I saw the Baumgartners often and of course we discussed the journal. Baumgartner was an utterly decent, good, loveable and pious man whom I came to cherish ever more. He was also highly capable and enterprising. Naturally, he was not a “cunning” businessman, nor did he possess the “efficiency” of the Prussians. He was authentically Viennese, being much more at home with the Viennese saying “Da kann ma halt nix machen” (“Not much you can do about it”), than with “Machen wir,” the “Let’s do it” attitude of the Berliners.
The name of the journal was the subject of much deliberation and many suggestions. Having turned down many of my proposals, Funder suggested that we should call the journal Der christliche Ständestaat—The Christian Corporative State. To my mind, the agenda of the journal lay in a different direction, namely the battle against antipersonalism and totalitarianism from the Catholic standpoint. I was therefore not terribly preoccupied by the idea of the “corporative state;” it was not my intention to offer a special defense of corporatism against democratic government. But, in the end, the corporative state was the goal of Dollfuss, among others, and so the name was not bad and we ultimately settled on it.*72
Around this time, I was invited to give a lecture at the seminary in Vienna. I joyfully accepted the invitation, which came from the rector of the seminary, Fr. Handloss,*73 a deeply religious man whom I held in very high esteem. I naturally wanted to weave the battle against Nazism into my speech. I no longer recall the exact topic, but it was a religious lecture in which I touched on the current world situation.
At one point, I said something like this, “A sure indication that one is really thinking in supernatural terms is when one breaks with certain prejudices that represent a special danger in one’s environment. And for you, my dear friends, this danger is anti-Semitism. There is a traditional anti-Semitism in Vienna and throughout Austria. Anti-Semitism, however, is incompatible with the spirit of Christ and his Church, and in the present moment, when a terrible antipersonalistic racism is raising its head in Nazi Germany, it is the special call of God to free oneself from this poison entirely!”
Having explained why anti-Semitism is incompatible with the Christian faith, I told the beautiful story of the Abbess of Wépion, namely how she spoke to the sisters on the evening before the entry of Pauline Reinach*74 into the convent at Wépion, “Tomorrow we have the great privilege of accepting someone into our convent who is a sister of our Lord not only in spirit but in blood.” Having recounted this, a large number of my listeners left the hall, nearly half, according to what Karl Breitenfeld*75 later told me. What I said was too much for them. My words awakened anger and antagonism in this considerable group of seminarians. Others responded with great applause.
I also spoke of how one had to be grateful that God had given Austria many significant statesmen in times of great trial, such as Ignaz Seipel and now Dollfuss. This too aroused antagonism among many listeners. In any event, I was never again invited to speak in the seminary even though Fr. Handloss probably agreed with virtually everything I had said.
I experienced many disappointments, such as on the occasion when I sought out Verdross,*76 the professor of jurisprudence in Vienna. I had corresponded with him in the past and also written an article for his newspaper. I knew that he was a believing Catholic and had high expectations of him, including as a potential contributor to Der christliche Ständestaat. I found him to be very reserved and far from being unequivocal in his support for the Dollfuss government and in his opposition toward Nazism. Later I would experience even greater disappointments with him.
There was another professor by the name of Petritsch*77 at the Vienna University of Technology whom I had met in the past at one of the Hochschulwochen in Salzburg. I had the happiest memories of him as a pious Catholic and as an authentic and loveable Austrian. When I visited him, I also noticed a great caution, even though he was much friendlier and more open with me than Verdross had been. But when we spoke of the journal, he emphasized that it ought to bring together all the talented young voices in Austria, at which he proceeded to list various young people none of whom struck me as being sufficiently resolute in their stance against National Socialism.
One of these, however, was a certain Raimund Poukar.*78 He was then still writing articles that struck me as being somewhat too pro-German, yet he later became an enthusiastic collaborator with Der christliche Ständestaat and a member of my wider circle.
But I also noticed an attitude in Petritsch which disappointed me. He urged me to proceed in such a way that people of all perspectives would be represented in my journal. But in this I sensed in him a certain spirit of compromise rather than joy at my unequivocal stance. I no longer remember if it was on this visit to Petritsch or a later one that I was overjoyed by the unexpected arrival of Habbel.*79 It was encouraging to see my dear former student again, whose anti-Nazi stance was excellent. I had not seen him in a long time. Josef could come to Vienna on business since the 1,000 mark embargo did not apply to merchants. He had also brought money for me, royalties from my book Zeitliches im Lichte des Ewigen [Earthly Concerns in Light of Eternity],6 which he had published. Of course, the money was very welcome, and it was especially kind of him to find a way to give it to me, which he was actually prohibited from doing under Nazi law.
I remember one time when the Funders invited Gretchen and me for tea. Funder told me of the danger he had escaped in 1927 when the Justice Ministry was burned. The Socialist workers who were revolting forced their way into the editorial office of the Reichspost and wanted to take him along. He only escaped by climbing onto the roof of the building and then onto the roof of a neighboring building, from where he was able to slip into a street where no one recognized him.
The day finally came when the first issue of the journal appeared. It must have been on December 1, 1933. I had written a long introductory essay about the mission and the aim of the journal. I had written another essay about a particular theme. Klaus Dohrn, of course, had also written an essay. Several distinguished persons had also contributed articles, though regrettably I no longer recall their names. The first issue looked impressive and we had made a good start. The reception was very favorable and, above all, Dollfuss was very satisfied, as Weber told me. This naturally was of greatest importance for me.
I had hired Dr. [Karl] Franke to manage the journal. He was not an editor but the business manager of the editorial office. Baumgartner was in charge of distribution and Franke was to attend to all the practical work of the editorial office. Klaus was only to be utilized for preparing articles or for securing personal contacts with people of political importance. His articles were excellent and as such an irreplaceable contribution. Franke’s bureaucratic and excessively ordered style seemed to be a good counterbalance for Klaus. Franke also worked for me personally.
Shortly after the first issue of the journal appeared, Fr. Schmidt,*80 the famous priest of the Divine Word Missionaries, gave a talk in which he advanced disastrous ideas. He claimed that one had to distinguish between Jews who had been baptized lying down, that is, as infants, and those who had been baptized standing up, namely as adults. Only the former could be considered Christians in the full sense, since only they had undergone a Christian formation. Those who had converted as adults lacked this formation and hence could only be counted as half-Christians. This was of course an awful confusion in which the supernatural significance of baptism was completely ignored and Christian formation treated as the essential element. Aside from the lamentable theological nonsense, this was also an outrageous concession to Nazism.
I was overjoyed when Fr. Frodl brought me a brilliant and witty rebuttal, which of course we had to publish anonymously. The title of his piece was “Nazi Bacteria in the Baptismal Font?” We were all delighted, and so already in our second issue we were able to respond to this miserable confusion. Weber told me that Dollfuss considered Schmidt’s ideas unfortunate and that he did not agree with them in the least. I was imm
ensely pleased to hear this.
At this same meeting, Weber and I also discussed the idea that I should begin hosting afternoon discussions at my apartment in Vienna as I had previously done in Munich. Of course, unlike in Munich, the theme here would be problems of Weltanschauung in politics, because bringing clarity to these questions was the great need of the hour. He was very enthusiastic about the idea and thought these afternoons should begin with a festive reception for the entire leadership of the Dollfuss government; I was to present on the fundamental philosophical questions of the state and the heresy of totalitarianism, etc., which could be followed by a discussion. I was of course enthusiastic about this plan. We decided that I could begin with these afternoons after Christmas, i.e., in January. This was to ensure sufficient time for preparation, which Weber thought was necessary if we were to launch the afternoons with an official event.
The Catholic University of Louvain invited von Hildebrand to give three lectures on epistemological questions in mid-December. He was also invited to give a political lecture in Paris on the same trip. “The news that I would give a political lecture in Paris was welcomed by the government in Vienna,” he writes, “while the invitation from Louvain greatly increased my prestige in Vienna.”
While in Belgium I very much wanted to visit the Empress Zita and Emperor Otto in Steenokkerzeel.*81 I asked Weber if there were any reservations about this given my quasi-official capacity, which naturally meant I could not undertake anything that might cast an undesirable light on the government. Since I would be making this visit entirely as a private citizen, Weber told me there were no obstacles. I was very happy as this visit meant a great deal to me. Being an ardent admirer of Emperor Charles, it would be a great gift for me to be able to speak with Empress Zita, and perhaps to get to know her. As well as I knew Archduchess Maria Josepha, the mother of Emperor Charles, I had never before met Zita.
The lectures in Louvain went very well. I was received by the philosophical faculty in the friendliest possible way. I remember various social events, particularly a large dinner hosted by Monsignor Noël,*82 which Monsignor Ladeuze,*83 the rector at Louvain, also attended. Monsignor Ladeuze was a very winning and noble man. I especially appreciated his resolute refusal to allow a plaque to be mounted on the newly rebuilt library in Louvain that was being suggested by the Americans and many others. This plaque was to state that the library had been destroyed by the barbarism of the Germans. Much as this may have been justified, and awful as the German occupation of Belgium had been, still it was sad that an inscription filled with such hate should be placed on the library of a Catholic university.
I was also invited to an evening with the experimental psychologist Michotte.*84 Naturally, Monsignor Noël was also present. As I was speaking with someone in an adjoining room, I heard Monsignor Noël saying to Michotte, “He (by which he meant me) is not a German—there is nothing German about him, he is like a Latin.” This remark made me happy, all the more so as it was a compliment coming from Monsignor Noël.
The overall atmosphere among the listeners was relaxed and I felt warm interest and a readiness to be engaged, even though I doubt many really understood what I had to say. I mean the completely new element in the conception of the a priori, which is the essence of phenomenology, and above all the tremendous implications of this insight. The one who understood most deeply was of course Edgar de Bruyne.*85 At the conclusion of my lectures, I mentioned how wonderful it was to speak at a university where truth was still being sought, at a moment when this was no longer the case in Germany. I no longer recall my exact words, but it was an unambiguous condemnation of Nazism that I connected with my expression of gratitude to Louvain. In his words of thanks Monsignor Noël responded with great warmth, also alluding to the tragic events in Nazi Germany and expressing his joy over my stance.
I mention this in part because of a completely negative review of my lectures which appeared in Germany. Sadly it was written by two young German Dominicans studying in Louvain. Particularly stupid was their claim that I had lectured in such poor French that I could hardly be understood. Apparently they did not know that my lectures had been translated by native French-speakers on the faculty, so that the text was flawless. Add to this that my French pronunciation is particularly good, and it is obvious that their reproach was motivated by their anger over my critique of Nazism. It made me terribly sad to see that there were still so many Catholics in Germany who were blind—indeed, even members of religious orders. I was reminded of my unhappy experience in Paris with the provincial of the Dominicans in April 1933.
But the great event of this trip to Belgium was at Steenokkerzeel. I went there from Brussels, probably only after having finished my lectures. The castle is an enchanting building from the Middle Ages, surrounded by water. The entrance leads over a small bridge. Two young Austrians received me—a Count Trauttmansdorff and a Count Czernin, I think. I was presented to the Empress. I had dressed elegantly and was wearing the frock coat still customary at the time.
The Empress made a very strong impression on me. There was something unbelievably elegant and aristocratic about her face, while her presence as a whole seemed to combine both strength and tenderness. She was immensely attractive. She represented the great Austrian tradition, its noble culture, yet at the same time she had a very strong individuality. Despite her tremendously courtly manner, her noble humanity kept breaking through in all that she said. I told her, of course, that I had long been an admirer of Emperor Charles, which she already knew from the commemorative card I had published in 1922.
Naturally I spoke with her about the present political situation, and especially about Austria. We found ourselves in complete agreement regarding Nazism. While she probably welcomed the politics of Dollfuss, she did not have my enthusiasm for him. She was naturally somewhat reserved toward a regime lacking a legitimate Habsburg.
Afterwards, I was able to meet Emperor Otto, who also made a very great impression on me. He was then still very young, about nineteen or twenty. He greeted me with warmth and expressed his satisfaction over the journal, which he read with pleasure yet “at arm’s length.” We had a stimulating and interesting conversation, and I was amazed how well informed he was about all the problems in Austria and how intelligently he spoke about them. He was then a strikingly attractive young man and there was something enchanting about his personality. I was very happy as I left Steenokkerzeel.
On my way to Brussels, I asked myself which of these two Austrian worlds attracted me more: Dollfuss and his program or the imperial family? Where did I feel more at home? Which of the two presented me with a more appealing world? The question was difficult to answer. Both attracted me, yet in one respect Steenokkerzeel more, while in another that of Dollfuss. In principle, the monarchy seemed to me the ideal solution for Austria. Also as far as the cultural milieu was concerned, I was drawn more to the imperial family. Yet the humble attitude of Dollfuss, his revival of the Austrian spirit, his battle against Nazism rooted in the spirit of the Church, was also a powerful draw for me.
In a certain respect, there was a great similarity between Dollfuss and Emperor Charles. Both wanted to orient themselves entirely according to the guidance of the Church. Indeed, Dollfuss wanted to base his constitution completely on Quadragesimo anno.*86 Both stood in absolute docility toward the Church. Both were entirely free of ambition and both were deeply humble. Naturally Emperor Charles was far more pious in his daily life. But above all, I saw no contradiction in being an unconditional follower of Dollfuss while at the same time being a convinced monarchist.
While in Paris, I made a point of seeking out my old friend, Count Robert d’Harcourt. He received me with great warmth and proceeded to tell me that Cardinal Baudrillart had done nothing to publicize my lecture at the Institut Catholique. I do not know (or else I no longer remember) whether the Cardinal kept my presence somewhat hidden because he was embarrassed that a German was speaking at the Institut, or because he fea
red that my anti-Nazi lecture would somehow put me at risk. Probably it was the former, since in his eyes I continued to be a “German”—a misperception on his part, which even my stance against Nazi Germany could not dispel. To my great joy, I saw Foerster, who of course was also a great friend of d’Harcourt. I recall seeing a curious looking man sitting in the corner who from time to time would make horrid grimaces. When I inquired, d’Harcourt told me he was the famous philosopher Berdyaev,*87 who had this nervous tick. Afterwards, I was of course introduced to Berdyaev and we spoke together.
The next evening, I visited the Austrian ambassador. He was a priest, though he did not present himself in that capacity. The politician had entirely suppressed the priest. He had been a special protégé of Seipel in the past and had served as the Austrian representative in Berlin for a long time. I think he had once sympathized with the notion of a “Greater Germany,” yet having been thrown out by the Nazis in the most brutal manner, he had become a radical opponent of theirs and thereby an Austrian patriot. He greeted me very warmly. Of course, he knew about my journal and appreciated it.
Just as we were speaking, a young man entered the room, a subordinate of his who worked at the Austrian press office. The ambassador introduced him to me as Dr. Fuchs.*88 He was a likeable, intelligent looking younger man whom I would later still see frequently. The ambassador joined me for lunch at an excellent Parisian restaurant. He told me of his experiences in Berlin. We were in total agreement in regard to politics. But his liberal attitude and the way he had entirely “outgrown” the priesthood (he was dispensed from saying mass and had perhaps even been laicized) was painful and filled me with a heavy heart.
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