STEINECKE (HANOVER) Yes, ever since then we’ve been fighting against enemy lies.
KLEINECKE (BERLIN) What diplomacy and the press united can achieve, this World War has demonstrated, a war forced upon us by British envy, French revanchism, and inordinate Russian greed. Golden words!
STEINECKE (HANOVER) It reminds you of that very apt formulation of a famous colleague of ours. What was it Ernst Posse said in the Kölnische Zeitung? The war has revealed what power the modern journalist wields. Just try, if you can, to imagine, says Ernst Posse, if there were no newspapers in this international turmoil of minds and hearts. Would war have been possible at all without their reporting the factors which caused it and the ways it is being waged?
KLEINECKE (BERLIN) How very true! Ernst Posse even omits the role of diplomacy.
STEINECKE (HANOVER) That’s the journalist speaking. Oberndorff is a diplomat, that’s why he’s giving the press its due.
KLEINECKE (BERLIN) But tell me this, friend, those good-for-nothings in the Balkans—
STEINECKE (HANOVER) Oh, let’s not get depressed about them. Look, Oberndorff is toasting us—
BOTH Mud in your eye, Count!
(Change of scene.)
Scene 21
Foreign Ministry.
HAYMERLE (to a newspaper editor) If only His Excellency, God rest his soul, had lived long enough to see me writing an article commemorating the anniversary of his death for the Neue Freie Presse—how pleased he would have been! I’m at the front right now and came in specially — out there you don’t get a minute’s peace to write. But since I’m here, I prefer dictating it anyhow. Yes — I remember it as if it were yesterday. So — I’d be grateful if you would be so kind as to publish the following few lines in your esteemed journal.
From the end of January 1914, I had the honour of serving His Excellency Count Szögyeny-Marich as Austro-Hungarian Ambassadorial Attaché in Berlin.
It is not my intention to discuss in detail the time shortly before the outbreak of the World War, nor am I entitled to do so; I only wish to mention an episode which is characteristic of the great statesman, and which does him credit.
It was on the evening of the declaration of war between Serbia and the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy.
It was just half past eight in the evening when I came down from my office to ask for a signature from His Excellency.
The Ambassador was about to return from the dining room to his bedroom.
When he saw me, following his custom of always first asking his visitors or officials if there was anything new to report, even when he himself had important news to communicate, he asked me: Anything new to report? At my answer that I knew of nothing important, the old gentleman looked at me with a half-proud, half-melancholy look, which was quite characteristic of him — you know, very firm — and stretching out his hand to me, deeply moved, said: We’ve just declared war on Serbia.
EDITOR So you still didn’t know that by half past eight, sir? Though the population seems to have had the information already?
HAYMERLE Wait a minute. Literally at the same moment you could hear coming from Moltkestrasse, which runs between the Ambassadorial Residence and the Prussian War Ministry, thunderous cheering, hurrah after hurrah, and a moment later our beloved National Anthem — hundreds of people of all classes — officers, gentlemen in top hats, ladies in evening gowns — had begun to—
EDITOR Interesting. So the crowd was already massing.
HAYMERLE Ordinary women, workers, soldiers, and children—
EDITOR What, children too?
HAYMERLE Naturally. Oh, children are often wise beyond their years! The ambassador was particularly fond of children! So, where were we — they had begun to sing, and everyone was shouting with a single voice for the ambassador: “Come to the window, come to the window”, “Show yourself!”, “We want to see you!”
EDITOR It seems the crowd wasn’t acting on information, but on instinct.
HAYMERLE That goes without saying. The German people, with that instinct typical of the psychology of the masses, already sensed how intimately bound to one another our two empires were destined to be in the hour of need.
His Excellency was so deeply moved, it was only with difficulty that I could persuade him to go to the window of his study.
The ambassador was so overcome that it was all he could do to wave his thanks to the rapturous crowd. But tears ran down his cheeks. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I, too, — (his voice choking with emotion) standing in the background and permitted to witness this exalted moment — gave way to copious tears.
For the ambassador, however, it must certainly have been the greatest and most beautiful moment of a momentous life when this distinguished statesman, shortly before departing from the office he had held for 22 years, lived to see the inestimable fruits bestowed on our beloved Fatherland — (he is too moved to continue.)
EDITOR (deeply moved) Compose yourself, sir, we of the press feel just as strongly! I’ll finish it off back at the office. I gather from your moving depiction that tears were shed even before the World War began. Even if they were happily only tears of joy, the diplomats intuitively anticipated the burden of grief subsequently imposed upon their peoples. But believe me, sir — journalism was not indifferent in this matter. On the contrary, as a naturally liberal profession it did everything in its power to increase the flow of tears from that great moment on.
HAYMERLE (deeply moved) How can we thank you enough!
(Change of scene.)
Scene 22
In the Wahnschaffes’ sitting room.
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG Well, I must say, Hero’s Grave for the Home is selling like hotcakes back in Austria and everyone is wild about it.
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE (modestly disclaiming credit) Oh, that only benefitted the dead. But my hubby has now invented Hero’s Pillow, the ultimate present for our returning warriors to rest their heads on after all their exploits. It comprises: 1. A fitting dedication: Victorious warriors. 2. The Iron Cross. 3. The warrior’s name, encircled by oak leaves as a symbol of German strength. 4. Little German and Austrian flags as a sign of the Special Relationship—
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG Aha, splendid!
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE —and 5. Welcome home! Price: 3 marks 50.
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG Very reasonable. What about children’s books and children’s games? Anything new in the Reich?
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE “Let’s Play World War”.
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG Pardon me?
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE “Let’s Play World War”, a topical picture book for our little ones. And as for fully functioning toys — there’s the 42 cm Mortar, though that’s actually one of yours — wait a minute — oh yes, do you know “Divide the Spoils”?
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG Yes, but that hasn’t gone down well with us, I don’t know why.
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE Oh, it’s a charming game. My boys just love it. Yes, indeed, for us Germans only the best—
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG —is good enough. On the other hand, we’ve now got “Death to the Russians”, that’s first-rate.
FRAU WAHNSCHAFFE Sounds great.
FRAU POGATSCHNIGG “Death to the Russians”, Countess Taaffe’s ingenious invention, an interesting game of patience for big and small alike, produced by the injured patients of the Red Cross Military Hospital on the Kleinseite in Prague, where the Countess is a first-aid volunteer and matron. Inside a very tastefully constructed Easter egg there’s a minifortress with barbed-wire entanglements and a swamp, along with our soldiers fighting Russians. You shake the egg and try to get our troops into the fortress and the Russians into the swamp.