My Battle Against Hitler Read online

  Weber was very likeable and unaffected. He was then a man of perhaps forty-two. He came across as both adroit and intelligent, though with the impression that he came from a very simple family. He was not a lordly type. I think he had previously been an elementary school teacher. He was completely devoted to Dollfuss and totally given over to his role as adjutant. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be. On parting, he gave me my stipend for October, despite the fact that the month was almost over. But of course, the money was extremely welcome. One can imagine how I elated I felt as I left to tell Klaus about all of this.

  I no longer quite recall whether I went again to inform Wolf of all the developments. It seems I did because I was in for a huge surprise the following morning—an unpleasant experience which in fact presupposes that I had met with Wolf again. The next morning I entered a café at the Ring near the University. Three men sat at a table.

  One was Eugen Kogon,*61 whom I had met previously at the first Hochschulwoche in Salzburg. He was the editor of Schönere Zukunft,*62 the Catholic journal published by Eberle.*63 The journal was sympathetic to Nazism; at least it never adopted a clear stance against National Socialism. The reason was probably that the journal had 1,600 readers in Germany so that a ban on selling it in Germany would have been a heavy financial blow for Eberle. Yet it was precisely their stance toward Nazism which, among other reasons, necessitated the creation of the journal I envisioned. So Kogon was naturally an opponent of my plans at that moment.

  The second man was a certain Flor.*64 He had once come to visit me in Munich and the impression he had made was not confidence-inspiring. The third was a rather harmless man, whom I also knew but whose name I have forgotten. As soon as I entered, Flor came rushing over to me. The other two men also greeted me. “Allow me to congratulate you,” said Flor, “on the realization of your plans. Now everything is taken care of for you.” I was amazed, speechless, in fact. How could Flor know about my conversations with Dollfuss and with Weber? I replied evasively and asked, “And how would you know about this?” “Oh, I know everything—I always find out about everything.” He then began to list all the details regarding the establishment of the journal which I had discussed with Weber.

  This made me exceedingly uncomfortable, especially the fact that Flor and even Kogon knew everything. I could only conceive of one explanation, namely that Wolf had told them, which struck me as a serious indiscretion on his part. This marked the beginning of a certain reserve in me toward Wolf. But there was still much more that was soon to come. Brüll and Marcuse were naturally very disappointed that they were being turned down as financial contributors to the journal. Probably they had been hoping to secure a source of income. But above all it would have been somewhat flattering for them to be involved with a semi-official journal.

  When I left from Salzburg that evening,*65 I boarded a train that was coming from Germany. It was very crowded and the compartment I entered was entirely filled with Jews—Jews who were emigrating, some to Palestine, others to America. They seemed very frightened. At first they looked at me with distrust. When I began speaking about Hitler and National Socialism in very harsh terms, they grew alarmed since even now it struck them as dangerous to speak openly about Nazism. But after a little while they began to warm up and to tell me about themselves.

  I was deeply moved at how nobly they bore their suffering. They showed none of the embittered anger of Klemperer. On the contrary, they spoke about how beautiful it had once been in Germany; they spoke with love about the true Germany and about their great sorrow in now having to leave.

  One of them told me in detail of all the disgraceful humiliations he had endured, such as the time a classmate, who had joined the SA, slapped him in the face for going into a café with an Aryan woman. He had to endure it; otherwise he would have been sent to the concentration camp. He said to me, “You can only imagine how humiliating it was for me in the presence of the girl who was a friend of mine.” I spent almost all night, until our arrival in Villach, in conversation with these poor Jews, to whom I felt myself so drawn. They had undergone so much, and yet it was nothing compared to what was yet to come.

  Having returned to Florence following his successful meeting with Dollfuss, von Hildebrand gathered Gretchen and Franzi and moved to Vienna at the end of October.

  The task awaiting me in Vienna filled me with hope and anticipation, for I was being given the chance to do battle with the Antichrist in Nazism and Bolshevism and to fight for an independent and Catholic Austria. As far as my task was concerned, I felt I was approaching a new and deeply meaningful life.

  The Breitenfelds had written us to say that we should stay with them at their apartment in Vienna until we had found a suitable apartment. This was extraordinarily friendly and a great relief for us. They picked us up at the train station and welcomed us with great warmth. In fact, they were meeting Gretchen and Franzi for the first time.

  We now entered a period of incredible intensity, one of those which in hindsight cause one to marvel at everything that occurred in such a short time. I will now describe this time, which spanned from the end of October 1933 (perhaps the 27th) through Christmas, so not even two months. Klaus and Anneli naturally came to greet us the day after our arrival, and it was then that Breitenfeld first met Klaus. Breitenfeld immediately liked “Kläuschen,” as he called him. He was enthusiastic and greatly impressed by Klaus’ unusually sharp eye for politics. Breitenfeld soon had Klaus engaged in lively conversation.

  My first visit of course was to Weber. He was very friendly as he greeted me, but I could sense that many obstacles still remained to be overcome before the journal could appear. Weber began by urging me to hire a young Austrian journalist to serve as the editor. I did not relent, of course, insisting that I absolutely needed to have Klaus Dohrn for the journal, that I could only work with him, that he was indispensable for me. Weber relented. Next we discussed the question of salaries. I told him Klaus Dohrn had to receive 600 schillings. He responded that this was far too much for such a young man who was just a beginner in journalism (Klaus was twenty-five years old at the time).

  When he asked me how much salary I would require as the publisher, I responded with surprise, “What, am I still to be paid more? I am already receiving 1,000 schillings.” Weber replied, “But that is something different. It is taken from a special fund for special circumstances and is meant to secure your livelihood. You must also receive something for your work with the journal.” It was very naïve of me to have said this to him. I hadn’t realized that these 1,000 schillings were an allowance, allocated for a period of six months to sustain me until I received the professorship. For the time being, this allowance was guaranteed for six months.

  Obviously as publisher of the journal I needed to receive a stipend that was entirely separate from the allowance. Even if I had immediately been made professor, it would still have been necessary to be compensated separately for the journal. Weber thought that I should receive 600 schillings, while 400 would be enough for Klaus. I responded, “In that case, give me just 500 schillings and 600 to Klaus Dohrn.” Shaking his head, he yielded. At my pressing request, 250 schillings were also allotted for my secretary.

  Several questions remained open but Weber was not yet prepared to commit himself one way or another. Who would own the journal? When would we start the journal? Weber was of the opinion that the underlying owner of the journal should be an association. The reason was that the journal was not an official publication, even if the government was providing the startup money. But exactly whom we would involve he still wanted to leave open. I wanted to have people who would not interfere in my work, but naturally I could hardly object to having certain prominent people as members of this association. Among others I even thought of Wilhelm Wolf as a potential member, still considering him to be relatively reliable. It had been settled, as I already mentioned, that the government would invest 25,000 schillings for the creation of the journal. The jour
nal would eventually have to become self-sustaining.

  I sensed that Weber, and also Dollfuss, still hesitated to launch the journal since they hoped it could be done without driving Schönere Zukunft into a position of hostility. To this end, they wanted to draw certain people into collaboration to prevent them from complaining that they had not been given an official position. I did not grasp all of this at the time (and only later did I realize it), but I felt their hesitation, which of course made me anxious. There were still other questions. Who would print and distribute the journal? Above all, what would it be called?

  Actually, for the distribution I already had my eye on someone, namely the publisher and bookseller Ferdinand Baumgartner. I think I had already met him on my second visit to Vienna at the beginning of October. He and his wife had once been protégées of Stonner, at whose request I had given Baumgartner my essays on Fundamental Moral Attitudes5 for publication. In any case, Baumgartner was, as I say, a publisher and bookseller. He sought me out together with his wife. I liked him very much thanks to his kindness and piety. He was very interested in my plan for the journal and was eager to take over the distribution. I had great confidence in him and I promised to hire him. Funder suggested we use the printer used by the Reichspost, called Prohaszka, and so we requested a cost estimate.

  But all of this only began to develop in early November. The only thing that took place before the Breitenfelds left Vienna was the discussion with Weber, which I have already described, and perhaps also some conversations with Baumgartner.

  These days in Vienna were primarily filled by the time we spent with the Breitenfelds and finding an apartment for ourselves. The Breitenfelds told us about friends of theirs who had their sights on a splendid apartment by St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which was not terribly expensive. Their friends, however, were not able to move in for another two years and perhaps not at all. We could get this apartment if we promised to vacate in the event that they wanted to move in after two years. We went to see the apartment and it really was exceptional. The location was extraordinary. The house sat on the left side of the cathedral (when facing the façade of St. Stephen’s). The auxiliary bishop Kamprath lived on the first floor.

  From the third floor (where the apartment was) the view was of the left side of the cathedral and of the wonderful Baroque monument to St. John of Capistrano, which is built into the side of the cathedral. What an entire world of unbelievable beauty, greatness, and nobility! The house was a fine building, not a magnificent baroque palace, but about a hundred years old and defined by simple, elegant lines. Nothing in the construction was distasteful, and a great elegant stone staircase lent a stately quality to the whole.

  We hoped to bring our beautiful furniture from Munich to furnish the new apartment. This was not easy, of course, because emigration from Germany was often penalized by a special tax known as the “Reichsfluchtsteuer,” or “Reich Flight Tax.” In the case of politically suspect persons their property, and if they tried to leave Germany, even their furniture could be confiscated.

  We hired the excellent mover Perl in Vienna to pack up all of our furniture in the Maria-Theresia Strasse, which was then officially shipped to Budapest. We did this because Hungary was on relatively good terms with Nazi Germany and because shipments there were regarded with less suspicion than those to Austria. Since the furniture went to Budapest via boat on the Danube, it passed right through Vienna where it could easily be picked up by Perl and brought to our apartment. Perl’s agent, with whom I dealt, was a Jew who could not have been friendlier or more thoughtful. He fully understood the situation and promised to arrange everything as cautiously as possible. We realized it would take several weeks for our furniture to arrive, and naturally we were very concerned whether our things would even make it out of Germany. We anticipated being able to move in around December 12.

  Martha*66 later recounted the entire drama of the furniture to Gretchen. When objections were raised, Martha went directly to the official who did not want to permit the furniture to leave, i.e., she went to the director of the office in question. Greeting him with an emphatic “Heil Hitler,” Martha began protesting energetically how unjust it was to make difficulties for the son of Adolf von Hildebrand, whom the Führer had so often praised, when for professional reasons he had to leave Germany. She came across so forcefully, not just as a National Socialist but also in her insistence that the furniture had to go, that she pulled it off. The furniture arrived in fine condition, and the apartment looked splendid. This marked the beginning of an entirely new life for us in Vienna.

  One day Aurel Kolnai*67 came to visit me at the Breitenfelds' apartment. I had already heard about him on several occasions. A Jewish convert, he had previously worked, I think, at Schönere Zukunft. He was also the author of a book about sexual ethics. From afar he had always struck me as very talented. In greeting me he expressed his happiness at my coming and how he considered himself my student. I wanted to approach him in a spirit of friendship, but Breitenfeld stayed throughout almost as if he wanted to protect me from Kolnai. Breitenfeld kept asking him uncomfortable questions about his acquaintances, especially about Ernst Karl Winter,*68 which were really intended to force Kolnai to say things that would “expose” him before me.

  The situation was terribly embarrassing for me, and I was irked by my friend’s pronounced unfriendliness. He was too biased toward anyone with a leftward leaning, while for me the only thing that mattered at this moment was a resolute anti-totalitarian commitment, an opposition toward both Nazism and Communism. It is true that I had no sympathy for the Austrian socialists, but with a Catholic who was a very gifted philosopher and who approached me amicably and with respect, the fact that he had left-leaning sympathies was no reason to treat him in an unfriendly way. I had already heard about Ernst Karl Winter, primarily through his debate with Moenius*69—which was actually an open letter exchange in Moenius’ journal. Breitenfeld now told me that Winter had been a great opponent of Seipel,*70 and that Kolnai belonged to his circle. Poor, dear Kolnai, how unjust I was toward him, and after an unhappy conversation he left the apartment disappointed.

  Von Hildebrand had hoped to be appointed visiting professor at the University of Salzburg until a position became available at the University of Vienna. Around this time, he was told that his envisioned anti-Nazi activities in Vienna would expose the theological faculty in Salzburg, which was financially dependent on the German bishops, to the wrath of the Nazis. Thanks to the intervention of von Hildebrand’s friend and confessor, Fr. Alois Mager, OSB, the faculty in Salzburg finally agreed to appoint him, provided he did not seek to give any courses.

  The coming period was totally taken up with preparations for the appearance of the journal. There were still various difficulties to be overcome, as I already mentioned. I recall a conversation with Weber in which he told me how he had been in Döbling in an attempt to convince Eberle that he should somehow unite Schönere Zukunft with the journal I was planning. Whether Weber thought I should conduct my battle against National Socialism as the editor of Schönere Zukunft, or whether he thought that Eberle should participate in the new journal, in any case, it was an attempt to draw Eberle in so that my journal would not be founded as a rival enterprise. I was very happy to hear that this attempt by Weber had totally failed. Eberle wanted to hear nothing of it and showed no inclination to altering the political orientation of his journal. In this, I had taken a significant step forward, for the attempt to avoid establishing a new journal or at least to combine it with something already existing would have cost me the freedom to structure everything as it seemed right and good to me!

  On another occasion, Weber told me to visit Mataja*71 because Dollfuss very much hoped that he could also be drawn into the establishment of the new journal, perhaps even that he would serve as publisher along with me. The reason for Dollfuss’ hope was quite transparent to me and Klaus. Having previously served as Minister and having played a major role in the Christia
n Social Party, Mataja was now on the sidelines. To prevent him from falling into the opposition, Dollfuss wanted to see Mataja drawn to a task that would tie him to the new government without actually giving him a position in the government itself.

  This idea made me very uncomfortable, but naturally I could hardly refuse Weber’s request. As I arrived one sunny morning to meet with Mataja, I was pleasantly surprised both by his friendliness and also by the fact that he immediately stated, “I have no intention whatsoever to participate in the publication of your journal.” I responded that I still hoped he would contribute articles, an invitation he neither declined nor accepted.

  Mataja was an impressive personality. His stature was large and he had an intelligent and attractive face. He must have been about sixty at the time. Several years earlier he had suffered a bad case of meningitis, which left him in fragile health. His tremendous intellectual vitality, however, was undiminished. I would later get to know him well and would come to appreciate him. Our first encounter passed quickly and somewhat formally. The situation was really quite embarrassing for us both, and he spoke as if to emphasize very clearly, “Have no concern, I will not accept.” Being quite clever, he had apparently recognized that the government was trying to compensate him for his non-involvement in the Dollfuss administration, that is, for being excluded from politics, and he did not want to take the bait.

  One day as we were eating lunch at a good but simple restaurant on the Gumpendorfer Strasse, a piece of music came on the radio which I momentarily mistook for a piece by Braunfels but then immediately recognized as the dance of the sylphs from The Damnation of Faust of Berlioz. Walter had once composed a very similar piece. To my great joy, this music of Berlioz was followed by a piece of Walter’s, namely the charming wedding of the doves from his opera, The Birds. I can scarcely describe how happy I felt and how moved. Just when Walter’s music was prohibited in Germany as Jewish music, suddenly to hear the unique voice of his music on the radio in Vienna was deeply moving. But above all, I was able to perceive the entire beautiful world of his music, its great poetry, warmth, and inner joy—this music which was so deeply bound up with my own life, so interwoven with the great and significant times of my life.