During this time I was sought out by the painter Müller-Hoffmann,*17 a very dear person who had been a friend of Braunfels. He was a very winning and noble human being, and a very talented painter. His political views were very good. He was a total opponent of National Socialism and an enthusiastic supporter of Dollfuss. We were very much of one mind. During our Vienna years, Müller-Hoffmann was to play an important role in my life in many different regards. Already at our first encounter, a relationship of real friendship took root, and our contact from then on was always animated.
Another man I met at that time was a certain Dr. Missong.*18 His name was already familiar to me from various magazines. He had a great journalistic talent and became a primary collaborator with Der christliche Ständestaat. I think I got to know him through Klaus. His political views were excellent; he was a particularly radical opponent of National Socialism, not to mention a great Austrian patriot. He was among the most heartening figures within my Viennese circle because of his excellent political stance, in which over the years he never wavered even the slightest. We frequently saw him and his wife, who was very nice, and later they were among the most faithful attendees of my political evenings.
I also saw Oesterreicher with increasing regularity and our friendship grew. I was particularly impressed by his essays, which he gave me to read. They were of great beauty and depth. They were marked in a special way by a truly classical religious spirit, which set them apart from the majority of German religious writers at that time. Their lofty spiritual level and even more so their classical-religious style made a great impression on me and increased my esteem for him.
Also playing a great role in our lives in Vienna were Rudolf Allers*19 and his wife. I already knew Allers from years before in Salzburg and also from his lectures in Munich. I had heard a great deal about him and his conversion from Fr. Kronseder.*20 Allers was one of the most intelligent people I knew among Catholic thinkers of the day. The way he had overcome Freudianism from within, his phenomenological talent, and his deep piety—all this was a breath of fresh air for me. I felt very drawn to him, though it was not easy to become humanly close to him. Politically he was excellent, not only as a total opponent of National Socialism but also as an ardent Austrian and unconditional supporter of Dollfuss. Speaking with him was always stimulating and interesting. Klaus also appreciated him greatly; after all, Klaus was particularly attracted to intelligence.
Allers and his wife played a great role during our time in Vienna. Above all, they were regular attendees of my evening discussions, which only began later, because Weber’s plan to inaugurate these with a festive event came to nothing.
I waited a long time before starting to host these gatherings because I kept thinking that Weber would return to the idea himself. But the Socialist uprising had pushed everything into the background, while Dollfuss was so taken up with developing the new constitution that he had time for nothing else. The moment for the sort of official event Weber had envisioned was over.
But a far more serious concern for me was that Dollfuss had become completely inaccessible due to the approaching conclusion of the concordat and adoption of the new constitution. Even Weber—at least so he claimed to me—was unable to discuss anything else with Dollfuss.
At this time, Oesterreicher invited me to a meeting which I think he held in the house where Dr. Rudolf*21 lived. The purpose of the meeting was to lay the groundwork for a new association that sought the conversion of the Jews. This association would later be founded under the name Pauluswerk. Oesterreicher spoke very beautifully about the purpose of this association, though still with a certain timidity. For my part, I said it was paramount at this particular moment that Catholics everywhere should take up the fight against anti-Semitism so as to reveal the true face of the Church to the Jews. Oesterreicher answered that this was not possible for him, being of Jewish descent, to which I responded that I wanted to do so myself.
A lady who had been invited to the meeting by Oesterreicher later commented to him how unbelievable it was that I should act as if I were not myself a Jew, even though I had a Jewish grandmother. While the lady was in fact correct about my grandmother, this had never led me to feel Jewish, nor did it ever play even the slightest role in my stance toward anti-Semitism. I had never known my Jewish grandmother, nor did I ever feel in any way rooted in the cultural world of the Jews. The fact that I was drawn to many Jews, the fact that I had a great love for various people of Jewish descent, such as Marguerite Solbrig, Hamburger, or Adolf Reinach, all this was a pure value-response to their personalities and in no way an expression of special affinity for Jews. Thus I felt completely justified in saying that I as a non-Jew could take up arms against anti-Semitism.
In March, a friend of von Hildebrand received two tickets from Richard Coudenhove-Kalergi (1894–1972) to a performance of Antony and Cleopatra and gave one to von Hildebrand. Coudenhove-Kalergi had begun the Pan-Europa movement in the mid-1920s.
After the performance, the two of us, Hegner and I, were invited to a supper with Coudenhove. This was the occasion I personally became acquainted with Coudenhove, who was fighting for European unity and was called “Europapa,” and also with his wife. He was a strikingly handsome man, with a noble and aristocratic countenance marked by a mysterious Asiatic note. Of course, he was half Japanese. They lived in a magnificent place, a charming old house located in a beautiful courtyard and decorated with very beautiful furniture.
Around this same time, von Hildebrand met several supporters of his journal, including the Benedictine Fr. Augustin von Galen, OSB (1870–1949), brother of the bishop of Munster, Clemens August von Galen (1878–1946), one of the Nazis’ strongest opponents among the German bishops.
At the beginning of April, von Hildebrand traveled to Katowice, passing through Bohemia into Upper Silesia.
Several of the cars on the train I was riding were going to Germany, while others were going to Poland. The train was divided at the border. I cannot say how many times I had to reassure myself that the car in which I was sitting was going to Poland. Just the thought that by mistake I could suddenly find myself in Germany sent shivers down my spine. It was the nightmare of nightmares.
Arriving in Katowice, I was received with great warmth, residing as Pant’s guest in his spacious home. I think I gave three lectures. I no longer recall the subject, but surely I spoke on questions regarding the individual and the state, questions which I had dealt with in my book, The Metaphysics of Community, though naturally with application to the current problems in the struggle against Nazism. The lectures took place in a room where Pant usually addressed his own circle, not a very large room. The audience consisted of about thirty to forty people. The lectures, which were not public but addressed to the associations led by Pant, were meant to deepen understanding for the battle against Nazism and to help in the formation of an elite leadership. I cannot say I got the impression that my lectures had a strong effect. While I know what I presented was certainly not bad, I felt the audience did not understand it very well. They did not seem to be engaged to the same degree that my audiences in Vienna often were.
In April, Dollfuss appointed Ernst Karl Winter as the fourth mayor of Vienna, with the special task of reestablishing friendly relations with the working class after the unfortunate socialist revolution. Winter was very close to the Social Democrats without really being one himself, primarily because of his monarchism. Though he was not a legitimist, he was a staunch monarchist.
I still recall an event in Vienna that left a very deep impression on me. I was with Marguerite Solbrig at the Michaelerplatz when Dollfuss came out of St. Michael’s Church where a mass had just taken place for those who had died in the socialist revolution in February. Marguerite and I were close enough that I could clearly hear the speech which Dollfuss addressed to all who had attended the mass and to the crowd standing outside the church. He spoke about all who had died in February with deep seriousness and in a spirit of noble
recollection. He emphasized that the mass had been celebrated as much for the poor, misguided workers who had fought against the government as for the soldiers who had died for the government. In his words one sensed the full extent of his kindness, his nobility, and his deep piety. Both Marguerite and I were deeply moved.
Around this time there was another public gathering at which Dollfuss spoke. Was the occasion a birthday celebration or the ratification of the constitution? I no longer remember. But I was there and heard the delightful speech given by Dollfuss. Among other things, he said, “Not only am I the youngest chancellor in Europe, I am also the shortest.” His endearing humor, his lack of any complexes due to his unusually small stature, his inner freedom, and his unassuming manner—all this came to expression in his words.
As I was leaving, I tried to get into his proximity. I succeeded, and he shook my hand, a little absently, but for a moment he held my hand firmly and looked me in the eye earnestly. I will never forget that moment, for it was the last time I saw up close this man whom I so loved and revered. It was also the second time I had been able to shake his hand.
One day I received a visit from Professor Kastil,*22 the well-known student and scholar of Franz Brentano,*23 who was professor of philosophy in Innsbruck. He told me that he had left Innsbruck “because the conduct of my colleagues was such that I could only see brown.”*24 He visited me primarily because of our shared political stance. Being a strict follower of Brentano, he was philosophically very critical of phenomenology, seeing both Meinong*25 and Husserl as traitors. He was very humorous and attractive, and we got along very well. We saw each other frequently, and he became one of the more significant figures in my Viennese circle of acquaintances.
We were immensely pleased to receive the articles Mataja sent for our journal. It was truly a joy because his articles were excellent and because he was a significant political mind. I also saw him frequently, and it was always very enriching to speak with him. He was indisputably a “lordly type,” unlike most Christian Social politicians. Not even my beloved Dollfuss, who came from a very modest background, was a “lord,” though in him it did not seem a deficiency because of the way he transcended this entire sphere through his genius, his piety, and his humility. Neither Funder, nor Schmitz, nor Stepan were “lords” in this sense. Even Schuschnigg, though an aristocrat, was not lordly like Mataja.
In the past, Mataja had not been very Catholic, neither in his lifestyle nor in his political positions. He had also been something of a rival and opponent of Seipel. He then became seriously ill and, following his illness, he converted. By the time I met him, he had become markedly pious and was living happily married to his very friendly and deeply Catholic wife. In contrast to many of the “bigwigs” in the Christian Social Party, he was very cultivated, a man of great knowledge, and a brilliant orator.
He was also free of that foolish anti-Semitism displayed by Funder and all the more by the previous chairman of the party. When someone pointed out to this chairman that a Catholic could not be anti-Semitic because Christ was a Jew, he replied, “I beg you, only a half-Jew!” Mataja was far above this kind of theological ignorance and philistine spirit. The fact that he was on good terms with Simon and with Captain Bam, as well as with Kunwald, already showed that he was free of any anti-Semitic prejudice. He was just too intelligent for that.
His attitude toward the government of Dollfuss was one of reserve. He had always been an opponent of the Heimwehr, which was also part of the government. He was also, as a longstanding democrat, critical of the new constitution. Finally—and this was perhaps the primary reason—he was offended that he had been passed over and not appointed to a position in the new government. But his main interests lay in foreign affairs where he found himself in full accord with the government, for his anti-Nazism was absolute and principled. His articles were therefore well suited to our journal, even if he had a different stance toward Dollfuss.
“Lordly” in a still more pronounced way—because he was both “courtly” and aristocratic—was von Wiesner,*26 the leader of the legitimists. Under the emperor he had been active in a government ministry (foreign affairs, I think) and he had lost nothing of the regal etiquette, the elegance, the bearing, and the courteousness. I think he was half-Jewish. But above all he was an important man and a superior political mind. I got to know him through Klaus, and it was always a special pleasure to speak with him, indeed, it was always interesting and stimulating. It was mostly in my later Vienna years that I saw him with regularity, but I already met him in my first year there.
In the meantime, I had naturally met Eduard Ludwig, the minister in charge of public relations. Klaus had in fact already met with him even before my decisive conversation with Dollfuss. Ludwig was the type of official who is superficial, perfectly mannered, and lacking any real personal convictions. He had already outlasted several regime changes in his post. In contrast to Weber, he was much more polished, agile, and proper. But he was extremely shallow and insipid.
Weber at the time at least seemed to be much less of a Polonius and to have real political convictions of his own. He was a very strong Catholic, while Ludwig was liberal through and through. Weber was also wholeheartedly devoted to Dollfuss in a way that Ludwig was incapable of being to anyone. Yet Ludwig was far more clever and cunning than Weber.
Around this time, Stepan,*27 who was director of Styria Press, became the leader of the Patriotic Front, the party of Dollfuss. To my mind this was a fortunate choice because Stepan was surely among the leading figures within the Christian Social Party. I also welcomed this development personally because I knew Stepan, thanks to the fact that my book Liturgy and Personality had been published by Anton Pustet, which was an imprint of Styria. The recommendation of our journal by the Patriotic Front played a very significant role in our expansion.
I quickly sought out Stepan who received me warmly. The building which housed the leadership of the Patriotic Front was located near the square “Am Hof” where the Jesuits had both their principal church and their main residence. I think that Stepan had already become governor of Styria before being made leader of the Patriotic Front. Rintelen, the previous governor of Styria, had become the Austrian ambassador in Rome, where it was thought that this very unpleasant and dangerous man would be less of a threat.
During the summer semester, I was invited to give a lecture in Graz. I think my theme was again “state and individual.” I had been invited there two years before by a church historian with whom I had gotten along very well (he was not a narrow Thomist). Regrettably, he was now strongly sympathetic to National Socialism, which prompted a fierce debate between us. As on my previous visit, I stayed with the Vincentians. My lecture was organized, I think, by the delightful student chaplain, Fr. Zemanek, a Vincentian with whom I already had a good rapport from my time in 1932. His political orientation was excellent, which was especially important and welcome considering his influence with the students.
The day after my lecture I met Professor Dobretsberger,*28 an economist, who had been present at my talk. How rare it was to meet a person who opposed Nazism entirely on principle and who understood with great clarity why there could be no possibility of compromise. Dobretsberger told me how Rintelen, while still governor of Styria, repeatedly attempted to win him over or to catch him in his net. Yet Dobretsberger was not someone to be tricked. Despite many invitations, he never paid Rintelen a visit. Finally, when Rintelen left him no peace, Dobretsberger wrote to him, addressing him, “Götz von Berlichingen.”*29 I could not help laughing at Dobretsberger’s crude, impertinent manner.
Many important things happened during the months of May and June, 1934. On one occasion we learned of the approach of a German plane carrying a high-ranking Nazi who was coming for negotiations with the Dollfuss regime. Klaus and I were very dismayed, fearing that it could pave the way for an unfortunate peace, which, aside from being totally intolerable on intellectual and moral grounds, would just have been a
tactical deception by Hitler, offering no guarantee for the security of Austria.
As I expressed my concern, indeed, my horror, to Weber, he replied, “Come now, what do you want? Eventually we will have to arrive at some modus vivendi with Nazi Germany. In the long run, this ‘state of war’ will become unbearable.” I was very upset by Weber’s response. I was certain that Dollfuss would never compromise at the level of first principles. But the danger remained that he might believe in the possibility of a “peaceful coexistence,” as it was called twenty years later in regard to Soviet Russia. I feared that perhaps he did not sufficiently realize that a promise from Hitler was worthless and that an agreement with him was not even worth the paper on which it was written.
On the other hand, I was committed not only to the defense of a Catholic and independent Austria—which, in terms of Weltanschauung represented the absolute antithesis to Nazi Germany—but also to the glorious battle against Nazi Germany, to the active struggle against National Socialism for the sake of Germany, to its liberation from this criminal regime, and to the banner which Dollfuss alone had raised, as the rest of the world was frightened and adopted a wait-and-see attitude while making one concession after another. The great mission that Austria in this moment had taken on for the entire world could not be abandoned—to say nothing of the fact that not to progress is to regress, just as in the spiritual life.
I mean simply that only by going on the intellectual offensive and only by resisting all forms of peaceful coexistence could the “true Austria”—as seen by Dollfuss—be realized and its independence saved. Writing out of these convictions I published many articles in the Ständestaat, including one entitled “Ceterum censeo, Carthaginem esse delendam.”
My Battle Against Hitler Page 16
