TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.
[After the war France had been obliged to return to Germany the two provinces, Alsace and Lorraine, which she had attached to herself in the times of Germany's weakness. It might have been better to unite these provinces with one of the German states, but it was feared that so valuable an increase in territory of one of the twenty-five states that had just been federated in the empire, might lead to renewed dissension. The suggestion, therefore, was made to administer the two provinces, for the present, as common property, and to leave the final arrangements to the future. A bill concerning the immediate disposition of Alsace and Lorraine was submitted to the Reichstag on May 2, 1871; when Prince Bismarck opened the discussion with the following speech.]
In introducing the pending bill I shall have to say only a few words, for the debate will offer me the opportunity of elucidating the various details. The underlying principles are, I believe, not subject to a difference of opinion; I mean the question whether Alsace and Lorraine should be incorporated in the German empire. The form in which this should be done, and especially what steps should first be taken, will be the subject of your deliberations. You will, moreover, find the allied governments ready to weigh carefully all suggestions different from our own which may be made in this connection.
I believe that there will be no difference of opinion concerning the principle itself, because there was none a year ago, nor has any appeared during this year of the war. If we imagine ourselves back one year—or more accurately ten months—we can say to ourselves that all Germany was agreed in her love of peace. There was not a German who did not wish to be at peace with France, as long as this was honorably possible. Those morbid exceptions which possibly desired war in the hope of seeing their own country defeated—they are not worthy of their name, I do not count them among the Germans!
I insist, the Germans were unanimous in their desire for peace. But when war was forced upon them, and they were compelled to take to arms, then the Germans were fully as unanimous in their determination to look for assurances against the likelihood of another similar war, provided God were to give them the victory in this one which they were resolved to wage manfully. If, however, another such war should occur in the future, they intended to see to it now, that our defence then would be easier. Everyone remembered that there probably had not been a generation of our fathers, for three hundred years, which had not been forced to draw the sword against France, and everybody knew the reason why Germany had previously missed the opportunity of securing for herself a better protection against an attack from the west, even at those times when she had happened to be among the conquerors of France. It was because the victories had been won in company with allies whose interests were not ours. Everybody therefore was determined that if we should conquer this time, independently and solely by our own might and right, we should strive to make the future more secure for our children.
In the course of centuries the wars against France had resulted almost always to our disadvantage, because Germany had been divided. This had created a geographical and strategic frontier which was full of temptations for France and of menace for Germany. I cannot describe our condition before the last war, and especially that of South Germany, more strikingly than with the words of a thoughtful South German sovereign. When Germany was urged to take the part of the western powers in the oriental war, although her governments were not convinced that this was in their interest, this sovereign—there is no reason why I should not name him, it was the late King William of Würtemberg—said to me: "I share your view, that we have no call to mix in this war, and that no German interests are at stake of sufficient worth to spill a drop of German blood for them. But what will happen if we should quarrel with the western powers on this account? You may count on my vote in the Bundestag until war is at hand. Then conditions will be altered. I am as ready as the next man to fulfil my obligations. But take care lest you judge people differently from what they are. Give us Strassburg, and we shall be with you at all hazards. As long as Strassburg is a sally-port for an ever armed force, I must fear that my country will be inundated by foreign troops before the North German Alliance can come to my assistance. Personally I shall not hesitate a moment to eat the hard bread of exile in your camp, but my people, weighed down by contributions, will write to me urging a change of policy upon me. I do not know what I shall do, nor whether all will remain sufficiently firm. The crux of the situation is Strassburg, for as long as it is not German, it will prevent South Germany from giving herself unreservedly to German unity and to a national German policy. As long as Strassburg is a sally-port for an ever ready army of from 100,000 to 150,000 men, Germany will find herself unable to appear on the upper Rhine with an equally large army on time—the French will always be here first."
I believe this instance taken from an actual occurrence says everything. I need not add one word.
The wedge which Alsace pushed into Germany near Weissenburg separated South Germany from North Germany more effectively than the political line of the Main. It needed a high degree of determination, national enthusiasm, and devotion for our South German allies not to hesitate one moment but to identify the danger of North Germany with their own and to advance boldly in our company, in spite of that other danger in their own immediate proximity to which a clever conduct of the war on the part of France would have exposed them. That France in her superior position had been ready to yield to the temptation, which this advanced outpost of Strassburg offered her against Germany, whenever her internal affairs made an excursion into foreign lands desirable, we had seen for many decades. It is well known that the French ambassador entered my office as late as August 6, 1866, with the briefly worded ultimatum: "Either cede to France the city of Mayence, or expect an immediate declaration of war." I was, of course, not one moment in doubt about my reply. I said to him: "Well, then, it is war." He proceeded with this reply to Paris. There they changed their mind after a few days, and I was given to understand that this instruction had been wrung from Emperor Napoleon during an attack of illness. The further attempts on Luxembourg and the consequent issues are known to you. I will not revert to them, nor do I believe that it is necessary to prove that France did not always show a sufficiently strong character to resist the temptations which the possession of Alsace brought with it.
The question was, how to secure a guarantee against this. It had to be of a territorial nature, because the guarantees of foreign powers were not of much use to us, such guarantees having at times been subject to supplementary and attenuating declarations. One might have thought that all Europe would have felt the need of preventing the ever recurring wars of two great and civilized peoples in the heart of Europe, and that it would have been natural to assume that the simplest way to do this was to strengthen the defences of that one of the two participants who doubtless was the more pacific. I cannot, however, say that at first this idea appeared convincing everywhere. Other expedients were looked for, and the suggestion was often made that we should be satisfied with an indemnity and the razing of the French fortresses in Alsace and Lorraine. This I always opposed, because I considered it an impracticable means of maintaining peace. The establishment of an easement on foreign territory is very oppressive and disagreeable to the sense of sovereignty and independence of those who are affected by it. The cession of a fortress is felt scarcely more bitterly than the injunction by foreigners not to build on the territory which is under one's own sovereignty. French passions have probably been excited more frequently and more successfully by a reference to the razing of that unimportant place of Hüningen than by the loss of any conquered territory which France had to suffer in 1815. I placed, therefore, no confidence in this means, especially since the geographical configuration of this advanced outpost—as I took the liberty of calling it—would have put the starting place for the French troops just as near to Stuttgart and Munich as it had always been. It was important to put it farther back.
Metz, moreover, is a place of such a topographical configuration, that very little art is needed to transform it into a strong fortress. If anyone should destroy these additions to nature—which would be a very expensive undertaking—they could be quickly restored. Consequently I looked also upon this suggestion as insufficient.