My Battle Against Hitler
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*9 Carl Vaugoin (1873–1949).
*10 Prince Aloys Schönburg-Hartenstein (1858–1944), military officer and defense minister in the cabinet of Dollfuss.
*11 Richard von Schaukal (1874–1942), Austrian Catholic poet.
*12 Jakob Hegner (1882–1962), publisher and translator.
*13 Richard Schmitz (1885–1954), journalist and Austrian politician.
*14 Karl Seitz (1869–1950).
*15 Otto Ender (1875–1960).
*16 Wilhelm Miklas (1872–1956), Austrian Christian Social politician.
*17 Wilhelm Müller-Hoffmann (1885–1945), professor of painting at the School of Arts and Crafts in Vienna.
*18 Alfred Missong (1902–65).
*19 Rudolf Allers (1883–1963), physician, philosopher, and psychologist. After emigrating to America he taught at both Catholic University of America and Georgetown University.
*20 Friedrich Kronseder, SJ (1879–1957), theologian, university chaplain, and retreat master.
*21 Karl Rudolf (1886–1964), Austrian priest, leader of the Austrian Catholic youth movement.
*22 Alfred Kastil (1874–1950).
*23 Franz Brentano (1838–1917), priest, philosopher, and psychologist, left the Catholic Church in opposition to the declaration on papal infallibility.
*24 A reference to the “Brownshirts,” the Nazis’ original paramilitary wing.
*25 Alexius von Meinong (1853–1920), Austrian philosopher and psychologist.
*26 Baron Friedrich von Wiesner (d. 1940).
*27 Karl Maria Stepan (1894–1972).
*28 Josef Dobretsberger (1903–70), served as Austrian minister for social affairs.
*29 An allusion to that sixteenth-century knight whom Goethe immortalized in his eponymous play, whose name conjures up his saucy line, “Lick my ass.”
*30 Ernst Rüdiger Starhemberg (1899–1956), then Austrian vice-chancellor.
*31 The meeting took place June 14–15, 1934.
*32 Jean Louis Barthou (1862–1934), his discussion with Dollfuss took place July 19, 1934.
*33 Paul August von Klenau (1883–1946), conductor and composer.
*34 Jakob Wassermann (1873–1934), one of the most widely read German authors during the 1920s and 1930s.
*35 Johannes Maria Gföllner (1867–1941), Austrian theologian and bishop.
*36 Karl Ohnmacht (1893–1954), Austrian priest and politician.
*37 Franz Xaver Bosch.
*38 Gustav A. Canaval (1898–1959), also chief editor of Telegraf and founder of the Salzburger Nachrichten.
*39 A political and paramilitary organization drawn from Catholic youth.
*40 Sturm über Österreich, the newspaper of the Heimwehr, the militia associated with the Christian Social Party.
*41 Ernst Röhm (1887–1934), leader of the SA, or “Brownshirts.”
*42 Gregor Strasser (1892–1934), a leading member of the Nazi Party until 1932.
*43 Erich Klausener (1885–1934), German politician and head of Catholic Action in Berlin.
*44 Kurt von Schleicher (1882–1934), the last chancellor of Germany before Hitler was appointed.
*45 A Benedictine monk of the Abbey of Maria Laach and acquaintance of von Hildebrand.
*46 Wilhelm (Willi) Schmidt (1893–1934), writer and music critic in Munich.
*47 Witnesses from the time say the gatherings began in early fall.
*48 Robert John (1899–1981), priest, professor of German literature, and Dante scholar.
*49 Count Paul Thun (1884–1963), poet.
*50 Count Rudolf Kinsky (1898–1965).
*51 Gaston Fessard, SJ (1897–1978).
*52 Bernhard Rosenmöller (1883–1974).
*53 Gustave Desbuquois, SJ (1869–1959).
*54 The city of Sibiu in present-day Romania.
*55 Agostino Gemelli, OFM (1878–1959), Italian theologian, philosopher, and psychologist, founder of the Sacred Heart University in Milan.
*56 The son of historian Ludwig von Pastor.
*57 Berliner died suddenly in 1936 just as the scandal broke that “Phönix Wien” was in bankruptcy, having lost $150,000,000. Some historians suggest Berliner committed suicide.
*58 Theodore Cardinal Innitzer (1875–1955), archbishop of Vienna.
One of innumerable pages of outlines Dietrich produced in writing his memoirs. This page summarizes his several attempts to meet Austrian chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss to win his support in founding an anti-Nazi newspaper. (photo credit i1.1)
Dietrich’s first major public clash with the Nazis took place in April 1921 when he denounced German nationalism at a peace conference organized by the French Catholic philosopher Marc Sangnier (second from right), depicted here in later years with a group of students.(photo credit i1.2)
Nazi Brownshirts look onto the crowd gathered on the Marienplatz in Munich during Hitler’s attempted coup on November 9, 1923. The so-called Beer Hall Putsch forced Dietrich, who was on the Nazi blacklist, to flee Bavaria. (photo credit i1.3)
Hitler’s appointment as German chancellor on January 30, 1933, played a crucial role in Dietrich’s decision to leave Germany. Hitler is depicted here with his first cabinet. He is speaking with Franz von Papen, a Catholic who paved the way for Hitler’s rise and who was later to propose a plan to assassinate Dietrich. (photo credit i1.4)
The decision to leave Munich when Hitler came to power in 1933 was “inexpressibly painful.” It meant giving up their beautiful home at Maria-Theresia Strasse 23, above where Dietrich and Gretchen had lived since his parents’ death in 1921 and where so much of Catholic life in Munich had been centered. (photo credit i1.5)
Dietrich’s wife, Gretchen, as a young woman. Despite embarking on a path of total uncertainty, she committed herself unreservedly to her husband’s fight against Nazism. (photo credit i1.6)
Chancellor Engelbert Dollfuss, pictured in 1933, welcomed Dietrich’s proposal to found an anti-Nazi journal and committed the support of the Austrian government. (photo credit i1.7)
This mission statement appeared in the inaugural issue of Dietrich’s Vienna journal in December 1933. It includes these key lines: (photo credit i1.8)
Our Purpose
The eyes of Europe, of the Christian West, of the true German world, look with high hopes to Austria, which has chosen the path of a Christian, German corporative state. The significance of this path extends far beyond the boundary of politics (taken in the narrow sense). It is a path that calls for deep philosophical clarification of first principles. The great teachings of classical Western thought have to be opposed to various false and confused conceptions, to economic materialism and to racial materialism, to liberal individualism, and to pagan conceptions of unlimited state sovereignty. At a time of great ferment and confusion, when certain errors are being abandoned because they have proved to be unlivable, we have to present clearly the eternal, universally valid ideas of state, nation, people, right and wrong, authority, freedom, and personality. Against disordered feelings and ideals we have to set the great traditions of true and genuine German culture as it is expressed in Austria in a particularly beautiful and universally accessible way. This cultural structure must be renewed from within; an inner conversion is needed in the cultural elites, which in contrast to large sectors of the population stand irresolutely on the sidelines waiting to see what will happen.
In his memoirs, Dietrich describes the questionnaire on racial purity sent by the University of Munich to all faculty in 1933. His response was an act of open defiance. He notes that his paternal grandmother was Jewish but was baptized Protestant as a child. Under the German race laws, he could therefore have considered himself non-Jewish. But he was fundamentally opposed to the question itself—thus his firm “Nein”—“no” in response to question 6a, “Are you of Aryan descent?” (photo credit i1.9)
Klaus Dohrn, a relative of Dietrich’s sister Eva by marriage, was his key initial partner in developing a “Catholic, antiracist, and anti-totalitari
an journal.” Here Dohrn is pictured in 1942. (photo credit i1.10)
Dietrich was deeply concerned that the Concordat between the Holy See and Germany could easily mislead ordinary Catholics into thinking that the Church had endorsed Nazism. This photo was taken at the signing of the Concordat on July 20, 1933. To the far left is Monsignor Ludwig Kaas, whose birthday telegram to Hitler outraged Dietrich. German vice chancellor Franz von Papen sits next to Kaas, and at the center is Vatican secretary of state, Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli. (photo credit i1.11)
Kurt von Schuschnigg, the Austrian chancellor after Dollfuss’ murder, hoped to defend Austrian independence by pursuing a policy of peaceful coexistence with Nazi Germany. When they met in the United States many years later, Schuschnigg acknowledged to Dietrich that he had been right about the true nature of the Third Reich. (photo credit i1.12)
Franz von Papen became German ambassador to Austria in 1934. In 1937, Papen complained to Dietrich’s brother-in-law, “That damned Hildebrand is the greatest obstacle to National Socialism in Austria. No one does more harm!” (photo credit i1.13)
A caustic message sent to the Vienna editorial offices of Dietrich’s journal in September 1936. The author expresses the anti-Semitism Dietrich had to combat even among fellow Christians. It concludes, “All of you know the real reason for your struggle. Each of you good-for-nothings—Vaugoin, Mataja, Seifert, Schmitz, Kimmel, Poukar, etc.—are in fact extremely religious collaborators of that Jew Hildebrand! What a contemptible point of view!” (photo credit i1.14)
One of the most outspoken Catholic apologists for Nazism was German bishop Alois Hudal. Dietrich countered one of Hudal’s books with a scathing review in his journal. (photo credit i1.15)
At the University of Vienna, Dietrich found virtually no support for his anti-Nazi work among his fellow Catholic colleagues. But an outspoken fellow warrior was the philosopher Moritz Schlick, whose logical positivism could hardly have been more at odds with Dietrich’s philosophical outlook. Yet the two found common cause in the battle against Nazism. (photo credit i1.16)
As the Essen National Times has already reported, a National Union for German Liberation was recently established here. This organization …
seeks to overthrow the Nazi regime and is trying to unite the enemies of Nazi Germany under a single leadership. The mastermind behind these intriques is the well-known expatriate emigrant Professor Dietrich von Hildebrand, editor of the weekly journal, Christliche Standestaat …
Because of the importance of this matter and fearful that the suspects might be warned and their tracks covered, I have immediately sent copies of the enclosed documents to the Director of the SS, Himmler …
We may be able to strike a severe blow against these extremely evil and dangerous enemies of the Reich in Austria.…
Selections from a secret dispatch to Hitler from the then-Nazi ambassador in Austria, Franz von Papen. Though Papen does not explicitly use the term “assassination,” Dietrich had learned that a decision had been made to kill him. So it is reasonable to assume that Papen was not only referring to assassination but was perhaps even the instigator of the plan. (photo credit i1.17)
Just three days before his death on January 26, 1977, Dietrich added gripping details about his final escape from Vienna on March 11, 1938, in a dictation to his wife, Alice von Hildebrand. He noted, “At seven o’clock, we learned that Schuschnigg had stepped down [as Austrian chancellor]. In closing the radio played the Quartettsatz of Schubert and the Emperor Quartet of Haydn.” (photo credit i1.18)
On March 1, 1938, Hellmut Laun (pictured) drove Dietrich and Gretchen to the Czech border in what they perceived as a desperate escape. Though it turned out to be a false alarm, the real escape took place just ten days later. (photo credit i1.19)
Hitler arrived in Vienna on March 14, 1938. Here he is greeted by jubilant crowds. (photo credit i1.20)
After their flight from Vienna on March 11, 1938, Dietrich and Gretchen spent several weeks at the home of his student, Balduin Schwarz, near Fribourg, Switzerland. Pictured at the Schwarzes, he briefly sported a beard for disguise. (photo credit i1.21)
Edmond Michelet (left) saved the lives of Dietrich and his family by providing false French identity papers. This meant the Hildebrands did not have to register with the French authorities, who would have been required to turn them over to the Nazis. Michelet and Dietrich are pictured here together in 1946. (photo credit i1.22)
Dietrich would not have been able to leave Vienna after Hitler’s invasion had he possessed only an Austrian or German passport. But thanks to his grandfather, he was also a Swiss citizen. His concern was shared by other leading figures, including his friend Eugenio Cardinal Pacelli, Vatican secretary of state. The original Swiss passport used in fleeing Vienna is probably lost, but this passport, issued in 1940, tells the story—in its many visas—of his desperate escape from France and from Europe in 1940. The French exit visa (bottom right) was provided by a French Catholic embassy official who was fired for issuing false papers to refugees. Dietrich had to entrust his family’s passports to this man over the weekend, hoping against hope that they would be returned with the necessary visas. (photo credit i1.23)
A photo from the final leg of the escape from Europe, the voyage by ship from Rio de Janeiro to New York in December 1940. Gretchen looks out smiling while Dietrich sits third from right. Also pictured is the eminent German philosopher of education, Friedrich Wilhelm Foerster (second from left) [and his wife], who enriched Dietrich’s grasp of the poison of nationalism. (photo credit i1.24)
Dietrich and Gretchen with their granddaughter, Catherine von Hildebrand, on the ship en route to New York. (photo credit i1.25)
1935
My appointment as associate professor of philosophy at the University of Vienna took place during this time, probably beginning January 1, 1935. Although my classes in the spring semester would only begin on February 1, my inaugural lecture, the official ceremonial event for an academic appointment, was scheduled for early January (sometime around January 10–12). I had sent numerous invitations to many friends, including quite probably all the participants of my evening discussions. The theme of my lecture was completely nonpolitical, a purely philosophical analysis of the difference between “value” and the “subjectively satisfying.”
The lecture was set for the afternoon, at five o’clock. I arrived at the university fairly late. This was a bad habit I had formed in Munich, always rushing to my lecture at the last moment. In Munich I would ride my bike, arriving breathlessly, with just moments to spare, in fact often somewhat late. I did the same this day as well. Upon arriving at the university and seeing that it was already quarter after five, I paused for a moment to consider whether I should just go directly to the auditorium and hang my coat there rather than first going to the dean’s office to deposit my things.
As I ascended the stairs, I passed a female student on her way down. Seeing that I was going up in haste, she said, “I assume you, too, want to attend Professor von Hildebrand’s lecture. You won’t be able to enter. The hall is packed.” This news made me happy: I thought it bode well that my lecture could elicit such great interest. But upon entering the dean’s office, I immediately realized that the reason for the crowded hall was in fact quite unfortunate. Looking pale as a ghost, Kralik*1 approached me and said, “My dear colleague, you cannot hold the lecture. A great demonstration has been launched against you.”
“On the contrary,” I replied, “there can be no question about my presenting my lecture. If I relent today, they will repeat the demonstration, and I will never be able to give the lecture.” Standing next to Kralik was someone from the Ministry of Education, who was also very frightened. He too said, “It is impossible to hold the lecture.” I renewed my insistence and explained what a defeat it would be for the government if students had only to hold a demonstration to prevent the lecture of a government-appointed professor. “We have to ask the Minister,” replied the official. He telephone
d Pernter,*2 the Minister of Education at the time, who of course agreed completely with my position and declared that the lecture had to take place at any cost.
A few minutes later, we were joined by the chief of security of the university, a former officer by the name of Baron Stein.*3 As an attendee of my evening discussions, I already knew him. His political views were excellent. The position of chief of security of the university was a relatively new one. It involved working with the police to maintain order at the university, which was very necessary during these stormy political times. Baron Stein approached me and said, “You’ll only have to wait a brief while. I’ll soon have order restored, and then you can give your lecture. I have sent for forty-eight armed policemen who will remove the protestors. Your lecture will take place in another hall where only those with an invitation from you and those who are students in the division of humanities will be admitted.”
After some waiting, Baron Stein came to get me. Passing many heavily armed police, we went through a special hallway into an auditorium where I could give my lecture. Thunderous applause greeted me as I approached the podium. I can still see the tall, noble figure of Prince Schönburg as he stood clapping vigorously. Of course, this was the response to the demonstration of the Nazi students. Dispensing with any political remarks, I turned directly to delivering my properly philosophical text. After about ten minutes, a few students exited the auditorium, angrily slamming the door behind them.
Following my lecture I learned the following details. Professors in the faculties of medicine and law had used the classroom to incite their students to prevent my inaugural lecture through demonstrations and, where possible, through violence. The initiative thus came from the professors.