CHAPTER XIIISOME ELECTIONEERING IMPRESSIONS
Germanpolitical life is in the main a sealed book to the British public. Many people take but a tepid interest in the politics of their own country. To grapple with the intricacies of parties and programmes in a foreign land is an effort quite beyond the will or the power of the average citizen. Yet Germany plays, and is bound to play for years to come, so dominant a part in every calculation and forecast made by her neighbours, that it is of considerable importance to try and realise what forces are at work among her own people.
Constitutional life in Germany has had many vicissitudes. When the tragic history of our own times comes to be written, future historians will probably regard the failure of the Frankfurt deputies in 1848 to solve the problem of German unity on a democratic basis as the most fatal date in modern history. The unity which the “Professors’ Parliament” failed to achieve was welded together triumphantly by Bismarck, twenty-three years later, through blood and iron. To the cult of blood and iron Germany henceforth dedicated itself, and for many years, with striking success. But even within the Empire the system had its challengers, as the spread of Socialist doctrines and the successes of the Social Democratsproved. When the military régime collapsed in defeat and confusion in the autumn of 1918, it was to the despised democratic elements that Germany owed her escape from utter ruin.
Little or no attention has ever been paid to the astonishing feat of constitutional reorganisation which was carried through after the flight of the Emperor. Complete military disaster had overtaken the country; revolution and anarchy were abroad in the land. Yet on the morrow of these events not only was a Republic proclaimed, but a German Government came into being which worked out a democratic constitution based on universal suffrage and full ministerial responsibility of the cabinet to the elected representatives of the people. The history of parliaments contains no more surprising page. Women were enfranchised, lists of voters prepared, and within a few weeks of the Armistice, elections were held which brought into existence a provisional National Assembly whose business it was to carry on the hard task of government till the first Reichstag of the new Republic could subsequently be elected. How all this was done in the time is a mystery, especially having in mind the endless delays to which our own last Franchise Bill gave rise, and the difficulties pleaded as regards the revision of voters’ lists. The temper of the hour and the mood of the conquering Allies did not permit of one word of praise for a constitutionaltour de forcecarried through under conditions of overwhelming difficulty. But it would be unjust and ungenerous not to recognise to-day with what dogged determination the German democrats, inexperienced and untried as they were in government, handled the half-foundering ship they were called uponto save. To make a success of the task was an impossibility under the circumstances for them or for any set of men. But that they kept the ship afloat, in view of the seas breaking over it, is little short of a marvel.
The man who played a thoroughly creditable part in the hour of collapse was Hindenburg. Unlike other distinguished members of the ruling class he did not run away when the game was up, but stood by his country through the grim business of defeat and surrender. Without a shred of sympathy for the Republican Government, he gave that government loyal assistance as regards the withdrawal of the armies. No man in Germany to-day commands more universal respect than the old Field-Marshall. Amid the flood of recriminations which German statesmen, generals, and admirals have poured on each other, Hindenburg has displayed reticence and generosity which do him entire credit. The inclusion of his name in the list of War Criminals is of all Allied ineptitudes since the Peace perhaps the greatest.
The National Assembly lasted for about fifteen months. In June 1920 Germany went to the polls to elect the first Reichstag of the Republic. Not the faintest interest in the event was taken by the British public. Yet whatever the result, it could only react on the whole future of European reconstruction.
Current conceptions at home remain astonishingly crude as to the position in Central Europe. The man in the street, brought up in the true milk of the word as preached by the Yellow Press, is still of opinion that Germany is as militant and as threatening as ever, and that, should we be so foolish as to stop sitting on her head, she would promptly overrun Europe again. Suggest thatGermany with her fleet sunk, her merchant shipping confiscated, her colonies lost, her army disbanded, her war material surrendered, her railway system in ruins, her food shortage considerable, is hardly in a position at the moment to make an unprovoked attack on any one, and the said person hints darkly in reply at hidden divisions on the Eastern Frontier; at an alliance between the Bolshevists and the German Government; at a military menace little less serious than what existed in 1914. It is surprising that people of this type are not more in conceit with themselves after the Allied victory, and fail so completely in appreciation of what the conquering armies have done. The German legions, perfectly trained and equipped after years of preparation, and with the whole resources of the German Empire behind them, could not achieve the preliminary pounce on Paris in 1914. Is the present Republican Government in any better position to succeed where they failed? A nation broken by hunger and defeat may become a centre of disease, dangerous to its neighbours owing to the poison spread through the whole international system. But any talk of external military adventure, apart from sporadic insurrections, is absurd.
The old united Germany with its strong centralised military government is a thing of the past. Instead of which we have a Germany, weak, disorganised, distracted, split into various factions each at mortal strife with the other. The position is full of danger and grave internal crisis; it may menace the foundations of European society, but the danger is disruptive and from within, not the menace of external legions. Political parties in Germany are split up into numerous and bewildering subdivisions.The Independent Socialists and Communists form a group to the extreme left, with more or less Bolshevist ideals. But, broadly speaking, there are two main sections, the democratically minded people who desire the evolution of a peaceful and constitutional republic, and the reactionaries who, while paying a certain lip-service to democratic principles, at heart detest the whole business.
It will be the eternal reproach to Allied policy that it has done nothing whatever to help the better elements in Germany to consolidate their position. On the contrary, by the intolerable economic penalties of the Peace it has pushed German democracy into a slough of despond and handed over all the vantage points to its enemies. The measure of the vast blunder committed in this respect is clear enough to any one who, like myself, has had the opportunity of attending political meetings held in Germany. To be living in a country torn by a fierce election campaign and to be taking no part in the fray was a novel experience for me. The placards with which Cologne was covered and the heated articles in the German newspapers made me, like an old war-horse, sniff battle from afar. At least I was anxious to try to gather as a spectator how German men and women were really feeling and thinking on this critical occasion. Political meetings have their own atmosphere and tell their own tale, and the opportunity of hearing and judging for myself was too good a one to miss.
I confess it was with a certain amount of trepidation that I made my way for the first time into a German public meeting. Naturally I had no desire to be recognised as an English woman, and, the conditions being whollynovel, I was not clear beforehand how far I should be able to lie low and conceal the fact of my nationality. However, seeing that the Social Democrats advertised a meeting to which women were specially invited, I plucked up my courage, reflected on the not infrequent and slightly chastening occasions when I have been addressed by Germans in German, bought a Socialist paper which I displayed conspicuously, and walked into the gathering. Neither then nor on any subsequent occasion, let me say, did I experience the smallest difficulty in slipping in amongst the crowd and hearing the proceedings in entire comfort.
It was a warm evening, and the great hall of the Gürzenich, the old banqueting-room of mediaeval Cologne, was only half full. The audience—about equal numbers of men and women—were well-dressed, entirely decorous folk. The long hair and red ties of orthodox Socialism were absent. German meetings are detestably unpunctual. Advertised generally for 8P.M., they seldom start till twenty minutes later, and the audience meekly accepts conditions of delay which would rouse an English meeting to fury. The principal speaker of the evening was Fräulein S., of Hamburg, a member of the National Assembly. At 8.20 a procession of earnest-looking women slowly mounted the platform. They wore coloured blouses and dark skirts, and their hair was scratched back tightly off their heads—a true hall-mark of feminine virtue in all climes and among all nations. The chairwoman had fortified herself with a large dinner-bell, and rang a peal, apparently to give herself courage, on opening the proceedings. Restoration of order was unnecessary, for the audience sat in stolid silence on the appearanceof the speakers, not even extending to them the perfunctory greeting with which an English audience heartens the platform victims before the sacrifice. No encouraging cheers greeted the advent of a pleasant-looking lady who, armed with a folio of MS., made her way to the reading-desk. Fräulein S. spoke, or rather read, for an hour in a clear, cultivated voice. She outlined the constructive policy of the Social Democrats or Majority Socialists, whose platform approximates to what was known as the Liberal-Labour position in English politics. The party is, however, definitely pledged to nationalisation. The speaker led off with the blockade, which is the King Charles’s Head of every political meeting in Germany. Their enemies, she declared, accused the Social Democrats of bringing Germany into her present desperate straits. Not the revolution, however, but the dire consequences of the blockade were responsible for the troubles of the people. Fräulein S.’s chief interests lay obviously in the field of social reform. She outlined a programme which was strangely familiar in many respects. The unmarried mother and the question of religious education in the schools were in the forefront of the battle. The temper of the meeting, it must be owned, was very tepid, but the depressing silence was broken by a few cheers when these subjects were handled. Another old friend appeared with Fräulein S.’s emphatic assertion that no school teacher should be compelled to resign her appointment on marriage. The lady then dealt at some length with finance and the incidence of taxation. A thoughtful, well-expressed speech—withal a trifle dull.
The reading of manuscript in a large hall has a curiously deadening effect on an audience, and judging bywhat I have heard, the women politicians of Germany—and be it also said many of the men—have not as yet learnt to emancipate themselves from the tyranny of elaborately prepared lectures. This was noticeable in the case of the speakers who followed Fräulein S. She was succeeded at the reading-desk by a dark, heavy-browed, energetic-looking girl, who infused a welcome note of vigour, not to say violence, into the proceedings. This young woman was a school teacher of obviously advanced views, and spoke well and fluently. She made short shrift of religious education in schools. Priests and catechisms vanished under her touch as she flourished the Socialist banner and belaboured her political adversaries with a series of witticisms which evoked rounds of applause. Yet she too had a folio of notes, and now and again when a word failed, a sudden pause in the flow of oratory, a hasty turning of sheets showed that the thunder, effective as it was, had been carefully prepared.
These little difficulties were still more noticeable in the case of the next speaker, an old lady wearing spectacles and a black bonnet, whose witticisms (the drift of which I was quite unable to follow) delighted the audience. Her notes had got mixed, and when she lost her thread—which happened frequently—some moments were spent hunting it. Quite undismayed, however, by these interruptions, the old lady held to her task gallantly. She was clearly a favourite, and the carefully prepared jokes resulted in loud laughter. I was sorry to miss the point of these jests, but I was left with the impression that public meetings in Germany, as in England, are ready to be amused with very small beer. The ladies were succeeded by one or two men speakers, who all chanted the praisesof the Social Democrats and introduced variants of another familiar theme—poll early and poll straight. After this the chairwoman performed energetically again on the dinner-bell—did any member of the audience desire to speak? Hardly had the sounds died away when she declared the meeting over. I was waiting for the real fun of the fair to begin with questions, but found myself, with the rest of the company, in the street.
Encouraged by this first attempt, I made a round of the meetings held by the leading parties, gatherings at which night after night I listened to views as wide asunder as the poles. The proceedings were considerably more lively than at the women’s meeting, and on more than one occasion feeling ran high. Yet the proceedings were astonishingly orderly as compared with the uproarious election meetings which are common enough at home. Interruptions were not of a sustained character, and during the campaign I saw no meeting broken up. I can only marvel, however, at the easy lot of a German candidate, for questions and heckling play a very small part in the campaign. The carefully prepared conundrums which harass the existence of the British Parliamentary candidate, the game of thrust and tierce, are unknown here. I was disappointed by the absence of the familiar figure in the back row who rises, waggling a minatory forefinger, and the words, “I want to ask the candidate,” etc. The odds are against the heckler in Germany, for what is called the “discussion” consists of objectors coming on to the platform and making speeches of protest, surrounded by the candidate or candidates and their supporters. As I have already remarked, meetings begin late, speeches are very lengthy, and by the time the party candidatessitting in a row on the platform have each said his say the hour stands long after 10P.M., and the audience begins to go home.
Naturally I was specially interested in the women speakers and the general bearing of women at these gatherings. The impression made upon me was that if German women attained full political emancipation at a bound through the revolution in November 1918, they have already laid a firm hand on their new rights. Large numbers of women were present at every meeting I attended—a fact which made my own presence possible. A fair proportion of women had sat in the National Assembly (the first provisional Parliament elected after the revolution), and were candidates for the new Reichstag. It is a satisfactory feature that, though the progressive feminist spirits are naturally more numerous among the Social Democrats and Minority Socialists, the various Conservative parties also support women candidates. If the British voters at the last General Election showed no mind of any kind to return women to Parliament, German women have fared better. But the difference in the electoral system probably tells in their favour.
German political organisation differs widely from anything with which we are familiar. The small constituencies represented by one or two members have no existence here. The country is divided into large electoral areas, and each party has a list of candidates qualified for the position by the votes of their respective supporters. On polling day you are implored to vote, therefore, not for aperson but for a list, the list being headed by the name of the leading candidate. A definite quota of votes given to a party elects a member automatically. The personal element in elections which is so conspicuous a feature of our own public life has practically no existence in Germany. The struggle is one of principles far more than of personalities. This state of affairs tells against a candidate of special gifts, but on the other hand it neutralises the unfair influence of the purse, and gets rid of much of the polite bribery which enters into political life at home. There is no question here as at Eatonswill of kissing the babies or shaking hands specially washed for the occasion. Further, areas are too large to make handsome subscriptions to local charities a factor in success. A millionaire could not stand the strain of subsidising portions of a province.
Another curious feature of a General Election in Germany is the inadequacy of the Press arrangements. The papers supporting the various factions give the list of their own candidates, and these lists appear on the electioneering placards which are in great evidence. But I wholly failed to obtain any general list of the candidates in the Cologne area, let alone a list for the whole country. Equally difficult was it after the poll to get a detailed list of the losses and gains. Totals appeared but no names. It was necessary to hunt through a variety of party organs to find which of the candidates had been qualified as members by the quota of votes given to the party. Though I spent my time buying newspapers, I was never able to find a list setting out the new Reichstag in tabular form, with parties and localities attached to the various names. Electioneering literature was poor stuff, and the occasionalpicture posters not inspiring. The Deutschnationale had a dramatic placard of a drowning man sinking beneath heavy seas, to whom a lifebuoy with D.N.P. is being thrown as his one chance of salvation. But the subject of the placard could hardly have thrilled the electors. Posters devoted to the general turpitude of the other man’s views were common, and followed familiar lines. But certainly neither Press nor posters could compare with the organisation of the written and printed word which exists during a General Election in the United Kingdom.
It was an interesting experience night after night to watch a country groping its way along political paths but recently opened. The multiplicity of parties into which Germany is split is very confusing to a foreigner. The lines of demarcation in some cases are hard to grasp, and the political life of the Republic would gain in vigour and directness if certain of the groups were combined under one banner.
The two main groups, right and left, into which German political life falls are split up into various factions. The Socialist Party is divided into a constitutional right wing, the Social Democrats, and a revolutionary left wing, the “Unabhängige” or Independent Socialists. Since the revolution, various parties have been busily engaged changing their names, a fact which does not simplify the situation, as the old ones still survive in current conversation. The former Liberals—whose views have nothing in common with Liberalism in the English sense—are included to-day in a variety of Capitalist and Conservative groups from the Demokraten (mildly Liberal in our sense of the word) on the left to the Deutschnationale Partei on the right. This last-named tabernacle shelters theJunker and Agrarian elements, and is reactionary to the core. But it is less dangerous than the party which has risen into power of late and bids fair to be thoroughly mischievous, namely, the Deutsche Volkspartei. This is the party of Herr Stinnes and the “schwer Industrie.” It includes the great manufacturers and capitalists, as well as large sections of the Bourgeoisie, has ample funds at its command, and despite some perfunctory patter about democracy, is bitterly anti-democratic in feeling and outlook. These two main divisions of the Socialists and the Bourgeoisie face each other with uncompromising hostility. But the situation is further complicated by a clerical element standing between them, with which happily our own politics are untroubled.
The fervour and depth of Catholicism on the Rhineland has been one of the many surprises of Germany to me. In the Rhineland, therefore, questions affecting Church and State are much to the fore, especially the burning question of religious education in the schools. But the cross-correspondences between the Zentrum, the orthodox Catholic party, and the other groups are most bewildering. There are Christian Socialists and Socialists who are very much the reverse. The Zentrum has cooperated for certain purposes with the Social Democrats, which has resulted in a split in its own ranks and the formation of a new party of clerical extremists known as the Christliche Volkspartei.
Amid the welter of parties two conclusions force themselves on the observer. First, the orderly democratic elements in Germany are having a hard struggle to survive; second, it is essential for the Allies to have a responsible Government in Germany with principles approximatingto those of the democratic peoples. To such a Government alone can they look for the execution of Germany’s Treaty obligations. Yet they have taken no steps to secure this end. I often think that Europe will make final shipwreck over the mistaken idea of German military unity still so firmly screwed into popular imagination at home. Could we but grasp the profound internal cleavage of ideas and ideals in Germany itself, common-sense, if no higher consideration, might suggest the importance of strengthening the hands of the only party from which we have anything to hope.
The democratic Government which came into existence at the time of the revolution has had an impossible task. It was confronted by hunger, defeat, despair, and the miseries which resulted from the blockade. It was not a strong Government—how could it be? Democracy is but a plant of struggling growth in Germany. The nation has had no training in self-government, and the efficient bureaucracy which still more or less survives is steeped in the old bad traditions. That under these circumstances the new Government was open to suspicion at every turn is natural enough. A more far-sighted policy, however, inspired by some faith and hope for the future would have realised that these struggling democratic ideals, if feeble, were sincere and would not have withheld all help from them. Also that the powerful internal enemies, the revolutionaries on the one hand, the reactionaries on the other, were waiting their opportunity to destroy them. Such a policy, could it have illumined the councils of Versailles, might at least have seen the folly of associating the first efforts in democratic government in Germany with rebuffs and humiliations of all kinds. TheGerman working-man means to stand by the revolution, but hunger and general demoralisation are openings on which the reactionaries and revolutionaries are not slow to seize.
These reflections were driven home to me in a most emphatic way at a meeting of the Deutsche Volkspartei which was addressed by a distinguished professor from Berlin. The Deutsche Volkspartei excites peculiar wrath in Socialist circles. The Junkers and the Right Wing extremists, left to themselves, are not dangerous. But this great Conservative capitalist block, fortified? by the funds of the big business men and the “schwer Industrie,” is considered, and rightly, a formidable adversary.
The Professor’s speech was in its own way first-rate. From premises which personally I detested he developed his theme with extraordinary ability, piling argument upon argument with a cumulative force which swept everything before it. Personally I was very thankful it did not fall to my lot to answer some of the points scored.
The Gürzenich Hall was crowded on this occasion, and the fashionable ladies who sat on the platform belonged to a different world from that of the Social Democratic women of an earlier meeting. As regards the masculine supporters of the Volkspartei, I was reminded of Mr. Keynes’s famous description of the present House of Commons, “a lot of hard-faced men who looked as though they had done very well out of the war.” This was particularly the case with the chairman, who had “schwer Industrie” written all over him. The Professor’s personality was more attractive than that of many of his supporters—a grey-haired, grey-bearded man, with a fine head and full strong voice. He spoke without a note ofany kind, never once hesitating for a word. He dealt skilfully with occasional interruptions, for the meeting was not composed of unanimous supporters.
The speech began characteristically with a eulogy of Bismarck. Bismarck had been reproached for a policy of blood and iron and force. But blood and iron and force, not the pratings of the democratic visionaries of the National Assembly at Frankfurt in 1848, had created and sustained modern Germany. It was the absence of blood and iron which was responsible for their present downfall. Not that the armies in the field were ever defeated; Germany’s downfall sprang from the blockade and the fanatical hatred of England. Yet not from the blockade alone: all might have been saved but for the revolution which had brought about their final undoing. It was the traitors from within, not the enemies from without, who had finally wrecked and destroyed Bismarck’s work. Social Democracy had been the ruin of the country. It had delivered the nation tied and bound into the hands of their enemies. Democracy, what was democracy? The firstfruits of German democracy had been the Treaty of Versailles with its intolerable burdens. Belief in democratic principles; trust in the professions of democratic leaders? The speaker laughed bitterly. Had not President Wilson proclaimed that America was fighting German militarism, not the German people? Had not Lloyd George said the same thing, and that no yard of German soil was desired by the Alliance? The Social Democrats might believe these fables, on the strength of which they sold the pass to the bitter enemies of the Fatherland. The result was the Treaty of Versailles. The Socialists talked of a peace of reconciliation, of internationalrelations, of stretching out hands to the democracies in other countries. What folly to trust to such shifting sands, which had resulted in the German people being swallowed up in misery. The Social Democrats had promised them freedom. “Freedom,” said the speaker with bitter scorn; “are you free in the Rhineland?” No; there was only one way by which a happier future could be reached—the re-creation of Germany on strong nationalist lines; a Germany resting on force, purged of democratic and international follies, with her eyes fixed on herself and the principles of Bismarck well to the fore again. To do this the defeat of Social Democracy and Socialism at the polls was the first essential. A Government must be returned which would know how to safeguard the welfare of the Fatherland. Unceasing work was an essential of reconstruction; the eight hours’ day was another colossal blunder recently made. Here and there the speaker threw an occasional sop to the democratic Cerberus. Perhaps it was true that they had relied a little too much on force alone in the past, and had forgotten the old idealistic teaching of the poets and philosophers. And again the rule of bayonets was over; government now rested on the will of the people—a good old tag which appeared towards the end of the speech. If the Volkspartei have their way, how much will shortly remain of the will of the people in Germany?
Now for an English woman sitting unperceived and unrecognised among a German audience this speech was not pleasant hearing. Naturally, the speaker glided easily over the rotten ice of Germany’s responsibility for the war. He had nothing to say as to the original crime of German militarism, the real starting point of his tale ofwoe. For him history began with the Peace, an indefensible position. Nevertheless all he had to say on that subject drove home every doubt people like myself have felt as to the scrapping by the Peace of the fundamental principles for which we fought the war. The speech was a practical illustration of how the Treaty itself has played straight into the hands of the German reactionaries, how it has brought democratic professions into utter contempt, how it has made the lot of a German democratic Government practically impossible.
The speech of the evening was received with rapturous applause, though elements of dissent were not unrepresented. But, as I have said before, German political meetings are not arranged with a view to helping the heckler. It is one thing to fire off questions from the body of the hall, quite another to go upon the platform and make a reasoned speech of protest surrounded by your enemies. Even so the “discussions” are at times sufficiently lively. A nice old working-man, with clothes so patched that the original pattern had almost disappeared, sat next me in my corner. He was obviously full of protest at the speech, and obviously anxious to explain his objections to me. But the necessities of my incognito demanded strict silence, for my speech I knew would betray me if I became involved in conversation however interesting. So I was forced to assume an attitude of haughty aloofness, much though I regretted the latter.
When the Berlin gentleman sat down, another prop of the Volkspartei, an elderly and spectacled lady, advanced to the reading-desk fairly staggering under a load of MS. “Lieber Gott!” said two young men sitting in front of me when she had said half a dozen words. Seizing theirhats, they fled forthwith. I bore with the portentous dullness of the lady for a few minutes and then fled in my turn. The evening though interesting had not been agreeable. There had been too much truth in many of the taunts hurled by the Professor at the democratic professors of the Allies and their “faithful guardianship” of the principles of liberty and justice. The miserable state of confusion to which the pundits of the Peace Conference have reduced Europe is only too apparent to any one living on the Continent. But to have the moral enforced and adorned by a German is poor work for an English woman.
One outstanding impression which I have carried away from political meetings in Germany is the easy life of a German parliamentary candidate. So far as I could judge, these happy individuals saunter through a campaign with relative ease and leisure. Instead of a hectic evening spent in rushing from one meeting to another, candidates sit for hours listening to one another’s oratory. The absence of heckling and questions makes the delivery of long political treatises, which are but mildly challenged, a simple task. There are of course exceptions, and some meetings, notably Socialist ones, announce a “discussion,” at which feeling runs high. But the average German audience is very long-suffering, and tolerates bores and speeches of inordinate length which would empty an English gathering. The whole spirit of a German meeting is hostile to interruptions. I have heard a man who interjected a harmlessremark torn to pieces by the speaker, with the obvious approval of the audience.
All of which is perhaps a mark of the political inexperience of the people and that despairing German habit of taking for granted what is told them. Nowhere more than in Germany does one thank heaven for the intractability and argumentativeness of the British democracy. Intellectual docility lies at the root of many German crimes, and along the path of criticism probably lies the way of political regeneration.
Liberal and Conservative principles are much the same all the world over, and the German political parties which embody them are easy to recognize whatever their names. But the clerical element which cuts across political life in Catholic Germany has no parallel in English politics, and produces some curious eddies in the stream. The Zentrum, the orthodox Catholic Party, cannot be reproached with clericalism in the bad sense of the word. German Catholicism includes mildly Socialistic elements, and the Zentrum joined with the Social Democrats in forming the present Government. It is largely a working-class party, and stands for what we should call moderate Liberal views. But at the same time it is grounded in principles of religious education and that religious view of the State to which modern democratic feeling is increasingly hostile. Joint makers of the Coalition, no two parties at the moment abuse each other more heartily than the Zentrum and the Majority Socialists. Despite its present influence, it is difficult, therefore, to judge what the future holds for the Zentrum. Meanwhile, a certain section of zealots and intriguers have broken away from the original Catholic Party to form the Christliche Volkspartei.The seceders declare that by holding any traffic with the Social Democrats the Zentrum has been faithless to the first principles of religious education. It was incumbent on them, therefore, however heart-breaking the task, to withdraw the hem of their garments from the accursed thing and stand for Christian fundamentals in their original purity. Behind all of which professions lurks a very pretty intrigue.
I was favourably impressed at a Zentrum meeting both by the audience and the speakers. I came away feeling that they were decent people holding moderate views with honesty and a certain liberality of view. Unlike the Deutschnationale and the Volkspartei, they do not desire the destruction of the Republic, while paying it perfunctory lip-service. One speaker, a priest, declared emphatically against any restoration of the monarchy, and his remarks were received with cheers. The capitalist element was clearly unrepresented on the platform. The body of the hall was filled with the same working-class element largely represented in the crowds which flock on Sunday mornings to Cologne Cathedral. The Zentrum is a strong party, and whatever electoral successes it may win at the polls are not likely to be hostile to social reform on cautious lines.
Very different is the position as regards the seceding body, that of the Christliche Volkspartei. I attended a meeting of the new party, and fell among proceedings which were refreshingly lively. It was a curious audience, generally speaking on a plane just above working-class level, but including more well-to-do and moneyed interests. They were not a pleasant set of people. Some looked fanatics; others undiluted scamps. A large numberof women were present who cheered with great vigour. Enthusiasm was boundless, but was countered at the back of the hall by very definite opposition.
When the speakers and candidates took their place on the platform, cheers greeted the appearance of a sinister-looking priest with intrigue written all over him. This was the celebrated Father Kastert, whose political activities of late have made no small stir in the Rhineland. The various candidates got to work, and I have never heard texts and Christian ideals hurled about a platform with such vigour, and, according to English standards, with such entire lack of reserve. Several of the speakers, judging by their appearance, might have engaged in shady commerce, which made their declamations about the supreme importance of religious education the more interesting.
Shortly after the meeting began, a blind gentleman, venerable in appearance and with a large white beard, was shepherded with ostentatious care on to the platform. I suspected a trophy, judging by the exaggerated marks of respect with which he was received by Father Kastert and his friends. He was, in fact, a leading supporter of the Zentrum, who had seceded to the new party. The old gentleman was propped up, and when he began to speak, despite his tottering steps and shaking hands, proved a veritable Bull of Bashan. The Sermon on the Mount and the Temptation in the Wilderness formed part of a political pot-pourri mixed up with the misdeeds of the Social Democrats. I was sitting by chance among a nest of zealots, who greeted these remarks with hysterical applause. A youth, still wearing field grey, suddenly jumped up in emphatic protest. General uproar resulted.“Aus mit dem Kerl!” shouted several ladies round me. My spirits rose at the prospect of seeing some one turned out with German thoroughness, but the young man thought better of it, and sat down again hastily. The chairman rang his bell, and after a time the meeting proceeded. Among this curious company of hypocrites applauding principles clearly remote from their practice I was struck by one working-man candidate, who spoke with obvious sincerity as well as simplicity. No workman, he said, could look for joy in his work unless that work were grounded in Christ. Christ was the root, Christ was the foundation, Christ was the workman’s stay and support. Happily in England we do not discuss the Founder of Christianity on political platforms after the manner of this meeting. But in this solitary case the note of sincerity rang true, and I was grateful for it.
The candidates said their say, and then the real “turn” of the evening began with a lengthy discourse from Father Kastert. Father Kastert, despite all disclaimers to the contrary, is regarded as the protagonist of the Rhineland Republic, a matter about which there are many mutterings and murmurings in the Occupied Area. As such he is an object of abhorrence to all patriotic Germans. Various elements enter into the Rhineland Republic intrigue. The annexationist party in France are naturally in favour of it; good Catholics are told that self-determination for the Rhineland means getting rid of Prussian Protestant officials; clericals are promised more power in a State dominated by clerical influences; greedy financiers are heartened by the prospect of escaping any way from the full burdens of the indemnity. Every decent German looks on the movement as one of supremetreachery to the Fatherland in its hour of defeat and overthrow, and on Father Kastert as the arch-traitor.
That Father Kastert and his following are violently assailed is only natural. His lengthy speech on this occasion took the form of an apologia. His visit to General Mangin was only concerned with securing a greater measure of liberty for the Rhineland during the Occupation, and in hastening the close of the Occupation itself; away with the abominable lie that he was in French pay and serving French ends; all that he sought was to free the Rhineland from the Jewish influences rampant both in Prussia and Berlin and to secure the fullest measure of self-determination. On the whole the Father, though like all priests a good speaker, proved less of a personality than I expected. I am quite unable to judge how far the charges brought against him are just. The Christliche Volkspartei is the political instrument formed by him for carrying out his projects, whatever they may be. Father Kastert would appear to draw his support from singularly unworthy elements in German public life; people who are ready to traffic with the enemies of yesterday for the sake of such bread-and-butter advantages as may be obtained from the intercourse. A bad peace opens the door to intrigues of many kinds. But the security of Europe or France is not to be achieved by buffer states of the type contemplated by the supporters of the Rhineland Republic.
The French Chauvinists who air schemes for the annexation of the left bank of the Rhine are mischievous people. It is hard to believe that one French person endowed with a grain of good sense could lend an ear to so mad a proposal. Where Germany failed ignominiouslyin Alsace-Lorraine, the French are hardly likely to succeed in the Rhineland. But foolish talk of this character tends very appreciably to exasperate and embitter German public opinion, and brings new elements of hatred and unrest into a situation which was bad enough already. Many Germans are convinced that France intends to spring some annexationist coup upon them, and is only waiting for an opportunity to strike again. Suspicions of this kind destroy any hope of improved relations between the two countries. Goodwill can be at the best a plant of very slow and painful growth between the nations. Intrigue makes its existence impossible. The Rhine is German to the core in race, language, and sentiment. Even a whisper as to the possibility of detaching it from the rest of the country is a premium on a fresh outbreak of anger and exasperation. The unhappy situation existing in the Saar Basin may have its compensations if it provides an anti-annexationist moral too strong to be disregarded.
Polling day came and went. Despite a certain amount of nervous chatter beforehand of disturbances and riots, the elections took place in complete tranquillity. Not a dog barked through the length and breadth of Germany. In Cologne, at least, no one would have suspected that any event of importance was taking place. The ordinary Sunday crowds promenaded peacefully, as is their habit, to and fro along the Rhine. The Independent Socialists, with singular delicacy and nice feeling, plastered the outer walls of the cathedral during the night with their electioneeringplacards, and in gigantic red letters painted the words “Wahlt Liste Fries” on the threshold of the west door. Otherwise everything about the town was quiet and normal.
As for the result of the Election, it was very much what was to be expected under the circumstances—a result in the highest degree unsatisfactory, if they but knew it, to the British democracy. The reactionaries and the extreme Socialists gained at the expense of the moderate men. The Independent Socialists—the Unabhängige—negligible at the last election, increased their strength four-fold, and instead of twenty-two hold eighty-one seats in the new Reichstag. They swept the great industrial districts of the west, an ironical commentary on the hysterics of the English papers which insisted that the Ruhr disturbances were a put-up job by the German Government destined to veil a new attack on France. No less striking were the gains of the Deutsche Volkspartei, who increased their numbers from twenty-one to sixty-two seats. The Zentrum with sixty-eight instead of eighty-eight seats lost substantially, but while yielding ground was not routed. The Christliche Volkspartei was beaten off the field. The discomfiture of Father Kastert and the upholders of the Rhineland Republic was complete. The serious feature of the Elections was the downfall of the Social Democrats, the largest and most influential of the three parties forming the Müller Government. Their numbers fell from one hundred and sixty-three to one hundred and twelve. No less complete was the discomfiture of the Demokraten or Moderate Radicals—the left wing of the Bourgeois parties—who at the best lived cramped and uncomfortable lives between the Social Democratson the one hand and the Conservative groups on the other. Their numbers fell from seventy-five to forty-five seats. Secrecy of the ballot does not in Germany prohibit analysis of the totals polled, and the women’s vote taken as a whole was clearly thrown on the reactionary side. Gratitude is not a factor which counts in political life, and the Social Democrats to whom the women owe their enfranchisement suffered severely at their hands.
On the morrow of the poll, therefore, the Müller Government then in power found that its majority had disappeared, and that the Bourgeois groups reckoned together were in a majority as compared with the two Socialist parties. In the good old days for which many Germans sigh, nothing would have happened in the seats of the mighty, whatever the complexion of a Reichstag returned at a General Election. But under the new constitution established by the revolution, a Government in power must hold its authority from the elected representatives of the people. Since, however, both the Zentrum and the Demokraten had been associated with the Müller Government, a political deadlock of great difficulty at once arose. For some days the hitherings and thitherings between the various groups kept political Germany on the tiptoe of excitement. The Independent Socialists held aloof and refused entirely to be associated in any Government with the Majority Socialists. The Majority Socialists refused with equal firmness to have anything to do with a Cabinet in which their deadly enemies the Volkspartei would necessarily play a leading part. The Zentrum with its sixty-eight seats and Liberal leanings clearly held the balance of power between the conflicting parties. The political crisis lasted for a fortnight, during whichperiod Germany was practically without a Government. This state of affairs was considerably aggravated by the approach of the Spa Conference and the necessity to have a German Cabinet in existence with whom negotiations could be carried on. Finally, after many days of uncertainty, a new Coalition Government emerged with Herr Fehrenbach, the Zentrum leader, as Chancellor. The new Government is largely Zentrum with a dash of Demokraten, but the sinister influence of the Volkspartei is dominant in its counsels. The Government can command no clear majority. It is confronted with a solid block of Socialist opposition. The Social Democrats, whatever the attitude of the Independents, are not likely to hamper the new Cabinet in vital questions of external politics. But in daily life it will be forced to lead the uneasy existence of playing off the various groups against each other. It is a weak Government at a moment when strength is essential, and such strength as it possesses is largely of the wrong kind.
This upshot, as I see it, is wholly devoid of comfort to any one who desires the rehabilitation of Germany on right lines. The election is the writing on the wall which even at the eleventh hour should command the attention of the little ring of politicians who control the Entente policy. This shifting of German opinion to the right and to the left is an ominous sign. The party standing for ordered democratic development has been knocked out. The British public should try to realise it has been killed by the Allied policy. That it was worth supporting is proved by the fact that, despite heavy losses, the Social Democrats still remain the largest individual group in the new Reichstag. We have refused to discriminate betweenthe good and bad elements in political Germany. Our hand has rested as heavily on a democratic as it would rightly have done on a Junker Government. The shackles forged by the Allies have in the first place reduced the only administration to impotence to which they could look for the fulfilment of the just demands of a revised Treaty. Economic and political recovery has been made an impossibility owing to the policy pursued. As a result, hunger, despair, and general misery have driven large sections of the working-classes into the arms of the Communists. They have lost faith and hope in a constitutional party whose weakness has been so great. They are out for the short cut of violent means in order to better conditions which they regard as intolerable.
Meanwhile the Deutsche Volkspartei and all the wealthy and reactionary elements in the country have been no less eager to stamp upon the smoking flax of a democratic Germany. On the Friday and Saturday before the poll I attended meetings respectively of the Volkspartei and the Social Democrats. In each case speeches were made typical of the two sets of ideas at war in Germany to-day. On this occasion the Volkspartei speakers hardly took the trouble to camouflage their real opinions, though one pastor spoke eloquently of the “Liberalisms” of which they were the guardians—a claim which moved me to secret mirth. The arguments were developed on the same lines as those I have described above, only on this occasion the cloven hoof was still more obvious. The revolution and the Republic were the root causes of Germany’s present misery. The view of the Volkspartei that a Constitutional Monarchy was the best form of government was unchanged, though they “accepted” the Republic.Soon they hoped the old red and white and black colours would wave over them again—a remark which roused frantic applause from the large and enthusiastic audience. Internationalism and the League of Nations were condemned in unsparing terms. Who were the Allies to advance these principles? Let them cease to boycott Germans in all parts of the world, and let France bring to an end the scandal of her black troops in the Occupied Areas. Then they might begin to talk about internationalism. As for England, no country pursued its policy with more consistent and single-eyed devotion to its own interests. Germany could only be remade on the basis of a strong and efficient nationalism. A new spirit was abroad in the land and, granted the defeat of the Socialists and Social Democrats, all that had been lost might be regained.
Very different was the tone and temper of the meeting of the Social Democrats on the following night. From first to last not one word was said with which I, as an English Liberal, was out of harmony. Any democratic audience in Great Britain would have found itself in entire sympathy with the general views expressed. The audience was typically working-class; quiet, orderly people, who made on me an unmistakable impression of underfeeding and suffering. The shabby field-grey uniforms converted to civilian use served to heighten the curious earthen look noticeable on so many faces here. Food is plentiful now in the Occupied Area, but the cost of living is so high, many families remain ill-nourished. Fresh milk is unobtainable; during the many months I have been in Cologne I have never seen a drop. Over and over again the same question is driven home with overwhelmingforce: can even the most volatile and opportunist of politicians imagine that the unspecified millions of the indemnity, or, indeed, any indemnity at all, can be collected from a nation which is not in a position to eat or work?
Herr Meerfeld, the leader of the Social Democrats in Cologne, and Frau Röhl were the principal speakers at this final gathering. Both were members of the National Assembly; Frau Röhl unfortunately has not survived the deluge which has overwhelmed many of her colleagues. A capable-looking woman with golden hair, she reminded me a little of Mary Macarthur, though lacking in the magnetism and stature, moral no less than physical, of the English trade-union leader. Herr Meerfeld’s speech was a merciless indictment of the former militarist Government and its colossal blunders in connection with the war. In his first words he struck the keynote of all that followed: “We will have no more war. What we want in future is a ‘Peace-Kultur’”—that untranslatable word which in so many varied forms finds its place in the political utterances of all parties—“we seek a revision of the Treaty of Versailles, but we seek it through a policy of reconciliation and understanding with the democracies in other countries.” The failures of the military party to make peace when an honourable peace was still possible, the rejection of President Wilson’s offers of mediation, the folly and crime of the unrestricted U-boat campaign—all these subjects were handled in a spirit which astonished me. A pamphlet on sale at the meeting, “Wer trägt die Schuld an unserem Elend?” (Who bears the responsibility for our misery?), of which I bought a copy, was packed with a damning array of facts, many of themunknown to me, as to the part played by the Kaiser’s Government during the war. “The German people have been lied to, and deceived, and betrayed,” cried the speaker. “We were told that the U-boat campaign would bring England to her knees in three months!” German mentality is a baffling thing, but I hardly expected that this remark would be received with shouts of good-natured laughter. The long arm of England’s sea-power has been no laughing matter for Germany, but throughout this campaign I was specially struck with the absence of hostility shown to England. Even at the Volkspartei meetings I listened in vain for the note which shows itself unmistakable when an audience is deeply roused. The justice and fair dealing which have marked the British Occupation have contributed primarily to this end.
A quaint little woman dressed in black came on to the platform to make a few remarks during the discussion. At first she was almost inaudible, but her voice gathered force and courage as she proceeded. She had been a Red Cross nurse during the war, so she said. Nothing could have been more scandalous than the pilfering by the officers in charge of stores and comforts destined for wounded men. She had to stand by helplessly and watch robbery and corruption of all kinds going on at the expense of the sufferers. “These heroes who filled their pockets,” she concluded naïvely, “always declared they were great patriots. Please vote to-morrow for the patriotism of the Social Democrats, which won’t rob sick men.” Even more pathetic was the appeal of a working-man on whom disease had clearly laid a fatal hand. He addressed the meeting as “dear brothers and sisters,” which raised a laugh. But there was nothing comic aboutthe few words spoken. He had starved, so he said, during the war. Wars meant nothing but misery and starvation. Let them support the Social Democrats and then there would be no more war. He was followed by a Communist youth, who in languid and superior tones struck the first note of dissent by adjuring those present at the meeting not to vote at all. If, however, they felt irresistibly driven to the polls, the only mitigation of a bad act would be to vote for the Independent Socialists. General uproar resulted from this advice, a fat man near me rising from his seat and shouting with fury, “I know how you’ll vote. You’re the sort that votes Zentrum.” The Communist highbrow did not stop to see the end of the storm he had provoked, but, having said his say, discreetly fled before Herr Meerfeld could deliver a highly chastening reply. He left the hall pursued by the execrations of my neighbour, who showed signs of vaulting over the chairs and continuing the argument in more forcible fashion in the street. The general tone of the meeting, apart from this incident, was serious and appreciative, but it lacked any of that electric quality which thrills a party on the eve of victory. I came away uneasy as to the result—an uneasiness more than justified by the issue.
As for the future, it lies, as I write, on the knees of dark and doubtful gods. The British people found it hard to acquire the habit of war and to make war thoroughly. To-day it seems as hard a task to recover the habit of peace and make peace thoroughly. As I have said before, so long as we persist in regarding Germany as a political unit solidly inspired by the old military spirit, and of using a sledge-hammer to it on all occasions, the resettlement of Europe becomes an impossibility. Themoral of the Kapp Putsch has been completely ignored in Allied countries. Yet it was highly suggestive as to the changed conditions which now rule. A militarist plot was nipped in the bud by the German working-classes who retaliated with the weapon of a general strike. I do not know what better proof of good faith the German democrats could have given as to their determination to have no more to do with the old régime. The cry of “give us back our Junkers” will never arise unless democracy itself is wholly discredited. We can take no risks with Germany, and there is no question of her escape from the penalties of the war she provoked, and the burdens which in consequence she must bear. Common-sense points, however, to the Allies giving a fair chance to the democratic elements from whom, and from whom alone, we have anything to hope as regards the future. We may make Germany’s burden impossible, in which case, sooner or later, general collapse and chaos must follow—chaos and collapse which will certainly not be confined within the borders of this country. Or we may make the burden possible, and not deny a place for repentance to the men and women who are struggling against heavy odds to remake their country on principles which are the basis of our own freedom.