"German-French Enmity Kept Alive By France Alone."

New York Times 100 years ago today, July 13, 1913:
That Is the Gist of What Maximilian Harden, Sudermann, the Late von Kiderlen-Waechter, and Other Eminent Germans Said in a Series of Remarkable Interviews.    RECENTLY Le Figaro, the well-known Paris daily, decided to find out what Germans thought of France.
    So it sent into Germany a representative, instructing him to seek out and interview leading Germans in different walks of life and deduce from what they said, whether Germany's attitude was one of friendship or hostility toward her neighbor beyond the Rhine; whether the triumphs of 1870-1871 were looked upon as the first in a series of military glories or as something definitive of the past, to be remembered only as a basis on which to construct lasting peace.
    M. Georges Bourdon, the man who undertook the mission, has published the results of it in a book called "The German Enigma," which has just made its appearance in Paris. He talked with the late Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter, who, as Minister of Foreign Affairs of the German Empire, became famous through the Agadir incident; with Maximilian Harden, editor of Die Kukunft, whose sensational attack on members of the Kaiser's entourage gave him worldwide celebrity; with Hermann Sudermann, the great dramatist; Theodor Wolff, one of Berlin's foremost editors, and many other prominent Germans, including statesmen, members of the nobility, journalists, financiers, and university men.
    What they told him, says M. Bourdon, worked a radical change in some of his preconceived notions. In the eyes of Germans, it would appear, the feeling of hostility between Germany and France is kept alive by France alone. France it is, they say, who glowers irreconcilably, who nullifies Germany's insistent efforts at conciliation, who makes necessary Germany's attitude of watchfulness and preparedness for war.
    In the opinion of some of them — Maximilian Harden is one — the best way to bury the hatchet would be to effect a Franco-German alliance. To those accustomed to look upon the two nations as natural enemies, eager to leap again at each other's throat, such a suggestion must bring a shock. But it is advanced in all seriousness as something not only desirable, but well within the bounds of possibility. M. Bourdon saw Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter at Bad Kissingen a few months before his death. The late German Minister of Foreign Affairs is considered by most Frenchmen to have been distinctly hostile to their country. The Agadir incident, they think, was caused by him and intended as a direct menace to the French Republic.

A Friend of France.
    But the Figaro representative got quite a different impression from various conversations which he had with the late statesman. He showed himself, according to M. Bourdon, not only a stanch friend of peace with France but of peace in general.
    But he was no Utopian about it. He distinctly said that he did not believe in universal disarmament, and, when pressed for an explanation of his attitude, he remarked:
    "Do you think that, because two or three nations proclaimed a general disarmament, they would bring it about? How about it if a fourth nation should refuse for some pretext to follow their lead. How could it be forced to disarm unless the other nations had under arms a sufficient force to compel it to do so? Thus, by a roundabout way, we come back to the idea of organized force — not for war, but for peace.
    "Also bear this in mind — suppose both of our countries decided on disarmament. Suppose I say to you: 'There are 40,000,000 of you, 65,000,000 of us. Therefore, you shall have 200,000 men we 300,000.' Would you accept such a thing?
    "Or assume that we agree to keep 250,000 each. You have two years' service, we three. Therefore you would have more trained men than we, or vice versa. So you see what practical difficulties arise when one studies the problem."
    "At all events," said the Frenchman, "the primary condition of disarmament would be a lasting entente between Germany and France. Do you consider it possible?"
    "Certainly," answered the German statesman, "but even that would not solve the problem."
    From the interview with Herr von Kiderlen-Waechter, which may be considered as the expression of a Governmental point of view, we turn to that of the brilliant exponent of "agin-the-Governmentism," Maximilian Harden, editor of Die Zukunft, the "enfant terrible" of German politics, regarded in Government circles with mingled aversion and fear.
    M. Bourdon found him at his home in Grunewald, which, according to his description, has practically no furniture except books, heaps of them, thousands of them, piled from the floor to the celling, on the chairs, on the tables. The French observer gives an interesting description of this man, whose name rang through the world a few years ago, when he dared to assail the innermost circle of the Kaiser's intimates to wage a seemingly hopeless fight against some of the noblest personages in that bristling feudal keep of nobility — Prussia.
    "His movements are slow, his voice nonchalant," we are told. "In his expression there is something of caution, of disquiet; in his glance something caressing yet cruel. He smells of the jungle. It is easy to guess that he was made for plans that take long to mature, for patient waiting, for daring decisions, for savage springing on his prey, for implacable execution of his designs. A singular personage!
    "And what a surprise to find, in this apparent beast of prey, an exact, painstaking, skillful disputant, who has aimed certain blows with a methodical accuracy that has made them echo in illustrious homes!"
    "You are not reckoned a friend of France among us," said Harden's visitor by way of opening. Harden shrugged his shoulders and answered:
    "One must allow those who know nothing to talk. A public man must expect injustice."
    "Do you believe in the existence of a public opinion here capable of collective thought and will?" asked the journalist from Paris. And Maximilian Harden replied:
    "No. There is nothing in Germany corresponding to what you have in France. The German 'bourgeois' is absorbed in his affairs, in his work, in his money. He has neither the time nor the inclination to think about politics. He finds that it is better to leave that to those who rule. Thus, our masters act pretty much as they please; they are not under very immediate control or surveillance. The people don't bother them much — they are very well behaved — with the exception of the Social Democrats.

No Love for War.
    "But this does not imply that the masses of the people are not imbued with general ideas. One of these is most assuredly the belief in peace. Few people want war; there is far too much need of peace. War would jeopardize the results of forty years of effort which have given great economic power to Germany. Those who bear that in mind cannot desire war. With us war is not loved for its own sake.
    "And now I will go further and say that, in so far as France is concerned, this pacific attitude is more pronounced, that nobody is really hostile to it, that people by no means consider France 'the necessary enemy.'
    "Nevertheless the problem is not simple. Do not certain signs show us that there is a France obsessed by warlike ardor, on the point of renouncing wisdom? * * *
    "But these evidences of French impatience do not surprise us very greatly. People in Germany are pretty generally of the opinion that the constant and imperious desire of France is to regain possession of Alsace-Lorraine, and that all her acts are subordinated to that controlling desire."
    Harden admitted that there have been times when the German policy was such as to alienate French good will. On this point he said:
    "I understand your attitude to a certain extent. I can see how Germany's policy must have wounded French feelings at times. But It is necessary that you understand, on the other hand, that you have often been mistaken as to the feeling in Germany toward you. The German people are not guilty of engendering the friction of which you have justly complained now and then; they had nothing at all to do with it. This friction was engendered in the Government offices, to which the true opinion of Germany is not admitted.
    "If it be true that France cannot bring herself to forget a misfortune, a great one, certainly, but such as every nation has known; a misfortune which by no means stains her honor, but which is all the more galling to her because it is almost alone in her glorious history; if this be true, we Germans, then, have the right to pay close heed to a state of affairs that is not without danger — and we have the right to choose our own time.
    "If I have a neighbor who never ceases from planning vengeance upon me, who, far from concealing this, announces loudly that he means to get even with me, the elementary right of defense and precaution permits me to say for my part: 'If I must fight, then it will be in my own good time.'
    "For I must beg to observe to you, with all due discretion, that we have looked on for forty years at a spectacle that is, so far as I know, unique in history.
    "I can understand how a nation can hate, how it can declare war, how, even, it can make war. But it is paradoxical, it is inconceivable, it is — excuse the word — unallowable, that this nation should never cease from repeating:
    "'I wish peace, but I wish it only while I am waiting for something better, and the time will come when—'
    "Both nations, I think, ought to renounce their present attitudes. Nor is that enough. If they reflect, they will see that an alliance between them would be better than peace.
    "Why not? Forget Alsace-Lorraine, and nothing else stands between us. France wishes nothing else from Germany; Germany wishes nothing else from France.
    "We must look to the future. For our two countries I see only two alternatives: to continue in bitter, unsatisfactory, hostile, and dangerous relations toward one another, or to join in a formal alliance. If the two combine, the peace of the world will be assured — assured by their own free will, for their common interest.
    "And are the two not made for getting along well together? Do not they complement each other admirably? What might not one expect of that splendid flame, France, and of that rather heavy force, Germany, when they are inspired by a common thought?
    "Will it come soon? Well, as long as the French persist in the attitude they have adopted, as long as they rejoice in German misfortunes and contribute, when necessary, toward aggravating them, such an 'entente' will assuredly be very difficult of accomplishment. The French should understand that it depends on themselves alone, that nowhere in Germany is there any ill-feeling against them."
    "An alliance?" said M. Bourdon. "The word is easily spoken. But how can it be brought about?"
    And Harden immediately took him up with:
    "Is it, after all, so chimerical to hope that some day France will consent to allow bygones to be bygones for the simple reason that she cannot find a solitary German willing to dispute about them again?
    "The Anglo-French alliance — that is entirely artificial. Between the two countries there is no point of contact. Among all the nations on the face of the earth the English is the one that understands you least. On the other hand, how much the union of our two countries would accomplish!
    "The empire, I tell you again, wishes nothing from the republic — not the smallest piece of territory in Europe or elsewhere. All it wishes is that the republic be no longer the centre and hope of every hostile design on Germany — no more, no less."
    Taking up the possibility of another Franco-German war, Harden declared that it would bring no lasting benefit to the victor. The vanquished would simply lay plans for vengeance, not for his own good, but for that of a third party, a fisher in troubled waters — "first, the American; later, the yellow man," thus bringing about the complete destruction of Europe.
    At the close of the interview Harden, alluding to his advice that France forget the past and become a friend of Germany, observed with ominous import:
    "Would that be buying security, peace, a future, at too high a price? Let us reflect — but not for too long!" Those last words stuck in the Frenchman's mind. "Not for too long!" What did the German mean? So, when he reached his hotel he wrote to Harden:
    "Not for too long? Why not?" The next day he received this note: "In order to save ourselves from the saddest words in the history of nations, from the fatal words, Too late!" And the Frenchman remarks: "I had seen the claws of the beast!"

Sudermann's Views.
    Hermann Sudermann, the world-renowned dramatist, was as emphatic as Maximilian Harden on the subject, of the responsibility of France for the unsatisfactory state of Franco-German relations.
    "You Frenchmen are all alike," he exclaimed. "When I go to Paris and see to what extent people are deluded as to Germany's sentiments I don't know what to say to you. I feel like crying out: 'You are mistaken! You are being lied to! You are lying to yourselves!' And I dream about articles, about lectures, about an entire propaganda, which, unfortunately, I cannot undertake, but which would be so useful for persuading France that she is just imagining things.
    "Yes, sir, all your suppositions, all your beliefs, are phantoms. Throughout Germany there is nothing but friendliness toward France, and what comes from France. I have never met any one who did not look on the very possibility of another war as a calamity.
    "I swear to that — It is the absolute truth. All else is illusion and deceit."
    The dramatist waxed excited. He turned toward the window of the room in which the interview was being held and looked outward, seeming to invoke the trees bathed in sunshine. With eloquent gestures, he continued:
    "Germany hostile? Make a comparison, I beg of you. In your caricatures, your books, your plays, your music halls, what part do you assign to the German? He is an obnoxious, gross person, who does not know how to dress, who eats gluttonously, does not know how to carry himself — a creature of shady deals, questionable bargains, mean treasons; in short, an infamous character, one who is despised, dishonored, detested — that is the German always.
    "What of the other side of the picture? Travel through Germany, go into our theatres and music halls, look at our comic papers — in Berlin, Frankfort, Breslau, Munich. Wherever a Frenchman is depicted, he is always a likable character, playing a likable rôle.
    "It would be too hard a task if I should try to show what French literature, from Maupassant down, has done for us. It is best not to press the point. Anyhow, believe me, on this subject as well as on many others, our literature and our drama reflect, unconsciously or not, the ideas and leanings common to the German people. All those of my generation have been educated to look upon France with sentiments of respect and friendship. What I say to you would be said by any educated German."
    The French journalist remarked that Germany was considered pretty generally a military nation, one in which education had as its primary object the inculcation of military discipline. The great dramatist brushed all that aside. Germany, he said, is military in the sense that it loves its army, in which it sees a guarantee of German independence — no more than that.
    "Which of our wars," he asked, "would inspire in a German child the lust of conquest? Despite all that is thought and said of conquering Germanism, Prussia and Germany, since the Middle Ages, have never fought except to defend themselves.
    "The last war, the great war, is the most striking instance of what I say. Let me tell you that, as we look at it, Alsace has not been conquered, but taken back. According to the national belief, Germany had been deprived of a land that was her property, where her language was spoken. I can remember a popular song which was taught me when I was six years old, several years before 1870, which ran: 'Oh, Strassburg, oh, Strassburg, most beautiful city.'"

Sulky France.
    Suderman also spoke in favor of an "entente" between Germany and France, and declared that he considered it a possibility of the future. Like Harden, he added: "The secret of how that entente may be brought about lies with you."
    "We bring to you," he went on, "our sympathetic attitude, our esteem, our desire for friendship. We are concealing no hostility. We are industrious and peaceful. Cannot you convince yourselves that these sentiments are sincere?
    "What more can we do? Nations are like children. If one sulks, the other does not dare go near it. You sulk all the time."
    Herr Theodor Wolff, head of the Berliner Tageblatt, one of the most influential journals of the German capital, told the Figaro's representative that one of the reasons for France's distrust and dislike toward Germany was the character of the news sent home by the German correspondents of French newspapers. Whereas, he said, German correspondents in France sought to give their readers a picture of France and the French, most of the French correspondents in Germany, instead of thinking of Germany, concerned themselves only with France, and reported to their home offices only those phases of German life into which something French was mixed.
    Always, according to him, these correspondents are "feeling the pulse of public opinion" — one would suppose that the only important thing in Germany was anxiety as to how Franco-German relations were getting along.
    True to this conception of a French journalist, M. Bourdon asked:
    "What does German opinion say just at present?"
    The German editor replied:
    "It says it wants peace, that it never wanted anything but peace, that it could never understand the rumors of war that came from your direction in 1911. In this it agrees with the Government.
    "I am telling you the truth. For fifteen years the Emperor, the Government and public sentiment have done everything possible toward reconciliation with you. They have received nothing but rebuffs."
    Some of M. Bourdon's most interesting conversations were with a class that is especially respected in Germany — university professors. And among these the most vigorously outspoken was Prof. Adolf Wagner.
    The latter stated repeatedly that Germany was a peacefully inclined nation. The French visitor ventured to remark that, nevertheless, German education was military in character.
    "How," he inquired, "are German school children taught German history? Simply by having drilled into them the dates of German victories and defeats."
    "That is not so!" the professor interposed heatedly. "We teach history, the whole of history. Can one eliminate war from it?

French Military Pride.
    "And it is a Frenchman who reproaches us with such a thing! Is not the entire history of France, from the days of Caesar, a long chronicle of war and conquest? The glory of which you are proudest is your military glory. How about Napoleon?
    "If the memories of 1870 are so galling to you, it is because they hurt your warlike pride.
    "It is you, you, who are the nation of warriors! We Germans are not sufficiently warlike. The military spirit came to us too late. If we had had a great army and a solid organization earlier we should have escaped two or three centuries of defeats — all the time when we were your unsuccessful adversaries — and Turenne would not have penetrated into our country.
    "Germany, I repeat, is pacific, and France is warlike. You deny it, but you deceive yourselves. You think of nothing but Alsace and Lorraine, which for forty years have dominated your policy. In your schools you show your children maps on which the old frontier is still marked. * * * In your army your officers ceaselessly point out to their soldiers the eternal enemy — the German!"
    And so it went, wherever M. Bourdon questioned "the eternal enemy." If M. Bourdon's book tells the truth it would seem that Wilhelm II., instead of being monarch of a vast armed camp, rules over a people as desirous of peace as he himself is now supposed to be. If this is indeed true then it is well that it should be known by the French journalist's fellow-countrymen, among whom his book will be distributed.