IMPRESSIONS AND REFLECTIONS
1
In the autumn of 1917 I had a visit from a subject of a neutral state,
who is a pronounced upholder of general disarmament and world
pacifism. We began, of course, to discuss the theme of free
competition in armaments, of militarism, which in England prevails on
the sea and in Germany on land, and my visitor entered upon the
various possibilities likely to occur when the war was at an end. He
had no faith in the destruction of England, nor had I; but he thought
it possible that France and Italy might collapse. The French and
Italians could not possibly bear any heavier burdens than already were
laid on them; in Paris and Rome, he thought, revolution was not far
distant, and a fresh phase of the war would then ensue. England and
America would continue to fight on alone, for ten, perhaps even
twenty, years. England was not to be considered just a little island,
but comprised Australia, India, Canada, and the sea. "_L'Angleterre
est imbattable_," he repeated, and America likewise. On the other
hand, the German army was also invincible. The secession of France and
Italy would greatly hinder the cruel blockade, for the resources of
those two countries--once they were conquered by the Central
Powers--were very vast, and in that case he could not see any end to
the war. Finally, the world would collapse from the general state of
exhaustion. My visitor cited the fable in which two goats met on a
narrow bridge; neither would give way to the other, and they fought
until they both fell into the water and were drowned. The victory of
one group as in previous wars, he continued, where the conqueror
gleaned a rich harvest of gains and the vanquished had to bear all
the losses, was out of the question in this present war. _Tout le
monde perdra, et à la fin il n'y aura que des vaincus._
I often recalled that interview later. Much that was false and yet, as
it seemed to me, much that was true lay in my friend's words. France
and Italy did not break down; the end of the war came quicker than he
thought; and the invincible Germany was defeated. And still I think
that the conclusions he arrived at came very near the truth.
The conquerors' finances are in a very precarious state, particularly
in Italy and France; unrest prevails; wages are exorbitant; discontent
is general; the phantom of Bolshevism leers at them; and they live in
the hope that the defeated Central Powers will have to pay, and they
will thus be saved. It was set forth in the peace terms, but _ultra
posse nemo tenetur_, and the future will show to what extent the
Central Powers can fulfil the conditions dictated to them.
Since the opening of the Peace Congress at Versailles continuous war
in Europe has been seen: Russians against the whole world, Czechs
against Hungarians, Roumanians against Hungarians, Poles against
Ukrainians, Southern Slavs against Germans, Communists against
Socialists. Three-fourths of Europe is turned into a witch's cauldron
where everything is concocted except work and production, and it is
futile to ask how this self-lacerated Europe will be able to find the
war expenses laid upon her. According to human reckoning, the
conquerors cannot extract even approximate compensation for their
losses from the defeated states, and their victory will terminate with
a considerable deficit. If that be the case, then my visitor will be
right--there will only be the vanquished.
If our plan in 1917, namely, Germany to cede Alsace-Lorraine to France
in exchange for the annexation of all Poland, together with Galicia,
and all states to disarm; if that plan had been accepted in Berlin and
sanctioned by the Entente--unless the _non possumus_ in Berlin and
opposition in Rome to a change in the Pact of London had hindered any
action--it seems to me the advantage would not only have been on the
side of the Central Powers.
Pyrrhus also conquered at Asculum.
* * * * *
My visitor was astonished at Vienna. The psychology of no city that he
had seen during the war could compare with that of Vienna. An amazing
apathy prevailed. In Paris there was a passionate demand for
Alsace-Lorraine; in Berlin the contrary was demanded just as eagerly;
in England the destruction of Germany was the objective; in Sofia the
conquest of the Dobrudsha; in Rome they clamoured for all possible and
impossible things; in Vienna nothing at all was demanded. In Cracow
they called for a Great Poland; in Budapest for an unmolested Hungary;
in Prague for a united Czech State; and in Innsbruck the descendants
of Andreas Hofer were fighting as they did in his day for their sacred
land, Tyrol. In Vienna they asked only for peace and quiet.
Old men and children would fight the arch-enemy in Tyrol, but if the
Italians were to enter Vienna and bring bread with them they would be
received with shouts of enthusiasm. And yet Berlin and Innsbruck were
just as hungry as Vienna. _C'est une ville sans âme._
My visitor compared the Viennese to a pretty, gay, and frivolous woman,
whose aim in life is pleasure and only pleasure. She must dance, sing,
and enjoy life, and will do so under any circumstances--_sans âme_.
This pleasure-loving good nature of the Viennese has its admirable
points. For instance, all enemy aliens were better treated in Vienna
than anywhere else. Not the slightest trace of enmity was shown to
those who were the first to attack and then starve the city.
Stronger than anything else in Vienna was the desire for sensation,
pleasure, and a gay life. My friend once saw a piece acted at one of
the theatres in Vienna called, I believe, _Der Junge Medardus_. The
scene is laid during the occupation of Vienna by Napoleon. Viennese
citizens condemned to death for intriguing with the enemy are led away
by the French. In a most thrilling scene weeping women and children
bid them farewell. A vast crowd witnesses the affair. A boy suddenly
rushes in shouting: "Napoleon is coming." The crowd hurries away to
see him, and cries of "Long live Napoleon" are heard in the distance.
Such was Vienna a hundred years ago, and it is still the same. _Une
ville sans âme._
I pass on the criticism without comment.
2
In different circles which justly and unjustly intervened in politics
during my time of office, the plan was suggested of driving a wedge
between North and South Germany, and converting the latter to the
peaceful policy of Vienna in contradistinction to Prussian militarism.
The plan was a faulty one from the very first. To begin with, as
already stated, the most pronounced obstacle to peace was not only the
Prussian spirit, but the Entente programme for our disruption, which a
closer connection with Bavaria and Saxony would not have altered.
Secondly, Austria-Hungary, obviously falling more and more to pieces,
formed no point of attraction for Munich and Dresden, who, though not
Prussian, yet were German to the very backbone. The vague and
irresponsible plan of returning to the conditions of the period before
1866 was an anachronism. Thirdly and chiefly, all experiments were
dangerous which might create the impression in the Entente that the
Quadruple Alliance was about to be dissolved. In a policy of that
nature executive ability was of supreme importance, and that was
exactly what was usually lacking.
The plan was not without good features. The appointment of the
Bavarian Count Hertling to be Imperial Chancellor was not due to
Viennese influence, though a source of the greatest pleasure to us,
and the fact of making a choice that satisfied Vienna played a great
part with the Emperor William. Two Bavarians, Hertling and Kühlmann,
had taken over the leadership of the German Empire, and they, apart
from their great personal qualities, presented a certain natural
counter-balance to Prussian hegemony through their Bavarian origin;
but only so far as it was still possible in general administration
which then was in a disturbed state. But farther they could not go
without causing injury.
Count Hertling and I were on very good terms. This wise and
clear-sighted old man, whose only fault was that he was too old and
physically incapable of offering resistance, would have saved Germany,
if she possibly could have been saved, in 1917. In the rushing torrent
that whirled her away to her fall, he found no pillar to which he
could cling.
Latterly his sight began to fail and give way. He suffered from
fatigue, and the conferences and councils lasting often for hours and
hours were beyond his strength.