And yonder in the camp of our opponents they were not blind. This buttoned-upness (Zugeknöpftheit) which we met with was a direct encouragement to them to continue in the direction marked out, and they have made the most of it in order to make capital out of it, in order to win new support. Was that not to have been foreseen? Ought we to wonder that in view of such official toleration the defection among officials and teachers over to that side should grow ever more and more serious?...
A frank, a decided word from above, spoken at the right time, in place of evasive circumlocutions which, like the answers of the ancient oracles, may be stretched and twisted to suit any interpretation, would have prevented what had to come to-day—nay, not had, but was allowed, to come. And this definite, frank utterance, open to no misinterpretation, is the right of that portion of our fellow-citizens who, contrary to all civil order, are exposed to the wildest insults and threats, without protection and practically declared to be outlawed. This frank utterance is: Anti-Semitism, in print, in word, and in deed, is a movement dangerous to society, deeply injurious to the existence of the state and the fundamental laws of the state. No government can permit it any more than anarchy or other endeavors which, through exercise of force, tend to disturb internal peace and to bring about civil war.
We have labored to have this or a similar judgment pronounced, and in so doing we have done our duty. Come what will, we will not desert the breach; for we have in our hearts the consciousness of occupying a standpoint which every right-feeling and right-thinking man must take. This consciousness is sufficient to keep up our courage. In our ranks there is not one who is striving for any personal advantage from the realization of these principles; on the contrary, we know that to-day we stand just as unprotected, just as much exposed to all insults, as are those whose rights we desire to see secured.
But, in conclusion, an old proverb says, “God helps those that help themselves,” and it must come to self-protection if this particular form of anarchy, which is already making the doors of Austria ring with its blows, shall succeed in breaking them down. Let us rally if it must come to that!
A. Gundaccar von Suttner
I said above that duty and pleasure took us to Vienna. Our pleasure consisted chiefly in going to the theater. Oh, it was indeed a delight to attend plays with My Own, who was so keen to enjoy, so thoroughly one of “the thankful public”! Especially in jolly plays he could laugh as no one else did! And next to the theater came social intercourse with sympathetic friends. We had long chats on literary and pacifistic topics with Carneri and Hoyos, with Groller, Herzl, and various other men of the pen.
Great pleasure was afforded us also in visiting at the house of my cousin, Christian Kinsky. Every time we came to Vienna we were invited to dine with him and his thoroughly sensible wife, Therese. Christian was then provincial marshal of Austria. The burden and dignity of his office took nothing from his coruscating humor, from his inexhaustible wit. And at the same time such free, clear-cut views of things! Therese also was very liberal-minded in all matters. Quite the contrary was Christian’s sister, Countess Ernestine Crenneville, who often came up of an afternoon with her handiwork for a little gossiping (Plausch). She occupied a lower floor in the Kinsky house in the Laudongasse, and, like the generality of the Austrian aristocracy, was very religious and ecclesiastically inclined. She had many times tried to convert her brother, but he always evaded the issue with laughter and bantering; and they got along together very well. It would indeed have been hard not to get along well with Ernestine, for her piety was tolerant, and she was goodness and gentleness itself. I had known her in her blooming, youthful beauty; now she was old, but still a pretty little lady, and had much that was interesting to tell of her life.
Once I jotted down in my diary a reminiscence of hers. The conversation had turned upon our Empress and her mania for traveling about the world so restlessly.
“I remember,” related Ernestine, “how one day we were sitting together after a little dinner at the Empress’s—a very small party, the Archduchess Valerie, the Duke of Cumberland, and I. A few ladies of the court were near. The Empress was very silent and sad. Suddenly she cries out, ‘Oh, let us go outside, out on the green grass and far away!’ Archduchess Valerie springs up: ‘For mercy’s sake, mamma....’ The Duke of Cumberland exclaims soothingly, ‘You are right, your Majesty,’ and whispers to her daughter, ‘Only never let her go alone, never alone.’”
War had broken out between Japan and China. Such events no longer left me so indifferent as they did when I was young. Even though this tragedy was being enacted far away, in another quarter of the globe, the fact that the fiend against whom our party was fighting had broken loose again indicated a setback for our movement; for who could tell what future wars, in which Europe might also be involved, this war would bring in its train?