not change the spirit, simple and civilian, of the interior.
M. Motta, Chief of State for this year, is a man of early middle life.
He is the best type of Swiss, a lawyer by profession, whose limpid
French seems to express culture as well as candor. Nor could one doubt
for a moment the sincerity of his speech. Speaking on the Swiss position
in the war, M. Motta was anxious to remove the impression that it was
colored, dominated by the existence of the German-speaking cantons, more
numerous than the French. "Of course," he said, "we have our private
sympathies, which incline us one way or the other, and there is the
language tie--though here we are greatly attached to our Bernese
patois--but I would have you believe the Swiss are essentially just and
impartial, they look at the war objectively.
"We have good-will toward all the nations. Need I say that we respect
and esteem England? Have you not found that you are well received? There
is no antagonistic feeling against any one. Our neutrality is imposed
upon us by our position, a neutrality that is threefold in its effects,
for it is political, financial, and economic. Italy, France, Germany,
Austria, are our neighbors; we send them goods, and we receive supplies
from them in return."
We then talked of the army, of that wonderful little army which, at this
moment, is watching the snowy passes of the Alps. Two years ago it is
said to have impressed the Kaiser on manoeuvres; perhaps for that reason
he has refrained to pass that way. Outside, in the slippery streets,
over which the red-capped children passed with shouts of glee, I had
seen something of the preparations; the men, steel-like and stolid,
marching by, the officers, stiff and martial-looking, saluting right and
left under the quaint arcades of this charming city. Colored photographs
of corps commanders adorned the windows and seemed to find a ready sale.
These things pointed in the same direction. Switzerland, posted on her
crests, was watching the issue of the terrific struggle in the plains.
"We must defend our neutrality," the President said, "our 600 years of
freedom. There is not a single man in the country who thinks
differently. I am an Italian-Swiss, one of the least numerous of our
nationalities, but there is only one voice here as elsewhere--only one
voice from Ticino to Geneva. That we shall defend our neutrality is
proved by the great expenditure on our army; otherwise, it would be the
height of folly."
The President spoke of army expenditure, of the simple army system, of
the reorganization which had been carried out some years before.
Switzerland was spending £20,000 a day, a large sum for a small country.
Since the day when the general mobilization had been decreed--some
classes have now been liberated--Switzerland had spent £4,500,000. It
was a lot of money.
The army, of course, was a militia; some few officers were professional
soldiers, others were drawn from a civil career and were doctors,
lawyers, engineers, and merchants. In 1907 the country had consented to
lengthen the periods of training in what are quaintly called the
"recruits' schools" and "rehearsal schools." In the former category the
men do sixty-five days' training a year, in the latter forty-five.
"I assure you," continued M. Motta, "whatever sympathy the German-Swiss
may feel toward Germany, the French-Swiss toward France, or the Italian
toward Italy, it is nothing like as warm and as intimate as that which
each Swiss feels toward his fellow-Swiss."
This was the national note which dominated everything. At first there
was a little difficulty in the councils of the nation. Some showed a
tendency to lose their balance, but that phase had passed, and each day,
I gathered, purely Swiss interests were coming uppermost.
"And the press, M. le President?"
M. Motta admitted that some writers had been excessive in their
language and had been lacking in good taste; but, on the whole, he
thought the newspapers had impartially printed news from both sides, and
he cited a list of leading organs--Switzerland is amazingly full of
papers--which had been conspicuous for their moderation.
And then there was the question of contraband. Orders were very precise
on the subject; the Cabinet had limitless power since the opening of the
war; if there was any smuggling it was infinitesimal, and, as to
foodstuffs, Switzerland regretted she could not import more for her own
needs. The Government had established a monopoly and forbidden
re-exportation, but supplies were not up to the normal. The route by the
Rhine was closed.
Finally came the phrase, concluding the conversation: "Whoever violates
our neutrality will force us to become the allies of his enemy." There
could be nothing more categorical.