er with Herzegovina to Serbia, in return for a vague
promise of the closer relations of those states with the pitiful
remains left to us of the Monarchy. We were not impelled thereto by
dynastic interests. I myself had persuaded the Emperor to sacrifice
Galicia to Poland; but in Transylvania there lived so many Germans and
Magyars who simply could not be made a present of, and above all the
concessions, to Italy! I once asked a neutral statesman if he could
understand what was meant by making Austria voluntarily give up the
arch-German Tyrol as far as the Brenner Pass. The storm that would be
let loose by such a peace would uproot more than merely the Minister
who had made the peace. I told my visitor that there were certain
sacrifices which on no conditions could be expected of any living
being. I would not give up German Tyrol, not even though we were still
more unfavourably situated. I reminded him of a picture that
represented wolves chasing a sledge. One by one the driver threw out
fur, coat, and whatever else he had to the pack to check them and save
himself--but he could not throw his own child to them: rather would he
suffer to the last gasp. That was how I felt about Trieste and the
German Tyrol. We were not in the position of the man in the sledge,
for, thank God, we had our arms and could beat off the wolves; but
even in the extremest emergency, never would I accept a peace that
deprived us of Bozen and Meran.

My listener did not disagree with my argument, but could see no end to
the war in that way. England was ready to carry on the war for another
ten years and, in any case, would crush Germany. Not the German
people, for whom no hatred was felt--always the same repetition of
that deceptive argument--but German militarism. England was in a
condition of constraint. Repeatedly it had been said that if Germany
were not defeated in this war she would continue with still more
extensive armaments. That was the firm belief in London; she would
then, in a few years, have not 100, but 1,000, U-boats, and then
England would be lost. Then England was also fighting for her own
existence, and her will was iron. She knew the task would be a hard
one, but it would not crush her. In London they cite again the
example of the wars of Napoleon, and conclude with: "What man has done
man can do again."

This fear of Prussian militarism was noticeable on all occasions, and
the suggestion constantly was put forward that if we