Her husband, a Bohemian, was then at the front in Galicia. For the
support of the family the woman received from the government monthly for
herself 60 crowns ($12) and for each child 30 crowns, making a total of
150, of which amount she paid 48 crowns for rent every month. I could
not see how, with prevailing prices, she managed to keep herself alive.
Coal just then was from 3 to 5 crowns per hundredweight ($12 to $20 per
ton), and with only one stove going the woman needed at least five
hundred pounds of coal a month. After that, food and a little clothing
had to be provided. How did she manage it?
"During the summer I worked in an ammunition factory near here," she
said. "I earned about twenty-six crowns a week, and some of the money I
was able to save. I am using that now. I really don't know what I am
going to do when it is gone. There is work enough to be had. But what is
to become of the children? To get food for them I must stand in line
here and waste half of my time every day."
The line moved very slowly, I noticed. I concluded that the woman would
get her potatoes in about an hour, if by that time there were any left.
Since I used to meet the same people in the same lines, I was able to
keep myself informed on what food conditions were from one week to
another. They were gradually growing worse. Now and then no bread could
be had, and the potatoes were often bad or frozen.
The cry for food became louder, although it was not heard in the hotels
and restaurants where I ate. My waiters undertook to supply me with all
the bread I wanted, card or no card--but who would eat the concoction
they were serving? I was able to buy all the meat I needed and generally
ate no other flour products than those in the pastry and puddings.
It was a peculiar experience, then, to eat in a well-appointed
dining-room of supplies that were rather plentiful because the poor, who
really needed those things, could not afford to buy them. The patrons of
the place would come in, produce such cards as they had to have, and
then order as before, with all the cares left to the management--which
cares were comparatively slight, seeing that the establishment dealt
with wholesalers and usually did much of its buying clandestinely.
Somewhere the less fortunate were eating what the luck of the food-line
had brought that day, which might be nothing for those who had come late
and had no neighbors who would lend a little bread and a few potatoes.
Suicides and crime, due to lack of food, increased alarmingly.
There was a shocking gauntness about the food-lines. Every face showed
want. The eyes under the threadbare shawls cried for bread. But how
could that bread be had? It simply was not there. And such things as a
few ounces of fats and a few eggs every week meant very little in the
end.
Perhaps it was just as well that those in the food-lines did not know
that a large number of co-citizens were yet living in plenty. There were
some who feared that such knowledge might lead to riots of a serious
nature. But I had come to understand the food-lines and their psychology
better. With the men home, trouble might have come--could not have been
averted, in fact. But the women besieging the food-shops were timid and
far from hysterical. Most of them were more concerned with the welfare
of their children than with their own troubles, as I had many an
occasion to learn. Not a few of them sold their bodies to get money
enough to feed their offspring. Others pawned or sold the last thing of
value they had. The necessity of obtaining food at any price was such
that many a "business" hoard entered the channels of illicit trade and
exacted from the unfortunate poor the very last thing they had to give.
The price of a pound of flour or some fat would in some cases be 800 per
cent. of what these things normally cost.
The several governments were not ignorant of these things. But for a
while they were powerless, though now they had abandoned largely their
policy of "mobilizing" the pennies of the poor. To apply the law to
every violator of the food regulations was quite impossible. There were
not jails enough to hold a tenth of them, and a law that cannot be
equitably enforced should not be enforced at all. The very fact that its
enforcement is impossible shows that it is contrary to the interest of
the social aggregate.
In Germany a fine disregard for social station and wealth had marked
almost every food-regulation decree of the government from the very
first. The several state governments were concerned with keeping their
civil population in as good a physical condition as the food situation
permitted. The financial needs of the government had to be considered,
but it was forever the object to make the ration of the poor as good as
possible, and to do that meant that he or she who had in the past lived
on the fat of the land would now have to be content with less. As the
war dragged on, pauper and millionaire received the same quantity of
food. If the latter was minded to eat that from expensive porcelain he
could do so, nor did anybody mind if he drank champagne with it, for in
doing so he did not diminish unnecessarily the natural resources of the
nation.
Food regulation in Austria had been less efficacious. In Hungary it was
little short of being a farce. In both countries special privilege is
still enthroned so high that even the exigencies of the war did not
assail it until much damage had been done.
It was not until toward the end of December that the two governments
proceeded vigorously to attack the terrible mixture of food shortage and
chaotic regulation that confronted them.
The new ruler of the Dual Monarchy, Emperor-King Charles, was
responsible for the change.
While Emperor Francis Joseph lived, the heir-apparent had not occupied
much of a place in government. The camarilla surrounding the old man
saw to that. But by depriving the young archduke of his rightful place,
which the incapacity of the Emperor should have assigned him, the court
clique gave him the very opportunities he needed to understand the food
situation he was to cope with presently--had to cope with if he wanted
to see the government continued.
The removal of Premier Stürgkh by the hand of the assassin had been
timely; the death of Francis Joseph was timelier yet. The old monarch
had ceased to live in the times that were. He came from an age which is
as much related to our era as is the rule of the original patriarch, one
Abraham of Chaldea. Food conditions might be brought to his attention,
but the effort served no purpose. The old man was incapable of
understanding why the interests of the privileged classes should be
sacrificed for the sake of the many.
At the several fronts, at points of troop concentration, and in the very
food-lines, the young Emperor had heard and seen what the ailments and
shortcomings of public subsistence were. One of the first things he did
when he came into power was to take a keen and active interest in food
questions. For one thing, he decided to regulate consumption downward.
It was a great shock to the privileged class when it heard that the
Emperor would cut down the supply of those on top in order that more be
left for those beneath.
To do that was not easy, however. The young man thought of the force of
example. He prohibited the eating at court of any meals not in accord
with the food regulations. Wheat bread and rolls were banished. Every
servant not actually needed was dismissed so that he might do some
useful work. Several of the imperial and royal establishments were
closed altogether. The _ménage_ at Castle Schönbrunn was disbanded. The
personnel of the Hofburg in Vienna was reduced to actual needs. It was
ordered that only one suite in the palace be lighted and heated--a very
simple apartment which the Emperor and his family occupied.
Some very amusing stories are told in connection with the policy the
Emperor had decided to apply. I will give here a few of them--those I
have been able to verify or which for some other reason I may not doubt.
They had been leading a rather easy life at the Austro-Hungarian general
headquarters. The chief of staff, Field-Marshal Conrad von Hötzendorff,
was rather indulgent with his subordinates, and had never discouraged
certain extravagances the officers of the establishment were fond of.
One of them was to have wheat dinner-rolls.
A few days after the new Emperor's ascension of the Austrian throne he
happened to be at Baden, near Vienna, which was then the seat of the
general headquarters. After a conference he intimated that he would stay
for dinner at the general mess of the staff. That was a great honor, of
course, though formerly the influence of the archducal party had made
the heir-apparent more tolerated than respected in that very group.
After a round of introductions Emperor Charles sat down at the head of
the table. On each napkin lay a roll and in a basket there were more.
The Emperor laid his roll to one side and ate the soup without any
bread. When the next dish was being served, and those at table had made
good inroads upon their rolls, the Emperor called the orderly.
"You may bring me a slice of war-bread, and mind you I do not want a
whole loaf, but just the third of a daily ration, such as the law
entitles me to. No more, no less!"
Some of the officers almost choked on the morsel of wheat roll they were
about to swallow. The Emperor said no more, however, and his
conversation continued with all the _bonhomie_ for which he is known.
But henceforth no more wheat bread in any form was to be seen in any
officers' mess. A few days later came an order from the civil
authorities that all patrons of hotels and restaurants were to bring
their bread, issued to them in the morning, to their meals if they were
not to go without it. The eating-house manager who gave bread to patrons
would be fined heavily once or twice and after that would lose his
license to do business.
A few days after that I saw a rather interesting thing in the cloak-room
of the Court Opera. A well-dressed couple came in. The lady was attired
in quite the latest thing made by some able _couturier_, and the man
was in evening dress, a rare sight nowadays. As he pushed his fur coat
across the counter a small white parcel fell to the floor. The paper
wrapping parted and two slices of very black war-bread rolled among the
feet of the throng.
"There goes our supper bread!" cried the woman.
"So it seems," remarked the man. "But what is the use of picking it up
now? It's been rolling about on the floor."
"But somebody can still eat it," said the woman.
Just then two men handed back the bread. Its owner wrapped it up again
and put the parcel into a pocket. I suppose the servants of the
household ate next day more bread than usual.
Shortly after that I had tea at the residence of Mrs. Penfield, wife of
the American ambassador at Vienna. Among other guests was a princess of
the house of Parma. There are several such princesses and I have
forgotten which one it was, nor could I say whether she was a sister or
a cousin of Empress Zita.
At any rate, the young woman had a son of an age when good milk is the
best food. She said that the recent regulations of the government were
such that not even she could transgress upon them, though that does not
seem to have been her intention.
How to get enough milk for her boy was a great problem, or had been. The
problem had on that very day been solved by her, however.
"I bought a good cow two weeks ago," said the princess.
"That was certainly the best way of getting good milk," commented the
American ambassadrice.
"Yes, it was," remarked the Princess Parma. "But it did not end my
troubles. I had the milk shipped here, and found that the food
authorities would not allow it to be delivered to me, except that
portion which the law prescribes for children and adults. That much I
got. The remainder was turned over to the Food Central, and I got a
letter saying that I would be paid for the milk at the end of the
month."
"But the allowance is too small, your Highness," suggested somebody,
sympathetically.
"That is the trouble, of course," returned the princess. "It is too
small for a growing child. But what could I do? The authorities say that
the law is the law. I spoke to the Emperor about it. He says that he is
not the government and has nothing to do with it. Nor can he intercede
for me, he says, because he does not want to set a bad example."
"Then the buying of the cow did not solve the problem," I ventured to
remark. "The solution is only a partial one, your Highness!"
The princess smiled in the manner of those who are satisfied with
something they have done.
"The problem is solved, monsieur!" she said. "This morning I shipped my
boy to where the cow is."
There was no longer any doubt that food regulation was on in real
earnest. When a woman allied to the imperial house was unable to get for
her child more milk than some other mother could get, things were indeed
on the plane of equity. That every person should thereafter get his or
her share of the available store of bread is almost an unnecessary
statement.
The Austrian civil authorities had not made a good job of food
administration. They were too fond of the normal socio-economic
institutions to do what under the circumstances had to be done, and were
forever afraid that they would adopt some measure that might bring down
the entire economic structure. And that fear was not unwarranted, by any
means. The drain of the war had sapped the vitality of the state. Though
Austria was for the time being a dead tree, the civil administrators
thought that a dead tree was still better upright than prostrate.
Emperor Charles had surrounded himself with young men, who were
enterprising, rather than attached to the interests of the privileged.
Among them was a man known as the "Red Prince." It was not the color of
hair that gave this name to Prince Alois Lichtenstein. Odd as it may
sound, this scion of one of the most prominent families in Europe is an
ardent socialist in theory and to some extent in practice, though not
anxious to be known as one. He holds that the chief promoters of
socialism the world over are professional politicians who have seized
upon a very valuable socio-economic idea for the purpose of personal
promotion, and that under these circumstances he cannot support them.
His influence with the new Emperor was great, and led to a rather
"unsocialist" result--the appointment of a military food-dictator,
General Höfer, a member of the Austro-Hungarian general staff.
It was argued that equity in food distribution could be effected only by
placing it in charge of a man who would treat all classes of the
population as the drill-sergeant does his men. The military
food-dictator had no favors to grant and none to expect. General Höfer
acted on this principle, and despite the fact that he was handicapped by
a top-heavy regulation machine and a shortage in all food essentials, he
was shortly able to do for Austria what Dr. Karl Helfferich had done for
Germany.
In speaking here particularly of Austrian regulations when the crisis
came I have a special objective. I am able to give in this manner a
better picture of what was done throughout Central Europe. The necessity
for a certain step in food regulation and the _modus operandi_ move in a
narrower sphere. In Germany the situation had been met more or less as
its phases developed; in Austria and Hungary this had not been done.
There had been much neglect, with the result that all problems were
permitted to reach that concrete form which extremity was bound to give
them. So many threads had been pulled from the socio-economic fabric
that holes could be seen, while the Germans had always managed in time
to prevent more than the thinness of the thing showing.
The profit system of distribution manages to overlook the actual
time-and-place values of commodities. Under it things are not sold where
and when they are most needed, but where and when they will give the
largest profit. That the two conditions referred to are closely related
must be admitted, since supply and demand are involved. But the
profit-maker is ever more interested in promoting demand than he is in
easing supply. He must see to it that the consumer is as eager to buy as
the farmer is anxious to sell, if business is to be good. This state of
affairs has its shortcomings even in time of peace. What it was to be in
war I have sufficiently shown already.
The regulations to which the food crisis of the fall of 1916 gave
justification laid the ax to the middleman system of distribution. The
several governments empowered their Food Commissions and Centrals to
establish shortcuts from farm to kitchen that were entirely in the hands
of the authorities. Though the Purchasing Central was even then not
unknown, it came now to supplant the middleman entirely.
The grain was bought from the farmer and turned over to the mills, where
it was converted into flour at a fixed price. The miller was no longer
able to buy grain for the purpose of holding the flour afterward until
some commission-man or wholesaler made him a good offer. He was given
the grain and had to account for every pound of it to the Food
Commissioners.
Nor was the flour turned loose after that. The Food Centrals held it and
gave it directly to the bakers, who meanwhile had been licensed to act
as distributors of bread. From so many bags of flour they had to produce
so many loaves of bread, and since control by means of the bread-card
coupon would have been as impossible as it was before, the Food
Commissions assigned to each bakeshop so many consumers. The bread cards
were issued in colored and numbered series. The color indicated the week
in which they were valid, while the number indicated the bakeshop at
which the consumer had to get his bread--had to get it in the sense that
the baker was responsible for the amount the card called for. The Food
Central had given the baker the necessary flour, and he had no excuse
before the law when a consumer had cause for complaint. If there were
one thousand consumers assigned to a bakeshop the authorities saw to it
that the baker got one thousand pounds of flour, and from this one
thousand loaves of bread had to be made and distributed.
The system worked like the proverbial charm. It was known as
_Rayonierung_--zonification. Within a few days everybody managed to get
the ration of bread allowed by the government. The bread-lines
disappeared of a sudden. It made no difference now whether a woman
called for her bread at eight in the morning or at four in the
afternoon. Her bread card called for a certain quantity of bread and
the baker was responsible for that amount. It was his duty to see that
the consumer did not go hungry.
Much of the socio-economic machine was running again--not on its old
track, but on a new one which the government had laid for it. And the
thing was so simple that everybody wondered why it had not been done
before.
But the greed of the profiteer was not yet entirely foiled. Bakers
started to stretch the flour into more loaves than the law allowed, and
some of them even went so far as to still turn consumers away. These
were to feel the iron hand of the government, however.
I remember the case of a baker who had been in business for thirty
years. His conduct under the new regulations had led to the charge that
he was diverting flour, turned over to him by the Food Centrals, into
illicit trading channels. The man was found guilty. Despite the fact
that he had always been a very good citizen and had been reasonable in
prices even when he had the chance to mulct an unprotected public, he
lost his license. The judge who tried the case admitted that there were
many extenuating circumstances.
"But the time has come when the law must be applied in all its
severity," he said. "That you have led an honorable life in the past
will not influence me in the least. You have obviously failed to grasp
that these are times in which the individual must not do anything that
will cause suffering. There is enough of that as it is. I sentence you
to a fine of five thousand crowns and the loss of your license to
operate a bakery. Were it not for your gray hairs I would add
confinement in prison with hard labor for one year. I wish the press to
announce that the next offender, regardless of age and reputation, will
get this limit."
The baker paid enough for the ten loaves he had embezzled. His fate had
a most salutary effect upon others.
What bread is for the adult milk is for the baby. It, too, was zonified.
The milk-line disappeared. A card similar to that governing the
distribution of bread was adopted, and dealers were responsible for the
quantities assigned them. The time which mothers had formerly wasted
standing in line could now be given to the care of the household, and
baby was benefited not a little by that.
Simple and effective as these measures were, they could not be extended
to every branch of distribution. In the consumption of bread, milk, and
fats known quantities could be dealt with. What the supply on hand was
could be more or less accurately established, and the ration issued was
the very minimum in all cases. Waste from needless consumption was out
of the question.
It was different in other lines. The governments wanted to save as much
food as was possible, and this could best be done by means of the
food-line. The line had boosted prices into the unreasonable for the
profiteer, but was now used by the several governments to limit
consumption to the strictly necessary. To issue potatoes and other foods
in given quantities was well enough, but not all that could be done. In
some cases half a pound of potatoes per capita each day was too little;
in others it was too much, though taken by and large it was a safe
average ration. The same was true of cooking-flour and other foods.
Those able to buy meat and fish stood in no need of what the government
had to allow those who could not include these things in their bill of
fare. On the other hand, it was impossible to divide consumers into
classes and allow one class a quarter of a pound and another half a
pound of potatoes each day. That would have led to confusion and waste.
A scheme of equalization that would leave unneeded food in the control
of the government became necessary. The food-line provided that in a
thorough manner. The woman not needing food supplies on a certain day
was not likely to stand in a food-line, especially when the weather was
bad. She would do with what she had, so long as she knew that when her
supply was exhausted she could get more. The cards she had would not be
good next week, so that she was unable to demand what otherwise would
have been an arrear. The green card was good for nothing during a week
of red cards. Nor was there anything to be gained by keeping the green
card in the hope that some time green cards would again be issued and
honored. By the time all the color shades were exhausted the government
changed the shape of the card and later printed on its head the number
of the week.
Hoarding was out of the question now. In fact, the remaining private
hoard began to return to the channels of the legitimate scheme of
distribution. Those who had stores of food drew upon them, now that the
future seemed reasonably assured, leaving to others what they would have
called for had the food-line been abolished altogether and supplies
guaranteed, as in the case of bread, milk, and fats.
It must not be accepted, however, that the war-tax and war-loan policy
was abandoned in favor of this new scheme. The state was still exacting
its pound of flesh and the officials were too bureaucratic to always do
the best that could be done. To illustrate the point with a story, I
will give here another instance of how Emperor Charles interfered now
and then.
He is an early riser and fond of civilian clothing--two things which
made much of his work possible.
He was looking over the food-lines in the Nineteenth Municipal District
of Vienna one fine morning in December of 1916. Finally he came to a
shop where petroleum was being issued. The line was long and moved
slowly. Charles and the "Red Prince" wondered what the trouble could be.
They soon found out.
At first the shopkeeper resented the interest the two men were showing
in his business. He wanted to see their authority in black on white.
"That is all right, my dear man!" said the "Red Prince." "This man
happens to be the Emperor."
The storekeeper grew very humble of a sudden.
"It is this way, your Majesty," he explained. "The authorities have
limited the allowance of coal-oil for each household to one and one-half
liters [2.14 pints] per week. This measuring apparatus [a pump on the
petroleum-tank whose descending piston drives the liquid into a
measuring container] does not show half-liters, only one, two, three,
four, and five whole liters. The customers want all they are entitled
to, and usually think that I am not giving them the proper measure when
I guess at the half-liter between the lines showing one and two liters.
To overcome the grumbling and avoid being reported to the authorities I
am measuring the petroleum in the old way by means of this half-liter
measure. That takes time, of course. While I am serving one in this
manner I could serve three if I could use the pump."
"Do these people have the necessary containers for a larger quantity
than a liter and a half?" asked the Emperor.
"Yes, your Majesty," replied the storekeeper. "Nearly all of them have
cans that hold five liters. Before the war petroleum was always bought
in that quantity."
An hour afterward the burgomaster of Vienna, Dr. Weisskirchner, to whose
province the fuel and light supply belonged, was called up by the
Emperor on the telephone.
The conversation was somewhat emphatic. The mayor felt that he was
elected by the people of Vienna and did not have to take very much from
the young man whom accident had made Emperor. He offered to resign if he
could not be left a free hand in his own sphere.
"You can do that any time you are ready!" said the young man at the
other end of the wire. "But meanwhile see to it that petroleum in the
city of Vienna is issued in lots of three liters every two weeks. The
food-line is necessary as a disciplinary measure to prevent waste, but I
do not want people to stand in line when it is unnecessary. I understand
that nearly every shop selling petroleum uses these pumps. Kindly see to
it that they can be used. Three liters in two weeks will do that."
Thereafter petroleum was so issued.
The case led to a general clean-up in every department of food
administration and regulation. In a single week more than eight hundred
men connected with it were dismissed and replaced. And within a month
food distribution in Austria and Hungary was on a par with that of
Germany.
The question has often been asked, To what extent is the scarcity of
food in Central Europe the cause of the ruthless submarine warfare?
Dr. Arthur Zimmermann, the former German Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs, discussed that subject with me several times while I was
interviewing him.
On one occasion he was very insistent that Germany would have to shorten
the war. Though there was no reason why in 1916 that statement should
have seemed unusual to me, since the Central European public was
thoroughly tired of the war and all it gave rise to, I was nevertheless
struck by the insistence which the Secretary of State put into his
remarks. I framed a question designed to give me the information I
needed to throw light on this.
"England has been trying to starve us," said Mr. Zimmermann. "She has
not succeeded so far. In the submarine we have an arm which, as our
naval experts maintain, is capable of letting England feel the war a
little more in food matters. I am not so sure that it is a good idea to
use this weapon for that purpose, seeing that the measures incident to
its use would have to be sweeping. So far as I am concerned, I am not
for a policy that would make us more enemies. We have enough of them,
God knows."
I may say that this was in a general way the policy of the Chancellor,
von Bethmann-Hollweg. I have been reliably informed that even Emperor
William was at first an opponent of the ruthless-submarine-warfare idea.
Much of his gray hair is due to criticism heaped upon Germany for acts
which were thought justified, but which others found nothing short of
outlawry. He had always been very sensitive in matters of honor
affecting his person and the nation, and, like so many of those around
him, had come to believe that Germany and the Germans could do no wrong.
Emperor Francis Joseph had been a consistent opponent of the ruthless
submarine war. The _Ancona_ and _Persia_ cases, with which I occupied
myself especially, convinced the old man and those near him that a
recourse to the submarine, even if it were to end the war more rapidly,
was a double-edged sword. The old monarch, moreover, did not like the
inhuman aspects of that sort of war, whether they were avoidable or not.
He came from an age in which armies still fought with chivalry--when a
truce could be had for the asking. From his familiars I learned that
nothing pained the old man more than when a civilian population had to
be evacuated or was otherwise subjected to hardship due to the war.
His successor, Emperor Charles, held the same view. One has to know him
to feel that he would not give willingly his consent to such a measure
as the ruthless submarine war. His sympathies are nothing short of
boyish in their warmth and sincerity. When he ascended the throne, he
was an easy-going, smart lieutenant of cavalry rather than a ruler,
though the load he was to shoulder has ripened him in a few months into
an earnest man.
In January of 1917 Emperor Charles went for a long visit to the German
general headquarters in France. He was gone three days, despite the fact
that he had lots of work to do at home in connection with the
public-subsistence problems.
Connections informed me that the submarine warfare was the business
which had taken him into the German general headquarters. Count Ottokar
Czernin, I learned, had also quietly slipped out of town, as had a
number of Austro-Hungarian naval staff men and experts.
It was Count Czernin who, a few weeks later, gave me an all-sufficient
insight into the relations between the ruthless submarine warfare and
the food question.
It would not have been proper, under the circumstances, to publish
without some words of comment even so detailed a statement as that
contained in the joint German-Austro-Hungarian note announcing the
advent of the ruthless submarine war. Something had to be said to show
the public why the risks involved were being taken.
The German public was taken into the confidence of the government in a
speech made by Chancellor von Bethmann-Hollweg in the Reichstag. That
was a convenient method. In Austria-Hungary that way was not open. The
Reichsrath was not in session. Count Czernin decided that I should be
the medium of bringing before the world why the Austro-Hungarian
government had decided to adhere to Germany's new submarine policy.
Although knowing what was coming, the actual announcement that the
crisis was here was somewhat of a shock to me.
Count Czernin was seated at his big mahogany roll-top desk as I entered
the room. He rose to meet me. I noticed that there was a very serious
expression on his face.
"We have notified the neutral governments, and through them our enemies,
that the submarine war zone has been extended and shipping to Great
Britain and her allies laid under new restrictions," said the Foreign
Minister, after I had taken a seat.
With that he handed me a copy of the _note diplomatique_ with the
request that I read it. This done, he placed before me a statement which
he wished me to publish.
"I should like you to publish that," he said. "If you don't care for the
text the way it is written change it, but be sure that you get into your
own version what I say there. At any rate, you will have to translate
the thing. Be kind enough to let me see it before you telegraph it."
I found that the remarks of the Foreign Minister were a little too
formal and academic, and said so. So long as he could afford to take the
public of the world into his confidence through my efforts, I could
venture to suggest to him how to best present his case.
"I will use the entire statement," I said. "But there is every reason
why it should be supplemented by a better picture of the food situation
here in Austria."
Count Czernin rose and walked toward a corner of the room, where on a
large table were spread out several maps executed in red and blue. I
followed him.
"These are the charts the note refers to," he said. "This white lane has
been left open for the Greeks and this for the Americans. What is your
opinion?"
My opinion does not matter here.
"Well, if the worst comes to pass, we can't help it," said Count
Czernin, returning to his desk. "We have to use the submarine to
shorten the war. There is such a thing as being victorious at the front
and defeated at home. The food situation here is most pressing. Our
people are half starved all the time. Babies perish by the thousands
because we cannot give them enough milk. Unless this war comes to an end
soon, the effects of this chronic food shortage will impair the health
of the entire nation. We must try to prevent that. It is our duty to
prevent that by all means.
"I grant that there are certain technicalities of international law
involved here. But we can no longer regard them. It is all very well for
some men to set themselves up as sole arbiters of international law, nor
would we have any objection against that if these arbiters dealt as
fairly with one side as they have dealt with the other. But they have
not. The Central governments could not do anything right for some of
their friends--the American government included, by the way--if they
stood on their heads.
"We have made peace offers. I have told you several times that we do not
want any of our enemies' territory. We have never let it be understood
that we wanted so much as a shovelful of earth that does not belong to
us. At the same time, we do not want to lose territory, nor do we want
to pay a war indemnity, since this war is not of our making.
"We have been willing to make peace and our offer has been spurned. The
food question, as you know, is acute. We simply cannot raise the food
we need so long as we must keep in the field millions of our best
farmers. That leaves but one avenue open. We must shorten the war. We
believe that it will be shortened by the use of the submarine. For that
reason we have decided to use the arm for that purpose.
"I hope that our calculations are correct. I am no expert in that field.
I also realize that a whole flood of declarations of war may follow our
step. All that has been considered, however--even the possibility of the
United States joining our enemies. At any rate, there was no way out. It
is all very well for some to say what we are to do and are not to do,
but we are fighting for our very existence. To that fight has been added
the food shortage, whose aspects have never been graver than now.
"I feel that I must address myself especially to the American public.
The American government has condemned us out of court. I would like to
have an American jury hear this case. The American government has denied
us the right of self-defense by taking the stand that we must not use
the submarine as a means against the enemy merchant fleet and such
neutral shipping as supplies Great Britain and her allies with
foodstuffs."
Count Czernin grew more bitter as he progressed. He is an able speaker
even in the English tongue.
That afternoon I had on the wires one of the greatest newspaper stories,
in point of importance, that have ever been despatched.
I spoke to Count Stefan Tisza on the food question and its bearing upon
the submarine warfare. We discussed the subject for almost two hours.
When the interview ended I asked the Hungarian Premier how much of it I
could use.
"Just say this much for me," he remarked. "For the United States to
enter the European War would be a crime against humanity."
That is the shortest interview I ever made out of so long a session. As
a matter of fact, Count Tisza said enough for a book.
I may say, however, that Count Tisza found in the food question whatever
justification there would be needed for anything the Central governments
might do.
In Constantinople I had made the acquaintance of Dr. Richard von
Kühlmann, the present German Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
Doctor von Kühlmann was then the _conseiller_ of the German embassy at
that point. He was somewhat of an admirer of the British and their ways,
a fact which later caused his promotion to minister at The Hague. In all
things he was delightfully objective--one of the few people I have met
who did not mistake their wishes and desires for the fact.
I met Doctor von Kühlmann again in Vienna, while he was ambassador at
Constantinople. But ambassadors are not supposed to talk for
publication. Be that as it may, Doctor von Kühlmann had not even then
made up his mind that recourse to the submarine warfare was the proper
thing under the circumstances, no matter how great the prospect of
success might appear. I had found him in Constantinople, as well as in
The Hague, a consistent opponent of the submarine as a means against
merchantmen. He was wholly opposed to the ruthless submarine warfare,
but had no say in the decision finally reached.
The British _Aushungerungspolitik_--policy of starvation--was well in
the limelight in those days. It had been discussed in the Central
European press _ad nauseam_ before. Now, however, it was discussed from
the angle of actual achievement. Shocking conditions were revealed--they
were shocking to the better classes, not to me, for I had spent many an
hour keeping in touch with public-subsistence matters.
After all, this was but a new counter-irritant. The Austrian and
Hungarian public, especially, did not fancy having the United States as
an enemy. Though newspaper writers would belittle the military
importance of the United States, many of the calmer heads in the
population did not swallow that so easily. In the course of almost three
years of warfare the public had come to understand that often the
newspapers were woefully mistaken, and that some of them were in the
habit of purposely misleading their readers, a natural result of a
drastic censorship. There is no greater liar than the censor--nor a more
dangerous one. By systematically suppressing one side of an issue or
thing, the unpleasant one, he fosters a deception in the public mind
that is as pitiful to behold as it is stupendous.
Now the conjuncture was such, however, that a discussion in the
newspapers of the hardship suffered and the damage done by Great
Britain's starvation blockade could not but fan the Central states
population into a veritable frenzy. The British were to experience
themselves what it was to go hungry day after day. That thought
overshadowed the possibility that the United States might soon be among
the open enemies of the Central states. A secret enemy the United States
had long been regarded.