Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist 9781789202182

Table of contents :
Contents
List of Figures and Tables
List of Abbreviations
Chronology
Introduction
Chapter 1. A Life
Chapter 2. The Will to Rise
Chapter 3. Economic and Social Capital
Chapter 4. Political Capital
Chapter 5. A Life in Turmoil
Chapter 6. German and European Politics
Chapter 7. Afterlife
Conclusion. The Crossover Artist
Selected Works by Gustav Stresemann
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Gustav Stresemann

Studies in German History Published in Association with the German Historical Institute, Washington, DC General Editor: Simone Lässig, Director of the German Historical Institute, Washington, DC, with the assistance of Patricia C. Sutcliffe, Editor, German Historical Institute Recent volumes: Volume 23 Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist Karl Heinrich Pohl Translated from the German by Christine Brocks, with the assistance of Patricia C. Sutcliffe Volume 22 Explorations and Entanglements: Germans in Pacific Worlds from the Early Modern Period to World War I Edited by Hartmut Berghoff, Frank Biess, and Ulrike Strasser Volume 21 The Ethics of Seeing: Photography and Twentieth-Century German History Edited by Jennifer Evans, Paul Betts, and Stefan-Ludwig Hoffmann Volume 20 The Second Generation: Émigrés from Nazi Germany as Historians Edited by Andreas W. Daum, Hartmut Lehmann, and James J. Sheehan Volume 19 Fellow Tribesmen: The Image of Native Amerians, National Identity, and Nazi Ideology in Germany Frank Usbeck Volume 18 The Respectable Career of Fritz K: The Making and Remaking of a Provincial Nazi Leader Hartmut Berghoff and Cornelia Rauh Translated by Casey Butterfield Volume 17 Encounters with Modernity: The Catholic Church in the Federal Republic, 1945–1975 Benjamin Ziemann Volume 16 Crime and Criminal Justice in Modern Germany Edited by Richard F. Wetzell Volume 15 Germany and the Black Diaspora: Points of Contact, 1250–1914 Edited by Mischa Honeck, Martin Klimke, and Anne Kuhlmann Volume 14 Max Liebermann and International Modernism: An Artist’s Career from Empire to Third Reich Edited by Marion Deshmukh, Françoise Forster-Hahn, and Barbara Gaehtgens For a full volume listing, please see the series page on our website: http://berghahnbooks.com/series/ studies-in-german-history

GUSTAV STRESEMANN The Crossover Artist

S Karl Heinrich Pohl Translated from the German by Christine Brocks, with the assistance of Patricia C. Sutcliffe

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

Published in 2019 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com English-language edition © 2019 by Karl Henrich Pohl German-language edition © 2015 Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht Originally published in German as Gustav Stresemann: Biografie eines Grenzgängers The translation of this work was funded by Geisteswissenschaften International—Translation Funding for Humanities and Social Sciences from Germany, a joint initiative of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, the German Federal Foreign Office, the collecting society VG WORT, and the Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels (German Publishers & Booksellers Association). All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Pohl, Karl Heinrich, 1943– author. | Brocks, Christine, translator. | Sutcliffe, Patricia C., translator. Title: Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist / Karl Heinrich Pohl; translated from the German by Christine Brocks, with the assistance of Patricia C. Sutcliffe. Description: First edition. | New York: Berghahn Books, 2019 | Series: Studies in German History; Volume 23 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019004252 (print) | LCCN 2019004336 (ebook) | ISBN 9781789202182 (ebook) | ISBN 9781789202175 (hardback: alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Stresemann, Gustav, 1878–1929. | Statesmen—Germany— Biography. | Germany—Politics and government—1871–1918. | Germany—Politics and government—1918–1933. Classification: LCC DD231.S83 (ebook) | LCC DD231.S83 P6413 2019 (print) | DDC 943.085092 [B] —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019004252 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-78920-217-5 hardback ISBN: 978-1-78920-218-2 ebook

CONTENTS

List of Figures and Tables

vi

List of Abbreviations

viii

Chronology

x

Introduction

1

Chapter 1. A Life

14

Chapter 2. The Will to Rise

58

Chapter 3. Economic and Social Capital

96

Chapter 4. Political Capital

144

Chapter 5. A Life in Turmoil

167

Chapter 6. German and European Politics

192

Chapter 7. Afterlife

257

Conclusion. The Crossover Artist

270

Selected Works by Gustav Stresemann

282

Bibliography

283

Index

305

–v–

FIGURES AND TABLES

Figures 1.1. Käte Stresemann (1883–1979) with the eldest son Wolfgang (1904–1998). Photo from ca. 1907. Courtesy Politisches Archiv, Auswärtiges Amt, Berlin (PA AA).

15

1.2. Gustav Stresemann at the age of three. Courtesy PA AA.

17

1.3–1.6. The young Stresemann—four pictures from his youth. Courtesy PA AA.

20

1.7. Portrait of Gustav Stresemann by Augustus Edwin John (1878– 1961), March 1925, oil on canvas, Albright Knox Art Gallery/Art Resource, New York. © Estate of Augustus John / Bridgeman Images. Used with permission.

25

1.8. Gustav Stresemann in the spa gardens of Bad Wildungen, 1926. Courtesy PA AA.

27

1.9. Gustav Stresemann and his wife, ca. 1927/1928. Courtesy PA AA.

28

1.10. Gustav Stresemann with State Secretary Carl von Schubert in San Remo, 1927. Courtesy PA AA.

29

1.11. Stresemann writing postcards, September 1929, Vitznau, Switzerland. Seated to the right of him is Attaché Wolf. Courtesy PA AA.

29

1.12. Book cover of the second volume of Stresemann’s three-volume written legacy, Vermächtnis. Courtesy PA AA.

32

1.13. Portrait of Gustav Stresemann, undated. Courtesy PA AA.

34

1.14. Poster for German parliamentary elections of September 1930 advertising the Deutsche Volkspartei (German People’s Party). Stresemann had died the year before. © Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin. Used with permission.

35

– vi –

Figures and Tables | vii

1.15. “Der Diktator” (The dictator), Ulk, 26 October 1923 (vol. 52, no. 43), Berlin, front cover. The flag Stresemann holds reads “Dictatorship.” The caption reads “The Dictator. Will Dr. Stresemann will be able to cope with this front?” © Digitalisat. Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, CC-BY-SA 3.0.

37

1.16. “Der Diktator Stresemann” (The dictator Stresemann), Kladderadatsch, 28 October 1923 (vol. 76, no. 43), Berlin, front cover. © Digitalisat: Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, CC-BY-SA 3.0.

38

1.17. Farewell to Stresemann on his trip to Geneva at the Anhalter Railway Station (Berlin, 1926). Courtesy PA AA.

39

2.1. Gustav Stresemann with his wife in front of a fountain, ca. 1925. © akg-images / Imagno. Used with permission.

86

3.1. Social stratification of the Dresden Liedertafel based on membership lists from 1902 onward.

105

3.2. Social stratification of the ADV based on membership registers from 1903 onward.

108

Table 4.1. Membership numbers of the National Liberal Party in Saxony and Dresden prior to World War I.

148

ABBREVIATIONS

ADAP ADB ADV AfS APuZ BdI BVP CdI CDU CV DDP DIV DNN DNVP DS DVP ECSC EEC EU Gd GG GHH

Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik (Files of German Foreign Policy) Allgemeiner Deutscher Burschenbund (German General League of Fraternities) Alldeutscher Verband (Pan-German League) Archiv für Sozialgeschichte Aus Politik und Zeitgeschichte: Beilage zur Zeitschrift Das Parlament Bund der Industriellen (League of Industrialists) Bayerische Volkspartei (Bavarian People’s Party) Centralverband deutscher Industrieller (Central Association of German Industrialists) Christlich Demokratisch Union (Christian Democratic Union) Centralverein deutscher Staatsbürger jüdischen Glaubens (Central Association of German Citizens of Jewish Faith) Deutsche Demokratische Partei (German Democratic Party) Deutscher Industrieschutzverband (Association for the Protection of German Industry) Dresdener Neueste Nachrichten Deutschnationale Volkspartei (German National People’s Party) Deutsche Stimmen Deutsche Volkspartei (German People’s Party) European Coal and Steel Community European Economic Community European Union Zeitschrift für Geschichtsdidaktik Geschichte und Gesellschaft Gutehoffnungshütte – viii –

Abbreviations | ix

GmbH

Gesellschaft mit beschränkter Haftung (privately owned company with limited liability) GWU Geschichte in Wissenschaft und Unterricht HDA Hauptstelle Deutscher Arbeitgeberverbände (Main Office of German Employers’ Associations) HMRG Historische Mitteilungen der Ranke Gesellschaft HZ Historische Zeitschrift IRG Internationale Rohstahlgemeinschaft (International Raw Steel Community) IWK Internationale wissenschaftliche Korrespondenz zur Geschichte der Arbeiterbewegung JbGMOD Jahrbuch für die Geschichte Mittel- und Ostdeutschlands JzLF Jahrbuch zur Liberalismus-Forschung Langnamverein Verein zur Wahrung der gemeinsamen wirtschaftlichen Interessen in Rheinland und Westfalen (Association for the Protection of Common Economic Interests in Rhineland and Westphalia) NLP Nationalliberale Partei (National Liberal Party) RdI Reichsverband der deutschen Industrie (Reich Association of German Industry) SHVZ Schleswig-Holsteinische Volkszeitung SPD Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (Social Democratic Party of Germany) VdA Verein Deutscher Arbeitgeberverbände (Federation of German Employers’ Associations) VDEStI Verein Deutscher Eisen- und Stahlindustrieller (Association of German Iron and Steel Industrialists) VfZ Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte VnJ Verband nationaldeutscher Juden (Association of German National Jews) VRSBR Verhandlungen des Reichstages. Stenographische Berichte des Reichstages VSI Verband Sächsischer Industrieller (Association of Saxon Industrialists) VSWG Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte ZfG Zeitschrift für Geschichtswissenschaft

CHRONOLOGY 1878

Gustav Stresemann born in Berlin as the youngest of eight children to Ernst August Stresemann, a Berlin-based distributor of bottled beer, and his wife Mathilde.

1884–1897

Attends the Andreas Real-Gymnasium in Berlin.

1897

Abitur (graduation exam). Enrollment in the philosophy department of the Friedrich Wilhelms University of Berlin (today Humboldt University). Joins the reform fraternity Neogermania.

1898

University of Leipzig. Editor of the Allgemeine DeutscheUniversitäts-Zeitung.

1901

Doctoral Degree. Title of his PhD dissertation: “Die Entwicklung des Berliner Flaschenbiergeschäfts” (The Development of the Berlin Bottled-Beer Industry). Assistant at the Verband Deutscher Schokoladefabrikanten (Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers) in Dresden. Networks and establishes contacts.

1902

Managing director of the BdI (League of Industrialists), Dresden-Bautzen district branch. Temporarily member of the National Social Association. Foundation of the VSI (Association of Saxon Industrialists). Stresemann becomes a legal adviser for the association and keeps this post until 1918.

1903

Joins the National Liberal Party. Marriage to Käte Kleefeld (born 1883). Two sons: Wolfgang (1904–1994) and Joachim (1908–1999).

1906

Dresden City Councilor. Foundation of the DIV (Association for the Protection of German Industry). –x–

Chronology | xi

1907

Elected Reichstag member for the district of AnnabergSchwarzenberg.

1910

Member of the BdI executive board; moves to Berlin.

1911

Adoption of the Insurance Law for Salaried Employees.

1912

Stresemann loses his seat in the Reichstag and on the standing committee of the National Liberal Party. Travels to the United States.

1914

Elected member of the Reichstag, special elections in Wittmund-Aurich.

1914–1918

World War I.

1917

Fall of Bethmann Hollweg. Elected deputy chairman of the central executive committee of the NLP and chairman of the National Liberal parliamentary group of the Reichstag.

1918

November Revolution. Merger of liberal parties fails. Foundation of the DVP.

1919

Member of the Constituent National Assembly. Personal crisis, long-term illness.

1920

Reichstag elections. Stresemann becomes chairman of the parliamentary group and chairman of the foreign committee of the Reichstag. Publication of his poems under the title Traumjörg.

1923

Occupation of the Ruhr area by French and Belgian troops. Stresemann delivers some important Reichstag speeches. Entry into the Freemason Lodge “Friedrich the Great.” Appointed Reich chancellor and foreign minister of a grand coalition between SPD, DVP, DDP, and the Center Party. Political crisis in Germany: hyperinflation, currency reform, putsch attempt in Bavaria by Hitler and Ludendorff, termination of passive resistance. Sachsenschlag: unseats the left-wing governments in Saxony and Thuringia, break of the grand coalition, with the SPD leaving the government.

xii | Chronology

Return of the Crown Prince to Germany aided by Stresemann. Stresemann becomes foreign minister and keeps this post until his death. 1924

Dawes Plan, beginning of economic stabilization period in Germany.

1925

Trade policy restrictions stipulated by the Treaty of Versailles come to an end. Hindenburg elected Reich president. Locarno Treaties, “Crown Prince letter.”

1926

Germany’s entry into the League of Nations. Stresemann awarded Nobel Peace Prize. IRG (International Raw Steel Community).

1927

Plauen trial. Stresemann acquitted of corruption charge.

1928

Honorary doctorate from the University of Heidelberg. Severe illnesses, mild stroke.

1929

Last speech at the League of Nations. Stresemann dies of a stroke.

INTRODUCTION

S Why do we need another biography on Gustav Stresemann? His positive image appears almost indestructible and already set in stone. He has long since arrived in the Valhalla of great Germans and nearly stands as an unassailable historical monument. What is left to say about such a familiar, well-researched and widely appreciated figure? The debate over whether Stresemann remained an unrepentant monarchist or became a reformed republican has long been forgotten.1 Today, neither scholars and politicians nor the public at large question his wholehearted commitment to the parliamentary democracy of the Weimar Republic.2 There is general agreement that he carved out an impressive career from the Berlin “pub milieu” to become chancellor of the German Reich. In so doing, he constantly developed and matured as a human being after the highs and lows (in particular, during World War I and the revolution of 1918/19) of his life, according to widespread opinion. Thus, the incorrigible monarchist evolved into a republican in an exemplary fashion—first by reason, then by conviction, and, finally, as a matter of heart. He became a key policymaker in the new democratic state in the realms of both domestic and foreign policy, and the ingenious mastermind of the German People’s Party (Deutsche Volkspartei, DVP), which he (almost) transformed into a pillar of the republic. As one of the most important members of the Reichstag, he shaped political culture and ensured the continued existence of the republic in 1923 in his capacity as the youngest Reich chancellor. Almost all scholarly and journalistic publications refer to the years between 1923 and 1929, when he was foreign minister, as the “Stresemann era.” If that were not enough, he also initiated the rapprochement between Germany and France and integrated the Weimar state into the international community as an equal partner state by signing the Locarno Treaties and securing Germany’s entry to the League of Nations—despite substantial opposition inside and outside of Germany. His 1926 Nobel Peace Prize was thus well deserved. His untimely death in 1929 was a great loss not only for his family and friends, but Notes from this chapter begin on page 11.

2 | Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist

also for the republic and the whole of Europe. “Weimar’s greatest statesman,” who was also a great European, had died far too early.3 There is also little cause for further studies based on new source material.4 Documents that could contradict or add to Stresemann’s positive image have not been forthcoming. Arguably, there is little need for them, given the more than sixty thousand pages of Stresemann’s papers (and additional material provided by his son Wolfgang Stresemann for historical research), the vast files from his official positions, and considerable journalistic work.5 Even Stresemann’s deepest personality traits have seemingly been uncovered and every aspect of his private life already revealed. So why another biography? Are there any new findings, approaches or perspectives? The answer to this question is an emphatic yes.6 The abundance of knowledge, the seeming certainty of judgment, the almost unanimous research results, the unambiguously positive assessment of Stresemann both as a politician and a human being positively invites deconstruction and offers several (as yet unused) opportunities. A new, critical biography can build upon the existing scholarship without repeating the chronology of Stresemann’s seemingly straightforward (and successful) path from growing up the son of a beer merchant to becoming a Nobel Peace Prize laureate. Instead, it can experiment on the basis of empirically sound facts and explore methodological approaches that have not yet been pursued. It can tap into the methods of cultural history to enrich, expand, and question the existing image of Stresemann. It can make greater use of constructivist approaches and ideas to penetrate and deconstruct the seemingly impregnable image of the “good” Stresemann. And it can specifically employ intensive interpretations and thick descriptions,7 investigate additional areas (such as economic and social politics, culture) in depth, and incorporate new types of source material to allow the thick descriptions to be even thicker and to facilitate deconstruction.8 A new biographical interpretation can also take into account different temporal perspectives to give the analysis a greater depth of focus. It can emphasize aspects across time to reveal forward and backward movements or even a permanent stalemate in Stresemann’s life without becoming mired in the traditional chronology. In so doing, it can construct an image of Stresemann that has hitherto largely remained unknown.

On an “Alternative” Biography Most previous biographies have constructed a “purposeful” course in Stresemann’s life, a seemingly straightforward path that, despite several diversions, maintained a clear consistency and an intrinsically meaningful trajectory toward an end destination. This successful life reached its culmination in the middle of the Weimar period with Stresemann’s transformation into a democrat, his

Introduction | 3

successful politics of European rapprochement, and, finally, his last years until his death. This biography, however, will tread a new path. It pursues a different approach to describing Stresemann’s life, predominantly building upon the thoughts of Pierre Bourdieu, Niklas Luhmann, and Henning Luther. In so doing, it aims to advance biographical construction to a new level. Niklas Luhmann proposes regarding biography as “a chain of coincidences that organize themselves into something that gradually becomes less and less flexible.”9 Consequently, a life has no one-dimensional, direct, and meaningful timeline shaped by the biographical subjects themselves that can be decoded or constructed in order to find its true meaning. The only possible continuity of a human being’s life consists at best “in the sensitivity to coincidence”10—nothing more. To follow Luhmann’s theory is to accept that there was no meaningful path in Stresemann’s life and, as a consequence, that it is pointless to look for such a “common thread.” According to this approach, a biography would have to analyze life’s numerous facets and aspects as single events with no possibility (but also no desire) to integrate them into a meaningful whole, precisely because neither the meaning nor the whole exist. According to Luhmann, and with him Pierre Bourdieu, this is the only way to avoid the “biographical trap”11—the construction of a life of such seeming inherent consistency—that almost all previous biographies on Stresemann have fallen into.12 On the other hand, a life without meaning can hardly be a template for a biography. Not only would it be difficult to read, such an approach would also defy the narrative model that historiography in general and therefore every biography is bound to. What is more, it would not be compatible with common human experience of real life.13 A new biography must overcome this apparent contradiction. It should look for ways to avoid the “biographical trap” yet still provide a structured and readable biography, to give shape to Stresemann’s life without (exclusively) drawing on traditional chronology and ignoring contrary aspects and especially the element of chance. In what follows, three approaches will be briefly presented that, each in their own way, attempt to combine the desire to “construct” a life and find its “meaning” with a recognition of contingency—that is, the elements of “disorder,” “coincidence,” and “meaninglessness.” These three concepts form the methodological foundation of this Stresemann biography. The first approach is oriented toward biological and psychological considerations that assume something of “normal” human development from childhood to adulthood. Following this concept, what forms the reference point and structural feature of Stresemann’s life is the extent to which his existence corresponded with the ideal type of a growing and finally grown-up human being. This constructed ideal type is not a constant across time but must be historicized appropriately.

4 | Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist

The second approach is based on the concept of social acceptance and focuses on the social field in which every person lives and acts. It is guided by the question of the extent to which Stresemann was able to establish himself in his social field, to behave accordingly, and to be accepted by this environment. If both Stresemann and those surrounding him shared positive sentiments in this regard, we could speak of a certain internal and external harmony. A third approach, closely connected to the second, emphasizes a desire Stresemann frequently stressed that dominated his entire life: his ambition to break free from his petit-bourgeois background and climb the social ladder, to get “to the top” and to become a respected middle-class citizen who was economically, socially, culturally, and politically accepted by bourgeois society. Stresemann’s desire for social advancement serves as a guideline and measure of this approach. Thus, his struggle toward and achievement of this objective (which, in Stresemann’s case, was mainly directed toward the society of Imperial Germany) are central to the construction of his life.

Some Remarks on the Category of an “Adult Person” In general, it is possible and purposeful to base a biography on the constructed model development of a human life, usually from birth, through childhood, youth and adulthood to old age and death.14 In addition to biological factors that determine this life, we can more or less accurately ascribe mental and social developments and certain dispositions to it, which psychology and general social belief consider appropriate and specific to the respective stages of life.15 The categories used in this approach correspond to a concept of accepted and widely shared values. They are somewhat stable but can change over time. For instance, model adults in full possession of their physical and mental faculties are expected to shape their lives according to their own ideas and to have a relatively stable perception of the world and of the role they can play within it. These ideas may be dynamic, but they usually do not vary randomly, and they rarely change fundamentally. Adult human beings are therefore expected to reflect on their situation, address it adequately, come to terms with it, and either accept or fight their circumstances.16 Furthermore, the model assumes that with a certain degree of maturity, individuals no longer randomly change their acceptance of values and norms. Instead, they develop, acquire, and adopt these values and norms through a protracted process, after which they change them only in exceptional cases and under specific circumstances. The attributes of a model adult include, for instance, the sense of responsibility toward oneself and one’s family but also toward one’s job and society, as well as the ability to find and assert one’s own lifestyle inwardly and outwardly.17

Introduction | 5

Thus, we must ask how close Stresemann came to this model and how often or for how long he was able to do so. It is important to find out exactly when and in which area or field (political, economic, cultural, personal, etc.) this occurred. Were these periods mirrored by his outer life (his health, politics, economic situation, and family)? Above all, we must identify Stresemann’s guiding values and—once developed—virtually permanent dispositions. Can we trace fundamental deficits, perhaps temporary shifts, dissonances, backward steps, or even gaps?18 Is it possible to detect serious social (and personal) inconsistencies that Stresemann had to deal with that do not quite correspond to the continuity on which his image is based?

Some Remarks on the Category of Social Acceptance Every human being is invariably part of, or tied to, certain standards and frameworks of the society he or she lives in. Thus, with regard to Stresemann and his life, we have to examine the extent to which he met the social, political, and economic norms and expectations of his time.19 Did his life correspond to the ideals of a bourgeois world in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (and, if not, for what reasons)? Were there different norms that significantly changed over the course of history or during Stresemann’s life? How did Stresemann deal with those changes? Was there any dissonance? There were also social expectations: what did society—or rather the different societies—expect from him as a social climber, a father and husband, a citizen, a politician, an economic policy maker, and an entrepreneur? To what extent (and when) was Stresemann able to meet these expectations?20 Did he find his way within the complex array of flexible roles required of him, or did he go far beyond them? What were the consequences in his social context and how did that impact him? Was he able to reconcile his own way of life with external expectations? Stresemann’s social and cultural placement—that is, his background—played a key role in this. This touches upon the third approach, which refers to his desire for social advancement, which was in many respects connected to the second and to which I will pay special attention in this biography.21 I will argue that Stresemann’s life was characterized first and foremost by the fact that he refused the social, political, cultural, and economic status he was born into and wanted to leave it behind at a very early stage. This was not due to pride or arrogance. He valued work and laborers, as well as the lower middle class. Yet he wanted nothing more than to leave the petit-bourgeois milieu of his family. He began working toward that objective in his youth, and it would ultimately shape his life.22 His desired change of milieu forced him to operate within a new, unfamiliar environment and to move within new circles; he had no experience of these from

6 | Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist

the early phases of his socialization. Within these new circles he had to shape his life (perhaps) in a deeply unsettled state, in a personally and socially compatible way. The topos that best describes this situation is that of a “crossover artist”—in this case understood as one who crosses social barriers, boundaries, and limits.23 All his life, Stresemann had to push himself beyond his limits, to work within the margins, and to overcome the constraints of this status. After a relatively short time, he was able to live in a new, elevated milieu among successful politicians, businessmen, and Bildungsbürger—the German educated bourgeoisie, whose values and ideals were based on classical antiquity. He did not (yet) belong to this milieu and was astutely aware that he would probably never really be a part of it. Thus, he almost always felt insecure and uncomfortable, though throughout his life he tried to adapt and even to conform to it.24 He always had to work on his self-advancement and could not feel “at home” anywhere. It was not easy for him to live a stable, quiet, and secure life. He was always apprehensive of being laughed at or excluded as an outsider. In addition, he felt highly dependent on other people’s judgment. This was certainly no model or “ideal-typical” life in Henning Luther’s sense.25 The question, therefore, is how Stresemann dealt with this deep insecurity. In fact, there were other social climbers in Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic struggling with similar problems. In this sense, Stresemann stood paradigmatically for an entire generation of young men.26 Those social climbers from a working-class background who suddenly became ministers in the Weimar Republic, for instance, faced a similar situation. Unlike Stresemann, however, they were firmly embedded in the Social Democratic milieu, which gave them something to hold on to. This certainly gave them an advantage over Stresemann, who did not belong to any stable social/moral milieu. The question is whether this existence, this constant sensitivity and continuous tendency to doubt himself and others, was a weakness, or whether it could also be a strength by giving Stresemann a keen eye and an outside perspective. Was it, maybe, always both: a weakness and a strength? Did the constant desire to leave his old existence behind or to overcome it, to “arrive” at a new existence, constitute a “common thread” (notwithstanding Luhmann’s and Bourdieu’s arguments), a point of reference for his biography? In any case, his ambition to climb the social and economic ladder and to become a respected and happy Bürger (citizen/townsperson) in what he considered to be a bourgeois society impacted his life more than anything else.27 He hoped to reach this goal in the private sphere, in the public realm, in his economic and political activities, and in his work. His entire life might be summed up by the phrase: “A man wants to move to the top and become a respected Bürger.”28 Stresemann’s understanding of “the top” and Bürgertum and his concrete utopias related to this Bürgertum are as crucial within this framework as the question of whether he was referring to the bourgeoisie of Wilhelmine society or to a lib-

Introduction | 7

eral bourgeoisie as part of a parliamentary democracy, of whether the bourgeoisie was to supposed to be open toward “the Left” or rather “the Right,” and finally of whether Stresemann’s views on this changed over time.29 In this context, Pierre Bourdieu’s theories revolving around the concepts of “habitus,” “social field,” “capital,” and “class” can provide further insights. Bourdieu understands capital as one’s power over specific resources. Economic capital refers to one’s power over money and other economic means. It is, furthermore, an important precondition for acquiring other kinds of capital, for instance, social capital—that is, belonging to a certain social group. Finally, and more importantly for Stresemann’s path, there is cultural capital, which is related to education, and symbolic capital, which refers to the resources used to gain social prestige and social recognition. In general, all these different kinds of capital have the same value and are exchangeable under certain circumstances. Economic capital can potentially be transformed into social capital and thus into cultural capital. However, this transformation process (especially in relation to cultural capital) is not easy and may sometimes be impossible. Existing capital owners tend to distance themselves from newcomers and impede access to their own group. The struggle to gain admission to one of these milieus is a protracted and sometimes painful one, and the goal might not be reached at all. This was the situation Stresemann had to face all his life. An individual’s position within the “social field” is determined by all the types of capital a person owns. According to Bourdieu, this field has a sort of “dual existence.” It exists both in the minds of contemporaries and in reality. In this context, the term “habitus” is of major importance. The habitus of a human being, the set of long-term dispositions acquired at an early stage of life, influences and, at the same time, decisively structures his or her perceptions. It helps individuals find their bearings in the existing concrete world and is shaped by certain thought patterns (norms, aesthetic criteria, matters of taste, etc.). Thus, it “preforms” human actions in a certain sense.30 However, the habitus is not hereditary but acquired through socialization, becoming somehow ingrained or second nature. It is “a piece of internalized society whose structures are incorporated by socialization. It guides the agents to practice strategies.”31 This implies that Stresemann had to acquire a certain habitus in order to leave behind the (petit-bourgeois) milieu he had been born into and enter a new bourgeois milieu. However, the wealth, property, and political prestige that Stresemann soon obtained were not enough to allow him to pass as an equal among the bourgeoisie. Not only in early twentieth century Germany were cultural capital and the bourgeois habitus—that is, the possession of education and knowledge, of taste and aesthetic judgment, but also of formal educational qualification or artworks—essential for a person to become “one of them.” Habitus and internalized

8 | Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist

cultural capital also consisted of the ability to move and act in “high society” based on a deeply rooted set of cultivated dispositions. As already mentioned, this ability had to be developed over a long-term process of internalization. And this was exactly where Stresemann had his shortcomings. Taking into account these considerations, Stresemann’s life can be represented less as a straight line than as a Bourdieuian field within which human beings and their lives are placed.32 This field contains three almost equally important factors: time, space, and the acting subject himself. It is not, however, hermetically sealed against the outside world, but permeable. It is situated—or rather it moves— within an environment consisting of this field and its agents, and interacts with them in all aspects of human life. Pictured in this way, Stresemann’s life is embedded in a network of references, phases, and developments at different levels.

How Do These Considerations Affect This Stresemann Biography? This biography does not focus on Stresemann’s seemingly straightforward trajectory through life or on his political successes. Instead, it places equal emphasis on cultural and economic elements. It reflects on his habitus and its possible changes and explores the social fields in which Stresemann operated. It also acknowledges parallel areas of his life in their own right and does not assume a meaningful context from the outset. It attempts to take coincidence into account. The factors that influenced Stresemann’s life will largely be described as instances that had latent effects on most of his activities and expressions rather than being deduced from meaningful courses of action or the progress of his political career. This could refer to instances when Stresemann himself believed that all his wishes had come true. Most of all, they do not necessarily have to be the well-known “great events.” For instance, the model “coming of age” may be accompanied by a feeling of harmony and contentment and by social inclusion and acknowledgment.33 Thus, the course of certain identifiable events (for instance, in politics or economics) cannot automatically be interpreted as necessary steps along a direct path “to the top.” “Descending lines,” or seemingly random, erratic occurrences and chains of events are equally important, even when these are difficult to categorize, cut across other dimensions, and seem to have nothing to do with each other. From a physician’s perspective, for instance, Stresemann’s life appears as a string of ups and downs in terms of health, clearly heading in the long-term toward a predictable premature death.34 This physical decline contrasts with Stresemann’s apparently unstoppable political success. The only solution is to appreciate and take into account both dimensions: constantly looming death, that is, declining health, and a seemingly unstoppable career, Stresemann’s political rise, and, if appropriate, link the two.

Introduction | 9

The biography attempts to follow this approach in its arrangement, structure, and style. Throughout the topics investigated, it offers considerations from other contexts, passages of “thick description,” structure-oriented chapters, extensive interpretations of photographs, texts, and primary sources. The style of the text thus corresponds with the non-unilinear biographical approach favored here and, in doing so, fractures the image of a straightforward life trajectory as often as possible. This “collage” places the interpretation of Stresemann’s poems next to his medical history and the analysis of his voice next to the investigation of his relationships and acquaintances. First and foremost: culture, economics, and politics are regarded as equally important—and as interconnected in a multiperspectival way.35

On the Content Previous literature has mainly concentrated on Stresemann the politician, particularly during the Weimar Republic. The seminal biography by Jonathan Wright, for instance, describes Stresemann’s activities in Saxony, where he spent almost half of his active professional and political career, on only 16 of its 666 pages. That this is disproportionate is self-evident. The question is whether there is, in fact, nothing more to say about the early years of his career and whether such an approach does justice to Stresemann’s entire life (instead of just to his short but—on the surface—brilliant period as a Weimar politician). Instead of emphasizing the Weimar years to such an extent, this biography pays particular attention to the years in Saxony. These years were of paramount importance for Stresemann not only due to their length but also because it was during this time that he developed core convictions in various matters and started to forge his life. It also casts doubt on the current interpretation, which allows little room for ambivalence, of Stresemann as a model democratic/republican statesman. Stresemann’s evolution from monarchist to republican is hardly ever questioned today. And yet it should be asked why there is such reluctance to accept ambivalence and why a consistent coexistence of the incompatible, the “simultaneity of the nonsimultaneous” (Ernst Bloch), cannot be admitted. Stresemann certainly came to terms with the Weimar Republic. But that was the only form of allegiance he felt for Weimar. During Imperial Germany, by contrast, he had experienced an unprecedented political rise and the success of his reform policies. He loved the system of Imperial Germany, and still loved it after the revolution of 1918/19. Stresemann accepted the republic, but his heart still beat for the monarchy throughout his life. He chose to bow to the crown prince rather than agree to strengthen further radical-democratic policies. A consistent democratization of state and society would have required a fervent democrat, which he never became. This has to be closely scrutinized.

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There are similar ambivalences regarding Stresemann’s obvious inclination toward the military, which always ranked higher in his affections than a functioning democracy. He cherished this secret love even in the Weimar Republic, despite the military’s inherently antidemocratic ideas. Stresemann was not only a politician, but also an economist and lobbyist. He quickly became a rich man. This is another aspect of his life that has to be taken into account. He possessed, to use Bourdieu’s terminology, substantial economic capital, particularly during his time in Saxony. We have to investigate how he became rich and how he felt about it, what economic power meant to him, how he reacted to it and made use of it, and whether he tried to transfer it into social and cultural capital. Existing literature offers only incidental answers to these questions. It is therefore important to overcome an excessively political focus on Stresemann and to take the three spheres of economics, culture, and politics equally into account. In the economic sphere, this approach reveals Stresemann to be a cunning and successful businessman, who often, though not always, operated on the fringes of legality and had the ability to combine politics and business in order to become a bourgeois among other bourgeois. It is paramount to closely analyze Stresemann the legal advisor in order to understand him as the Weimar politician. Stresemann concentrated, in particular, on the cultural aspects of his bourgeois life, which, given his background, were especially unfamiliar to him. They meant a great deal to him, maybe even more than his political and economic success. He therefore dabbled in writing poems and other pieces and in being a literary connoisseur until the end of his life. Only by taking these activities seriously and analyzing his literary products, by examining how he presented himself as a Bildungsbürger and accepting these facets as an important part of his self-image and worldview, by taking into account his wish to be “one of them” in his cultural life, can the full breadth of Stresemann’s life be brought to the fore. On Stresemann as a man of culture, we also have to examine his life from the perspective of gender history: On the one hand, he appears to be a rather soft man, not especially likeable at first glance, apparently happily married, the father of a model family.36 On the other hand, he appears to be a man with a virulent desire for emotional security beyond the family, for instance, within the German people’s community or within male societies such as the Burschenschaften (fraternities), the Dresden Liedertafel, or the Freemasons. And how did he, as a civilian who had never actively fought in the war, feel during the Weimar Republic as an outsider excluded from the community of “warriors,” given the fact that he loved being in male company so much? His attraction to “real” men and to the military may have been attributable to this unfulfilled desire, even during the Weimar Republic. How did this influence his politics?

Introduction | 11

Part of this set of bourgeois values was his view of women. Despite his liberalism in political and economic spheres, Stresemann favored an image of women that stemmed from the nineteenth-century bourgeoisie and had no place for modern, emancipated women. This is another possible constant of his life. At least verbally, he continued to reproduce (old) bourgeois norms and values during the Weimar Republic. In real life, however, his image of women mirrored a clear tension between modernity, reform-mindedness, and a deep conservatism—a tension that also shaped Stresemann’s activities in other areas.37 Thus, Stresemann’s life was much more colorful and varied and, above all, less straightforward than has previously been described. There are numerous unknown facets that have still not been taken into consideration because they have been unnecessary to supporting the commonly constructed image of him and the purposeful, direct life journey it implies. But these facets are as important as the better-known sides of his character. This is precisely what this biography is about: it aims to break down the seemingly intrinsic cohesion of this popular image of Stresemann, deconstruct it, and add new perspectives.

Notes 1. Three new biographies have been published since 2002: Wright, Gustav Stresemann: Weimar’s Greatest Statesman; Kolb, Gustav Stresemann; and Birkelund, Gustav Stresemann: Patriot und Staatsmann. On this, see Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: New Literature on the Saxon Syndic and Weimar Politician.” 2. Peter Krüger has written an excellent summary of this position: “Zur europäischen Dimension der Außenpolitik Gustav Stresemanns.” 3. The quote is the subtitle of Jonathan Wright’s biography, Wright, Stresemann. On the portrayal of Stresemann as a European, see, among others, Duchhardt, Europäer des 20. Jahrhunderts: Wegbereiter und Gründer des “modernen” Europa. 4. Since the mid-1950s Stresemann’s estate has been held by the Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes (PA AA) in Berlin. Almost the entire estate is recorded on microfilm, is easy to purchase, and is available to researchers without restrictions. 5. On this, see the early study by Walsdorff, Bibliographie Gustav Stresemann. 6. See Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: Überlegungen zu einer neuen Biographie”; Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: A German Bürger”; and Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: Zur Konstruktion einer neuen Biographie.” 7. I understand the term “thick description,” introduced by Clifford Geertz, either as a condensed observation and description of local events during a short, limited period of time (Dresden 1903), or as the condensing of research findings concerning a specific political issue (policy of Locarno); see Geertz, “Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture”; Kaschuba, Einführung in die Europäische Ethnologie, 252–53. 8. On the current state of biographical research, see the recent Lässig, “Biography in Modern History—Modern History in Biography”; and Lässig, “Die historische Biographie auf neuen Wegen?” There are interesting ideas related to this in Ullrich, “Die schwierige Königsdisziplin.”

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9. Luhmann, Short Cuts, 32; see also 16: “A biography is a series of coincidences; the continuous lies in the sensitivity to coincidence.” 10. Ibid., 16. 11. Bourdieu, “Die biographische Illusion”; Bourdieu, “The Biographical Illusion.” 12. See, for instance, Kolb, Stresemann, 6–8 13. Henning Luther, “Identität und Fragment.” 14. On this, see the studies by Erikson, who paid particular attention to this aspect. Erikson, Identity and the Life Cycle; Erikson, Life History and the Historical Moment: Diverse Presentations. 15. See Peter Loewenberg’s psycho-historical approach: Loewenberg, Decoding the Past. 16. Henning Luther, “Identität und Fragment.” 17. Erikson, Identität und Lebenszyklus, 114–16. Contrary to Erikson, this biography is not looking for a binding template. Instead it suggests a sort of screen covering Stresemann’s life that might well be vague and diffuse in some respects. 18. Henning Luther, Identität und Fragment, 160–82. 19. On this context, see especially Pierre Bourdieu’s complete works. For an introduction see Schwingel, Bourdieu zur Einführung. 20. On this topic as a whole, see Riesman, Die einsame Masse. 21. Previous biographical research has largely ignored this aspect with the exception of the biography by Koszyk, Gustav Stresemann: Der kaisertreue Demokrat, who, however, does not systematically pursue this approach. 22. For a recent work on this, see Birkelund, Stresemann: Patriot und Staatsmann. 23. Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: A German Bürger,” 55; Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann: Überlegungen zu einer neuen Biographie.” 24. There is a great deal of evidence for this. For example, one can regard his love of beer halls (and less than elegant wine restaurants), and his wish to be among simple folk (membership in a singing society) within this framework. The same is true of popular poetry and his preference for folk songs. 25. Henning Luther, Identität und Fragment. 26. See, on this, Dowe et al., Parteien im Wandel vom Kaiserreich zur Weimarer Republik. There are hardly any examples of successful women’s cohorts in this period. 27. For a summary on Bürgertum—the bourgeoisie or middle class in Imperial Germany and in the Weimar Republic—see Lundgreen, Sozial- und Kulturgeschichte des Bürgertums; also A. Schulz, Lebenswelt und Kultur. 28. The German writer Hans Fallada used a part of this sentence as the title of his famous novel Ein Mann will nach oben (A man wants to get to the top) from the 1920s. 29. On Bürgertum as a cultural phenomenon, see among others Hettling and Hoffmann, Der bürgerliche Wertehimmel. 30. Schmuhl, “Lebensbedingungen und Lebenslagen von Menschen mit geistiger Behinderung in den v. Bodelschwinghschen Stiftungen Bethel seit 1945.” 31. Sven Reichardt, “Bourdieu für Historiker? Ein kultursoziologisches Angebot an die Sozialgeschichte,” in Geschichte zwischen Kultur und Gesellschaft. 32. See Bourdieu, “Social Space and the Genesis of ‘Classes.’” 33. Such personal aspects are always difficult to pinpoint. This is particularly true for Stresemann since they can only be addressed based on the source material of his estate. However, it is almost impossible for a biographer to identify what is relevant in this material without being influenced by the suggestions of the estate itself and the intentions of those who created and maintain it. Thus, this biography will also use source material that has been largely ignored by historical researchers—material beyond that written by Stresemann himself—instead of focusing on his own interpretation (what he had written for posterity) in his papers. A good

Introduction | 13

34. 35.

36. 37.

example of the more limited approach is the biography by Birkelund, who does not use any source material apart from Stresemann’s estate and the documents of the Foreign Office. On this, see the preliminary brief information by his last physician, Zondek, Auf festem Fuße: Erinnerungen eines jüdischen Klinikers. This biography takes into account different social fields at the same time, such as his close environment (family and friends); the wider environment, that is, the general social group he belonged to (petite bourgeoisie) or wanted to belong to (bourgeoisie); and his professional environment (industry); the nation and politics (which he represented as a member of the Reichstag and active politician); and, finally, the “German Volksgemeinschaft” (people’s community) that he loved and strove to achieve. On this, see W. Stresemann, Mein Vater Gustav Stresemann. On this, see his telling letter to his female party comrade Dr. Bünger of 11 February 1928, PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 228, in which he expresses his views on the women’s movement and the role of woman in society in detail. See the section “The System of Bourgeois Values” in chapter 2.

Chapter 1

A Life

S Autobiography as Composition My parents got married on October 20, 1903. The wedding took place in the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church built in the late nineteenth century. It was followed by a most opulent reception in the “English House” of the restaurant A. Huster, 49 Mohrenstraße. . . . [The wedding meal] consisted of five courses with a choice between poultry broth and consommé, turbot and Rhine salmon, beef filet and saddle of mutton, lobster and goose liver pâté, pheasant and saddle of venison. There were also vegetables, salads, and preserved fruits in abundance. The culinary potential of our ancestors must have been impressive. After the fish and meat courses, “various ice creams in figures,” cheese rolls, and Chester cake as well as fruit and dessert followed. Beverages included sherry, Port, German and French wines from 1891, ’92, and ’93. There was also an entertainment program . . ., apart from dancing, the skit “The First Lunch” was performed.1

This might have been how the wedding of Dr. Gustav Stresemann and his wife Käte, née Kleefeld, looked in Berlin on 20 October 1903: a cheerful reception with an opulent meal and fine wines, celebrated by people from high society, with dancing and performances. In the center: Gustav S., an ambitious, intelligent, popular, and endearing young man and Käte Kleefeld, now Dr. Käte S., a young and beautiful woman with considerable private means. This describes the image of successful festivities, documented for the private memory of family and friends, but also for contemporaries and future generations.2 There is no sign of potential discord, no hint of the insecurity of a young social climber. Bourgeois soundness, sociability, and joy dominate the narrative. It seems almost as if Wolfgang, the son, who describes the wedding of his parents with great affection, had been with them at their celebration, and had anticipated his father’s wishes, echoing them in his biography.3 To this extent, the image depicts the incarnation of the dream of a beautiful family. Notes from this chapter begin on page 49.

A Life | 15

Figure 1.1. Käte Stresemann (1883–1979) with the eldest son Wolfgang (1904–1998). Photo from ca. 1907. Courtesy Politisches Archiv, Auswärtiges Amt, Berlin (PA AA).

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However, Wolfgang Stresemann only used oral reports for his description,4 some information provided by Rudolf Schneider,5 Stresemann’s old confidant, as well as an invitation to his parents’ wedding. His main source was probably his parents, and primarily his father Gustav. Therefore, many questions remain unanswered. Why did the wedding take place in Berlin rather than in Stresemann’s new home of Dresden, where he had just established himself? Who were the guests? Who paid for the reception?6 How did the two families get on, the “beer seller” and the wealthy Jewish merchant family that had converted to Protestantism? Were Stresemann’s siblings among the guests? How did Richard, the alcoholic brother, act surrounded by fine wines?7 Was everything truly rosy between the two spouses? Had the husband not been desperately in love recently, at least according to his own account—not with his wife, but with a school friend who had rejected his proposal?8 Was marrying the sister of a fraternity brother really a case of true love as conveyed at the time and later? How did the 20-year-old bride feel when she was mocked in a skit at the wedding reception for her lack of cooking skills? The depiction raises question upon question, which clearly cannot all be answered. At any rate, an odd mixture of facts and fiction, of density and openness comes to light in their place. It can therefore be hoped that the comprehensive estate of Stresemann’s papers may be of help. Let us have a look. Private estates are a very special kind of source material. Extreme caution is necessary because they never reflect the entire life of the protagonist, but only individual and selected aspects. This can be due to gaps in the chronology of the sources or the loss of documents. Not everything that historians today consider interesting was deemed worth keeping by the one who left the estate. Personal reasons might also play a role since the estate owner would usually only leave material behind which he wished to be known. Often, historians find only little evidence that would compromise the protagonist. It must therefore always be assumed that important events have been obscured; the way this is done perhaps provides some hints as to how the protagonist wanted to present himself to future generations. At first glance, the estate of Stresemann’s papers does not look like a work of deliberate composition,9 seeming instead to be virtually inexhaustible and dense. The documents are meticulously organized for business and office purposes. This is no surprise given that at times three private assistants worked for Stresemann. Everything, ranging from children’s photographs to reflections made during his old age, from business letters to diplomatic secret documents, from “begging letters” to complaints lodged with authorities, seems to have been kept. Stresemann thus seems like an open book that one only has to read in order to get to know and understand everything about him.10

A Life | 17

Figure 1.2. Gustav Stresemann at the age of three. Courtesy PA AA.

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It is, however, a fact that large parts of this seemingly open book were written by Stresemann himself. With his estate of private documents, Stresemann left a composition of his life that aligned with his ideas and wishes: the image of a stunning rise in economics, politics, and culture. The fact that Stresemann never wanted to keep a large number of these papers secret fuels some skepticism. From the mid-1920s, he knew his death was approaching, and his faithful secretary, Henry Bernhard, fulfilled his wish to publish important documents immediately afterwards—an extraordinary event. These documents were therefore meant for posterity and to illustrate a skillful composition.11 The estate is, first and foremost, not complete. Stresemann himself pointed out that politicians must not write down, let alone document, every important incident. For example, he criticized the Vienna central bank for documenting and even archiving discrediting and discriminating financial transactions by pointing out: “The gentlemen seem to be beginners in this area [to obfuscate matters in written remarks].” Half-ironically, he added: “Please do not put this remark on file.”12 And yet, it is difficult to substantiate that Stresemann arranged and selected certain materials for his estate because deliberately not documenting, omitting, or even suppressing written archival material can hardly be proved. To deduce an intentional strategy from blank areas is almost impossible. Nevertheless, let us try. At first glance, it is already striking that documents about certain aspects of Stresemann’s life are missing: almost all of the archival material on Stresemann’s activities for the Association of Saxon Industrialists (Verband Sächsischer Industrieller, VSI), including his work as a legal advisor, only exists in rudimentary form.13 The comprehensive estate of the Saxon entrepreneurial dynasty of Niethammer14 can serve as a counternarrative. It shows that during this period Stresemann conducted intensive correspondence. Its analysis brings a different Stresemann into view than the one we know from his own estate: a restless and very politically and economically active man who was not always very likeable,15 an extremely ambitious young manager and politician who did not shy away from anything to climb the social ladder.16 But first and foremost, in the documents of the Niethammer estate an almost intolerable “self-opinionated brawler” comes to the fore. There is not only a lack of source material on Stresemann as an economic manager and regional politician, but the private correspondence is also almost completely missing.17 Some of it is stored in closed stacks appeared later in his private estate. In the “official” estate, large parts of his early correspondence, family documents, various documents from his student life and his activities in the fraternity are missing, as well as those on his financial situation. In short, there is almost nothing beyond the official version of the young man, the later family

A Life | 19

father, the husband, and the wealthy bourgeois citizen, and most notably nothing on his illnesses during his adolescence. The fact that Kurt Koszyk discovered Stresemann’s correspondence with his childhood friend Kurt Himer, which is now accessible, shows that source material of his early years does exist and thus has been deliberately omitted.18 The same is true for the letters to his wife and various other private documents that were made accessible to scholarship only later. Nevertheless, source material from the private realm is still fragmented in comparison to official documents on Stresemann the politician.19 But why is this source material missing? One might assume that Stresemann thought private documents had no place in a politician’s estate. However, the fact that fragments from his private life do in fact exist contradicts this view. Did Stresemann deliberately want to omit certain aspects of his childhood and adolescence and highlight others? What sort of image did he want to paint of himself that could have been darkened by the unpublished sources?20 It would appear—and this is one of the main theses of this account—that Stresemann wanted to create the image of a beautiful, educated, bourgeois adolescence, a straightforward life trajectory. His aim was to present the life of a sentimental, well-educated young man, eager for knowledge, who gradually matured into a statesman while preserving the dreamy, human, and emotional personality of his adolescence. It is no coincidence that he chose the title “Traumjörg: Gedichte einer Jugend”21 for his first planned biography and a collection of poems from 1920.22 He skillfully spread this interpretation of himself within his estate and deepened it by including several key source documents. Future generations have eagerly seized this view of Stresemann, which also resonated in his biographies. An example of Stresemann’s subtle technique consists of his inclusion of one rather extensive source in his estate instead of many original documents in which he himself reports on his adolescence, his emotions, and ideas. That is, he interprets his own life and provides this interpretation as a guideline for future biographers. This document is his early Abitur essay.23 Stresemann apparently counted on the fact that every biographer would have to refer to it. Strictly speaking, an Abitur essay, written for a teacher toward the end of one’s secondary education as a reflection on one’s life, is of little significance. Nowhere else do people lie as much as in an Abitur essay; they distort the truth, make every effort to write for the recipient, and mix facts and fiction. Usually, they only include what their authors think will be useful for the future, what the recipients expect, and perhaps what the authors want to be, hence, their visions of themselves. They rarely say anything about what the authors really think or what is really true about their lives up to that point.24 Stresemann’s Abitur essay is no different in this respect. It highlights certain aesthetic interests—literature and poetry, but, above all, history and religion, and

20 | Gustav Stresemann: The Crossover Artist

Figures 1.3–1.6. The young Stresemann—four pictures from his youth. Courtesy PA AA.

A Life | 21

repeatedly Schiller and Goethe. It almost goes without saying that the writer was also interested in Shakespeare and the great French authors. Thus, the report lists everything that a teacher would expect from a young student with an interest in education. This alone prompts skepticism, particularly since there are additional sources originating from enthusiastic former teachers and fellow students written in the 1920s that confirm and thus seem to objectify the report. But they are highly idealizing and were intended predominantly to bring “their” Reich Minister Stresemann honor. Moreover, Stresemann revised these almost hagiographical writings shortly before his death, and his “wishes and suggestions were taken into account in the texts.”25 In this way, they corroborated the overall impression Stresemann had intended and thus served his construct.26 Therefore, the memories of Stresemann’s youth, composed by himself and his followers, fully correspond to the model career of a member of the educated bourgeoisie, as described by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe in his novels on Wilhelm Meister depicting the formative years and education of their protagonist. Stresemann was so fascinated by these books that he later wrote several scholarly articles about them. Both forms of remembrance have one thing in common: they mainly aim to create consistency in the biography, in particular, as seen from the angle of its successful ending. But what is missing in Stresemann’s sugarcoated Abitur essay? It is striking that the economic situation of his parents is mentioned merely in passing, and information on the family background is touched upon only briefly and in an idealized fashion. Stresemann’s eldest brother lived in the most difficult financial circumstances, “his sister Agnes died when she was 17 years old, his brother Emil shortly after birth, his brother Robert at 22 years of age, presumably through suicide,”27 another brother was an alcoholic. None of this is even mentioned. Highlighted, on the other hand, is his deep mourning after his beloved mother’s death.28 He omits that his parents always struggled economically, working day and night, and that their business nonetheless grew less profitable. Stresemann later analyzed this reality from a scholarly perspective in his doctoral thesis and came to terms with it somewhat.29 But did the young Stresemann really have nothing to do with the real-life circumstances of an emerging industrial state? Later, as the shrewd legal advisor of the Association of Saxon Industrialists, had he no eye for such economic problems only a few years before he started his economic activities? Did these activities, as he complained, really only keep him away from his literary studies, which he deemed much more important? “Of all the days of the week I dislike Saturdays the most because then I must work in my parents’ business, I must receive money, pay out salaries, and do various other things.”30 These remarks reflect neither a great interest in the social reality of his parents, nor a strong sense of responsibility toward his family. Stresemann not only lived

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off his parents’ business and his siblings who helped them, but he also used his social background for literary purposes when he published his early poems in the Deutsche Gastwirtschaftszeitung in 1895.31 In his Abitur essay, he mainly lamented his loneliness due to his siblings being much older than him, so that he did not have a proper family life.32 He did not help in the family business because he was rather weak. He treated himself to a life of freedom, particularly during the holidays, and started traveling: “These travels brought me to the most beautiful parts of Thuringia, to the Harz Mountains, and, above all, to the sea.” According to his own account, he indulged in juvenile self-discovery rituals and attempted to flee the ugly real world, an aesthete equipped by his father with sufficient means despite the scarce resources at home and favored financially over his siblings. Thus, he presented himself as an innocent, bourgeois Traumjörg, longing for education and the beauty of nature. If this description is accurate, the question arises as to what kind of a boy he was who would have his father, mother, and siblings work hard while he indulged in intellectual pleasures? At first glance, his early correspondence with Kurt Himer,33 which today is part of Stresemann’s private estate, underpins his self-constructed image of himself as a dreamer. Yet when one takes a closer look at this source material, Stresemann proves to be much more reasonable and realistic, especially when it comes to his own interests and his future career. In a letter of almost twenty pages, he reflected in detail on his professional future, meticulously weighing out the pros and cons of his career options like an accountant. He pointed out that he had systematically prepared for a career in journalism (school, early newspaper articles, “Berliner Briefe”) and argued that he had interrupted these activities only temporarily to review for his Abitur exam, which was “very useful.” Nothing recalls a “dreamer” here. This is the letter of a cold and calculating young man who thought rationally about his options.34 Thus, the unilinear life trajectory, the image of the unworldly dreamer, and his alleged educated, bourgeois background were largely just wishful thinking and a construct. Apparently, they made life easier for Stresemann—but they were far from the reality of his early years. The fact that he deliberately stage-managed his life is mirrored in the way the first contemporary biographies on him came about. Again, Stresemann’s signature and his agenda are clearly visible. This holds true first and foremost for the book written by his nephew, Franz Miethke, published in 1919.35 As early as 1909, Stresemann asked him to “write a short biography of my life and my aspirations as a national economist, politician, and as a human being” in the event of his early death. “You know that I was no egoist; please highlight this.”36 It is striking that Stresemann thought about dying early when he was just 31 years old, that he made “literary” provisions, and gave instructions regarding the

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content of his biography. Stresemann wanted “his children to get to know me in the light of the Stresemannian tradition so that not every opinion that lives in me and in you [Miethke] will be extinguished.” It is perfectly obvious which traditions Stresemann was referring to: the liberal-bourgeois image that he had constructed of himself. In a way, this was once again corroborated by these specific instructions. However, Miethke did not fulfill his uncle’s wish before 1919, when he wrote this early biography. Because he was personally close to and financially dependent on Stresemann, the booklet was very much a panegyric. Nevertheless, it was revised and approved for publication by the protagonist.37 The strategist within him wanted to make sure that the focus of the biography was put on Stresemann as an economic politician in the crisis year of 1919. This did not quite correspond to his extensive political activities during the war but took into account the political circumstances of the publication year of 1919. The politician Stresemann, the “warmonger” and “annexationist” who had brought down the Reich chancellor, was not popular in 1919. On the contrary, highlighting his political wartime activities might have been counterproductive. His competence as an economic expert, on the other hand, could be placed center stage as a positive and consistent factor in his life. He could hope this would have a positive effect on the bourgeoisie, which was quaking in fear of potential nationalizations during the revolution. The biography was crucial for Stresemann to present himself as someone who would be politically tenable in the future.38 Stresemann also gave specific instructions to his confidant, the former State Secretary to the Chancellery, Rochus Baron von Rheinbaben, for the publication of his writings in 1926 and Rheinbaben’s biography on Stresemann, published in 1930.39 At this time, the political circumstances were quite different; accordingly, the presentation of Stresemann changed. In this year, dominated by the conclusion of the Locarno Treaties and Germany’s entry into the League of Nations, Stresemann saw himself as an internationally esteemed and successful peace politician. Thus, he focused on his personality as a human being and on his political achievements. His activities as an economic politician and legal advisor were less in demand at that time. The objective of this biographical composition was to present his previous life and political activities as an entire unit that had served the same purposes from the outset, without any detours or exceptions, even during the war. According to this construct, it was only the (desired) consistently direct nature of his policy that led almost inevitably to the year of success in 1926. The crucial point was “the consistent line of my policy” since the turn of the century. Thus, Stresemann allowed himself to cast the important stages of his life in this collection of essays and speeches according to these selection criteria.40 Stresemann himself took responsibility for the overall conception of the two volumes. To name but one example, he selected the poems intended for publi-

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cation. They were supposed to create the impression of both a romantic and a national-minded bourgeois citizen. Rheinbaben’s plan to initially only publish the first volume of speeches up to the year 1918 concerned Stresemann. He was afraid that this would jeopardize the consistent narrative of his life. He also believed that the Left would point a finger at him saying: “look, the man of war,” while the Right would blame him: “during the war, you were in alignment with us; after the war, you switched sides for oppositional reasons.”41 The initially intended title “Stresemann, from London to Geneva” was out of the question for him since it would limit “the period of my activities to my time as a minister.”42 He preferred the title he had chosen himself: “Stresemann, Statesman and Personality,” a title that not only highlighted his personal character but also emphasized his soundness and the continuity of his life. Thus, the biography was published with the subtitle “Der Mensch und der Staatsmann” (The man and the statesman) and the volume with his essays and speeches bore the subtitle “Politik—Geschichte—Literatur” (Politics—history—literature). This subtitle reflects his special concern with emphasizing the cultural components that had allegedly influenced him throughout his life.43 These few examples44 indicate how eager Stresemann was to shape his own image and the view of himself and his policy for future generations, incorporating them into his biographies as objective facts. Stresemann virtually co-authored these early biographies.45 He was not only familiar with the overall structure but also knew all the details very well. Moreover, he contributed considerably to the creation of legends concerning his liberal and bourgeois upbringing. The statement that his parents deliberately maintained the liberal tradition of the revolution of 1848 (which his early biographers also spread) was clearly incorrect, as Kurt Koszyk has meticulously proven.46 Gustav Stresemann’s allegedly politically active grandfather whom he, according to his own words, highly admired, the “active revolutionary of 1848,” “had been buried for eight years in the Alter Friedhof [Old Cemetery] in 1848.”47 Stresemann falsely claimed that the books on the revolution, which he owned and which were later included in his estate, were a revolutionary family tradition. Again, he was keen to create the desired bourgeois-liberal line of continuity.

Gustav Stresemann and His Physiognomy Both then and now, Stresemann’s looks provoked (critical) comments.48 Thus, we should examine how his physiognomy potentially affected his attitude in personal and social contexts, and in his political career. How and why was Stresemann able to develop a positive image and win trust as a politician, despite not having a very captivating appearance at first glance? What role did caricatures play in this respect?49

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Figure 1.7. Portrait of Gustav Stresemann by Augustus Edwin John (1878–1961), March 1925, oil on canvas, Albright Knox Art Gallery/Art Resource, New York. © Estate of Augustus John / Bridgeman Images. Used with permission.

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Stresemann in the Spotlight of Physiognomy Research Research literature on physiognomy is rather sparse, and scientific studies are still in short supply, although scholarship on this topic took off particularly during the Weimar period—not only by conservative and racialist science.50 The following considerations are based on press reports during Stresemann’s lifetime and (the always very) subjective opinions of his contemporaries. Many of his contemporaries, and not just his opponents, thought of Stresemann as the epitome of the disagreeable German, “not exactly Germany’s most likeable face.”51 He apparently embodied what people in other countries called “the ugly German.”52 Two examples, one from Poland, the other one from France—not exactly friends of Germany—illustrate this: “When encountering . . . Dr. Stresemann for the first time, a stout man with a huge bald head, a man you can tell likes eating and drinking and dislikes exercising, one would think of him as the embodiment of what is usually called the German type.”53 The contemptuous and disparaging French term “Boche” referring to German soldiers in World War I was meant by this. Stubby and sturdy, with a round and “shiny head, his fat neck squeezing out of the collar, a clunky body on firm legs—Mr. Stresemann’s makes a first impression of somewhat brutal power.”54 In short, according to these two judgments in the foreign press, Stresemann was a man that “nature had given a very poor figure.”55 Whereas Reich Chancellor Wilhelm Cuno was the cosmopolitan owner of a shipping company and one of the “most handsome men” in Germany,56 his successor Stresemann had a pyknic figure: round and well-fed, with a broad, fleshy face, short limbs, and hunched shoulders,57 a pronounced forehead, small bulging eyes, a strong swelling of the eyelids, broad nasal wings, and pronounced nasolabial folds. His face looked puffed up and pale, mostly due to his illness. His round cheeks and very full lips underscored this impression. His huge bald head was another prominent feature of his physiognomy.58 It seemed that nature had not been generous to Gustav Stresemann. However, this negative impression only arises upon a first glance. A closer look does Stresemann’s personality more justice, as the correspondent of a prominent French journal pointed out. Just as a close look “is directed at Mr. Stresemann’s face, the impression vanishes with banality. This is no common face. A willful chin, a big, luscious mouth, a very high forehead and most of all two deep-set eyes, small, intelligent, eager for knowledge, inquiring, and surprisingly agile that interrogate and penetrate his counterpart without ever revealing their own secrets.”59 Although at first glance Stresemann seemed to be robust, strong, and confident, in some pictures he appeared almost shy. Many photographs show a man whose body language signaled defense, radiating discontentment, uneasiness, and the wish to get away from disturbances and impositions such as photo sessions.60

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Figure 1.8. Gustav Stresemann in the spa gardens of Bad Wildungen, 1926. Courtesy PA AA.

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Figure 1.9. Gustav Stresemann and his wife, ca. 1927/1928. Courtesy PA AA.

“The clumsy stiffness of his movements underlined . . . the impression of a man who is embarrassingly aware of his unlucky appearance,” noted a perceptive contemporary journalist.61 This impression is stronger still when his charming and universally popular wife appears next to him in family or official photographs. “Of medium height and wiry . . . she is one of the best-dressed women in Berlin,” a Berlin journalist pointed out, accurately echoing the opinion of the entire Berlin tabloid press.62 With good reason, many saw Stresemann as the “husband of the wisest, most ambitious, and most energetic woman of Berlin,” a wife “who often facilitated his career and incited his ambition.”63 This referred to the common perception that Käte Stresemann “tirelessly and unwearyingly” supported her husband, who sometimes gave the impression of helplessness, “in social situations.”64 She very skillfully knew how to “conceal her husband’s ponderousness with elegance and charm.”65 Although Käte Stresemann’s house was indeed the “center of the diplomatic corps and the official world of the Reich capital” during the Weimar Republic,66 the cosmopolitan Count Harry Kessler, a longstanding observer of the family and Berlin’s high society, did not consider the foreign minister and his wife truly elegant. He compared their soirées with the “Tuileries balls of Napoleon III,” where “many mostly inelegant women with false and real pearl necklaces [were accompanied by] sweaty men in ill-fitting tailcoats, sitting in beautiful old traditional rooms.”67

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Figure 1.10. Gustav Stresemann with State Secretary Carl von Schubert in San Remo, 1927. Courtesy PA AA.

Figure 1.11. Stresemann writing postcards, September 1929, Vitznau, Switzerland. Seated to the right of him is Attaché Wolf. Courtesy PA AA.

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Countess von Schubert, née von Harrach and married to Stresemann’s state secretary, multimillionaire, and grandson of the industrialist Carl Ferdinand Freiherr von Stumm Halberg from the Saar area, shared this impression. To her, Stresemann and his wife were misfits in high society, as documented by Count Kessler in March 1926: Renata [von Schubert] has remained the beautiful, elegant, impertinent aristocrat, inside and out. To her, Stresemann, Luther, the members of the Reichstag are still only “people,” grotesque bourgeois riffraff that has seized power against all order. . . . She is the only grand dame of the republic. Compared to her, Mrs. Stresemann, Mrs. Luther, not to mention Mrs. Löbe, all look like typists in their Sunday frocks.68

Deep down, Stresemann probably knew about his deficits—and suffered on account of them, as his confidant and perceptive observer, Eugen Schiffer, detected: He was well aware of his bad breeding. In fact, he did not go as far as the Social Democrat Ignaz Auer, who once admitted that he would give all his knowledge to know precisely whether it was adequate to eat fish or asparagus with only a fork or with both knife and fork. But it sounds like a confession when he [Stresemann] wrote in his obituary on Rathenau that this man, familiar with wealth and high society, was one of those who had a self-confident manner like old noblemen that others had to acquire.69

The older (and more ill) Stresemann became, the more he refused to participate in social activities that increasingly bothered him, but not his wife. In his eyes they were nothing but coercion: We need to finish the season in Berlin, “otherwise I’ll fall apart” as Blücher, whose letters I have been reading, writes to his wife. It agrees with me so well to stay away from all these festivities and parties and I do not intend to comply with this coercion. Mussolini does not accept out-of-house invitations; the same applies to Briand; Chamberlain gives two dinner parties per season; why shall I die in five years time just because I must dine every night? I wouldn’t dream of it!70

This illustrates the contrast between Stresemann and his wife. Not only did the couple have different interests and health conditions, but they were also burdened with different stresses and strains. Not entirely selflessly, Stresemann pointed out the risks of the high number of activities to his wife: “Why,” he asked, “do you make yourself a slave to ‘society’? You should rest because not even you can withstand the speed of this life in the long run!”71 Unsurprisingly, this advice proved to be futile.72 It might well have been a cry for help to stop tormenting him with the social activities that he disliked so much.73

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Yet his attitude was rather ambivalent when it came to the basic question of whether and to what extent he accepted the noble upper class as a role model and could enjoy its elitist culture.74 He was very blunt in his contempt for the lifestyle of the German ambassador to Paris, Leopold von Hoesch, whom he highly esteemed politically: I do not like von Hoesch, I mean personally. He is more arrogant than the former emperor of China. A cordial mood is almost impossible under these circumstances; only a festivity like the one at Schwabach’s [a befriended banker]. He has 16 (in words: sixteen) servants and employees, among them 3 chefs. And he is a bachelor. I do not want to stay there again.75

Stresemann’s Physiognomy as a Symbol of Trust So what effect did such a man have in politics? How and why was Stresemann so successful as an election campaigner, especially during the Weimar Republic? How did he manage to be seen as “down to earth” and to become popular among large parts of the population? These questions are all the more important in view of the fact that the political and social landscape of the Weimar Republic differed substantially from that of Imperial Germany. Much more importance was placed on politicians’ appearance, with visual representations playing a growing role.76 Just like sports and society, albeit more slowly,77 politics used pictures of politicians that allowed voters to identify with them.78 Politicians’ faces gained importance79 as they came to be increasingly rated on their looks.80 Stresemann had encountered this trend during his visit to the United States in 1912, when he observed Woodrow Wilson’s election campaign on the ground.81 In 1923, Stresemann entered the grand political stage as Reich chancellor for the first time. Overnight, he became a well-known public figure and had to prove himself in “contests of beauty, trust, and conviction.”82 He was tremendously successful in this respect because he was able to create a positive image by turning his initially unfavorable looks into an advantage. One of the important “types” within the visual world of the Weimar Republic was the “new man of action,” a type clearly distinguishable and identifiable who represented a break from prewar bourgeois traditions. This type embodied confidence, strength, and toughness in uncertain times, as well as a radical new beginning. Due to his looks and the values related to them, Stresemann represented this type only to a lesser extent. Moreover, he had no history as a warrior, unlike men such as Waldemar Pabst and Georg Escherich, whom he had admired and courted for years.83

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A “counter-type” to the “warrior” was the cultivated and honorable bourgeois citizen who stood for German continuity. This type suited Stresemann much better. But it was highly doubtful whether he was able to fully and positively represent it, at least among the bourgeoisie, due to his political attitude during the war.84 His looks and appearance did not exactly help in this respect.85 Rather, some contemporary critics saw him as the member of the stratum “between the proletariat and the so-called educated bourgeoisie, but with survival skills superior to both of theirs.”86 “There was something specifically proletarian and common, perhaps even vulgar, about his face.”87 Figure 1.12. Book cover of the second volume But trust or trustworthiness was of Stresemann’s three-volume written legacy, crucial.88 Trust was a decisive facVermächtnis. Courtesy PA AA. tor for gaining and accumulating social and subsequently political capital. Having a “face that instills trust” was all the more important because Stresemann belonged to a party of the political center, the DVP (Deutsche Volkspartei [German People’s Party]). But the friends and, even more, the opponents of this party referred to it as a “turntable”: flexible and versatile, always open to everything, never fixed on anything. Its leaders therefore faced allegations of not being trustworthy due to a lack of principles. Nevertheless, Stresemann was able to become a trustworthy figure in 1923. Count Kessler’s notes provide an initial explanation of how Stresemann managed to accomplish this. This perceptive and critical observer of the Weimar Republic described the potential metamorphosis of a man who initially symbolized mistrust into one who instilled trust by taking a speech of the Center Party politician Matthias Erzberger from July 1919 as an example. Erzberger had been attacked beyond measure in the Reichstag by the German Nationals due to his policies and defended himself in a way that turned him from a man with a “slappable face” into a popular, trustworthy figure. According to Count Kessler, this transformation largely resulted from Erzberger’s inner truthfulness, which sidelined the dominant negative connotations associated with him:89

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Erzberger with his philistine figure, his coarse accent, his grammatical mistakes, did not make a good first impression. . . . I was standing right behind him at the rostrum, I saw his poorly made, flat boots, his ludicrous trousers whose corkscrew creases ended in a full moon bottom, his broad, pyknic peasant shoulders, the entire fat, sweaty, dislikeable, most petit-bourgeois person before me at close range: every clumsy movement of the heavily built form, every change in color of his fat cheeks, every drop of sweat on his greasy forehead. But step by step, this ludicrous, inarticulate, clumsy figure came up with the most terrible accusations; the poorly constructed, poorly spoken sentences delivered fact after fact; they formed columns and battalions, came down like blows with a rifle butt on the political Right, which grew pale and slumped down to the ground, getting smaller and smaller until it sat in the corner, completely isolated.

Stresemann’s transformation, though not directly comparable, was similar in some ways. In 1923, the cautiously maneuvering, indecisive, and in many respects disliked politician turned into the new statesman Stresemann. He convinced the public by means of his crisis management during the year and was able to present himself as a politician of the republic who radiated truthfulness and inner conviction even in times of crisis and therefore had to be taken seriously. He enjoyed this positive image until his death, both among the majority of the bourgeoisie and even large parts of the Social Democratic bloc. Stresemann’s skill as a trust-instilling public speaker played an important role in this transformation, just as in Erzberger’s case. His admirer Heinrich Bauer provided a knowledgeable description of the impact Stresemann had as a speaker: Where does this trust in him come from, where his popularity? There is nothing in his appearance or his looks that could make him popular. His short, thickset figure with broad head and neck are by no means endearing at first glance. But when he gives a speech, the force of his energy breaks forth, his whole body contracts, and there is a suggestive fire in his eyes—he seems to be a completely different man. The high, metallic, and sharp voice that might initially repulse the audience suddenly sounds thrilling and exciting and fascinates and carries an audience of thousands, friend and foe alike, for two or three hours without resistance.90

Stresemann’s skill as a public speaker clearly helped him gain trust. The famous speech he gave in the crisis year of 1923, in which he prepared his ultimate entrance into active participation in the politics of the Reich, also demonstrates this.91 In this parliamentary speech, which met with great applause and broad approval, Stresemann made his mark as a politician who could instill trust inside and outside the Reich and overcome the political trenches within Germany and between Germany and the Allies. This suggested that he could be one who would resolve the most severe crisis of the Weimar Republic yet. In fact, only a few

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Figure 1.13. Portrait of Gustav Stresemann, undated. Courtesy PA AA.

months after the speech, he became the youngest Reich chancellor of the republic. A new image of Stresemann was born. It was of particular importance for this image change that contemporary visual representations were based on drawings, woodcarvings, and processed photographic material rather than on actual photographs. “The common frequent result was the iconic, ‘fossilized’ representation of people that depersonalized them in a certain way and made them a symbol.”92 They became a “type.” The bourgeois “type” was usually presented as “hairless and with a stern look,”93 gaining dignity and significance precisely for these reasons. Under these circumstances, Stresemann’s physiognomy by no means precluded his chances. He was probably the one who (co-)created the visual power of this type. In addition, the fact that Stresemann’s looks made him suitable for caricatures had a positive effect.94 In this field, Stresemann was able to gain substantial ground quickly. Between 1923 and 1929, several hundred caricatures were produced, most of them favorable. Two caricatures from 1923, published in the two most important German satirical magazines with different political directions, Ulk and Kladderadatsch, are paradigmatic of Stresemann’s effect on the public.95 The caricatures prove that Stresemann enjoyed a decidedly positive image, despite all the criticism, across a broad swath of the political spectrum.96

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Figure 1.14. Poster for German parliamentary elections of September 1930 advertising the Deutsche Volkspartei (German People’s Party). Stresemann had died the year before. © Deutsches Historisches Museum, Berlin. Used with permission.

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The Ulk caricature portrayed Stresemann as a brave medieval knight facing a partially militant and violent oppositional front that he had to fend off as a lone warrior. This lifted him out of his own lower-class lifeworld and elevated him as a stylized knight, which had highly positive connotations. He appeared to be the lone, honorable defender of the republic, or at least the state. Moreover, he was equipped with inferior weapons in the fight against his opponents: enemies of the state, extremists, and party adversaries. With a sideswipe at National Socialist agitation, he was named the “dictator,” despite his weak and potentially doomed position. The Kladderadatsch caricature also depicted “the dictator Stresemann” in a positive light. Whereas the Ulk highlighted his risk of being beaten as the defender of the republic, the Kladderadatsch cast him as an almost monumental “ruler.” “His face expresses a superior calmness, and his wide, piercing eyes make every opposition seem undesirable and futile.” The caricature thus turned his physiognomic disadvantages into positive features, which served his positively connoted mission. His adversaries’ attempt to topple “the Stresemann monument” seemed preposterous. Stresemann stood above them all. These caricatures thus conveyed the trust that had been attributed to Stresemann. He might not have been portrayed as a Democrat “but as a beacon of hope, who was trusted to resolve the longstanding state and government crisis.” In sum, in 1923, Stresemann was given respect and trust by the most important caricaturists of the republic thanks to his political achievements. As a result, pictures, portraits, and caricatures played an increasingly important role for the trust placed in Stresemann. He was well aware of this, so he was happy to have his likeness made, despite assertions to the contrary. He showed great interest in the work of his photographers and watched the path their photographs took into the international press with great scrutiny and noticeable vanity.97 The famous Stresemann picture based on the painting by Georg Marschall (with a facsimile of his signature) showing him posing as a statesman was a bestseller in the picture market. It is noteworthy that his physiognomic disadvantages were skillfully concealed in this picture.98 Consequently, the “retouched Stresemann” was both an advertising stunt and the successful visual representation of him as a statesman.

An Ill Man Stresemann’s physiognomy shows a man of pyknic physique who gives the impression of being self-conscious in social situations; it also reveals severe illness. This leads us to another dimension of his life whose significance for Stresemann and his policies cannot be overestimated. It therefore deserves its own place,

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Figure 1.15. “Der Diktator” (The dictator), Ulk, 26 October 1923 (vol. 52, no. 43), Berlin, front cover. The flag Stresemann holds reads “Dictatorship.” The caption reads “The Dictator. Will Dr. Stresemann will be able to cope with this front?” © Digitalisat: Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, CC-BY-SA 3.0.

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Figure 1.16. “Der Diktator Stresemann” (The dictator Stresemann), Kladderadatsch, 28 October 1923 (vol. 76, no. 43), Berlin, front cover. © Digitalisat: Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, CC-BY-SA 3.0.

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alongside his social and economic situation, political achievements, and desire to become a respected bourgeois man. Most photographs show Stresemann as seemingly robust. Many observers saw him as tough, physically persevering, and even flexible and resilient. However, he actually “never gave the impression of real health.”99 Although he looked healthier than he was, denied himself any rest, systematically boycotted his doctors’ advice, ignored or attempted to quickly overcome painful periods of illness, and seemed to be like a roly-poly toy, he was an ailing man with gradually deteriorating health.100 Illnesses marked him throughout his entire life. He suffered from them, and they came to control more and more aspects of his life, even though he tried to brace himself against them: shortness of breath increased, hot flushes and sweating became more frequent, hyperthyroidism resulted in Graves’ disease, and kidney insufficiency and frequent flu infections as well as heart problems made matters worse.101 When in 1927 his kidney disease and his weak heart started to get worse, his appearance changed gravely. A childhood friend noted: “a mortal paleness lies on his spongy, puffy face; his eyes seem to vanish under his watery wrinkles; his bluish veins bulge.”102 From 1928, Stresemann was terminally ill, with only a short period to live.103 A life without constant medical care was unthinkable for him. However, it was

Figure 1.17. Farewell to Stresemann on his trip to Geneva at the Anhalter Railway Station (Berlin, 1926). Courtesy PA AA.

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equally unthinkable that he or his political friends and opponents would have mentioned or taken his condition into consideration. This was also due to the fact that Stresemann thought he had to deliver exceptional achievements as an outsider, crossover artist, and social climber with no regard for himself. He had to serve the cause and its success, even during the Weimar Republic, which he did not favor. At the same time, he was not able to eliminate any of the many tasks he could not reject in his capacity as foreign minister and party leader of the DVP, nor did he want to. He and his commitment were the nerve center of the party. But most of all: he loved these challenges. Stresemann went from one doctor to another, from one spa to the next104 but was never able to rest. His letter from December 1924 after two election campaigns in one year shows the extent of his workload and stress: “For the time being, I have canceled all events because I need to recover from the last election campaign, which is still weighing heavily on me. The last thirty speeches resulted in a virtually physical dislike of public speeches in front of a big audience.”105 This self-restraint did not last long. As foreign minister of the Locarno policy, he was highly in demand as a public speaker from 1925 onward. In 1928, he complained of “a disposition to headache, tiredness, pressure in the cardiac region, and fits of dizziness.”106 Other symptoms included high blood pressure, cardiac enlargement, enlargement of the coronary arteries, as well as frequent kidney infections. The medical director of the sanatorium of the Bühler Höhe, where he was admitted, aged 49, in June 1927, gave this diagnosis: “There is no doubt of a cirrhotic kidney. The graphs of the protein content and the constantly low specific urine weight are like the hands of the doomed man’s clock of fate advancing relentlessly.”107 None of this stopped his political friends from making the mortally ill man conduct several national and regional election campaigns. He always felt responsible and obliged, but it was perhaps rather his pleasure in political debate that motivated him to deliver these speeches, against all reason. He knew he would physically collapse under the workload, he knew the consequences of this burden, yet he still did not attempt to escape, as his private assistant Bernhard bitterly stated in 1928:108 “Dr. Stresemann’s speech in Mainz, which Mr. Dingeldey forced him to deliver on behalf of the German People’s Party, is in my and the doctors’ view the reason that the character of the minister’s illness is so severe and—I do not need to withhold this information from you—dangerous.”109 Thus, the negligence toward Stresemann’s health had many causes: “sense of duty” and “unreasonableness,” ambition, aspiration, and outside pressure, pleasure in politics, and probably also his awareness of being an important man.110 In addition, the adversarial press often accused him of faking illness and being a coward when he was absent for a few days due to his health. In September 1928, the National Socialists insinuated that the terminally ill foreign minister was “cowardly sinking into self-pity and faking illness to avoid putting his foot

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down in foreign affairs.”111 The party leader and foreign minister did not want to tolerate these and similar allegations, even though his medical history proved only too well that they were false. His health problems started during the war. One illness followed another during these years, although he was still a young man in his thirties. He had three car accidents before March 1915 alone,112 with the last two resulting in substantial cuts and bruises on his legs, severe internal injuries, and coxarthritis.113 During the summer of 1916, Stresemann mentioned only “one bad night,” but his doctors had, in fact, ordered him to take bed rest for several weeks.114 In early 1918, a heart pathology followed,115 then a severe physical and mental breakdown in late 1918 that crippled him for months. It is probably fair to say that after the end of Imperial Germany, he grew tired of living. The old system with the emperor was over, the (left-)liberals excluded him, his economic situation was far from secure—and the future seemed more than bleak. In this spirit, he wrote to his wife from the German constitutional national assembly in Weimar: “My heart is still in the old times, and it hurts to see how everything has changed.”116 As early as December 1918, he told his good acquaintance Hermann Paasche that “the best memories of our lives are behind us; there is no doubt about it.”117 It is difficult to tell whether the kidney disease he developed in early 1919 contributed to this depression. However, none of this stopped him from throwing himself into new political activities again, above all, the foundation of the DVP—with dangerous consequences: at an election meeting in the context of a rally in Nordhorn, he was hit on the head with a hammer from behind and had to escape, severely injured and in fear of his life.118 In another town, someone shot at him, but the public did not care about much, as Stresemann indignantly commented.119 In June, a major heart attack followed, crippling him until mid-August.120 This was probably the first time that he realized how ill he really was.121 In late 1919, he admitted with frustration: “I almost always arrange for a break between my speeches because I can feel it in every part of my body when I speak twice in a row. . . . After my first fit, I started to sense that I have to stop taking things lightly and that I have to comply with my doctor’s wishes.”122 Stresemann’s itinerary for the following year, 1920, shows the workload he put on himself, regardless. In the end, he almost single-handedly set up the DVP and stabilized it in the political field.123 In late January, he stressed how tired and exhausted he was, and made similar remarks in March 1922, whereupon he was forced to take bed rest beginning on the 31 March. In May, he complained again of poor health but still gave a speech in front of 4,500 people in Hanover. His medical diary has a record of blocked arteries on June 22, and then continues in this manner. Still, he was away from home for 116 days a year, living on trains and giving speeches up to four times a day. During the first half of 1921, he had to withdraw from active political work for several weeks. And yet,

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Stresemann assured people that it was “not a chronic disease but only the urgent medical advice to give my body a rest.”124 The illness left its mark on more than just Stresemann’s face and body. His increasingly deteriorating health also affected his personality, actions, and his life as a whole. Graves’ disease, an autoimmune disorder,125 causes physical discomfort and changes the appearance of one’s neck, eyes, and head, but also leads to substantial mood changes.126 In addition to heart palpitations, high blood pressure, muscle weakness, insomnia, and headaches, Stresemann suffered from nervousness, irritability, lapses of concentration, and severe depressive episodes. Often, people who show these symptoms notice the changes in their personality but believe that the environment—and not they themselves—has changed and respond accordingly with aggression, irritation, nervousness, impatience, and unease. Stresemann’s internal tensions erupted in his political work as well as in everyday life. He often overreacted or became obsessed with details. His fear of further assassination attempts was certainly justified since he knew that the Organisation Consul and other right-wing groups wanted him dead.127 At the same time, he suffered from paranoia: he detected assassination attempts where there were none128 or suspected that the policemen assigned for his protection were potential assassins.129 The fact that he was constantly seeing and agitating against schemes orchestrated against him within his own party, though, was only one of his minor abnormalities. Such suspicions were not entirely without reason.130 It is, however, striking that he sometimes ordered notes containing important internal party statements to be delivered indirectly and to treat them like top secret intelligence information, and asked that the same be done with the reply.131 These tensions became even more obvious in the feuds he had with individuals, institutions, and organizations. He perceived the enemy everywhere. For example, he fought with his enemy Kurt Wiedfeldt132 over “slander,” which often got out of hand and was in danger of ending in court, involved his eldest son Wolfgang in diplomatic quarrels over filling the vacant post of the ambassador in Moscow,133 and absurdly believed that some people insinuated he had welcomed the murder of Walther Rathenau.134 It was mainly little things that provoked him to intervene: for example, he complained to the director of the Berlin tram company that public transport had been much better during Imperial Germany,135 demanded that curtains be reintroduced in the Reich railway and that towels be provided in the sleeping coaches, as there used to be.136 He also suggested that sleeper coaches be placed in the middle of the train “because these coaches are the quietest and are less affected by the jerking movement of the train,”137 and complained that tax offices “outside Saxony reject Saxon bills.”138 In such small matters, Stresemann felt inclined to intervene personally and issue a complaint at the highest level, which made him a very difficult person to deal with.

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Stresemann suffered from himself, his illness, others, and his surroundings. His melancholic eyes139 shown in almost all pictures from the 1920s give only a faint idea of the mental stress and tensions he endured, which could only be temporarily softened by the regular treatment of his friend, the neurologist Dr. Otto Schulmann,140 as well as regular medication.141 But soon, he could no longer stand even his trusted doctor, who clung to him like a shadow in his perception, as he told his wife in confidence: “I’m so sick of this constant medical life guard. . . . I cannot be welded to him [Schulmann] for eight weeks, particularly since he clings to me like a leech so that I have to fight for every second on my own.”142 Thus, from early on, Stresemann experienced health as a precious commodity and a grave problem for himself.143 Moreover, the longer he lived, the more aware he was that his lifespan would be limited. Surely, this contributed to his impatience, irritability, restlessness, and extreme changes in his judgment of everyday situations and important political events. This disposition certainly influenced his political actions; he became more and more impatient and demanding in pushing through achievements and success, as his employees knew only too well.144 “A word, a certain tone, a gesture often resulted in a sudden change from exalted joy to darkest doubt, from absolute faith to the worst mistrust.”145 The importance of time as a factor for Stresemann and his policy in his awareness that he did not have any to waste can be illustrated by his Locarno policy. This political event has not yet been investigated in light of his illness, which seemingly had nothing to do with the treaties. However, time was also a crucial factor of the negotiations in Locarno due to the circumstances of the “security pact” project and Stresemann’s illnesses.146 Stresemann’s Locarno policy, which eventually resulted in the treaties with France in October 1925, stipulated France’s eastern and Germany’s western borders among other things. These were to be guaranteed by Italy and Great Britain.147 This security pact policy was an important pillar of Stresemann’s foreign policy strategy. Domestically, it was highly controversial, and the potential opposition of the DNVP even threatened its implementation. This party’s ministers were part of Luther I’s government for the first time. Given the strong political opposition from the Right, it was paramount that the Locarno policy, to name only one of many aspects, only be communicated to the public if swift and tangible results could be achieved. Time was of the essence. This encouraged the foreign minister to keep the policy secret for as long as possible. By withholding information on his security initiative, he attempted to buy time—time to escape the annoying questions and ideas of the right-wing coalition partner DNVP, and time to use the diplomatic breathing room undisturbed by the critical public.148 He urgently needed this arcane time to seemingly “shorten” the protracted process of diplomatic negotiations for the public. Accordingly, the negotiations on the security initiative were publicized as starting in March rather than on 10

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January 1925. Every day without the security initiative being publically known was a win in avoiding attacks against his policy. Only by taking this pressure to succeed into account can we understand why the Foreign Office pushed negotiations for the security pact with so much energy and speed and drafted a treaty that has been referred to as a diplomatic masterpiece.149 One particular dilemma Stresemann faced was not being allowed to mention the real (and substantial) achievements stipulated in the treaties too openly in the end.150 The agreement contributed considerably to destabilizing Poland’s western border and resulted in Poland losing its allies, which did correspond to the public’s wishes. However, this fact could only be phrased so strongly in internal communications as one did not wish to dupe the treaty partners.151 Stresemann’s achievement could therefore not be communicated. On the other hand—and this is where the state of Stresemann’s health comes into play—topics that could be mentioned and were intensely discussed, such as the withdrawal from the occupied territories, could not be achieved so quickly, although they would have calmed down the public. Stresemann’s policy required an extremely long time to take effect. But he did not have this time, both because of public pressure and his impending death. The “repercussions of Locarno,” the long period of time until its potential success, was a particularly severe problem for the foreign minister and caused him concern for the rest of his life.152 Stresemann’s constant pressuring of his negotiation partners, his restlessness, his almost undiplomatic demands, and later his resignation were not only due to political circumstances, such as keeping the DNVP in line and having to satisfy the public. Nor did these things result solely from his negotiating partners’ unwillingness. Rather, his illness, his early knowledge of his approaching death, and his desire to live long enough to witness his achievements taking effect were responsible for his actions.153 He needed time that he no longer had. Therefore, Stresemann’s illness was a factor whose significance can hardly be overestimated both to him as a person and his policy. His seemingly robust exterior was actually rather fragile, his appearance marked by serious diseases that burdened him physically and mentally and increasingly influenced his actions, even causing him to interrupt important meetings.154 He constantly oscillated between weakness and strength, optimism and resignation, and hope and fear.

The Public Speaker His gift of oratory, greatly admired, was strong, eloquent, effective, despite his rather unfavorable voice, [Naumann’s voice was also annoying]. The concrete presentation of a topic, which in Naumann’s case could be so wonderfully sober and clear, often turned in Stresemann’s case into exalted pathos and jovial sentimentality [VereinsSentimentalität]. I [Heuss] still recall that he freely recited many patriotic verses of a very mediocre poem of a German living abroad in a major speech at the Stuttgart

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Institute of the Association for Germans Living Abroad, and I malevolently thought: when will he start sobbing?155 He was an eloquent speaker, and with his stupendous mastery of the word, the sparkling imagery of his language, and his particularly fluent diction, he achieved great success. . . . And yet, his voice was not even especially melodious, was more rough and sharp than soft and had a nasal undertone. He also suffered from stage fright, which became apparent in short, broken sentences at the beginning of his speech. But then he and his audience got into the flow of his remarks, underlined by the gestures of his delicate hands. He liked to look at a subject from various angles, to express it in different metaphors, to sharpen it in a pleasing and docile manner, culminating in a witty remark or effective pathos.156

Without a doubt, Stresemann was an exceptionally gifted and persuasive public speaker. His arch enemy Theodor Heuss was not the only one forced to admit this; rather, this opinion is almost part and parcel of German political, parliamentary, and party history, particularly for the Weimar period. His gift of oratory substantially contributed to his political reputation.157 It is a recurring and never-questioned topic in all Stresemann biographies. Antonina Vallentin, for example, raved about Stresemann as a young public speaker: “He had the gift of clothing his thoughts in long and carefully constructed sentences; his clear ringing voice poured forth the resonant and rounded words that seemed to leap from the very heart of this carefree, diligent, simplehearted German youth. Never pompous and never trivial, neither abstruse nor hackneyed.”158 On Stresemann in his later years, she glowingly added:159 A quarter of a century later, when Gustav Stresemann was already chairman of a turbulent political party, the confidence in the . . . gift of seduction still remained; on one occasion the committee of the People’s Party devoted much time to a proposal that no resolution should be adopted until twenty-four hours had elapsed after a speech by Stresemann, when the mysterious influence of his persuasiveness had passed away, and the members of the party had recovered their emotional balance.

This might be exaggerated out of the author’s great love for and even greater admiration for Stresemann. Nevertheless, Stresemann was an excellent speaker. Above all, he loved to talk a lot, often, for a long time, and always with full commitment. He was a successful speaker both in front of a small and a huge audience, even though he suffered from stage fright and was nervous and tense, just like a beginner.160 But after a short while, the ice was broken and suddenly he knew how to fascinate and overwhelm even a “hardened” audience, such as the members of the Reichstag. This characteristic was confirmed not only by his friends and members of his party but also by many of his contemporaries.161 The number of speeches he gave is downright legion. He distinguished himself as a much sought after public speaker throughout his life, beginning in school (he

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gave the graduation speech in the Gymnasium, although he described himself as an outsider), then in the fraternities (he represented his fraternity at the regional and national level), in political associations (he made an early appearance as an important speaker at the National Socials), in economic associations (especially at annual conferences), with the Freemasons (he filled up halls when he gave his few speeches), and, finally, in the National Liberal and the German People’s Party. He was a popular keynote speaker, especially when he was chancellor and foreign minister. His speeches were not only on politics, but he also was persuasive on philosophical, historical, artistic, and even religious topics. In election campaigns both during Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic, he sometimes gave major political speeches two or three times a day, from morning until late at night, over a period of several weeks or even months. His involvement at the first Reichstag election campaign in the constituency of Annaberg in 1907 became the stuff of legend. Already during his early years as a politician, he hardly cared about his health and instead pushed himself to his limits.162 In the Reichstag, his speeches were often the highlight of the debates. This also held true in the Imperial parliament.163 Even Theodor Wolff, who was rather critical of Stresemann, admitted: Like no-one else today, Stresemann, as a public speaker, combines the tone of intellectual balance with a momentum the masses love. Sometimes, when a party gathering was less reform-oriented and instead chanted an old slogan, the applause could carry him on until he gave an encore. Oratory is the trumpet, and now [1923] it is his task to be the conductor. We hope he will govern the country with the same authority with which he rules the house.164

Very few audio files have survived that would corroborate these effects. There is no evidence, especially for his major Reichstag speeches during the Weimar Republic, where he supposedly particularly excelled. The following section analyzes two surviving sound recordings (“speech at the opening of the cinema and photo exhibition in Berlin, September 25, 1925” and “speech for the DVP on occasion of the Reichstag election on May 20, 1928”165) to shed light on Stresemann as a public speaker and his characteristics from a present-day perspective.166 The brief examination utilizes speech and voice analysis to get a better understanding of Stresemann’s successful oratory technique. In this context, the age of the recording must be kept in mind. What was deemed to be rhetorically elegant in the 1920s does not necessarily correspond to our taste today. Moreover, the poor quality of the recordings has to be taken into account. Last, but not least, we must recall that every speaker and speech entails a variety of factors. Ordinarily, facial expressions, body movements, and hand gestures should be incorporated into such an analysis, but that was not possible in this case.

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First and foremost, it is necessary to stress that both speeches were recorded in a film or sound studio rather than in front of a live audience. The recording of the speech from 25 September 1925 is a talking film, a revolutionary new medium at that time. The second speech from 20 May 1928 was recorded on an election campaign phonograph record. Recorded speeches have special dramaturgical rules and follow different rhetorical guidelines than political speeches in front of an audience. Some results of the analysis (minimal voice modulation, somewhat stilted rhetoric) are also due to these circumstances.

Speech at the Opening of the Cinema and Photo Exhibition in Berlin, 25 September 1925 Stresemann’s mode of speaking in this speech is very ambivalent. It is aggressive, self-confident, dominant, but also emphatic, very intense, yet almost without emotion. Modern listeners find it difficult to follow and demanding because his diction seems unclear, due in part to the poor quality of the recording. His rapid, staccato delivery is striking; it seems as if he wanted to finish the speech as soon as possible. His delivery can be described as hectic, short of breath, pressed, shrill, strained, pleading, monotonous, but still factual, hard, and stern.167 His articulation is very clear. He often enunciates his “r’s” forcefully and with strong vibration; the consonants are markedly accented. This manner of speaking was typical in the 1920s and is therefore not unique to Stresemann. His intonation is also similar to that of other political speakers, dominated mainly by energetic starts and short vowels. The same applies to his monotonous modulation, which could have resulted from the recording technology of the time. Just like many other contemporary speakers, Stresemann’s voice was rather high pitched, again possibly the result of the inferior, contemporary sound engineering. All these components give the speech a stern, factual, but also pleading and intense character. The vowels are relatively short, generating urgency, dynamism, and a pleading tone in his delivery. Overall, Stresemann’s voice has little resonance. Its high pitch makes it sound piercing and sometimes even shrill. It conveys the impression that he is highly convinced of what he is saying but also makes him sound slightly aggressive and even cold. The abovementioned dynamism loses some of its force as a result of this. The voice overall sounds very monotonous. The vowels are kept short, and the voice seems pressed and tight, intensifying its strained, almost hectic character. The speed is rather fast, due also to the short vowels, and the volume is high, strengthening the overall impression of aggression. The monotonous intonation, emphasizing the pleading and persuasive character, contains several breaks, as if the speech had been read out.

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The special dynamism of this Stresemann speech is intensified by the topics of national pride and idealizations of German achievements. At the same time, these topics pose a contradiction to his rather factual, strained, and emotionless delivery. One would have expected a more festive and cheerful tone. The speech might have been just a tedious task for Stresemann, something he simply had to do but did not feel strongly about.

Speech for the DVP on the Occasion of the Reichstag Election on 20 May 1928 Unlike the recording from 1925, Stresemann’s delivery in this speech three years later lacks strength; it is rather gloomy, soft, pessimistic, concerned, nasal, and even weak. It is hard to believe it is the same speaker. Although he sounds much more likeable, his delivery is still not exactly appealing to our ears. Again, it is difficult to follow the content of the speech. Overall, it is dominated by a feeble and unexciting delivery. Consonants are less accented and pronounced less harshly than in the speech from 1925. In parts, the enunciation is rather blurred, and a light accent from Berlin can sometimes be detected (Beendijung). These characteristics make the speech sound less aggressive than the one from 1925. Instead, an impression of fatigue and frailty prevails. Not only are individual sounds formed with less effort, they are also maintained with less tension in the voice. He decreases the tension at the end of sentences, finishing with only a whispering sound, contrary to the strained tone in the speech from 1925. Gustav Stresemann seems more humane and emotional but also weaker. His voice has more resonance, although he does not use nasal resonance so his voice sounds slightly hyponasal, as if he were speaking with nasal congestion. This might be due to his deteriorating health by 1928. The pitch of his voice is lower than in 1925 but still has a limited vocal range. The vocal and prosodic modulation is similar to the speech from 1925, again conveying a prevailing impression that he was reading the speech aloud. His voice lacks strength and dynamism; it seems aged, with his slow pace making it sound even more tired and diminished. Although this speech was intended to be a motivating call for Germans to build a new future together, Stresemann’s tamped down delivery suggests that his heart was not wholly in it, that it was merely a duty to him. In conclusion, Stresemann’s public speaking changed substantially over the three years from 1925 to 1928; he seemed weaker and sicker. Clearly, his illness left a deep mark on his speeches beyond their content. However, this speech and voice analysis does not illuminate the enormous impact Stresemann’s charisma as a speaker must have had on contemporary audiences.

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Notes 1. W. Stresemann, Zeiten und Klänge, 9. 2. Franz Miethke (Stresemann’s nephew) also briefly describes the wedding reception in his biography: manuscript, undated, without page numbers, Privatnachlass Stresemann, PA AA. However, Miethke did not attend the wedding party. 3. See also the passages written in a similar style by an alleged participant of the wedding in Koszyk, Stresemann, 19. 4. Thus, “biographical narrations are not simply reflections of the actual events but also part of the process of meaning production, an attempt to add meaning to the actual events of a life by narrating them in a special way.” H. C. Köhler, “Biographie als rhetorisches Konstrukt,” 43. 5. On Schneider’s biography, see the subsection “Stresemann’s Confidants” in chapter 2 of this volume. 6. Miethke wrote that Stresemann’s mother-in-law arranged the wedding reception. Even decades after his wedding, Stresemann did not know anything about fine wines. See his letters to Baron Ernst von Wolzogen, 14 December 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 310; and to Paul Kressmann, 28 January 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 7. According to Miethke, Richard Stresemann gave a very good and impressive speech about the bride at the wedding. How Miethke knew about that is unknown. 8. Stresemann kept in touch with this girlfriend, Charlotte Panneke. The prologue Stresemann wrote for the opening of the Liegnitz Theater is due to the friendship between them. Stresemann was also the godfather to one of her children. For references, see Walter Görlitz, Gustav Stresemann, 23. Franz Miethke critically examined this; for obvious reasons (sympathy for Käte Stresemann), he was eager to downplay this relationship. 9. See Hirsch, “Das Stresemannbild im Wandel der Zeiten”: “The sincerity of his intentions and the idealistic core of his statesmanship remain intact even when putting his estate under the utmost scrutiny.” 10. This is exactly the point at which one runs the risk of falling into Bourdieu’s “biographical trap.” “One cannot and must not imply the meaningfulness of an existence a priori and without verifying.” Liebau, “Laufbahn oder Biographie? Eine Bourdieu-Lektüre,” 84. 11. The publisher of the estate, Henry Bernhard, confirmed this indirectly by stressing that the Foreign Office censored the third volume in advance because the selection of documents was supposed to focus on Stresemann’s policy toward the West; Bernhard, “Gustav Stresemann: Tatsachen und Legenden,” 530. 12. Internal memo by Stresemann from 16 July 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 281. In a speech in front of the Prussian House of Representatives, Stresemann referred to Napoleon as what he most probably deemed to apply to himself as well: “But we cannot form an idea of Napoleon’s psychology merely upon the strength of his own statements which are too subjective to carry weight. The historical writings of the leading statesmen throughout the ages have always been composed with a view to the defence of their own policies.” G. Stresemann, “Napoleon and Ourselves,” 272. 13. Because of this gap, scholarship has often underestimated these activities. An exception is the biography by Koszyk, Stresemann, who addressed these early periods of Stresemann’s life in detail. 14. The Niethammer estate is held in the SWA Leipzig. 15. See Steinberg, Unternehmenskultur im Industriedorf. 16. This estate has not been used by any of Stresemann’s biographers, although it has been accessible for years. See Niethammer to Hermann Voith, 3 December 1908, SWA, N 12, 48314: “without doubt a man of outstanding abilities, energy, and huge knowledge. This is, by its very nature, accompanied by high self-confidence and the ambition to gain respect and influence.”

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17. 18.

19. 20.

21. 22. 23. 24.

25.

26.

27. 28.

See, on this, Eschenburg, “Stresemann,” 151–52: “at the same time, he was controversial, even in his own parliamentary group and even among those who shared similar political objectives, because of his ambitious activities and his agility, his self-assertive appearance and flexibility— not to say deviousness. . . . His remarks initially captured many, but on closer examination or in the case of conflict his discussion or negotiation partners had to realize that Stresemann wanted more freedom of action and decision for himself than they had conceded. This was not downright deception, but it often caused disappointment and aroused suspicion.” A large part of the private estate that has not been available for scholarship until recently can now be accessed (PA AA, Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann). Wright has analyzed it in detail. Thanks to the new source material, we now know more about Stresemann’s early childhood and adolescence, but still nothing on the wedding and its background. It is interesting that Stresemann’s sons who knew of and administered this part of their father’s estate did not make it accessible to scholarship during their lifetime. It was handed over to the Politisches Archiv only after their deaths. This still holds true even when taking into account the private correspondence with his wife from 1919 onward, PA AA Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann. At a remembrance event for Stresemann on 10 May 1931, an unknown author wrote to Stresemann’s friend Schultze on 3 June 1931: “Even Rochus von Rheinbaben, who has a lot of material on Stresemann, has remained short on details about Stresemann’s adolescence. But this may be due to Stresemann himself being rather secretive about his early years,” PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. “Jörg the Dreamer: Poems of a Youthhood.” The Traumjörg or Traumgörge is a fictional character from a fairytale and the title of an opera by Alexander Zemlinsky from 1906. Letter to City Councilman Schwidetzky, 22 February 1922, PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 316. Published also in Stuttgarter Rundschau: Monatsschrift für Politik, Wissenschaft und Kultur 2 (1947): 19–21. See Stresemann’s interpretation of himself that he pointed out in a conversation with his former school principal Johannesson on 22 March 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316: “The impressions I gained during my school years have decisively influenced my development. In the curriculum vitae that I submitted for my graduation exam [Abiturientenexamen] I have tried to convey certain guiding opinions.” The sender-receiver relationship must be duly considered when analyzing this letter. The Schwidetzky text was written by Stresemann himself. Furthermore, Schwidetzky desperately relied on the money for this article to pay for his sons’ university fees. Thus, he was willing to accept every amendment in his remarks and expressively mentioned this in a letter to Stresemann: Schwidetzky to Stresemann, 15 August 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 86. See, for instance, the preliminary paragraph of Georg Schwidetzky’s newspaper article, “Kreise um den jungen Stresemann,” that was published shortly after Stresemann’s death and was therefore bound to have a “hagiographical character.” The following quote is particularly relevant: “To outline the childhood and adolescence of a great man is only of limited use. Not everything is already great in these early years. But it is worthwhile to examine the seeds of talents that lead to later greatness. I think they are easy to detect in Stresemann’s case.” This also applies to the article written by Professor Dr. Fritz Johannesson, the former principal of Stresemann’s school, “Aus Stresemanns Schulzeit.” This article was also written after Stresemann’s death to add to his glory. From a source criticism perspective, it has to be treated like an obituary. Kolb, Stresemann, 10. On this, see Wright, Stresemann, 10. However, it is debatable whether these aspects were supposed to be included in one’s Abitur “education report” at that time.

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29. On the state of his father’s business and similar bottled beer producers, see his clever, empirical doctoral dissertation: “Die Entwicklung des Berliner Flaschenbiergeschäfts” (Berlin, 1901). The preface reads: “The external cause for the thesis was the author’s multiple contacts to members of the brewery and beer wholesalers industry in Berlin.” However, Koszyk, Stresemann, 34, writes that “seventeen-year-old Gustav . . . had to help in his father’s business. From early on, Gustav gained insights into the financial situation of a small entrepreneur.” Koszyk does not provide any evidence for this statement. 30. Letter to Himer, 3 December 1896, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. This brief text is not included in the estate. 31. Under the pseudonym Gustav Steinert, young Stresemann published two poems in the Deutsche Gastwirtschaftszeitung: “Erinnerung” (no. 63, 7 March 1895) and “Mein Stern” (no. 45, 19 June 1895). 32. When Stresemann was ten years old, four of his seven siblings had already died. 33. Himer was a bit older than Stresemann and already at university at that time. 34. Letter to Himer, 3 December 1896, copy in Privatnachlass Stresemann, PA AA. 35. Franz Miethke, Dr. Gustav Stresemann der Wirtschaftspolitiker. 36. Stresemann to Miethke, 30 January 1909, Privatnachlass Stresemann, PA AA; see here for the following quote. 37. Stresemann to Miethke, 25 March 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 206. Stresemann also wanted make sure that the book would be of fine quality. He also suggested adding “the [well-known] picture of Michailoff to the book.” 38. This was exactly the purpose Miethke’s booklet served. As a visible signal to the outside world, it appeared in the publication series of the VSI. 39. Rheinbaben, Stresemann: Reden und Schriften; Engl. translation: Gustav Stresemann, Essays and Speeches on Various Subjects; and Rheinbaben, Stresemann: Der Mensch und Staatsmann. 40. Stresemann to Rochus Baron von Rheinbaben, 17 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 42; see here for the following remarks, the previous and the following quotes. 41. This is exactly what happened in the scholarly debate on Stresemann during the 1950s; see the section “Thick Description II” in chapter 6 of this volume. 42. Stresemann to Rochus Baron von Rheinbaben, 27 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 42. 43. See the correspondence with Miethke regarding the first issue of the volume with his speeches and political writings. Stresemann undertook the final revision and the selection of texts and pointed out: “particularly because it has to be considered to what extent single quotes can be presently used for partisan and partisan strategic reasons,” Stresemann to Antonie Hoffmann, 28 January 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 142. 44. In a different sense, he also influenced the biography written by Heinrich Bauer and published shortly after his death in 1930, albeit in a completely different political climate. (Bauer, Stresemann: Ein deutscher Staatsmann). Given the imminent political shift to the right and the virtually hagiographical tendencies, Stresemann feared the image that he had created for future generations would suffer negative consequences. He lamented: “This book is virtually asking for depreciation and criticism to such an extent that one almost wants to be a German National or völkisch journalist when reading it.” (Letter to General Secretary Trucksaess, 21 September 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 106.) For this reason, Stresemann dampened Bauer’s enthusiasm and excessive use of superlatives to describe his policy at the end of his life. He was eager to appear to be a liberal man of the center-right who did not allow himself to be taken in by the Left or the Right. For a similar argument, see Schneider, “Aus Stresemanns Anfängen,” 973. 45. Rheinbaben explicitly emphasized this, not least to secure the economic success of his biography. 46. See the particularly outstanding part of Koszyk’s biography, Stresemann, 28–30.

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47. Ibid., 29. 48. See Märker, Die Kunst aus dem Gesicht zu lesen, 103–4. Märker’s study is the only one thus far to have assessed Gustav Stresemann based on his physiognomy. However, it has to be noted that Märker turned to National Socialism at an early stage and wrote the racial theoretical pamphlet “Charakterbilder der Rassen” (Character portrayals of the races) in 1934, in which he intended to prove the superiority of the Nordic race. This clearly calls for caution when reading his books. Still, Märker received the Great Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany for his activities in the copyright collective Wort, and was thus rehabilitated. On Stresemann’s physiognomy in great detail, see Viscount d’Abernon, Botschafter der Zeitenwende, 3:19–32. D’Abernon was a great admirer of Stresemann’s. 49. Thus, the following remarks focus on his physiognomy, although it would be wrong to overestimate its significance for Stresemann’s presence overall. Stresemann had a charming appearance, especially in a small group, and was very popular. This also applied to Stresemann as an election campaigner. See on this Starkulla, “Organisation und Technik der Pressepolitik des Staatsmannes Gustav Stresemann (1923–1929),” 80. 50. See Hellpach, Deutsche Physiognomie. See also Claudia Schmölders, Das Vorurteil im Leibe. 51. Roger, Die uns regieren, 92. 52. Schoenberner, Bekenntnisse eines europäischen Intellektuellen, 326; Jakob, Kind meiner Zeit, 117: “Stresemann looked like the caricature of a ‘boche’ from the ‘Assiette au Beurre.’” This negative judgment, albeit more moderately phrased, is shared by Antonina Vallentin, who admired him greatly, in Vallentin, Stresemann, 13. 53. Cutting from the newspaper Ezeczpospolita 21 (1927), “Der Meisterjoungleur,” Bericht des Lektorates Polen, 24 August 1927, PA AA, R 27950, no. 179. The report continues: “This seemingly brutal man is remarkably bendy, cautious, and opportunistic in his actions. Very sharp, penetrating, and ironical-cynical eyes contradict his ponderousness.” 54. Translation from the French of the Revue d’ Allemagne et des Pays des Langue allemande, undated. PA AA, R 27950, no. 257. It is a well-informed, twelve-page description of Stresemann. 55. Müller-Jabusch, “Stresemann—Schubert—Gaus,” 113. 56. Gestalten rings um Hindenburg, 26. 57. Spieth, Menschenkenntnis im Alltag, 122. 58. Gosselin, “Hair Loss, Personality and Attitudes.” 59. Translation from the French Revue d’ Allemagne et des Pays des Langue allemande, undated. PA AA, R 27950, no. 257. Claud Cockburn writes in a similar vein but with a much more negative overall judgment: “He had a wonderful act in which he pretended to be not only fat, which he was, but good-hearted and a little tipsy with beer into the bargain. In reality, he was as quick and sharp as a buzz-saw, and if being a sharp, fast-moving buzz-saw was not enough, he would hit you from behind with a hammer” (Cockburn, In Time of Trouble, An Autobiography [London, 1957], 97, quoted in Wright, Stresemann, 2). 60. The photograph in NL Stresemann 65, depicting him, Mrs. Stresemann, Titulescu, and others, illustrates this particularly well. 61. Schoenberner, Bekenntnisse eines europäischen Intellektuellen, 326. See on this Schiffer, “Gustav Stresemann.” Schiffer’s judgment is highly valuable since he knew Stresemann very well and was very close to him but was also rather critical towards him. 62. Gestalten rings um Hindenburg, 82. See Louis P. Lochner, Porträt von Frau Stresemann, 24 April 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 79. 63. Müller-Jabusch, “Stresemann—Schubert—Gaus,” 113. 64. See Gestalten rings um Hindenburg, 82 for the following quote. It is well documented that Mrs. Stresemann attracted heavy criticism from the Conservatives because of her parties (especially the carnival parties), see, for instance, Rumpelstilzchen, Klamauk muß sein, 172–73. 65. Joachim Kürenberg, 14 Jahre, 14 Köpfe, 159.

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66. On 25 August (no year), Stresemann proudly told his wife that he had “filled in” for her for the first time, PA AA Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 67. Grupp, Harry Graf Kessler 1868–1937, 231. Quote from a diary entry by the count. On Kessler and Stresemann, see also Grupp, “Harry Graf Kessler als Diplomat.” However, the count’s aristocratic background must be taken into account. Kessler (1968–1937) grew up in France, England, and Germany. He was a cosmopolitan, brought up in many different cultures, a patron of the arts, diplomat, author, and diary writer. He owned and embodied all the kinds of cultural capital that Stresemann was missing. Clearly, Count Kessler looked down on Stresemann with some arrogance. However, this did not cloud but rather strengthened his perceptiveness. 68. Kessler, Tagebücher 1918–1937, entry from 3 March 1926, 463–64. Close to the Foreign Office, von Schubert’s house in the Berlin Margarethenstraße was the center of high society in the capital, where politicians, diplomats, economic leaders, and other prominent personalities met. 69. Schiffer, “Gustav Stresemann,” 301. 70. Stresemann to his wife, 21 February 1927 (San Remo), PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 71. Stresemann to his wife, 17 February 1927 (San Remo), PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 72. Here it is again striking that these aspects relating to his illness are rather underrepresented in his official estate. This corroborates the assumption that he composed his estate. 73. On Stresemann’s state of health, see the section “An Ill Man” in this chapter. 74. Kessler’s diary commentary of 5 February 1926, Tagebuch, 453, fits into this context: “the Crown Princess has refused to meet Stresemann. Rather ungrateful since Stresemann brought her husband back to Germany.” 75. Stresemann to his wife, PA AA, 30 August 1928, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 76. Mergel, Parlamentarische Kultur im Reichstag der Weimarer Republik. 77. Ibid. 78. Ibid., 357. 79. See the debate over the photograph depicting Noske and Ebert in swimming trunks: Mühlhausen, Friedrich Ebert 1871-1925. 80. Schmölders, “Das Gesicht als Bürgschaft,” 224. 81. In 1928, Stresemann was one of the first German politicians to run a successful personality election campaign; Mergel, Parlamentarische Kultur im Reichstag der Weimarer Republik, 358. 82. Brückle, “Politisierung des Angesichts,” 9. 83. See the section “The Rapprochement Politician and His Double Life” in chapter 6 of this volume. 84. On the category of trust and its relation to physiognomy, see Schmölders, “Das Gesicht als Bürgschaft,” 213–44. 85. Herz, Hoffmann & Hitler, 95–96. 86. Roger, Die uns regieren, 95. 87. Schoenberner, Bekenntnisse eines europäischen Intellektuellen, 326. 88. Ute Frevert, “Vertrauen: Eine historische Spurensuche,” 9. See this source for the following remarks. 89. Quoted in Schmölders, Hitlers Gesicht, 79. 90. Bauer, Stresemann: Ein deutscher Staatsmann, 236. 91. See the section “Casting Himself as a Crisis Manager: Stresemann’s Reichstag Speech from 17 April 1923” in chapter 6 of this volume. 92. Mergel, Parlamentarische Kultur im Reichstag der Weimarer Republik, 357; see this source for the following remarks. 93. Ibid., 358. 94. See Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?”

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95. The satirical magazine Ulk was published from 1872 until 1933 as a free supplement of the Berliner Tageblatt by publisher Rudolf Mosse. It could be purchased separately as well. From September 1910 to November 1930, it was also a free supplement of the Berliner Volks-Zeitung. Both newspapers had about a quarter of a million readers each. After the Tucholsky era, Ulk maintained its former left-liberal course under Joseph Wiener-Braunsberg. The initially left-liberal Kladderadatsch, founded in 1848, was sold to the Stinnes group in 1923, which was a party “friend” of Stresemann’s. Its content shifted increasingly to the right and came to be directed largely against the moderate politicians of the Weimar Republic, usually also against Stresemann. As early as 1923, the Kladderadatsch conveyed a positive image of Hitler and National Socialism, and its caricatures became more and more anti-Semitic. It is striking that its depictions of Stresemann are mainly positive. On this see K. Schulz, Kladderadatsch. 96. On this and the following, see Mortzfeld, “Gustav Stresemann in der Karikatur.” I owe the insights into the significance of caricature for the positive image of Gustav Stresemann to this study. 97. See the letter to his wife, 13 February 1927, Privatnachlass Stresemann. On Stresemann in caricatures, see Wright, Stresemann, 366–67. 98. See this picture in DS 35, 20 August 1923, 268. It promoted the new Reich chancellor and made him a household name as a statesman. 99. See Schiffer, “Stresemann,” 300, for the following remarks. 100. His illness, his state of health, and every change in it are key themes in his private correspondence with his wife. Almost every other letter in the existing correspondence deals with this topic. It is striking that this crucial part of his life is largely omitted from the official Stresemann estate. 101. See Kolb, Stresemann, 67–68. 102. Kürenberg, 14 Jahre, 14 Köpfe, 161. Kürenberg often accompanied Stresemann as a journalist. He made this remark after he had not seen Stresemann for a couple of months. 103. Zondek, Auf festem Fuße, Erinnerungen eines jüdischen Klinikers, 131. 104. Hirsch, Gustav Stresemann: Patriot und Europäer, 96. 105. Stresemann to Superintendent Schowalter, 20 December 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 92. 106. Prof. Hermann Zondek to Felix Hirsch, undated, Hirsch, Stresemann: Ein Lebensbild, 319. 107. Venzmer, “Stresemann und die Kreislaufkrankheit,” 402. 108. Henry Bernhard to member of the State Burger, Ludwigshafen, who had complained about Stresemann’s lack of support as a public speaker, 4 June 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 101. The letter continues: “Had Dr. Stresemann not given the speech in Mainz, the illness would not have developed to that extent and would not force the minister to extend the period of rest, according to the doctors’ opinions.” Concerning the strain placed on Stresemann in March 1928, see his letter to Secretary of State Weismann (Prussian government), 17 April 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 66: “In this week I already have the evening before the Bismarckian wedding and the speech at the Chamber of Industry and Commerce tomorrow, wedding ceremony and breakfast at Bismarck’s house, three speeches in Berlin, central executive committee, Bismarck festival and rally of the People’s Party. The next week is reserved for Bavaria, and so on every day.” 109. See Stresemann’s telegram to Dingeldey, 3 May 1928, in which he made the strongest allegations and threatened to stop all election campaign work except for those in his own constituency; PA AA, NL Stresemann 100. 110. See the description in Bauer, Stresemann: Ein deutscher Staatsmann, 247: “Never in my life have I experienced a shock like that on this day in August 1928 in Oberhof. . . . Such a paragon of vitality and courage he had once been. And now he was a gravely ill, deathly pale, man in whom a terrible transformation had taken place.”

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111. Stresemann to von Schoch, 11 September 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 86: “And the responsible minister [Stresemann] goes to bed, fakes illness, and begs for sympathy.” 112. Stresemann to Justizrat Dinkgrave, 17 March 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 146; Stresemann to factory owner Uebel, 1 February 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 113. Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Lehmann, 3 May 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 121: “that severe internal injuries, namely, in the area of the hips, were inflicted and that potential coxarthritis cannot be ruled out as a result of the internal bleeding.” 114. List to Stresemann, 25 August 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 174, and Stresemann’s response, PA AA, NL Stresemann 180. 115. Stresemann to Friedrich Schröder, 30 January 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 200. 116. Stresemann to his wife, 6 February 1919, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 117. Stresemann to Paasche, 14 December 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 183. 118. See Stresemann’s letter to Uebel: “thank God I am not so badly injured that my health is damaged because I could get away from these people who surely would have beaten me to death if they had caught me. This one case of barbarization is but a small part of the overall tendency of our times.” (1 February 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202). 119. Rudolf Olden, Gustav Stresemann, 131. See Stresemann’s response (Stresemann to Steinbach, 14 November 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 187): “You are absolutely right when you say that the Reich chancellor, Social Democracy, and public opinion have been much less upset with this assassination attempt [on Stresemann] than with the Erzberger murder. The important thing with an assassination attempt is not whether or not the bullet finds its target because it was not the intent of the murderers who were shooting that the bullet should miss.” 120. See various letters of the then private assistant Plagge to Stresemann’s inquiring friends and acquaintances, PA AA, NL Stresemann 207. 121. In his expert report, Dr. Arthur Goldschmidt pointed out: “By no means can I accept the objection you mentioned previously and repeated yesterday. Henceforth, I do hope you will decide in favor of a stay in a health spa,” PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 122. Stresemann to Prof. Dieckmann, 3 December 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 208. 123. Notes in diary form, 3 July until the end of November 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 141. 124. Stresemann to the parliamentary group of the DVP, 16 June 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 233. 125. See Wieland Meng, Schilddrüsenerkrankungen; Hehrmann, Schilddrüsenerkrankungen; Pfannenstiel, Erkrankungen der Schilddrüse. 126. See Vallentin, Stresemann, 14. 127. In October 1925, when he was on his way to the negotiations in Locarno, he was warned of an assassination plot orchestrated by the Ehrhardt Brigade; Wright, Stresemann, 331. 128. See Stresemann to Dr. Goetz, 28 December 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 264: “several sources reported to me that the assassination attempt on me by two apparently retarded persons whose minds were poisoned was thwarted.” According to the police, such an assassination attempt never happened. 129. Stresemann to State Commissioner Weismann, 3 August 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 250: “that the suspicious persons that were reported to me had no evil intentions but were assigned to protect me against potential attacks.” 130. There is a huge bundle of documents on the “Dresden scheme.” See his letter to Mayor Blüher, Dresden, 21 July 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 219. 131. Stresemann to Privy Councilor Kahl, 13 March 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 104. 132. Stresemann to RA Samson, 20 January 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 278. On this see Pohl, “Die Finanzkrise bei Krupp und die Sicherheitspolitik Stresemanns.” 133. Stresemann to Nadolny, 21 November 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 291.

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134. Stresemann to Reich Minister of the Interior Koch, 19 December 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 91. 135. Stresemann to the management of the Great Berlin Tram Company, 5 September 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 136. Stresemann to Reich Minister of Transport General Groener, 7 June 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 233. 137. Stresemann to Reich Minister of Transport General Groener, 6 October 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 252. 138. Stresemann to Reich Minister of Finance Hilferding, 10 September 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 86. 139. See the abovementioned analysis by Märker, Die Kunst aus dem Gesicht zu lesen, 104. However, Märker’s judgment about the expression of Stresemann’s eyes is the complete opposite. 140. In Stresemann’s estate, which is not microfilmed and thus only rarely accessed, there is a comprehensive list of receipts of Schulmann’s fees. Based on this evidence, it is clear that Stresemann visited the neurologist quite frequently in the early 1920s. 141. Stresemann to Privy Councilor Duisberg, 29 September 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 142. Stresemann to his wife, 4 July 1928, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 143. See, for instance, his note to his Saxon party friend Kaiser on his state of health in 1926 when he was still quite well; 28 October 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 97. 144. Weizsäcker, Erinnerungen, 80. “He probably sensed his looming end and wished, perhaps unaware, to wrap up the pending achievements, namely, the withdrawal of Entente troops from the Rhineland, quicker than political economy allowed it.” 145. Vallentin, Stresemann, 14. 146. On this and the following remarks, see Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?” 147. See the section “Thick Description II” in chapter 6 of this volume. 148. Deutsches Friedenskartell to Stresemann, 8 May 1925, demanding to be informed about the security pact. BA Koblenz, NL Ludwig Quidde. 149. Krüger, “Zur europäischen Dimension der Außenpolitik Gustav Stresemanns.” 150. Schubert to the German delegation in Bern, 28 October 1925, PA AA, Gesandtschaft Bern, Rep. Sicherheitsfragen, vol. 472/3. “The necessary education has already been arranged from here, but would be considerably helped if it were possible to persuade impartial persons, especially professors in international law with a good reputation, to write newspaper articles on the significance of the treaties for Germany. This would imply the advantage that the benefit of the treaties for Germany could be explained more openly in public than is possible for the German side for obvious reasons.” 151. Pohl, “Deutschland und Polen.” 152. See Stresemann to Reichstag President Loebe, 19 September 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 86. Baron von Weizsäcker made a similar statement: “namely, when he, close to his death, became rather nervous, for example, in Madrid in 1929. His misfortune was his illness” (von Weizsäcker, Erinnerungen, 80). 153. See Blessing, Der mögliche Frieden, for one of the most recent works on this. However, Blessing attaches little importance to this aspect. 154. Internal memo Schubert, 29 August 1928, on a meeting with Poincaré: “At this point of the meeting, Professor Zondeck sent in a note urging termination of the talks. This interrupted the meeting to some extent,” PA AA, NL Stresemann 350. 155. Heuss, Erinnerungen, 273. Throughout his life, Heuss was an open opponent of Stresemann’s. His (new) biographer Radkau cannot completely explain this fact, either. He assumes that Stresemann’s agitation against von Gessler (DDP) being Reich president in 1925 was what prompted it in the end. Even as federal president, Heuss referred to his “aversion to Strese-

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156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166.

167.

mann as one of his three ‘negative hobbies’” (Radkau, Theodor Heuss, 145). Heuss’s moderate criticism can almost be seen as a compliment. Schiffer, “Stresemann,” 310. This characterization is from Schiffer’s obituary on Stresemann from 1929. Thus, his open admiration for Stresemann is probably also due to the purpose of the text. See “A.”, Zwischen Staatsmännern, Reichstagsabgeordneten und Vorbestraften, 183. Vallentin, Stresemann, 10. Ibid., 11. See Henry Bernhard in Felix E. Hirsch, Stresemann: Ein Lebensbild, 276. “Anyone who, like myself, was around him for many years and witnessed him before a speech knew that he was very nervous before his speeches.” Starkulla, “Organisation und Technik der Pressepolitik des Staatsmannes Gustav Stresemann (1923–1929),” 79–80. See the section “An Ill Man” in this chapter. Stresemann delivered 128 Reichstag speeches in 18 years. Sösemann, Theodor Wolff, Der Journalist: Berichte und Leitartikel, entry from 13 August 1923, 184. Die Reichskanzler der Weimarer Republik in Originalaufnahmen, Deutsches Rundfunkarchiv (DRA). The following remarks are based on the results of a working group of eight students of speech science and speech education supervised by Dr. Marita Pabst-Weinschenk and her research assistant Hanna Seinsche at the University of Düsseldorf. At my request, they analyzed Stresemann’s mode of speaking in a seminar. I am very grateful to the group and would like to take the opportunity to express my sincere thanks to them. See Vallentin’s enthusiastic remarks on this in Stresemann, 10.

Chapter 2

THE WILL TO RISE

S Cultural Capital: Stage-Managing Life as a Member of the Educated Bourgeoisie Please, allow me to point out that the poem you are quoting was not written by Johann Gottlieb Fichte, although it is often wrongly attributed to him. As a matter of fact, it is by a patriotic poet by the name of Albert Matthäi, who published this poem in the Jugend many years ago.1

Apparently, Stresemann considered a remark like this typical of an exchange of ideas among members of the German educated bourgeoisie. Indeed, within the bourgeois lifestyle, literary knowledge was a sign of cultural competence alongside stylish clothing, elegant table manners, and good taste. He would have made this comment to deliberately set himself apart from his everyday life as a politician or legal adviser. It proved that he possessed intellectual “breadth” and indicated that he belonged to the group of “those in the know.” Stresemann did, in fact, frequently attend operas and plays, and he was a member of the Berlin Bühnenclub (Berlin Theater Club) and the Literary Association.2 He took every opportunity to stay in the loop culturally.3 There is, however, no evidence that he had a particular preference for classical literature and music (or even for experimental Modernism), even in his own poetry.4 Rather, he frequently preferred “light fare.” Moreover, Stresemann engaged in intensive correspondence on scientific, cultural, and historical topics.5 He was involved in cultural policy and was a patron of the arts. For example, he advocated a tribute to the poet Richard Dehmel,6 and voted for including the “wonderful poem” by Konrad Kreis, an activist of the 1848 revolution, in German schoolbooks with the unbeatable argument that “this poem already made a deep impression on Emperor Wilhelm I.”7 As a true Notes from this chapter begin on page 88.

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Liberal, he also supported and promoted Max Liebermann, although he did not like his style of painting. Despite all their political differences, he even discussed with Colonel-General von Seeckt why Caesar “was only able to levy a small army in the wars against Pompey, while his enemies could constantly mobilize new troops against him, even after Pompey’s death.”8 The interest in literature and desire to communicate with like-minded people about it that Stresemann displayed in these examples correspond to descriptions of him in early biographies. These books cast him as someone with an excellent knowledge of literature, who was passionate about art and loved to engage in scientific discourse.9 Admittedly, Stresemann was a politician who attempted to shine in areas beyond politics. In this, he was certainly an exception among politicians of Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic.10 Not many ministers had such breadth of knowledge as Stresemann. And yet, one must question whether these publically displayed interests also served a functional purpose by helping to cast Gustav Stresemann as a member of the educated bourgeoisie. It is hard to acquire cultural capital—especially capital that requires a long process of internalization. Unlike the Flex brothers11 and Walther Rathenau, whom he admired, it was not easy for Stresemann to compensate for the shortcomings resulting from his background. However, he had some opportunities to attempt to do so and seized them with skill. The first step was to acquire “institutionalized cultural capital” as manifested, for instance, in higher education. Stresemann had the Abitur, the graduation exam qualifying him for admission to university, but only from a Real-Gymnasium, a new type of school that offered modern foreign languages instead of Latin and Greek as in a traditional Gymnasium. It was not only in his eyes that this was a shortcoming of some sort. Thus, he made every effort to upgrade his school in later years: he supported the class reunions of his age cohort and got in touch with his old school teachers and Headmaster Johannesson.12 He was also an avid patron of the school. He founded the Stresemann Library there and supported the school’s rowing team.13 Having a library named after him made him extremely proud, but it also helped enhance his cultural capital. He fared similarly in matters pertaining to his academic title. Obtaining a doctorate degree meant he would automatically belong to the scholarly “in-group” and participate in its cultural capital. The same was true of his membership in a student fraternity, yet these organizations had selection rules similar to the military: these revolved around the “where,” “how,” and “what.” It became obvious that Stresemann’s well-researched doctoral dissertation on the “Berlin bottled-beer industry” at Leipzig University with renowned social scientist Karl Bücher as his supervisor instilled mockery instead of enhancing his reputation.14 Stresemann had been aware that tackling a more theoretical topic would have gained him more respect.15 Another way for him to acquire cultural capital was to distinguish himself as a patron of the arts, an expert of art and literature, and a cultural manager and

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collector, for instance, of Goethe memorabilia.16 To demonstrate his Goethe expertise, for example, he regularly attended performances of Goethe’s plays, preferably in public view, and quoted only too readily from Goethe’s speeches and writings. He also occasionally (and without necessity) recited from Faust, which he supposedly knew by heart.17 Yet there were more effective cultural activities than emulating Goethe in his own attempts at poetry.18 As Bordieu pointed out, one could enhance one’s reputation, that is to say, one’s cultural and social capital, by intensifying contacts with others in cultural societies. Accordingly, Stresemann could join the Goethe Society or one of its affiliated institutions, thereby also publicly underpinning his cultural interest.19 Cultivating literature linked to Goethe and supporting research on Goethe were important tasks—and attracted Stresemann’s profound interest. However, it was of equal importance that he was among like-minded spirits, for example, his (Jewish) acquaintances from Dresden, the bankers Georg Arnhold, Felix Bondi, and Leon Nathanson, honorable men who were interested and engaged in cultural activities. In such circles, cultural, social, political, and economic interests merged into each other almost entirely. With Nathanson, a party friend, notary, and well-known Goethe collector, Stresemann discussed how to purchase reasonably priced Goethe memorabilia and knowledgeably exchanged ideas about cultural topics. For example, in 1921, Stresemann let the famous collector20 know in passing that he had purchased two new “Goethe pieces” and that he was happy to show him his “small collection of Goethe items in Berlin.”21 This generated a certain intimacy that years later induced Nathanson to present Stresemann with two Goethe and Schiller plaques from 1824 (“a humble gift”) and to ask him to visit and see his Dresden collection.22 The cultural affinity between them proved to be politically useful because Nathanson soon became Stresemann’s contact in the Association of German National Jews (Verband nationaldeutscher Juden; VnJ). On another level, Stresemann successfully presented himself as a patron and rescuer of German art in a way that was broadly publicized. He also distinguished himself as a staunch patriot in 1921 when, together with some friends and Nathanson’s strong support, he attempted to purchase Goethe’s diary containing outlines for “Truth and Fiction Relating to My Life” at an auction to prevent the valuable manuscript from being sold abroad. Unlike newly rich Hugo Stinnes, “in whom I [Stresemann] have unfortunately not yet noticed enough interest in literary topics that it would have been worthwhile to approach him concerning this matter,”23 Stresemann was highly committed to and financially engaged in this purchase. It goes without saying that the press vividly recounted Stresemann’s efforts and celebrated him as a protector of German culture—that was, of course, exactly what he was counting on.

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Stresemann was equally successful in the Society of Friends of Goethe’s House in Weimar (Vereinigung der Freunde des Goethehauses zu Weimar), founded in 1910, which he joined early on.24 Among the members were many of his Dresden acquaintances, such as Arnhold, Lingner, von Klemperer, and Nathanson, all of whom were lifelong members thanks to their generous contributions;25 as well as Reich Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, who would be toppled during World War I with Stresemann’s help; the Grand Duke of Saxony; the director of the Deutsche Bank, A. von Gwinner; and the Krupp family.26 Within this association, Stresemann proved to be a resourceful organizer for the maintenance and repair of Goethe’s house. He himself provided a guaranteed sum of 25,000 marks “because I think it would be poor if we could not raise this amount of money in Germany,”27 but withdrew it soon afterwards with the help of his extended contacts. These activities allowed Stresemann to serve his interests and the cause, and to present himself as a patron of the arts to the public at the same time. When he was made “a lifelong member in gratitude for the collections that I organized to raise money to maintain the Goethe house in Weimar,” he pointed it out with some pride.28 He must have felt honored when the Free German Bishopric (Freies Deutsches Hochstift) congratulated him on his birthday in 1923: “It is with gratitude and satisfaction that we, particularly in Goethe’s birth town, feel that the fate of our nation is entrusted to a man whose spirit and sensibility is rooted in the intellectual atmosphere of Weimar. Since the days of the Reich Baron vom Stein we have not been granted such close ties between politics and culture.” There could barely have been a greater and more important acknowledgement of Stresemann than that.29 All these cases follow the same pattern: Stresemann helped maintain classical cultural values with words and deeds, and often in a highly visible manner; he also used his connections to raise money, presented himself as a friend and patron of the arts, and made himself popular in society. However, it would be highly interesting to know whether Stresemann was able to prove his competence as a member of the educated bourgeoisie in other forms and practices that cannot be learned or predicted as easily. For example, did his scholarly contributions, in particular, on Goethe, meet the expectations society had of an educated bourgeois man? Older research on Stresemann was effusive in praise on such matters:30 “Being rooted in Goethean thought, he could be regarded as one of the last representatives of German humanity. . . . His education was profound in many aspects,”31 wrote Walter Görlitz in his Stresemann biography of 1947. He continued: “He was a man . . . in the center not only of the political, but also of the intellectual, social, and artistic world of this time.”32 That Stresemann’s articles were included in the seminal bibliography on Goethe compiled by Hans Pyritz underscores this positive acknowledgement.33

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It is in fact true that Stresemann’s knowledge of some things was profound for a layman. It cannot be stressed enough that he loved Goethe and his writings and knew many of them by heart. His texts were of surprising quality, compared with contemporary and even today’s professional politicians. However, the renowned expert on Goethe, Lieselotte Kurth, who has analyzed Stresemann’s works from the perspective of literary criticism,34 came to a completely different conclusion from that of his admirers: for example, Stresemann’s article on “Goethe and Napoleon,” written between 1912 and 1915, draws one-sidedly upon writing by Andreas Fischer of Switzerland. Not only did Stresemann ignore almost the entirety of scholarly literature but, to put it mildly, he also failed to mention the similarities between his and Fischer’s argument. It is noticeable that “Fischer always uses quotes accurately and identifies quotations as such, while Stresemann uses quotes inaccurately and gives no sources.”35 Overall, Kurth denied the brief article scholarly validity. Stresemann’s second article was published in his own journal Deutsche Stimmen in 1927,36 based on a speech he had delivered at the Heidelberg University in 1926. The academic setting indicates that he attached great importance to his remarks and to his closeness to the university that awarded him a desired honorary doctorate in 1927. Thus, it was probably no coincidence that he kept a letter in his estate by Rudolf Goldschmidt glowingly praising the speech: “The intellectually spoiled audience of Heidelberg—this was the unanimous impression of your remarks—regards your speech as one of the outstanding events in the cultural life of our city for a long time to come.”37 However, despite Goldschmidt’s flattering words, neither the speech nor the article met scholarly criteria. Apart from formal shortcomings (limited research literature, inaccurate quotations, omitting of references, etc.) both lacked diligence in interpretation. Stresemann exploited Goethe as a source of material for underpinning his own ideas. A critic pointed out bitingly: “Even in the life of Weimar’s Olympus there are actions which will not improve by decorating them with Stresemann’s comments.”38 Stresemann’s third contribution was a speech entitled “Rätsel um Goethe” (Mystery about Goethe), delivered at the German Theater Club in 1927, of which Stresemann was an honorary member. The same pattern typical of his literary work can be discerned here. He mainly copied ideas from another book, the two-volume publication by Else Frucht on “Goethes Vermächtnis—Eine frohe Botschaft”39 from 1913 and 1914, although this time he correctly cited the source. In this publication, which literary scholars widely repudiated, the author suggested that Goethe had mainly focused on a secret typescript in his final years rather than finishing Faust. Stresemann thought it possible that “a hitherto unknown manuscript exists and that it could be the sequel to the Wanderjahre.”40 At the same time, he claimed at great length that Goethe’s novel Wanderjahre had

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no literary quality whatsoever—an assertion that experts in the audience found downright embarrassing.41 Overall, we can establish a clear discrepancy between Stresemann’s self-image and the perception of his admirers, on the one hand, and a scholarly assessment, on the other. At any rate, “the practical politician (Realpolitiker) failed to achieve a deep understanding of the real nature of Goethe’s works.”42 Specialists regarded him as an amateur who had gone a bridge too far into a territory he had very inadequate knowledge of. Among experts, he was by no means deemed “a profound authority on Goethe whose research yielded new and crucial insights and who therefore deserved a place in a critical Goethe bibliography.”43 In short, Stresemann’s contributions were neither noteworthy nor seminal and do not belong to “the ‘core collection’ of research literature basic for scholarly work.”44 Thus, it is highly doubtful that they helped him acquire the habitus of an educated bourgeois man.45

Stresemann, the Lyric Poet In a speech of 75 minutes, Stresemann aptly painted a picture of the intellectual and political world of the 1840s and how it was expressed in the lyric poetry of the time by reciting poems by Freiligrath, Herwegh, Dingelstedt, and others to illustrate his theoretical remarks. He found warm words to justify and promote the national significance of that political movement as well as of the liberal-national lyrical poetry deriving from it.46

According to Stresemann, every member of the educated bourgeoisie should not only be an expert on Goethe but also—at least for a time—a poet himself. This idea derived from his interpretation of the history of the German bourgeoisie in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In a sense, he regarded his own lyrical works as the culmination of cultural bourgeois self-assurance. Engaging in poetry was the highest level of incorporated cultural capital for him. However, poetic talent is a particularly sensitive seismograph for granting or denying acceptance among the educated bourgeoisie. Almost nowhere else is the line between “well-meaning but not skillful” and “real art” finer than in poetry. How is Stresemann’s early (and late) literary talent to be assessed in this context? What is the political-cultural tenor of his lyric poetry? Are there any references to his social and political view?47

The Collection of Stresemann’s Poems Early on, Stresemann recognized the significance of creative poetry. He never lacked the will, nor the self-confidence, to be regarded as a literary expert. This

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became obvious as early as at his debut at the National Social Party in Dresden in 1901. Instead of speaking about economic issues, on which he was an expert due to his doctoral dissertation, he delighted his new party friends in the audience with a lengthy speech on the “Nature and Significance of Trendy German Poetry,” a rather challenging topic for the 23-year-old layman.48 Apparently, he wanted to cast himself not only as an economist and politician but also as a man of culture in front of this party of “leaders,” as members of the National Social Party were often called. This was no coincidence. Discussing and actively engaging in both art and culture as well as dabbling in poetry and scholarship played a major part in Stresemann’s life. This is evident in his early reflections on literature during his school time. Over pages and pages, Stresemann and Kurt Himer, who was slightly older, vividly discussed theater performances, interpretations of poems, and the significance of culture for the bourgeois lifestyle.49 When he was seventeen and eighteen, Stresemann collected poems by (German) poets in his spare time and copied “valuable poetry” into a book dedicated to this purpose.50 He believed he had collected the complete canon of classical literature based on educated bourgeois principles in this “album of poets” of three hundred pages.51 His selection reflects his priorities and provides evidence of his admirable erudition. However, his selection of poems was, in fact, rather conventional—even conservative. It contained several poems by authors who were fashionable at the time but have been completely forgotten today. It is striking that almost all the innovative writers of the second half of the nineteenth century such as Theodor Storm, Gottfried Keller, C. F. Meyer, and Detlev von Liliencron are missing. The only non-German author included was the popular American, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, whose literary works took up indigenous American culture. The repertoire of the “album of poets” included some poems by Schiller, but these were from the bourgeois reception from the Schiller festivals instead of Schiller in Jena, some by late Romantic authors such as Joseph von Eichendorff, Justinus Kerner, Ludwig Uhland, and, above all, Goethe’s successors Eduard Mörike and, in imitation, Emanuel Geibel. Politically, the selection showed a clear liberal tendency. This is confirmed by the inclusion of August von Platen’s poem on “St. Just,” as well as Wilhelm Müller’s poems “Freiheit” (Freedom) and (albeit with the wrong spelling) “Freiligrat[h].” Overall, (post-)Romantic sensitivity outweighed political emphasis in Stresemann’s poetry selection. This becomes even more obvious when one considers the poems Stresemann did not include: the album did not contain any of Freiligrath’s radical and revolutionary poems from 1848; Heinrich Heine and Johanna Kinkel were featured with poems on Romantic love, but nothing “rebellious” or “cheeky.” It seems almost as though he included Heine out of a sense of duty. This might indicate a deep dislike of irony: Stresemann did not include or acknowledge any of Heine’s sarcastic poetry. However, it is most likely not a sign of anti-Semitism. Likewise, there is no saber-rattling patriotism to be found, although some of the

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selected writers did have such poetry, just not included. Clearly, it was not young Stresemann’s cup of tea. The Romanticism in the contributions in Stresemann’s album had already become sentimental, weak, dull, and somewhat smoothed out by the Biedermeier period when he collected them. The few cautious signs of unrest were tamed by bourgeois complacency, as shown in the poems “Wie einst im Mai” (As once in May) and “Das Mutterherz” (A mother’s heart) by Gilms. With all due respect to young Stresemann’s obvious erudition, his selection was neither confident in taste nor self-developed: a lot of Geibel and Scheffel, less Mörike and Platen. By no means was the 18-year-old Stresemann a young adherent of the Sturm und Drang (Storm and Stress) movement. Rather, he seemed like an old-fashioned Liberal, deeply rooted in the literary categories of old Imperial Germany.

Stresemann’s Poetry Along with collecting poems, Stresemann dabbled in writing his own rhymes, both as a student and as a young adult.52 Even when he was a successful legal adviser and mature politician, he liked writing poems. He never doubted himself as a poet and felt completely confident in, as he put it, matters of educated bourgeois taste. Therefore, he never questioned his own lyric compositions in later decades. On the contrary, even as an adult he had no qualms about publishing his early poems. In 1920, he presented an extended circle of friends with the private publication of his tentative steps as a poet, a large collection of poems written between 1894 and 1905.53 Politically disappointed and fighting for new influence, in poor health and grieving the loss of his beloved Imperial Germany, he might have felt a special need at this time to find comfort in his early poems, to find peace of mind within them, and to be able to convey this to his friends. It certainly shows his desire to find stability in literature, which could compensate for lost political ideals and the imminent socialist revolution, economic crises, and the troubles of the time. The edition is filled with melancholy for the “lost past” and fear of the future. With a deep sense of loss, Stresemann chose a quotation by Jean Paul as the motto of the collection: “Memory is the only paradise out of which we cannot be driven away.” His poems were clearly intended to help him maintain this paradise of memory. However, his poetry, like his “album of poems,” was unoriginal, romanticizing, and without youthful vigor or individuality. To name but one aspect, Stresemann shied away from difficult forms like those of Platen or Rückert and focused solely on platitudes that had been common in poetry since Romanticism: unhappy love, grief (over his mother’s death), and scenes of nature. There is no trace of contemporary poetry, let alone modern French poems.

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An analysis of some examples from the 1920 anthology corroborates the impression of Stresemann as someone who dabbled in poetry. For instance, the prologue at the beginning of the volume, which Stresemann wrote for a charity event as a 16-year-old school student, was conventional and traditional. It was typical of the imitative style of the late nineteenth century, which Stresemann obviously emulated. This also applies to archaisms that were meant to be “poetic.”54 Prologue on the occasion of a charity event, recited on December 11, 1894 I come as a messenger, sent with tidings A gaily [sic] play is said to be unfolding here. As a servant of the enterprise Shall I discharge my duty and deliver the message: I plead; but with good reason Since only that which presents itself as harmless and well intentioned When combined with merit and splendor Can be favorable. With ever-changing matter does life show itself, The passage of time already ruled by steady rhythm. No moment is rooted solely in happiness, That it is not also entwined with bitter misery. Does delight lift its bosom in rejoicing, Does pain smite there, Only one sign should make it clear: Emotion! As shown through tears. And so today we turn to this emotion, The emotion of compassion felt in the heart, For the benefit of the poor, So that they too might feel a Christmas spirit. An elderly couple it might deem to comfort, Helpless and heavily struck by fate. Who in strength and sprightliness still saw Their golden wedding anniversary. The erectors of the stage devote their helping love, Now where pleasure’s spirit allows its vigor to take hold, Where gravity and pain prevail in harmony. Since our aim is to bring joy, To alleviate this pain, So that joy and sorrow might make their peace, And give shape to the creation of art.

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But what intention dares to create, Hindsight will give a meaning, Earnest rules want not to govern the game, They shall only animate taste and spirit. It is not masters who seize the strings, But even the jovial can choose the worthy, Though it lacks a noble cause, It must not live in fear of judgment.

It is almost incomprehensible why Stresemann chose to publish this sin of his youth twenty-five years later. Obviously, he was not able to evaluate the literary quality of these poems, but perhaps he merely wanted to emphasize that he, too, had written poems at this early age, a practice he thought was common for sons from bourgeois families. The poems he wrote in the context of his mother’s death were also of inferior literary quality. The verses “Grabschrift auf meine Mutter” (Epitaph for my mother) were composed in classical distichs and without formal errors, but the motifs seem to be from the early 1840s and sound outdated and like the mere handicraft of the Biedermeier period. At least the poem “In memoriam,” again dedicated to the memory of his mother, was less formal and more original, having been written overall as a regular sonnet, with its meter changing from the first to the second quartet. This might have been due either to Stresemann’s inability to maintain the original meter, which would have been more difficult than changing it, or he deliberately intended to add momentum to the emotional expression. The poem “Träumerei” (Reverie) from late 1896 was particularly reminiscent of the melancholy tone of desire typical of late Romanticism. Even though some motifs emulated Goethe in a touchingly awkward way (“Welche göttergleiche Lust”), the whole poem sounds like a heavily watered down and oversimplified verse by Eichendorff: “Einen Nachen seh ich blinken”—both the visible and the imaginary worlds are full of movements restlessly drawn into the distance, into the world beyond (“gezogen—ziehn,” “ins Meer dann gleiten,” the fading of the light), with an emphatic closeness to the “invisible night.” These lines reveal a gentrified Romanticism, even though their Romantic remains are more pronounced than their bourgeois elements: a tender, soft, and melancholy spirit. There is no sign that Stresemann made any progress in his poetry between 1896 and 1905. The early poem “Sylvester” (1896) is the only one in the volume that gives at least a hint of real contemporary poetry. The first and the last third are informed by Detlev von Liliencron’s impressionism, whose reputation peaked at that time. The middle part, however, falls back on sentimental reflections, sensory emotions, heterogeneous visual and acoustic impressions, and bodily sensations; the blank verses do not rhyme but continue in the same rather uninspired meter.

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Only in the last verses did young Stresemann dare to let the sensual excitement the poem expresses shine through on a formal level. It is the only poem that shows a hint of stunted impressionism rather than tired and fading Romanticism. Stresemann’s later poems did not surpass his efforts as a school student. The poem “Flatternde Fahnen” (Fluttering flags) from 1913 was a timid and delicate attempt to broach contemporary modernity. The first verse contains rudiments of impressionist sensuality. The reference to the pilot is supposed to signify a curiosity for technological progress that is often represented in German literature by an airplane as a “key symbol” (Franz Kafka’s “Aeroplane in Brescia” is the most famous example). Yet already in the second verse, the motif of the “Wild Hunt” falls back on complacent and worn out mythological set pieces of festive poetry of the Imperial period, which Stresemann loved his entire life. In the third verse, the cautious vitalism is thrown out of balance and turns into a völkisch theme. This is not uncommon for the year 1913; it was obviously in the air. Even liberal-leaning Thomas Mann, who usually despised any kind of blood and soil ideology, occasionally took the same line at that time. But as a result, the liberal claim from the first verse collapses. There are clear references of admiration for Heinrich Lersch in Stresemann’s writings, which bring his völkisch tendencies clearly to the fore.55 Apart from ideological issues, the poem “Deutsche Kunst,” written during World War I, also followed well-trodden bourgeois paths from the Imperial period in terms of its motifs and the way Stresemann combined them. Apparently, Stresemann was never able to let go of this tradition, which he deliberately emulated. On a formal level, he chose language of a high register and wrote verses reminiscent of stanzas, that is to say, in the elevated and festive language of Goethe’s reflective poetry, even though he did not adhere strictly to this form. It reflects the zeitgeist, stylizing the war as a drama of fighting peoples. However, the fact that Stresemann did not find a form other than drama and that he utilized not just Goethe and Shakespeare, but also Dante, of all world playwrights, is dull and embarrassing and proves his dilettantism. Perhaps Stresemann assumed from its title that Dante’s Divine Comedy was a play? Overall, there are only a few signs that Stresemann made any effort to take up the tendencies of contemporary impressionist poetry: the beginning of the poem “Herbst” (Autumn) and the first two verses of the poem on Sylt (“Flatternde Fahnen” [Fluttering flags]) sound almost like a transition from Theodor Storm’s nature poems to Detlev von Liliencron’s or Richard Dehmel’s atmospheric sound art. But then, Stresemann’s conventional, educated bourgeois imitation of classical examples dominates. The third verse of “Flatternde Fahnen” marks the end of the impressionist efforts of the beginning and moves into the safe haven of patriotic standards and set pieces, as known from Geibel. The same holds true for the poems “Herbst” (Autumn), “Vineta” (the city of Vineta), and “Einsam” (Lonely). All this confirms that, although Stresemann had formally and tech-

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nically mastered literary patterns, he merely emulated and repeated them as an epigone; they were part of the bourgeois lifestyle around 1900 and light years away from the then modern works of Stefan George, Rainer Maria Rilke, Hugo von Hofmanntsthal, and the expressionists. To sum up, the interpretation of these and later poems paints a picture of an anxious, insecure, zealous member of the educated bourgeoisie who desperately but vainly strove to hold on to cultural Protestantism and educated bourgeois values from the Imperial period, along with their fading admiration for Martin Luther and Goethe. He was someone who noticed modern changes but addressed them with hesitation and anxiety. He was not a poet who could be expected to usher in the dawn of modernity in the Weimar era.

Friendships and Men’s Associations I never experienced family life. My parents were busy working during the day, and I saw little of my siblings since I was the youngest, and the elder ones were already married when I matured into a young man. This might have been the reason that I completely isolated myself from my peers and lived only for my books.56

The line between truth and fiction is always tenuous in Gustav Stresemann’s autobiographical remarks. It cannot be denied that he was never one among many. Rather, he was a loner all his life. He grew out of every organization shortly after he had joined it, becoming or making himself its leader. He never had real friends; in this respect, his remarks are probably accurate. Although he referred to himself as an outsider in school, he delivered the Abitur speech at the festive graduation ceremony. His student fraternity made him spokesman almost immediately after he joined. As a journalist, he managed a newspaper, although technically, according to press law, he was not entitled to do so on account of his young age. As the leader of a party and an economic organization, he soon epitomized these institutions.57 No association other than the VSI (Verband Sächsischer Industrieller [Association of Saxon Industrialists]) and no party other than the German People’s Party (Deutsche Volkspartei; DVP)—except for the National Socialists—was embodied by a single person to this extent. Additionally, Stresemann was almost always the youngest: the youngest member of the Reichstag, probably the youngest influential legal adviser, and the youngest Reich chancellor of the Weimar Republic. The career that Stresemann had striven toward suggests that he was one to take matters into his own hands. However, this attitude hindered him from becoming part of a group and enjoying the emotional security of others, as an equal among like-minded people. He was always an outsider, but willingly so. Stresemann took the lead, made the decisions—and remained on his own.

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Such a person rarely makes friends and instead has partners, colleagues, and useful assistants, relying on only a few confidants. Initially, these were older, fatherly men. Later in his life, he knew more young men whom he influenced and shaped. It is striking that he supported mainly young people who, like himself, were ambitious, had a humble background, and whom he could therefore help climb the social ladder.

Stresemann’s Confidants Although only a few years his senior, the factory owner and self-made man Otto Moras from Zittau (1871–1945) was one of Stresemann’s first fatherly friends. He too had (only) attended a Real-Gymnasium, become a worker and assistant to a master craftsman after the Abitur, and set up his own company in 1899. In 1924, he turned the Vereinigte Deutsche Textilwerke in Zittau into an empire with four thousand workers and five hundred salaried employees.58 Moreover, Moras played a major role in founding the National Liberal Party and later the DVP in Saxony and was chairman of the VSI from 1918 to 1928. He recognized Stresemann’s talents early on. They discussed the latter’s future when he was still based in Dresden.59 Thus, it is fair to suggest that Stresemann deliberately planned his career so that it would eventually lead him out of Saxony. Gustav Adolf Slesina (1845–1925), a factory owner from Annaberg and local functionary of many stripes, fostered Stresemann’s political career as a fatherly friend.60 He encouraged Stresemann to run for a Reichstag seat against the Social Democratic candidate in the constituency of Annaberg in 1907 and accompanied him at dozens of election campaign events. They became very close as a result of this. Slesina and his wife were the only non-family members in attendance when young Joachim Stresemann was christened in 1908, acting as his godparents. In Slesina’s house, Stresemann experienced the coziness, warmth, and security he had missed in his parents’ home. He described the atmosphere there in his obituary on Slesina (albeit with some embellishment for the occasion and therefore of limited value) as follows: “I never felt more strongly that I was in a German home than when he [Slesina] sang folk songs from the Erz Mountains in the evening and when the songs by Anton Günther and others expressed all these feelings of ease, comfort, and happiness about everything God has sent us.”61 His longing to experience emotion and Romanticism becomes tangible in these remarks. And yet, at the same time he was strategically planning and pushing his career forward. In addition, three younger men accompanied Stresemann throughout his life. Franz Miethke, Stresemann’s nephew, was closer to his uncle than anyone else, though he was also more dependent on him. His mother, Gustav Stresemann’s eldest sister, had passed away by 1898. Stresemann arranged for young Franz

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to be taken in by his parents in Berlin, where he often worked in their business until late at night—unlike his uncle Gustav. According to Miethke, Stresemann kept an eye on his development and his school career. He also introduced him and his fiancée to his family in Dresden.62 As early as 1904, Miethke became an unsalaried trainee at the VSI, mainly assisting the legal adviser of the association, Stresemann. After the Reichstag election in 1907, Miethke worked as Stresemann’s private secretary in his Reichstag office in Berlin. After Stresemann had left Dresden, Miethke made a career in the VSI, thanks to his uncle. Despite not having a university degree, he became part of the management and finally deputy legal adviser of the VSI. In this capacity, he was a sort of extension of Stresemann in Saxony until the latter’s death. Miethke kept Stresemann in the loop about everything important. Stresemann, in return, treated Miethke almost like a son. He arranged for his nephew to receive the War Merit Cross during World War I63 and posted bail for him.64 When Miethke was in trouble due to financial irregularities, Stresemann stepped in with his fortune and reputation.65 Arnhold, März, Moras, and Stresemann got Miethke out of an extremely precarious situation that he had got himself into because of his extravagant lifestyle.66 Stresemann risked everything to save Miethke.67 In 1928, shortly before his death and when Moras resigned from his office at the association, Stresemann made sure that Miethke’s contract with the VSI was extended until 1934.68 There could hardly be a more loyal and faithful assistant than Miethke, but this did not extend to a real friendship. Stresemann’s relation to his closest personal assistant during the Weimar Republic, Henry Bernhard (1896–1960), was similar in many ways.69 Bernhard, too, had a petit-bourgeois background,70 and like Miethke he attended a Realschule, did an apprenticeship at the BdI (Bund der Industriellen [League of Industrialists]) from 1911 to 1914, and became an assistant to the management of the VSI in 1914/15. Subsequently, he worked as Stresemann’s private secretary alongside Miethke. After the war (and acquiring three medals for bravery), he switched from the BdI to the RdI (Reichsverband der deutschen Industrie [Reich Association of German Industry]) and finally became Stresemann’s personal assistant and “shadow” in 1923.71 After Stresemann’s death, Bernhard made a name for himself as the editor of Stresemann’s Vermächtnis (legacy). He and Miethke did everything they could to let the light of their mentor shine brightly after he had died. In sum, Bernhard’s relationship to Stresemann was one of admiration, but not friendship. Stresemann was not so close or personal with Rudolf Schneider.72 Nevertheless, the two legal advisers of similar age shared the same economic policy ideas and were both staunch anti-Bolshevists.73 They enjoyed a longstanding partnership that was more than merely professional, but not free of conflict. One thing remained clear between them: there was no question of who was “above” the other. This is illustrated, for example, by the fact that Stresemann delivered the

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key speeches at the big annual VSI conferences, whereas Schneider was responsible for the speeches to the ladies. Schneider (1876–1933), who had earned his doctorate in Berlin, was one of Stresemann’s early acquaintances. He visited Stresemann’s house on a regular basis and was invited to his wedding reception in Berlin. Early on, Stresemann arranged for Schneider to get a foot into the BdI, where he worked as a legal adviser from 1909 to 1919 and acted as an extension of Stresemann’s reach. Later, among other things, Schneider was the manager of the RdI and a member of VSI’s executive board. Lastly, he occupied high positions as the director at several industrial companies and bank houses, including at the Aktiengesellschaft für Industriekredite. Politically, he accompanied Stresemann in the Dresden city council from 1908, and subsequently from 1922 to 1925 as a member of the Saxon state parliament. In 1923, the year of crisis, he was an important though rather biased source of information for Reich Chancellor Stresemann. From 1924 until his death in 1933, he was a member of the DVP parliamentary group of the Reichstag, where Stresemann could always rely on him. In sum, they were friendly with each other, but not close friends.74 Finally, another family member must be mentioned: Kurt von Kleefeldt, Stresemann’s brother-in-law and fraternity brother. Käte Kleefeldt’s75 elder brother came from a relatively wealthy Jewish family that had converted to Protestantism. His father, who died prematurely, had worked in the brown coal sector, and his mother was the daughter of an affluent Jewish horse trader. Kurt von Kleefeldt had many traits that Stresemann lacked: charm, a certain lightness (also in financial matters), and perfect manners. He had at least as much ambition as Stresemann himself. In Imperial Germany, Kleefeldt was a high civil servant of the district (Landrat) and was knighted in 1918. Stresemann arranged a position at the Hanseatic League for him and, in doing so, placed another confidant alongside Miethke and Schneider in an economic association. In spring 1914, Kleefeldt became president of the chamber of commerce with Christian Kraft Fürst zu Hohenlohe-Öhringen. He kept this position during the Weimar Republic until 1932. Both men were very close throughout their entire lives, though not always in harmony. Kleefeldt’s joining the DDP in 1919 rather than Stresemann’s DVP and his devastating opinion on the latter’s policy during World War I were some of the reasons for these tensions,76 along with Kleefeldt’s financial irregularities, which Stresemann wound up resolving.77 Nevertheless, Kleefeldt’s wide-ranging connections in noble circles turned out to be more useful to Stresemann even than his temporary membership on the executive board of the CdI (Centralverband deutscher Industrieller [Central Association of German Industrialists]), his membership in the DDP (Deutsche Demokratische Partei [German Democratic Party]), and his friends in the financial world (Schacht).

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Men’s Associations Stresemann had only a few friends. Were the various men’s associations, clubs, and social groups a sort of substitute? Did he find the friendship and sociability here that he desired, or were they mainly useful connections that benefited his career? Clubs and associations in late Imperial Germany were often extremely useful in furthering the careers of those aspiring to join the bourgeoisie, such as Stresemann. They not only pursued the goals stipulated in their bylaws, but were also institutions that served to constitute a certain milieu. Their members automatically became part of this milieu while others were often excluded. For this reason, almost all associations had mechanisms of inclusion and exclusion that acted as keys to determining who was allowed to become a member and what requirements a new member had to meet. In this respect, the bourgeoisie can be seen as a social group that constituted itself through its structure of clubs and associations. Anyone who wanted to be bourgeois had to be a member of certain clubs, had to be accepted by them, and had to know and respect the rules; otherwise they would be excluded. The example of Stresemann’s efforts in Dresden illustrates how well and how successfully he operated in this field.78 It is striking though typical for that time that the associations Stresemann chose were mainly bourgeois clubs and men’s associations. Aside from the political and professional associations and institutions Stresemann had to join for occupational reasons, these were precisely the organizations he favored. Of the vast range of clubs and associations within Imperial German society, he apparently deemed fraternities and lodges, choirs and theater groups, but also semi-political associations such as the Pan-German League (Alldeutscher Verband) and the German Training Ship Association (Deutscher Schulschiffsverein) as the most suitable. Two men’s associations were of particular significance for Stresemann’s career and marked two important periods in his life: joining a fraternity was a key aspect of his university years, and becoming a member of the lodge “Friedrich the Great” fell in the crisis year of 1923, a point in time when Stresemann took responsibility for the Reich as its chancellor and foreign minister for the first time.

The Neogermania Fraternity In the summer term of 1897, Stresemann joined the Berlin fraternity Neogermania, a reformist fraternity affiliated with the German General League of Fraternities (Allgemeiner Deutscher Burschenbund, ADB) as member no. 265.79 He swiftly made it to the top: in the summer term of 1898, he became a member of

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the executive board (Chargierter), initially as secretary, later as spokesman. After moving to the University of Leipzig, he represented the reformist fraternity Suevia as a spokesman for three terms.80 Neogermania was a rather moderate men’s association, which, apart from the usual fraternity regulations, was also relatively open. Extreme nationalism, chauvinism, and the exclusion of minorities such as German Jews were not on top of the agenda, although there were heated debates on these topics during Stresemann’s membership—some Neogermania members were, in fact, Jews.81 Academic fencing82 and extended pub visits were part of everyday fraternity life and had a cohesive function. Later, Stresemann admitted that “drinking as much beer as possible cannot be regarded as a visible sign of masculinity.”83 At this time, he was fifteen years older and a successful manager and politician. Moreover, there was a war raging in Europe and “demolishing barley” may have served other purposes. Between 1897 and 1902, when he received the honorary ribbon of the fraternity Arminia-Dresden, he already held multiple functions in the fraternity, even while he completed his course studies and his doctoral thesis. He became the first spokesman of Neogermania already in the summer of 1898. In the same year, he took over the post as editor of the Allgemeine Deutsche Universitäts-Zeitung, with all the tasks that entailed. He also advocated interpreting the revolution of 1848 in a positive light and urged the fraternities to do the same. After moving to the University of Leipzig for the winter semester of 1898/99, he immediately became fraternity spokesman and editor of the Burschenschaftliche Blätter, in which he also published several articles.84 He gave the keynote speech at the sixteenth general assembly of the ADB in Jena and at the special general assembly in Berlin. Even after he had started his professional career, he founded a local branch of the ADB and was a Fuxmajor (responsible for recruiting and taking care of new members) and activist at the ADB general assembly in Frankenhausen. For Stresemann, the fraternities provided a great opportunity to network and make valuable contacts. He benefited considerably from this networking market on a professional, political, and personal level, and took every seemingly useful opportunity to accumulate and transform his cultural and social capital. Not least, he became familiar with social graces and behaviors that went along with them; he learned how to act in small groups and to obtain social influence. Thus, the fraternities were a first step for him to acquire a bourgeois habitus. At the same time, Stresemann encountered the values of men’s associations, adopted them at least partially, and accepted them as guidelines for his future. “The hierarchic and semi-military organizational structure” (which he did not experience within the military), “the dramatization of the male role, the process of de-individualization, misogyny as well as a mindset and attitude typical of men’s associations” were all factors that significantly affected young Stresemann.85

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It is striking that despite being extremely busy as a student—and this was a trait typical of his entire life—he still made time for many other things, which curbed the fraternities’ influence on his mindset. He attended lectures in literature, history, philosophy, and national economics86 and wrote a doctoral dissertation on a subject of interest; he played an active role in the National Social Association and, impressed by Friedrich Naumann and his ideas,87 founded a “Liberal Association”88 together with his fraternity brothers, such as Max Maurenbrecher. He also kept writing poetry. His wide range of activities, his rise within the fraternities, and his good understanding of politics, economics, and culture were all important achievements. The diversity and variety of his interests are particularly striking. Nothing fell into his lap; in a typical bourgeois manner, the young climber had to work hard for every accomplishment. In this respect, he could be regarded as a role model of bourgeois virtues. However, despite accomplishing these successes and achieving important steps on the bourgeois career ladder, his time in a fraternity failed to compensate entirely for his lack of bourgeois socialization on a cultural level. Universities and fraternities as institutions of socialization gave him a considerable amount of cultural and social capital so that Stresemann, for the time being, seemed well equipped for his economic and political rise. But apart from initial social and material successes, they did not meet all requirements of accumulating cultural capital. In this respect, Stresemann was typical of many social climbers in Imperial Germany.

Freemasons Many fierce attacks on Stresemann were prompted by his joining the Freemansons. The Hugenberg press, for example, implied that he had made secret Freemason hand signs and gestures during his speech in Geneva on the occasion of Germany’s entry to the League of Nations in the fall of 1926. In so doing, he was allegedly giving away secret information to the Freemason representatives of the former victorious states to betray Germany.89 However, Stresemann’s membership at the lodge “Friedrich the Great,” founded in 1912, was far from being a conspiracy. On the contrary, it marked his coming full circle on his way through the associations and institutions that, as Stresemann believed, one had to join in order to acquire the desired “symbolic capital” (Bourdieu) and bourgeois habitus. Freemason lodges were one of the oldest and noblest forms of bourgeois “sociability inherent to the vision of bourgeois society, a sort of model of a bourgeois society.”90 By joining a lodge and being accepted by its members, he had finally arrived in bourgeois society, or so he might have hoped.

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Like university fraternities, Freemason lodges regarded themselves as “male educational institutions for humanitarianism.”91 They were protected, secret spaces outside bourgeois society with the objective of helping its members live a life in a true and intensive bourgeois society. They also cultivated the cult of noble masculinity and, increasingly from the late nineteenth century onward, nationalism. Bourgeois virtues, masculinity, and the nation formed a triangle in the lodges. Stresemann happily shared and supported these values.92 However, the lodge Stresemann joined was part of the Grand National Mother Lodge “Zu den drei Weltkugeln” (The three globes) an old-Prussian-Christian lodge with a decisively Christian foundation, which clearly limited its general principle of humanitarianism.93 In fact, one year before Stresemann joined, the three old Prussian-Christian lodges had left the German League of Grand Lodges (Deutscher Großlogenverband) and fallen entirely in line with “pure German patriotism.”94 Whereas Stresemann had chosen a reformist fraternity when he was a young man, he obviously sought a clearly conservative direction during this phase of his life.95 He was almost a lonely “humanitarian Freemason in a Christian lodge,”96 having deliberately placed himself politically on the right fringe of the bourgeoisie.97 Consequently, in the future he was heavily exposed to reactionary, anti-republican, and anti-Semitic tendencies.98 He complained several times to the Grand Master “that in many cases a völkisch mindset had been preached, both internally and externally, so that one might have got the impression of attending an election campaign of the German Völkisch Freedom Party.”99 Time and again, frictions arose between Stresemann and other, mainly anti-Semitic and völkisch-leaning members.100 Besides, the lodge was clearly anti-English. Long before 1933, it was obvious that the Christian lodges were not in a position to distance themselves from National Socialism, and that they then followed the Nazis rather willingly. This did not stop Stresemann. He obviously thought that being a member of this prestigious bourgeois organization was worth it. His commitment and effort can only be understood as a search for “embourgeoisement,” and his membership in the lodge as his attempt to reconcile Conservatives and Liberals in a German “people’s community.” In addition, Stresemann shifted from the liberal Left during Imperial Germany to the liberal Right in the Weimar Republic in order to maintain his political values from before 1918/19. It is still striking that he became very close to the political Right, even though he combated its most aggressive positions. Thus, it was by no means a coincidence that Stresemann joined the lodge “Friedrich the Great” but was a very deliberate step.101 Stresemann had sat for a portrait painted by the Berlin artist and committed Freemason, Georg Marschall, as early as 1923, which subsequently would become his most famous picture. In May, Marschall and Karl Habicht, the Grand Master of the lodge

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“Friedrich the Great” and pastor of St. Peter’s Church in Berlin Center, met and presumably discussed and prepared Stresemann’s Masonic membership. The date of the application for admission alone is symbolic (the actual initiation happened on 22 June), because 10 May 1923, was Stresemann’s forty-fifth birthday. External circumstances gave the date additional significance: he now faced more elevated political tasks on the national level as a DVP politician. His entry to the Masonic lodge corresponded to a certain extent to his political successes. One could almost refer to it as concerted action on his long path into the “heart of the bourgeoisie.”102 Despite the support of National Grand Master Habicht, Stresemann’s admission procedure did not run smoothly. Rather uncommonly, on 7 June, three lodge brothers voted against Stresemann’s entry, claiming that the admission request had been dealt with in “a very unusual way,” that Mrs. Stresemann was of Jewish origin, and that Stresemann was “a very questionable political figure.”103 It continued: His wife is Jewish. If Mr. S. knows that we do not accept Jews, baptized or non-baptized, and if he—despite his Jewish wife, whom he would have to stand up for no matter what—still seeks admission to our association, then this would indicate a very peculiar character that would prevent his acceptance. Please take into account that we would have to call his wife sister! Is this compatible with our Christian system? Moreover, there is the risk that his wife’s Jewish relatives, whether they be baptized or not, will submit admission requests. Then we are once again in a pickle.104

The lodge brothers’ “Jewish argumentation,” in particular, should have been a clear sign to Stresemann of the sort of organization it was and that it would be a difficult balancing act for him. Just as the critics had anticipated, Stresemann did indeed recruit new members for the lodge, including some former Jews who had converted to Protestantism, soon afterwards. Among them were State Secretary Rochus Baron von Rheinbaben, Stresemann’s confidant in the parliamentary group; Otto Most; his private secretary Henry Bernhard; and finally his neurologist, Oskar Schulmann. His opponents’ other concerns, namely, that he would not be committed to the lodge, were also not entirely pulled out of thin air. As early as late August 1923, Stresemann let his brethren know that he would barely have the time to work for the lodge due to his new office as Reich chancellor.105 Through 1929, he rarely attended its meetings.106 On the other hand, the lodge clearly benefited from the celebrity of its new member, who was worth his price in this regard. He served as a fundraiser107 and public speaker, opened doors to ministries and the Reich president,108 and supplied his new friends with positions.109 While usually fifty to seventy brethren attended the regular meetings, it was three or four times as many when Stresemann made an appearance.

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It should not be surprising that Stresemann quickly climbed the Masonic ladder within the lodge, despite the abovementioned obstacles. By 6 March 1924, he had been promoted to Journeyman, and on 5 June to Master Mason. On 14 January 1927, his grand lodge bestowed him with an honorary membership. At the same time, he became an honorary member of the lodge “Aufwärts zum Licht” in Frankfurt am Main. On 7 February 1927, the General Grand Lodge of Scot approved Stresemann’s admission to the grade of a Scots Master. His dedication took place on 9 May 1927 under National Grand Master Karl Habicht.110 In a way, joining the lodge was both the end and the pinnacle of the seemingly linear trajectory that Stresemann had wished for and deliberately pursued: from an early interest in Freemasonry via several intermediate steps to his final admission in 1923. His personal secretary Bernhard systematically prepared and perpetuated this legend from the young Stresemann as a “Storm and Stress” figure through his student days, influenced by his teachers, to an active lodge member. The highlight of this path, and simultaneously the masterpiece of such a construct, was a dinner with all of his followers and confidants gathered around him, the circle of “Gustav Stresemann’s friends.” Among them were his closest colleagues from the Foreign Office and the government (Gerhard Koepke, Julius Curtius, Hans Heinrich Redlhammer, Rochus Baron von Rheinbaben), his elderly party friend Wilhelm Kahl, his old colleague from his time as a legal adviser Max Hoffmann, the “better parts” of his family (his son Wolfgang, and his brothers-in-law from Karl Simon von Winterfeldt and Kleefeld; it is striking how often his son Joachim is not mentioned), his physician Dr. Otto Schulmann, his lawyer Dr. Kurt Kunze, the lodge brethren (Manfred Wronker-Flatow and Habicht), and, finally, faithful Bernhard.111 This must have been how Stresemann envisioned his desired social context: a circle of good acquaintances from the bourgeoisie. Among them, he could be dominant, shine as a host, and enjoy the safety and comfort of his closest colleagues. Last, but not least, these were well-educated people who looked for and appreciated all the facets of Stresemann’s talents, from the politician and economist to the art and literature expert. In this circle, he might have felt as though he were a bourgeois man among the bourgeoisie.

The System of Bourgeois Values: “Jews” and Women Stresemann and the “Jews” Jewish leaders participated in the revolutionary movement in Germany just as in the Bolshevist revolutions in Russia, Hungary, and Bavaria. During the last days of the events in March, Jewish individuals of Galician origin preached Bolshevism on every street corner in the western parts of Berlin. Foisting the quartering of soldiers on the citizens of the western suburbs had met with unparalleled indignation, all the

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more since the immigrants from Galicia know how to find accommodation through bribery, which they have introduced. Immigration from Galicia has brought the most unpleasant criminals into the capital of the Reich; counterfeiting money and interest coupons for war bonds, black marketeering and illicit trade in the meanest forms have found their way into Berlin.112

These remarks are not from an anti-Semitic or völkisch pamphlet. Rather, it was Gustav Stresemann who wrote them in a letter. From today’s perspective— though not only that—it is difficult to comprehend that a liberal politician would express such a view that seemingly proves his profound anti-Semitism. However, when put into the context of the time and considered alongside Stresemann’s system of bourgeois values, they can be interpreted in a more differentiated manner, although they still remain almost impossible to understand.113 Throughout his life, Stresemann thought of himself as a liberal, bourgeois Christian, and above all, as a German patriot.114 Bourgeois values and unconditional commitment to the German nation, its culture, and the nation-state founded by Bismarck and shaped by Protestantism were the axioms of his system of values. “[To him] German nationalism was the basis of the state, and only those who accepted this basis were regarded as full citizens. . . . The criteria of exclusion were not rigid and therefore not entirely clear. They were not simply racial, religious, or ideological. Patriotic Jews, Catholics, and Social Democrats could qualify for membership.”115 Stresemann fought Catholics when they were anti-Enlightenment and anti-liberal, but not because they were Catholics rather than Protestants. He accepted Catholic citizens as long as they were oriented toward his own system of values and distanced themselves from anti-national “ultramontanism.” Therefore, he had no difficulty at all cooperating with Reich Chancellor Marx. Many of his entrepreneur colleagues came from the Catholic bourgeoisie, mainly from the Ruhr area.116 However, a liberal and aggressively anti-Catholic slogan from one election campaign advocating an educated, bourgeois candidate in prewar Baden expressed exactly what Stresemann felt: “Anyone who does not want cloisters casting a cloud over our beautiful Baden, and anyone who does not want Jesuits lurking and poisoning our family life, should vote for the dauntless fighter for the freedom of conscience and true patriotism.”117 Stresemann also fought Conservatives even when they were Protestants and favored the nation-state just like he did, if they were not committed to liberal values and impeded the rise of the bourgeoisie. This is clearly shown by his policy during his time in Saxony. However, he was generally more tolerant toward the political Right than the Left, particularly when the military sector or national ideology was involved. Stresemann was a staunch adversary of the Socialists. In his eyes, they did not sufficiently appreciate the role of the individual but placed greater emphasis on the collective, and they also put equality before freedom, fought religion, and

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favored internationalism over the German nation.118 More importantly, they undermined the people’s community with their idea of class struggle. Nonetheless, Stresemann was still willing to cooperate with them, unlike with the Conservatives, if circumstances made it necessary and they proved to be “reasonable.” Throughout his life, Stresemann remained virulently opposed to communism and pacifism. The idea of a “red flag” flying over Berlin was his nightmare. The pacifist vision of world peace was entirely absurd in his eyes, and he accused pacifists, just like communists, of being unpatriotic. He believed that they did not understand the significance of Germany’s struggle concerning its international position and undermined it with their lack of worldliness, which had become apparent especially during World War I.119 Stresemann’s aversion applied even to pacifists who widely accepted liberal values. Consequently, Stresemann did not shy away from calling Friedrich W. Foerster and the group connected to the journal Die Menschheit “vermin,” “pigs,” and “bastards,”120 but he maintained a rather peaceful relationship with Hellmut von Gerlach, a staunch left-wing pacifist.121 He did not exclude close acquaintances and business friends from his fight against pacifism. When the Dresden banker Georg Arnhold criticized Stresemann’s war aims policy during World War I, he began a fierce dispute.122 This core (liberal) attitude has to be taken into account when assessing Stresemann’s stance toward German Jews.123 It is important to stress that he made his judgment conditional on whether they believed in bourgeois values and the nation, particularly because he criticized German Jews as strongly as other political opponents and, in doing so, did not shy away from defamatory stereotypes and ruthless anti-Semitic remarks. It is fair to assume that Stresemann did not see all German Jews as enemies per se and fought only those who did not correspond to his bourgeois ideas and were “unwilling to learn.” Compared with his criticism of left-wing Social Democrats, communists, and pacifists, his remarks on Jewish Germans seem almost tame. Thus, it is overly simplistic to interpret his very aggressive statements exclusively against the backdrop of German history during the Nazi period as a mere sign of anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism, a hatred of Jews that emerged in the mid-nineteenth century in Germany, especially in Saxony, in the context of nationalism, Social Darwinism, and racism—that is, a biological and racist exclusion of Jewish Germans—was rather foreign to Stresemann, even though he did use anti-Semitic stereotypes.124 He regarded Jewish Germans who were not as national and bourgeois as he expected them to be or had a different understanding of liberalism as bitter enemies. He was not above the cheapest clichés in disputes over these values. This attitude was typical of Gustav Stresemann as a bourgeois man, economist, party leader, and politician. He was married to a baptized German Jew with a bourgeois background who was attacked by anti-Semites because she was still

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“Jewish” in their racial view. Stresemann always fought these allegations vehemently. The “Jewishness” of his wife was not of any importance to him, although as a tactical politician he occasionally flattered himself by stressing that he had married a Jew in order to demonstrate his tolerance toward the Jewish community.125 At the same time, he stressed to DNVP (Deutschnationale Volkspartei [German National People’s Party]) leader Hergt that “the assumption that I am married to a Jew . . . is ‘untrue.’”126 That is, he played both sides when dealing with this issue, mostly driven by tactical considerations. Several people among his circle of personal acquaintances were Jewish German cultural, political, or business celebrities, such as bankers Arnhold, Paul von Schwabach, and Max Warburg, industrialist Carl Duisberg, shipping magnate Albert Ballin, and solicitors Nathanson and Kaiser. Many of his cultural friends, especially, were baptized Jewish Germans. All these people regarded themselves, just like Stresemann did, mainly as German citizens and patriots. Ever since his time as a student, Stresemann had advocated Jewish emancipation. As a member of his reformist fraternity, he generally opposed anti-Semitism among student fraternities and made it possible for Jews to become members against fierce resistance.127 In his Masonic lodge, he fended off several attacks prompted by his wife’s Jewish family background, and as a politician he faced many allegations from his political opponents, always sticking by her. However, all the people he spoke up for were bourgeois Jews. Stresemann, in turn, virtually sought out national-patriotic and bourgeois Jews. This does not come as a surprise. Research on the history of the German bourgeoisie shows that Germans of Jewish faith were disproportionately represented within both the upper-educated and the upper-economic bourgeoisie. It was therefore natural that Stresemann would network and establish contacts with them. He cooperated with them as a politician on the municipal level, did business with them as an economist, and wanted to be one of them as an aspiring member of the educated bourgeoisie.128 Under his aegis, the Saxon National Liberals always distanced themselves from the anti-Semites.129 For instance, they raised a considerable amount of money for a fund to “fight anti-Semitic candidates”130 and fiercely battled the openly anti-Semitic Reform Party in Saxony. However, this did not stop Stresemann from joining the anti-Semitic but bourgeois Pan-German League. His relations with his Jewish business partners were put to the test for the first time when he and the National Liberals voted in favor of the so-called Jewish census131 in World War I. Recent scholarship has noted that this marked a negative turn within German politics toward the Jews.132 This census of Jewish soldiers serving in the German army was a statistical survey to establish the proportion of Jews within it. At first glance, it seemed designed to counteract the widespread anti-Semitism especially among the German officer corps, and to refute allegations of Jewish “shirking.” Since only a certain group of the pop-

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ulation was targeted by the survey, it indirectly underpinned their exclusion. It was of little use that the result of the census—published only after the end of the war—showed that a disproportionally high number of Jewish Germans had served as soldiers on the front. Although Stresemann reaffirmed that the reasons for his vote were “not anti-Semitic tendencies” to which he “and the party were very strongly averse,” this vote left his Jewish friends with a bitter taste in their mouths.133 Above all, they pointed out that Stresemann, who was very experienced in organizational and statistical matters, should have been aware of the negative repercussions of such a census exclusively for the Jewish population.134 Stresemann’s good relations with the Jewish bourgeoisie were also apparent during the Weimar Republic. Due to his bourgeois worldview, he cooperated closely with the Central Association of German Citizens of Jewish Faith (Centralverein deutscher Staatsbürger jüdischen Glaubens; CV)135 and the Association of German National Jews (Verband nationaldeutscher Juden; VnJ)136 but objected to and fought other German Jews. These two associations together with the new DVP represented a worldview that was more (conservative-)liberal and resonated with Stresemann’s worldview, although the revolution and its defenders (SPD, DDP) did not fit into it.137 Additionally, Stresemann was not on good terms with the DDP because the party had outright refused to cooperate with him.138 We must take this context into consideration (not as the only one, but as the most important) when assessing Stresemann’s polemic remarks against the left-liberals and their “Jewish leaders,” against the left-wing “Jewish press,” and against the “Socialist and revolutionary” Jews.139 Stresemann’s deep disappointment about the “falling away” of his former friends perhaps makes his anti-Semitic remarks easier to understand and might explain why he expressed such views specifically at this time.140 Many leaders whom Stresemann regarded as his political enemies were, in fact, Jewish Germans. It goes without saying that this does not render his statements any less anti-Semitic. Stresemann used the “Jewishness” of his political opponents as a common and convenient enemy stereotype. In addition, the DDP had been able to consolidate its finances—“apparently the entire Jewish banking capital is at their disposal”141—while the DVP was still “poor,” which exacerbated this enemy image. From all of this, one must bear in mind that no matter how upset and disappointed Stresemann was, his remarks were indeed highly anti-Semitic. The Berlin press, inclined toward “subversive criticism,”142 cut him to the core, particularly since he was still deeply devastated over the collapse of Imperial Germany. He said of the press, “They hold nothing sacred, they drag everything through the mud. . . . They pour their vials of wrath upon everything that remains true and sacred in Germans’ memories of the past.” With this, Stresemann was referring mainly to the Berliner Tageblatt, the “mouthpiece of German Jewry.” He blamed the newspaper for deepening the divide within the German bourgeoisie.143

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He held the same opinion of the magazines Ulk, Die Weltbühne and the Zukunft. In his eyes, they all rejected the conservative values he favored and did not handle him with care. “Mr. Stresemann is a skillful politician not in an exactly edifying sense. He is a boasting rhetorician. Nothing else. His program is a lack of programs. His key idea is a lack of ideas. He is up for any grab bag.”144 To Stresemann, this criticism—which must have hurt him and other admirers of the old Germany—was the real reason for the increased eruptions of anti-Semitism. “The Berliner Tageblatt,” he pointed out, “is the worst enemy of German national Jewry.”145 He argued that these Jews contributed considerably to anti-Semitism in Germany—another common anti-Semitic stereotype. The spread of atheism was another motif that Stresemann, as a professing Christian,146 believed he detected in the political Left, predominantly among Social Democrats. He thought that the party’s personnel policy discriminated against Christians, which he could barely tolerate, and that this policy was mainly due to the “strong Jewish element” responsible for the elimination of the bourgeois-Christian influence—again a clearly anti-Semitic line of argument.147 Stresemann heavily criticized the atheist tendencies in the Prussian and Bavarian ministries led by Jewish ministers (Konrad Hänisch and Johannes Hoffmann), although he was mistaken in Hänisch’s case. It is undeniable that Stresemann’s attacks against “the” Jews not only fostered anti-Semitism but also used classic anti-Semitic language. Thus, one is hard-pressed, despite all attempts to explain his attitude, not to see in these remarks a deeply rooted anti-Semitism.148 The similarities between Stresemann’s and the National Socialists’ line of argument some years later are striking. It was not uncommon that criticism of Jews such as Stresemann’s focused on certain groups of German Jews, namely, the “Jews of the press” who disparaged Germany and German values, and the “foreign Eastern Jews” who brought down the culture of the German bourgeois milieu and, thus, bourgeois Jewry. In this, Stresemann used the same language as most anti-Semites, consequently making use of the stereotypical arguments of the German National and the Völkische parties, which had to have been easy to misinterpret, at the very least. In the end, Stresemann’s main concern was the bourgeois mindset and the disapproval of the revolution and its repercussions. However, he had noticed that “a relatively large number of members of the Jewry in Germany and abroad played a leading role in revolutionary activities and riots.”149 This was another reason Stresemann regarded Jews as “subversive” and attacked them, intolerably, with demeaning stereotypes and aggressive language.150 Stresemann’s secretary Rauch even went so far as to say in Stresemann’s name that, “In the interest of German Jewry itself, we will fight the growing numbers of foreign Jews rolling in, who pose a cultural and moral danger. It is in the greatest interest of the leading German Jewry that this danger be eliminated. In short, we reject anti-Semitism in any form, but we will combat foreign immigrants who

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are culturally inferior to us.”151 Not by any stretch of the imagination can the elements of racial arrogance in these sentences be denied. Nonetheless, Stresemann’s criticism matched that of his bourgeois Jewish friends in the CV and the VnJ, although he put it more cautiously. First and foremost, Stresemann hoped that these friends could purposefully contribute to fighting growing anti-Semitism while supporting his own “bourgeois course.” His close acquaintance Nathanson confirmed Stresemann’s concerns: I have to admit that the entire issue [the “question of the Eastern Jews”] is not only vital for German Jews but also for the whole of the German people and might even have an impact on the international position of the Reich. I am convinced that there is an urgent need to resolve this question—obviously in the sense that immigration should be prevented if possible and that the undesirable guests be deported as quickly as possible.152

Stresemann increasingly sought to cooperate with the Jewish bourgeois associations due to their similar views. Through Leon Nathanson, he kept close contacts to the VnJ, whose membership numbers were rather small;153 his business partners of the Arnhold family played a certain role in the Dresden branch of the CV.154 Around a quarter of all Jews living in Germany were organized in the CV,155 most of whom were members of the middle or upper-middle class, which made it the perfect association for him to cooperate with, in his eyes. Stresemann’s cooperation with Jewish organizations, his close relations to many Jewish colleagues and partners, as well as various family relationships cannot conceal the fact that his anti-Semitic attacks and failure to distance himself from German Nationals and Völkische adherents helped prepare the ground for rising anti-Semitism. Many lines of argument and stereotypes he used were examples of a radical anti-Semitic language. It is true that many nationalist German Jews shared his views, but it must also be stressed that Stresemann contributed to making anti-Semitism socially acceptable.

Stresemann’s Views on Women Since nature created two sexes in the world from plants to human beings, twentieth-century mankind cannot just reverse nature or divine will into its opposite. Woman will have an even greater impact, the more she confines herself to those areas where her instincts, her dispositions, and her understanding are able to be especially effective; she should not, however, claim areas for herself where her effectiveness is as unfeasible due to her female character as a man’s actions are in areas where woman prevails.156

Stresemann, as a Liberal and a bourgeois individual, explained his views on the “issue of women’s rights” in two letters from 1924 and 1928, respectively,157 both

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addressed to leading female representatives of the DVP. It is, therefore, fair to assume that these letters express not only his personal view on the matter but also the official position of the party. This increases their importance. Martha Schwarz, who criticized Stresemann’s position on the “issue of women’s rights” in a letter to him, was a longstanding party activist, executive of the local DVP branch in Berlin Friedenau, and chairperson of the Friedenau women’s committee. She did not see herself as a feminist but as a representative of women’s interests.158 To a certain extent, she represented the party base, which did not feel sufficiently supported, in particular, by Stresemann. Doris Hertwig-Bünger, born in 1882, was one of the leading figures of the DVP. She was the first woman to receive a doctorate in English studies at the University of Marburg in 1908 and later worked as a teacher at the Reform-Gymnasium for girls in Dresden. Between 1920 and 1926, she represented the DVP as a member of the Saxon state parliament, and from 1924 to 1930 as a member of the Reichstag. She was married to Wilhelm Bünger, who was minister of justice from 1924 to 1927, minister of cultural affairs in 1928, and minister president in Saxony from 1929 to 1930.159 Bünger complained in a letter to Stresemann that the DVP did not sufficiently take account of women’s issues. In his reply, Stresemann put forth his personal views, which largely accorded with the party line. In these letters, Stresemann, as a bourgeois man, perpetuated an image of women that was derived primarily from the nineteenth century. Although he did not actually think that a woman’s place was always and everywhere in the home, he did firmly believe “that the family must be the foundation of the state and the people, and the family requires that professional work must primarily rest on the man.”160 Moreover, he essentially called for the DVP, ultimately, to “strive for a situation in Germany that does not force women to take up a profession contrary to the female nature.” As a particularly cautionary tale concerning absolute emancipation of women in the workforce, Stresemann mentioned the profession of fireman. He rejected the idea of a female fireman as “a perversion . . . in the strongest possible terms.” In this, Stresemann’s position was much closer to that of many Conservatives and Catholics than of Social Democrats. In general, Stresemann distinguished different spheres to be attributed to the two sexes. Women belonged in the private sphere, their place of activity was the home; they had to bring up the children and generate a cultural ambience. In short, it was their task to provide an educated bourgeois home for the husband and children. Acting in the public sphere, earning a living, doing business—and also pursuing politics—were tasks exclusively assigned to men. Accordingly, it is no surprise that neither Stresemann nor the National Liberals made their mark in Imperial Germany by demanding more female influence on politics or even women’s suffrage.

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In the Weimar Republic, women acquired the right to vote. Women, including female members of the DVP, were elected to the Reichstag. However, Stresemann did not see this as progress. He rejected any activity aiming to abolish women’s structural discrimination in politics and economics and to enhance their opportunities to participate. Stresemann told the female representatives of his party: “I know no woman heading a major financial institution, I know no woman leading a big factory, and no woman in the leadership of an important industrial or agricultural organization.”161 With razor-sharp reasoning, he concluded from this that women lacked the expertise necessary to play a major role in politics and economics. He no doubt believed this corresponded to the values of his party, but it certainly did not resonate with the realities of his time. Who, more than Stresemann, knew the significance of networking and bolstering one’s own standing in men’s associations that did not allow women? Who was more aware than he of the fact that these networks excluded outsiders, in particular women, from entering the inner circle of power? And who had more experience in deliberately excluding women from important political and economic positions and assigning them to their “natural” activities? Stresemann expressed his official opinion in these letters. He might even have thought he was setting an example by living his life according to this view. In real-

Figure 2.1. Gustav Stresemann with his wife in front of a fountain, ca. 1925. © akgimages / Imagno. Used with permission.

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ity, however, his marriage was only like this to a certain extent. The Stresemanns were said to be a happy, modern couple, at least as told by their children, in particular. Clearly, Käte Stresemann understood how to run a bourgeois household and entertain guests. She also played a major role in bringing up the children, due to the mere fact that her husband was often away. In this respect, the marriage corresponded perfectly to bourgeois clichés favored by Stresemann. Stresemann’s biographer Antonina Vallentin was positively thrilled about the Stresemanns’ relationship and Käte Stresemann’s female role: Käthe [sic] Stresemann was her husband’s shield from the outer world. She brought practical sense into the marriage, which he lacked entirely. She, who looked like a spoiled child of luxury, whose naturalness seems so costly, was in reality a frugal, provident housewife who knew how to use the young representative’s none-too-lavish means to provide him with a comfortable home.162

This, however, was only one side of Käte and the Stresemann family. The photograph depicting Stresemann and his wife shows a different picture— quite literally. Top and bottom, important and unimportant meant something different within the family home and in politics. Within the society of Berlin, Käte Stresemann led an emancipated life. In the 1920s, stories about her, with and without her husband, filled the gossip columns and tabloids on a daily basis. She was talented at performing the social tasks required of a foreign minister, which her husband apparently was not able to fulfill. It was she who knew how to represent and discreetly entertain political circles. She visibly took over the roles he did not carry out. However, it was also said that she was a rather careless young woman who was bad with money and had to be guided by her grown-up husband. Yet this picture is only partly accurate. It can be traced back to the Stresemann estate and the statements of the sons’ admiration of their father. Stresemann himself consolidated this legend, for example, by telling her in 1919 to be prudent and mind her spending, as if she did not know how to do that herself.163 It was Käte Stresemann who brought a considerable amount of money into the marriage and was initially the wealthier partner, even though it was not long before this had changed. Evidently, she supported her husband in difficult times. Shortly after the war, when Gustav experienced a major crisis, she bowed and scraped to some bankers and industrialists who were friends with the Stresemanns to get her husband a profitable position.164 There is an additional aspect to this. It seems that Stresemann could not entirely fulfill the male role that he favored in his marriage with the then twentyyear-old Käte Kleefeld. One might even say that he fled this role. This resulted not only from his political and occupational workload but also from his social activities and personal priorities.

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In his limited spare time, he turned to men’s associations, “right-wing” warriors, and Masonic lodges. None of these organizations admitted women; men were among themselves. His admiration for the military and national fighters was a similar matter. Stresemann was not a loving father who spent every minute of his free time with his children, not a caring husband who only thought of his sweet home, and not a guiding and fatherly figure for his family and his wife. It is fair to say that Stresemann’s relationship both to Jews and to women was shaped by extreme ambivalence. In his actual everyday life and through his behavior toward his wife and his Jewish friends, he did not act in accordance with his own theoretical views, for the most part. On the one hand, his attitude was dominated by the conservative (and anti-Semitic) values he believed were necessary for his integration into the bourgeoisie. On the other, he acted tactically to achieve certain goals and, in doing so, never adopted firm positions.

Notes 1. Stresemann to Käpfer, 23 December 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 63. It is interesting that Stresemann had to research the name Matthäi himself before he subsequently added it in handwriting to the draft version of the letter. 2. Stresemann to Paul Kreßmann, 28 January 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 3. Stresemann was a regular visitor of the Reich Association of the DVP, the Berlin association whose members included “industrialists, businessmen and bankers, but also civil servants and academics” and the aforementioned Deutsche Bühnenclub (German Theater Club) (Wright, Stresemann, 208n31). 4. See Stresemann to his wife, 21 September 1922, on “The Wolves” by Romain Rolland, PA AA Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann. See his firm rejection of jazz as “Negro music.” 5. Eulenberg, So war mein Leben, 209. Stresemann felt honored when he received a letter on 3 September 1927 from Gerhard Hauptmann, the famous German dramatist, novelist, and Nobel laureate in literature, who congratulated him on the speech he gave when receiving the Nobel peace prize in Oslo. Hauptmann to Stresemann, Marbacher Literaturarchiv, 71.181. 6. See the section “And Wanted to Be a Bourgeois” in chapter 6. 7. Stresemann to Minister Becker, 12 March 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 77. 8. Stresemann to von Seeckt, 27 December 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 291. 9. See Görlitz, Stresemann, 238–40. 10. There were only a few politicians and economists like Walther Rathenau whose education and cultural competence clearly exceeded Stresemann’s. On Rathenau, see the excellent edition of his works: Sabrow et al., eds., Walther Rathenau-Gesamtausgabe, 1977–present (vol. 4 is still in preparation). 11. See the section “And Wanted to Be a Bourgeois” in chapter 6. 12. Stresemann to Bäske, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 243. 13. Stresemann to Gade,29 August 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316; and letter Dr. Schönebeck (headmaster of the Andreas Real-Gymnasium) to Stresemann, 31 May 1927, PA AA, NL Stresemann 54.

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14. Koszyk, Stresemann, 76–77. 15. Wright, Stresemann, 20. 16. Stresemann loved to give Goethe memorabilia as gifts to relatives (Stresemann to his wife, 3 February 1919, PA AA Privatnachlass) and asked his son to look up Goethe quotes (Stresemann to his wife, 11 February 1927 from San Remo, PA AA Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann). 17. Stresemann looked repeatedly for quotes in Goethe’s works, for example, “quote by Goethe: ‘only he who changes remains a kindred spirit’ . . . keep safely,” PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. See on this Wright, Stresemann, 492n1. 18. See the section “Stresemann, the Lyric Poet” in this chapter. 19. Hahn, Die Goethe-Gesellschaft in Weimar. 20. On this, see Versteigerung der Sammlung ‘Leon Nathanson-Dresden’ bei der 106. Auktion von Paul Graupe, 19 and 20 April 1933 (Berlin). See the preface to the catalogue by Arthur Bloesser. 21. Stresemann to Nathanson, 19 October 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 225. 22. Nathanson to Stresemann, 24 October 1926; and Stresemann to Nathanson, 3 January 1927, PA AA, NL Stresemann 48. 23. Stresemann to Kritzler, 7 October 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. This letter illustrates the importance of the different types of capital (political vs. cultural) for Stresemann. Stresemann, who at that time was already well established politically, attached great importance to his cultural commitment because this was the field, as he was aware, in which he had the most “shortcomings.” That is why he skipped a very important parliamentary meeting that was taking place at the same time. 24. See Jahresgabe 1992 des Freundeskreises Goethe-Nationalmuseum e.V.: Aus der Geschichte des Freundeskreises des Goethe-Nationalmuseums (Weimar, 1992). See also Stresemann’s declaration of enrollment on 14 October 1910 (Vereinigung der Freunde des Goethehauses, correspondence 1901–18). Later, Stresemann also joined the Society of Friends of the Frankfurt Goethe Museum, where he distinguished himself as an efficient fundraiser (letter to Stresemann, 25 October 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 3). 25. Stresemann’s letter, 13 December 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 26. See member lists in GStA Weimar, 149/206. 27. Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Arnhold and Dr. Richard Fleischer, 13 October and 4 November 1920, GStA Weimar 96/4584. 28. Stresemann to Nathanson, 18 April 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 29. Prof. Dr. Ernst Beutler, the Director of the Frankfurt Goethe Museum, to Stresemann on his fiftieth birthday, quoted from Bauer, Stresemann, 203–204. 30. See for the following remarks Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge.” 31. Görlitz, Stresemann, 245–46. 32. Stresemann’s party friend Dingeldey made similar remarks in 1921: “the abundance of education and knowledge and the depth of [your] mind”; Dingeldey to Stresemann, 12 September 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 33. Pyritz, Goethebibliographie, 7:302. Stresemann’s contributions were the articles “Goethe und die Freiheitskriege” (Goethe and the Wars of Liberation), no. 2893: 225; and “Goethe und Napoleon,” no. 4671: 344. In this context, his writings “Weimarer Tagebuch” (Weimar diary) and “Rätsel um Goethe” (Mystery about Goethe) are also worth mentioning. 34. On the following remarks, see Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 371–73. 35. Ibid., 372. 36. On these and the following remarks, see Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 375. 37. Rudolf Goldschmidt to Stresemann, 30 August 1926, quoted from Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 375. 38. Kürenberg, 14 Jahre, 14 Köpfe, 162.

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39. Else Frucht, Goethes Vermächtnis—Eine frohe Botschaft (Munich and Leipzig, 1913/14), quoted in Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 377. 40. Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 378. 41. See the very subtle criticism by Mandelkow, Goethe in Deutschland, 36: the novel “marks the limits of aesthetic understanding toward this new and revolutionary novel form at the time, which even highly educated experts on Goethe such as the politician Gustav Stresemann, German foreign minister and hobby philologist specializing in Goethe, were unable to overcome.” 42. Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 34. However, it has to be stressed that probably everyone in 1920s Germany knew that Stresemann was an admirer of Goethe’s. It is said that around Stresemann’s fiftieth birthday, all Goethe memorabilia, including autographs, had disappeared from antiquarian bookshops in Berlin because they had all been bought up as gifts to honor Stresemann. Thus, it was deeply rooted in the collective consciousness of the Weimar Republic that Stresemann was a passionate Goethe admirer and expert. He had managed to get himself put on something of an equal footing with the German poet in public opinion. It would be interesting to know whether the collection of source material from Stresemann’s estate that was published immediately after his death was called his “legacy” (Vermächtnis) in reminiscence of Goethe. 43. Kurth, “Gustav Stresemanns Beiträge,” 379. 44. Ibid., 380. 45. Stresemann’s efforts to present himself as a member of the educated bourgeoisie went far beyond the national context focused on in this chapter. His brochure on “Goethe and Napoleon,” published in 1924, can be interpreted as an attempt to cast himself not only as an honest politician and knowledgeable economist but also as a representative of “cultural” Germany, that is, the “good” Germany. He might have hoped to gain more credibility among the French as well, which would have facilitated efforts to overcome diplomatic problems between both countries. 46. These were the words of Stresemann as a literary expert in Die Hilfe, no. 48, 7 (1 December 1901). 47. Stresemann’s lyric works can therefore help answer whether he changed over time and what the seemingly basic and unchangeable core values of his life were. 48. See the quote at the beginning of the chapter. Die Hilfe, no. 48, 7 (1 December 1901). 49. See the correspondence between Himer and Stresemann, PA AA, copy in Privatnachlass Stresemann. 50. See his album in Privatnachlass Stresemann. 51. I owe my colleague Albert Maier (University of Kiel) many thanks. He thoroughly read the album and provided crucial ideas. The following remarks refer to his suggestions. 52. Traumjörg: Gedichte einer Jugend, private publication (n.p., 1920). The following interpretations refer to this private publication. For the most part, I draw upon analyses provided by my colleague Heinrich Detering (University of Göttingen), who kindly interpreted some of Stresemann’s important poems. The following considerations are based on his findings. I would like to take the opportunity to thank him again. Similarly, Hjalmar Schacht published a collection of his own poems in 1957 when he was eighty. Schacht, Kleine Bekenntnisse aus 80 Jahren. 53. Traumjörg. Stresemann also included some poems in the volume of essays and speeches, edited by von Rheinbaben in 1926, vol. 2, 393–95. 54. Some examples of German archaisms include “der Meldung Amt verwalten” instead of “melden”; “empfahn” instead of “empfangen”; “von dorten” instead of “von dort.” Mixing Schiller’s pathos (“für edlen Zweck”: das Theater als sittliche Erziehungsanstalt [“for noble purpose”: theater as a moral institution] with bourgeois entertainment culture (“der Geist der Unterhaltung” [“the spirit of entertainment”] was also typical. Traumjörg, 7–8. 55. See the section “And Wanted to Be a Bourgeois” in chapter 6.

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56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67.

68. 69.

70. 71. 72. 73. 74.

75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80.

Stresemann to Himer, 3 December 1896, PA AA, copy in Privatnachlass Stresemann. Koszyk, Stresemann, 56–58. All biographical information is taken from Ulrich Heß, “Otto Moras,” 69. Moras to Stresemann, 6 December 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. See Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 105, and also for the following remarks. Holger Starke provided me with numerous insights and ideas on the young Stresemann, for which I am particularly grateful. Obituary on Gustav Slesina, Tageblatt und Anzeiger, 12 June 1925. On this and the following remarks, see Miethke, Dr. Gustav Stresemann, 2–4. Stresemann to Lieutenant-Colonel Köth, 30 August 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 195. Correspondence on this topic in PA AA, NL Stresemann 63 and 316. See the documents in PA AA, NL Stresemann 344. Stresemann to Miethke, 16 September 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 344: “I had a very unpleasant correspondence with Mr. Moras about your matter. He sent me a very angry letter and told me that the executive board has abstained from measures against you thanks only to your longstanding work for the association—any normal business would have dismissed you without prior notice for what you have done.” Stresemann to Moras, undated (1925), PA AA, NL Stresemann 344: “I would appreciate it if you [Moras] helped put him on the right path in the future and keep him at the association [VSI] since there have never been any objections to his prior activities . . . . It goes without saying that I am willing to step in for any damage that has been done.” Miethke to Stresemann, 28 November 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 344. On Bernhard, see his personnel file in PA AA. Also Biographisches Handbuch des deutschen Auswärtigen Dienstes 1871–1945, 126–27. A recent work is Kitzing, “Henry Bernhard (1896– 1960).” On the closeness and dependency of these persons in particular, see the letter by Fritz Rauch, Stresemann’s secretary from 1920 to 1923 and later director of the Lingner-Werke, to the district court of Plauen (8 April 1927) in the context of the “Plauen trial.” The adulation in this letter can hardly be surpassed. He was the third son of the master glazier Carl Franz Henry and finished school with a “Sekundarreife,” that is, ready for secondary school. Dates from CV (personnel file Henry Bernhard), GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.2. B 32, no. 37. See Schneider, “Aus Stresemanns Anfängen.” See Schneider’s speech in the Saxon state parliament, 5th session, 15 December 1922, 90-95; 31st session, 13 April 1923, 764–70, and 62nd session, 23 October 1923, 1783–85. Fritz Rauch should also be mentioned in this context. He was Stresemann’s private secretary from January 1920 to July 1923 and someone Stresemann fully trusted. Stresemann arranged a well-paid position with the Lingner corporation for his ex-senior lieutenant in the 1920s. See Rauch to Stresemann, 8 April 1927, PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 38. On this and the following remarks, see Koszyk, Stresemann, 80–82. See Stresemann’s diary entry from 15 November 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 362. See also Kolb, Stresemann, 57–58. Stresemann to Graf Garnier-Turawa, 2 May 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 281. See the section “Thick Description I” in chapter 3. Grumbach, Beiträge zur Geschichte, 55. Früh, “Der Burschenschaftler Gustav Stresemann”; and Engst, 75 Jahre Leipziger Burschenschaft Suevia zu Köln, especially 63–76, “Die Ära Stresemann (1899-1902).” This contains Stresemann’s song on the fraternity with the first verse as follows: “And when I once will die, / You dear brethren, look at me favorably, / Let me have with me in the dark soil, / My noble ribbon, black-red-gold.” On this topic, see Koszyk, Stresemann, 66–67, with extremely instructive details.

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81. See Grumbach, Beiträge zur Geschichte, 81. Grumbach claims that Stresemann prevented anti-Semitism from spreading in the fraternities. 82. Academic fencing or Mensur was traditional in some fraternities in Germany. It was neither a form of dueling nor a competition. Injuries had to be endured without flinching. They often left scars on one’s cheeks or forehead—an obvious sign of membership in a fencing fraternity. Stresemann proudly showed the clearly visible signs of these rituals his entire life. 83. Quoted from Koszyk, Stresemann, 71. 84. See Miethke, Daten- und Quellensammlung, 5, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 85. Blazek, Männerbünde, 202. 86. See PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 124. 87. Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 88–89. 88. Findeisen, “Gustav Stresemann (Suevia-Leipzig/Köln).” 89. See Bauer, Stresemann, 212. Bauer rightly attaches considerable importance to Stresemann’s membership in the Freemasons. See the extensive documentation in PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 57, July 1927. 90. Hoffmann, Die Politik der Geselligkeit, 16. 91. See ibid., 20, on this and also for the following remarks. 92. See Stresemann’s admission application, 10 May 1923, GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.2.B 32, no. 79. 93. Endler and Schwarze, Die Freimaurerbestände im Geheimen Staatsarchiv Preußischer Kulturbesitz, 1:121–63. 94. Ibid., 1:137. 95. On the other hand, it was out the question for him to join a reactionary lodge of the “Wetzlar Ring,” which took a profoundly anti-Semitic, anti-humanitarian, and völkisch course. 96. Bernhard, Stresemann, 7. 97. If this corresponded to his basic principles, his reasons for never joining a club or association for a longer period of time that had the aim of tying the bourgeoisie to the political Left become more obvious. This also changed his tactics of approaching Social Democrats and trade unions strategically; henceforth, he made the acquaintance of individual “reasonable” Social Democrats, and becoming a member of the Dresden tenant association. 98. See the debate on the Johannis speech (Johannisrede) by solicitor Rosbach, in which he claimed, among other things, that individuals “foreign to the species” were gaining more and more influence in society. This allegation was clearly aimed at Stresemann and his wife’s family. Documents in GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.1.4 no. 3772, fos. 47–60. 99. Stresemann to Habicht, 24 June 1924, GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.1.4 no. 1377. See correspondence in PA AA, NL Stresemann 10. 100. On 13 December 1925, Stresemann urged his employee Miethke to write a refutation to defend the lodges against the völkisch anti-Semites; PA AA, NL Stresemann 33. 101. This interpretation is often emphasized in the literature; however, it seems that this view perpetuates Stresemann’s own stage-managed account. See Koner, “Gustav Stresemann als Freimauererisches Vorbild,” 176–77: “by becoming a member of a lodge of the Christian, old-Prussian system, Brother Stresemann did not deliberately join or support a certain direction. He wanted to join the Freemasons as such and did not know much about the differences between the Christian, old-Prussian and the humanist system.” This is probably not accurate. 102. On Stresemann’s early interest in Freemasonry, see his review in the Allgemeine Deutsche Universitäts-Zeitung, 1900, printed in Rheinbaben, Stresemann, Reden und Schriften, 1:318–23. From the Masonic perspective, see Maciey, “Mäßigkeit, Vorsicht, Redlichkeit und Standhaftigkeit”; and Bernhard, Stresemann. Bernhard interprets Stresemann’s decision to join precisely this lodge as purely coincidental. Nor does he see any significance in the date; Bernhard, Stresemann, 6–7. Since his youth, Stresemann had had great interest in Freemasonry. Some of

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103. 104.

105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112.

113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118.

119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124.

125.

126.

his political friends from Saxony were longstanding members of different lodges. See Rechnungsrat Anders (NL) to Niethammer, 3 July 1918, SWA Leipzig, NL Niethammer 494/1. Erich Klemm to Habicht, 9 June 1923, GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.2. B 32 no. 79, with the following quote thereafter. On the Grand National Mother Lodge, see the documents BA Berlin R 58, 7671, Akte der Großen National-Mutterloge 1915–35. The letter continued: “Those circles who feud with Freemasonry regard Mr. S. as a questionable political figure. He is regarded as a “young man” of Jewish high finance and Jewish industrialist barons. His admission to the lodge would be grist for the mill of the adversaries of Freemasonry, and we would be unable to convince any of them of the sincerity of our Germanness and our patriotism.” The personality cult around Stresemann was also criticized. Stresemann to Habicht, 27 August 1923, GStA Berlin, Logen, 5.2. B 32, No. 79. There is evidence that Stresemann attended on 24 January 1924, 6 March 1924, 5 June 1924, and 19 March 1925. Reich Minister Marx to Stresemann, 7 April 1926, regarding financial support for a lodge in Kreuznach, PA AA, NL Stresemann 279. Stresemann to Reich President von Hindenburg, 12 August 1927, PA AA, NL Stresemann 58. Stresemann to Habicht, 11 April 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 66. GStA Berlin, Sign. FM 5.1.4., no. 407. Invitation list to the dinner party on 10 May 1927, PA AA, NL Stresemann 286. Stresemann to General Director Berckemeyer, 3 April 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 213. See Rauch to Nathanson, 12 January 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220: “Mr. Stresemann lets you know that the headquarters of the pogrom-anti-Semitism is in Munich as is well known . . . [for example] Levine-Nissen.” See especially Wright, Stresemann, 136–38; and Wright and Pulzer, “Gustav Stresemann and the Verband Nationaldeutscher Juden.” See Stresemann to the CV, 28 January 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. Wright, Stresemann, 59–60. See in particular the correspondence with Ludwig Stollwerck, RWWA Cologne. Election campaign poster from the election campaign in Baden in 1907, GLA Karlsruhe, 159, No. 87, RT-Wahl 1907. Stresemann to Hugo Meyer, 31 December 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 182. He makes similar remarks in his letter to Justizrat Benfey III, Osnabrück, 16 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. In this letter, Stresemann heavily criticized the Social Democratic personnel policy that “only considers atheists and Jewish circles to fill important positions.” Pohl, “Hellmut von Gerlach.” Stresemann to Jarres, 19 August 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 275. Pohl, “Hellmut von Gerlach.” See the section “A ‘Hero’ on the ‘Home Front’” in chapter 5. Wright, Stresemann, 136–38. See Rauch to Brocke, 20 July 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 219: “You know that we [the DVP] are not racist and that we only oppose the kind of subversion that is represented, for example, by the Berliner Tageblatt and the Frankfurter Zeitung, regardless of whether it is coming from Christians or Jews.” See Stresemann to the CV, 28 January 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. However, he did not interfere when his party friends fended off the allegation that his family had a Jewish background by emphasizing that “some grand- or great-grandmother might have been Jewish, but Mrs. Stresemann is not a Jew.” Legal adviser Maschner to Miethke, 14 July 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 248. Wright, Stresemann, 137.

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127. Hambrock, Die Etablierung, 136. 128. Therefore, Barkai’s claim that “the aversion toward Jews within the DVP had not been overcome” (Barkai, “Wehr Dich,” 172) is not accurate. However, Barkai is right that the party cultivated an aversion “to foreign individuals” (Fremdstämmige). 129. See Sächsische Nationale Blätter, no. 10, 4 March 1911: 65. 130. Stresemann to Friedberg, 29 January 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 123. It goes without saying that Stresemann used this fund also for other purposes as a party tactician. 131. Justizrat Meyer to Stresemann, 18 January 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 157: “Despite attempting to be impartial, I cannot understand your concessions toward the bullying instincts of anti-Semitism. . . . I truly believe that a firm, manly stance against the anti-Semites in your party would befit Benningsen’s epigones and gain you more friends than the weak and evading calculation concerning whether the Jewish percentage in inevitable war evils might be too high.” Also, Cassirer to Stresemann, 23 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann, 155: “By approving the motion, you have supported a census that, due to its superficiality, will remain inconclusive on both sides.” 132. To name but a few see Sieg, Jüdische Intellektuelle im Ersten Weltkrieg; Jacob Rosenthal, Die Ehre des jüdischen Soldaten; Ullrich, “Fünfzehntes Bild: Drückeberger.” However, Stresemann failed to comment on the abusive anti-Semitic remarks of his good friend, Admiral von Capelle, which is atypical for his letters. Capelle wrote: “Personally, I do not hate the Jew as an individual. In the course of my life, I have in fact encountered several Jews who ranked much higher than many Christians regarding their feelings and thoughts and who would have to be respected in any way. However, I have come to the conclusion that the racial characteristics of this tribe will gradually subvert pure Germanness and weaken its power of resistance. Therefore, I would highly regret if our usual over-exaggerated humanity leads [us] to admit all Jews in general to our army and our navy by pointing out some legitimate single cases.” Von Capelle to Stresemann, 15 February 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 145. 133. Stresemann to Schiffer, 10 November 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155. 134. Dr. Cassirer (Cable and Rubber Works) to Stresemann, 23 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155. 135. See Barkai, “Wehr Dich.” 136. For details, see Hambrock, Die Etablierung, 333–35. 137. Some CV members, however, leaned toward the DDP. Stresemann always fought Stinnes’s platitudinous anti-Semitism, publicly and within party and parliamentary groups. 138. See the section “Revolution and a ‘Fresh Start’” in chapter 5. 139. However, the fact that Stresemann used “the Jews” as a tool in political disputes did not make him any different from the pure anti-Semites. 140. See Richter, Die Deutsche Volkspartei 1918–1933, 37–39, for the following remarks. 141. Stresemann to Senator Biermann, 27 December 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 182. 142. See Stresemann to General Director Berckemeyer, 3 April 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 213, and also for the following quote. 143. Stresemann to the CV, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. 144. Carl von Ossietzky on Stresemann in 1920, quoted in Otto, “Der junge Mann von Ludendorff.” 145. Stresemann to the CV, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. 146. Stresemann to the CV, 28 January 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. Unfortunately, to focus on this aspect of Stresemann’s life in detail extends beyond the scope of this biography. 147. Stresemann to Justizrat Benfey, 16 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 148. In this context, it must be mentioned that wildly anti-Semitic articles were published in Stresemann’s Deutsche Stimmen; e.g., von Kienitz, “Nationaldeutsche Juden,” DS 35 (1924): 369–76. The editorial board did not distance itself from this article.

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149. Resolution of the executive committee of the DVP from 28 January 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. 150. See the quote at the beginning of the section “Stresemann and the ‘Jews’” in this chapter. 151. Rauch to Theodor Gerson, 17 April 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 213. 152. Nathanson to Stresemann, 16 April 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 213. 153. Hambrock, Die Etablierung, 100–2. 154. Höppner and Jahn, Jüdische Vereine und Organisationen, 20. Moreover, he often invited leading members of these bourgeois Jewish associations to personal small-group meetings. See the invitation to leading representatives of the VnJ on 26 September 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 231. 155. Barkai, “Wehr Dich,” 370. 156. Stresemann to Martha Schwarz, 10 November 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 91; and Stresemann to Doris Hertwig-Bünger, 11 August 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 288. 157. Martha Schwarz to Stresemann, 30 October 1924; and Stresemann’s response to Martha Schwarz, 10 November 1924, both PA AA, NL Stresemann 91. 158. Schwarz to Stresemann, 30 October 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 91. 159. Jahrbuch des BDF. Handbuch der communal-sozialen Frauenarbeit (Leipzig and Berlin, 1929), Stadtarchiv Dresden (Stadtbund/Akte 5/fol. 12 and ibid., 13.28); and Thieme, “Wilhelm Rudolf Ferdinand Bünger (1870–1937).” 160. Letter to the DVP, third constituency, Berlin Wilmersdorf, as a reply to the letter by Schwarz, 10 November 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 91. 161. Stresemann to Bünger, 11 August 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 288. 162. Vallentin, Stresemann, 23. 163. Stresemann to his wife, 12 February 1919, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 164. I am deeply thankful to Simone Lässig for this information.

Chapter 3

Economic and Social Capital

S Thick Description I: Stresemann and Dresden in 1903 In 1903, it was finally clear that the Saxon royal seat would no longer be a mere stopover for Stresemann but would become his permanent home. His commitment as a legal adviser to the Association of Saxon Industrialists (Verband Sächsischer Industrieller; VSI); his influential political activism as an innovative, rebellious National Liberal (and not as a representative of Friedrich Naumann’s National Social Association); and, lastly, his marriage to Käte Kleefeld dominated his life in the following years. The city’s moderate size and placid character made it an ideal experimental environment for the new bourgeois man and later Reich chancellor and foreign minister. Gustav Stresemann had a lot to learn, despite his academic education and his doctorate. He had outstanding rhetorical skills, was able and intelligent as well as obsessively eager to learn and work, and was driven by ravenous ambition. However, at this point in his life, his main objective was to enter into a “stabilization phase.” To become an accepted member of the bourgeoisie in Dresden, he had to cast himself as such locally as well. Therefore, it was essential for Stresemann to position himself politically (with the National Liberals), to stabilize and expand his economic basis (with the VSI), and, finally, to accumulate cultural capital—that is, to gain access to high society in Dresden—to move among them as an equal and to establish contacts to important people; in a nutshell, to do everything to become an accepted member of the educated bourgeoisie and acquire a the appropriate habitus. This was an enormous effort for Stresemann, who was rather unfamiliar with the codes of the elevated bourgeois strata because of his background. In Dresden, as elsewhere in Imperial Germany, gaining entry into and acceptance within the life of bourgeois society was facilitated by becoming a member Notes from this chapter begin on page 133.

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of the “right” associations (more than a thousand associations were registered in Dresden in 1906),1 visiting smaller (relevant) parties, theater performances, and balls, as well as becoming involved in local politics. This task was easier in Dresden than in some other cities because the “fine society” in Dresden was rather small and lacked large, elegant salons as in Berlin. A novice like Stresemann did not immediately attract (negative) attention.2 At the end of the year, the daily newspaper Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten (DNN) summed up that 1903 had generally been a “quiet and rather insignificant” year for the Reich in terms of domestic and foreign politics.3 However, this judgment was only partially correct for Dresden and Saxony. The royal seat had an eventful year and was, at least temporarily, sharply awakened from its deep sleep.4 And soon, Stresemann was involved in almost everything. The political events in 1903—municipal, state, and national elections, all in one year—triggered fierce conflicts and heated discussions particularly on voting rights in the Saxon state and the municipality of Dresden. In addition, 1903 is regarded as the birth of the “red kingdom” since Social Democrats won 22 out of 23 Saxon seats in the Reichstag on 22 June 1903. Imperial Germany’s general economic situation stabilized in 1902, with Dresden also benefiting. The boom facilitated the establishment of industrial associations, which provided a great opportunity for the young legal adviser. At the same time, social issues remained virulent, illustrated by several strikes and protest campaigns throughout the entire kingdom. A major strike by female textile workers in the Saxon town of Crimmitschau (and their lockout by the owners) was just the tip of the iceberg.5 Strikes and protests also took place in Dresden—this was an opportunity for Stresemann to take a stand. Not least, social and cultural life was in flux. The changes in the Wettin dynasty from Albert and then Georg to Friedrich August III and the scandal concerning Princess Louise of Tuscany fleeing from Dresden to Lake Geneva in Italy attracted public attention. Major exhibitions such as the first German cities exhibition as well as numerous congresses and meetings shaped the culture of the city, as did music and theater, literature, painting (“Die Brücke,” a group of German expressionist painters), and reform movements in architecture along with hygiene, education, and science.6 All these developments demanded the commitment and involvement of a good citizen—and young Stresemann got involved almost everywhere.

On Politics Politics in the Municipality of Dresden The start of the twentieth century in Dresden was characterized, as elsewhere in Imperial Germany, by a massive transformation of the city.7 For once, there

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was significant population growth: nine suburbs were incorporated into the city, resulting in a 20 percent population increase to almost 500,000 citizens. This had a major impact on the housing market, the social composition of the population, and the city’s economic power. First and foremost, it increased the political significance of the Social Democratic Party. Like in other cities in the Reich, citizens’ and regional associations rather than parties dominated Dresden’s municipal policy until the turn of the century, controlling the election of city councilors.8 In Dresden, the anti-Semitic Homeowners’ Association (Hausbesitzerverein) with almost four thousand members was in charge, which was a rather unusual configuration compared to other German cities. In cooperation with the Conservatives and various citizens’ associations, it determined a policy that favored the interests of self-employed master craftsmen. Dresden Mayor Gustav Otto Beutler of the Conservative Party worked closely with the Homeowners’ Association and his own party in an attempt to exclude the Social Democrats from municipal power. The Liberals played almost no role at all in Dresden, unlike in the rest of Germany.9 However, two factors threatened this seemingly stable power structure; first, the advance of the Social Democratic Party (SPD). The SPD emerged from its Reichstag election victories strengthened and motivated by the influx of new members from the recently incorporated areas of the city. For the first time, Social Democrats ran in the Dresden municipal elections and were soon successful, despite specifics of Saxon suffrage that put them at a disadvantage. Second, the rise of the “new” National Liberals shaped the political arena, toppling the old political hierarchies. Stresemann was significantly involved in this. Simultaneously, political culture was also undergoing a substantial change. In contrast to the previous municipal tradition of local factional or practical politics (Sachpolitik), which was regarded as non-political and did not involve election campaigns, in 1903 Dresden witnessed actual municipal politicking for the first time.10 There was “fierce and active agitation” and a high turnout.11 Surprised, the Prussian envoy to the Kingdom of Saxony reported back to Berlin that the “governing anti-Semitic Reform Party with its petit-bourgeois grassroots . . . is [now] threatened from two sides: first, by the ‘trade Jewry and the big merchants’ [Handelsjudentum und Großbazaren; referring to the National Liberals], and, second, the ‘Social Democratic cooperative associations.’”12 Neither the envoy nor city notables had ever experienced anything like this before. In fact, the Reform Party majority in the Dresden city council recognized the threat early enough and responded immediately by changing voting law. However, this move could only partially avert “the Social Democratic danger,” as the Bavarian envoy Eduard Graf von Montgelas noted: “It didn’t work. Mayor Beutler, who does whatever he wants in the Dresden city hall as the autocrat that he is, just like Hofrath Mehnert [Conservative] in the Second Chamber of the Ständehaus [House of Estates], is faced with a great failure; his faithful majority

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has reached the end of its glory.”13 In 1906, despite the changed voting law, six Social Democrats made it into the city council for the first time. At the same time, the National Liberals were also making every effort to get onto the city council.14 They mobilized their best men for the elections in 1903, among others, Gustav Stresemann, Paul Wilhelm Vogel, and Rudolf Heinze. It was their declared intention to get the circles of the city population who are particularly competent to give advice and counsel in city matters due to their education and their position [referring to themselves and their followers] into the municipal decision-making bodies . . . It [would] not only severely harm the population of Dresden but all of Germany if healthy progress in a larger German city were hampered and if, instead of social peace, an economic party, the Reform Party, [were] allowed to establish its reckless and autocratic rule.15

Thus, Dresden’s municipal politics gained momentum, and Gustav Stresemann, who joined the city council in 1906, was already one of its key figures. He cast himself as a real Liberal attending to his political duties as a citizen. With this step, he finally settled down in Dresden’s local politics. Not only did his social and political capital increase, but he also began to initiate political change, together with his friends in political and business circles. In 1905, the city council consisted of thirty-six Reform Party representatives (anti-Semites), twenty Conservatives, three National Liberals, and some independent candidates; Social Democrats were not represented. Only four years later, in 1909, the bloc of twenty Conservatives—seven homeowners and thirteen reformers—faced twenty-seven Liberals of all types and fifteen Social Democrats.16 The seeds of the liberal wing around Stresemann (and the Social Democrats) bore fruit.

Social Politics in Dresden: Housing Policies as an Example Dresden fiercely struggled for a change of direction. It played out on the political level between on the one side, the Reform Party, Liberals/Social Democrats, and others fighting over “socially opening up” and the (moderate) participation of Social Democratic Party. Now the struggle continued on the socioeconomic level. The conflict between home- and property owners, on the one side, and tenants, on the other, was a prime example, and involved the same combatants: Liberals (and Social Democrats), on the one side, and Conservatives and Reformers, on the other, whose main voting bloc consisted of homeowners.17 Like the Liberals and the Social Democrats, Dresden’s representation of tenants’ interests, the Mietbewohner-Verein (Tenants’ Association) gained considerable popularity both among bourgeois and Social Democratic groups.18 The association, with about 5,300 members in 1908, focused on denouncing the city

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council’s tax policy, which heavily favored homeowners.19 In the previous years, property taxes had been drastically reduced, while taxes on imported groceries had increased substantially in order to balance the municipal budget. This hit the lower classes the most.20 Time and time again, this unilateral interest-driven policy prevented the approval of development plans for Dresden and thus hampered urban development. The Mietbewohner-Verein intended to counteract this policy and demanded, among other things, a reduction in rent, the amendment of unfair tenancy contracts, and a general stabilization of rental rates.21 The Verein Reichs-Wohnungsgesetz (Association of Reich Housing Law), a national organization with many followers in Dresden renamed the Deutscher Verein für Wohnungsreform (German Association for Housing Reform) in 1904 pursued similar goals and, of course, demanded housing reform.22 The goals of the two tenant associations were not the only nuisance for homeowners. They also loathed the fact that both Social Democrats and bourgeois representatives worked together on an equal footing in these organizations23 (Stresemann was registered as an “ordinary member”)24 and that three National Liberal senior figures, Heinze, Paul Greiert, and Schulze, were members of the executive committee alongside some civil servants and teachers. Also, representatives of the Mietbewohner-Verein (later including some Social Democrats) and National Liberals were on the ballot for the municipal elections. They both even managed to cut out the homeowners’ representative, Gustav Emil Hartwig, who had previously dominated the political alliance, from the joint ballot.25 The Dresden Reformists considered this a violation of the joint fight against Socialism and the end of the “bourgeois society” loyal to the state that had heretofore existed. In their eyes, it blurred the distinction between Reichsfreunde and Reichsfeinde (that is, friends and enemies of the Reich). They did not care that the National Liberals’ objectives in the Mietbewohner-Verein were completely different from those of the Social Democrats. The National Liberal agenda was to create “healthy and inexpensive small flats” based on cooperatives because these were “particularly suitable for balancing out oppositions and spreading happiness and domestic contentment among the largest circles of the population.”26 In short, they wanted to pacify the working class rather than grant its members equal participation. Still, there were preliminary signs of cooperation, and possibilities for overcoming the seemingly unbridgeable chasm between Left and Right were emerging. Not even the sharp anti-revisionist resolutions of the SPD party conference in Dresden in the same year were able to drastically change that. Municipal politics and political ideology on the national level proved to be entirely different things. Even this mere hint of rapprochement—a policy Stresemann vigorously pursued for the next twenty-five years—was enough for the Reform Party to suspect and distrust the National Liberals, which, in turn, aggravated their coun-

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terparts within the Dresden municipality.27 It could not be further from the truth than to refer to the period after 1903 as politically quiet.

On the Economic and Social Situation The improvement of the economic situation in Saxony started to be felt in Dresden over the course of 1903.28 The construction industry came to life again, yet without eliminating the shortage of affordable housing since the boom was predominantly based on private building speculation.29 This was another reason for the Mietbewohner-Verein’s high popularity. Stock corporations and major industry were also on the upswing. In 1903, the Sachsenwerk Licht- und Kraft AG (with 1.5 million marks in capital stock) was established with the substantial involvement of the banking house Bros. Arnhold.30 Stresemann soon benefited from this development, though not immediately in 1903. As a supervisory board member and shareholder of the Sachsenwerk, he also profited financially. The numerous strikes (thirty-two) and lockouts (three) have to be viewed within the context of this economic boom.31 The construction industry responded to the walkout of its workers with several lockouts. As a result, conflicts escalated into violent altercations between the police and striking workers in the otherwise rather quiet city by the summer.32 Two developments emerged from this that considerably influenced the young Stresemann. First, he noted that workers who were organized within the Free Trade Unions were willing and strong enough to engage in a labor dispute. Secondly, he realized that they were also open to ending this conflict by means of municipal arbitration. The major strike of female textile workers from Crimmitschau, which began on 2 August 1903, and resulted in the lockout of 7,600 workers, reinforced the opinion on both sides that negotiations needed to take priority over strikes and lockouts in the future. However, at the beginning of the century, such efforts by National Liberal Victor Böhmert remained largely unsuccessful.33 For this reason, the National Liberals tried to implement more and more social liberal elements into municipal politics—against the will of the Reform Party—to resolve economic conflicts below the level of strikes and lockouts. City Councilor Heinze (of the National Liberals), for instance, attempted to introduce a minimum wage for council workers to alleviate hardship and minimize the influence of organizations in the socialist labor movement. In doing so, the Dresden National Liberals were following the general political strategy of German municipal Liberalism elsewhere.34 The social policy of the Verein gegen Armennoth und Bettelei (Association against Poverty and Begging), founded by National Liberal Victor Böhmert, must also be seen in this context. The association was based on the principles of the “Elberfeld Poor Law System,”35 wherein assistance was interpreted as “help

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to self-help for those fit for work instead of mere payouts.”36 In this way, as well, both National Liberal social policy goals were to be met: on the one hand, there would be individual relief help based on achievement, and, on the other, workers would be immunized against the Social Democratic Party, thereby rendering collective organizations unnecessary. The Volkswohl association, a Dresden peculiarity also founded by Böhmert in 1888, pursued similar goals.37 Its aim was to establish a “classless” society, a (bourgeois) “people’s community.” Its members were to “provide for the wellbeing of their fellow citizens regardless of profession, gender, class, and age as well as confessional, political, and national direction.”38 About two-thirds of the association members (roughly four thousand) were workers or less well-off persons; one-third had a bourgeois background.39 This shows that workers in fact embraced socially integrative organizations and institutions despite the dominance of the socialist labor movement.

Company Social Policies in Dresden: The Examples of Arnhold and Ernemann Many Dresden employers, such as the Brothers Arnhold and Ernemann, did not think that these efforts were enough. They provided their employees—both white- and blue-collar workers—with additional benefits, which, in turn, bound them to the companies they worked for and was intended to immunize them against the influence of the Free Trade Unions and the Social Democratic Party. The main tools for gaining and maintaining “social peace” in Dresden in 1903 were, on the one hand, to approach employees (and even their organizations), and, on the other—first and foremost—to fight Free Trade Unions. It was in this atmosphere that Stresemann had his most important social political experiences, which he very soon brought in (not only) to the politics of the Saxon National Liberals. Around the turn of the century, the banking house Bros. Arnhold40 had evolved into the most significant private bank in Dresden and “was even the largest private bank in Saxony until 1914.”41 Along with the company’s economic development, the brothers established a pension trust in 1901 as a special social program to bind employees to the company. It offered comparatively high company pensions, although these depended on good behavior and a long-term commitment to the company. “The Arnholds combined patriarchal welfare of the liberal rich economic bourgeoisie with modern Bismarckian social principles to bridge the pension gap of white-collar workers.”42 This strategy was even more successful because there were hardly any bluecollar employees at the Arnhold family business, and salaries were relatively high. Thus, the agitation of the Social Democrats did not fall on fertile ground. Given

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the attractiveness of the model, further companies were persuaded to join the pension trust.43 Most importantly, the Association of Saxon Industrialists in Dresden became a member of the Arnhold trust. Contact with the banker brothers encouraged Stresemann to strive for a nationwide special pension trust for white-collar workers.44 Had these plans failed, Stresemann would probably have transferred the entire VSI into the Arnhold pension trust. The social program of the Ernemann company, which offered an abundance of welfare and benefit schemes,45 was another model that influenced Stresemann considerably.46 Apart from a canteen that provided subsidized meals for all staff, every worker who was permanently employed received a bonus and was granted three days paid summer holiday leave after five years of employment (with more days of paid leave after further years of employment). Also, employees were entitled to the privileges of the Heinrich-Ernemann-Trust, but only under the condition that they had not participated in any strikes. The same applied to the membership of the Spar- und Unterstützungsverein (Savings and Support Association), a national workers’ association that excluded Social Democrats and Free Trade Unionists from the outset.47 The Ernemann company paid above-average interest rates for members’ deposits in this savings association (5 percent in 1911) to the end of strengthening bourgeois values among the workers, binding them even more tightly to the company, and immunizing them against the Social Democratic Party. From the beginning of the century, Ernemann further developed a scheme to give white- and blue-collar workers a share of the company’s profits—a share amounting to 50,000 marks in 1912. However, it reserved the right to “temporarily withhold the potentially intended share, move it to a lower share category, or to exclude employees who do not exhibit the expected interest and understanding in our endeavor.”48

Cultural and Social Life within the Associations The cultural and social world of clubs and associations was something young Stresemann was not so familiar with. In these clubs, it was not only willpower, industriousness, and intelligence one needed, but also additional special skills to recognize “fine distinctions” (Bourdieu) and to deal with them appropriately and with ease. Only by mastering this cultural field—that is, acquiring the respective habitus—could one become a bourgeois man. This was a considerable challenge for Stresemann, although he proved to be very committed and eager to learn. His deliberate attempts to participate in the social life of local associations in order to gain access to the city’s “inner circle” is a perfect example of acquiring political, social, and, in particular, cultural capital. They also illustrate the main characteristics of bourgeois life in Dresden in 1903.

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Music At the turn of the century, Dresden was a city with a rich cultural life.49 During the following years, Stresemann would take a liking to the music scene in the Saxon capital that was dominated by the Court Opera House under its musical director Ernst Edler von Schuch, one of the most famous and accomplished conductors of his time. Richard Wagner, a former revolutionary and son of the city, also dominated. At least once a week, the Dresden public could enjoy one of his operas. Incidentally, Stresemann was not a great admirer of his music, neither in 1903, nor in the following years. The second musical attraction was the Dresden Philharmonic, the symphonic orchestra in the Gewerbehaus. Its program included mainly German classical and Romantic composers such as Mozart, Brahms, and Beethoven as well as contemporary composers now largely forgotten. Choirs and musical associations (roughly fifty by the turn of the century) also played a major role in Dresden. The Dresden Liedertafel, founded in 1839 and located in the Gewerbehaus, “was one of the most important men’s choruses in Saxony.”50 Many renowned opera singers, not just amateurs, were members of the Liedertafel. The chorus was particularly attractive to large segments of Dresden’s bourgeoisie. One could not only demonstrate an interest in music but also actively participate in musical performances if one had some musical skill. According to historian Dietmar Klenke, “singing” was quite an important aspect of bourgeois existence.51 Stresemann recognized this opportunity and used it. Apparently, he knew instinctively that this provided an excellent opportunity to enter the Dresden bourgeois society. Thus, he joined the Liedertafel shortly after he had arrived in Dresden. This example demonstrates that Stresemann, who was genuinely interested in music and thoroughly enjoyed singing with expression and emotion, also instrumentalized choir membership to cast himself as a culturally active bourgeois man—and continued to do so his entire life. His autobiographical notes on the early Dresden period from his private papers and the honors he received from the Dresden Liedertafel through the 1920s suggest that he had a long-standing, close, and highly emotional affiliation with the choir. Since Stresemann considered membership in a choir essential to being a German bourgeois man, he repeatedly stressed his commitment to the Liedertafel. In the surviving source material (which he mostly penned himself ), he appears to have been content with singing second tenor and playing a rather humble role in this community of kindred spirits, a somewhat down-sized “people’s community.” Apparently, he felt at ease in this environment and was a regular guest.52 This strengthens the image of Stresemann as a sensitive person who felt particularly at home among people from the petite bourgeoisie and the bourgeoisie (although the mayor was also part of this circle) and enjoyed singing with this group, which preferred beer over sparkling wine.

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Figure 3.1.  Social stratification of the Dresden Liedertafel based on membership lists from 1902 onward. 1 = lower-lower class 2 = middle-lower class 3 = upper-lower class 4 = lower-middle class

5 = upper-middle class 6 = upper class 7 = occupation unknown 8 = homeowner without occupational data

Analyzing the social stratification of the Liedertafel shows that it was comprised of all parts of the bourgeoisie. The membership lists show that artists and intellectuals were disproportionately highly represented. It seemed to be exactly the right place for Stresemann.53 Furthermore, the surviving documents from the Stresemann estate suggest that the busy legal adviser felt the need to sing as intensively and frequently as possible with the Liedertafel and to enjoy the camaraderie of his fellow singers. These documents generate the impression that Stresemann was deeply committed to this fin-de-siecle bourgeois institution of socialization, and that he wanted future generations to know about it. This corresponds to the fact that he was appointed an honorary member of the Dresden Liedertafel in 1927 on the occasion of his twenty-fifth membership anniversary. And yet, the facts tell another story. First, it can be proved with certainty that the young legal adviser barely found the time for such recreational pursuits, both during his Dresden period and later. Due to his ceaseless activity, he was even a rare “guest” in his own family home. His nephew Miethke also reported that Stresemann was in very close contact with Nikolaus Count Seebach, the theater director of the Dresden playhouse and opera house, and that he often visited the

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shows of both establishments in “Odol king” Lingner’s box instead of actively participating in the Liedertafel. It can be concretely established that Stresemann joined the choir in 1902 and was registered as an active singer for about a year.54 After that, however, he was enrolled only as a special member.55 He participated in choir rehearsals presumably no more than about half a dozen times, and there is no evidence that he visited the Liedertafel later as a guest. The facts show a merely desired and possibly staged affiliation with the choir rather than a real one. Standing shoulder to shoulder with this group served Stresemann’s purpose of self-stylization.

National Associations: The “Pan-German League” Among the plethora of associations in Dresden, national clubs and organizations played a major role.56 For a while, the Verein für das Deutschtum im Ausland (Association for Germans Abroad), the Deutsche Flottenverein (German Navy League), the Deutsche Schulschiffverein (German Training Ship Association), and the Alldeutsche Verband (Pan-German League) dominated the political and social life of the city, although they operated on a national level and had their headquarters in Berlin instead of Dresden. These organizations were a perfect match for Stresemann and the Dresden bourgeoisie, which, by the turn of the century, considered itself national, patriotic, loyal to the king, and politically rather conservative, despite political changes looming on the horizon. “During the two decades before the outbreak of World War I, political life in Dresden was dominated by a German-national, conservative-monarchist atmosphere.”57 Anyone who wanted to position himself as a member of the Dresden bourgeoisie had to take part in the social life of these circles, meet the “right” people, and not be labeled a “leftie.” Being a member of various national associations was extremely helpful in this. The objectives of the German Navy League, founded in 1898 under the auspices of Prince Heinrich of Prussia and one of the largest national associations with one million members, accorded with Stresemann’s views.58 As a lobbyist of the export-oriented manufacturing industry, he had already expressed “the interest of the Saxon economy in the enlargement of the German navy” at the 1905 general assembly of the VSI. He argued that the second largest merchant fleet worldwide depended on this protection. “Thus, Stresemann responded with incomprehension to political forces that did not consider the speedy expansion of the navy necessary.”59 Accordingly, he was to become a spokesman of the right wing within the internal debates of the league in later years. Apart from this factual interest, Stresemann’s commitment to the Navy League also fostered contacts with the royal court that brought him close to the monarchic power center in

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Dresden. It is hardly coincidental that Stresemann quickly became a member of the Navy League.60 Stresemann’s involvement with the Sächsische Vereinigung des Deutschen Schulschiffvereins (Saxon Branch of the German Training Ship Association), founded in 1900, was similar. Again, Stresemann agreed with the political direction of the association and, at the same time, expected to gain social capital from his commitment. He became secretary and member of the board.61 He made donations to the association,62 worked with heart and soul—and took the opportunity to establish contacts with a monarchic protector, the Grand Duke of Oldenburg. However, it was the Pan-German League that emerged as the focal point of the right-leaning bourgeoisie. Politically very close to the League were the Konservative Verein (Conservative Association), the Nationalliberale Reichsverein (National Liberal Reich Association), and the Reformverein Dresden (Reform Association of Dresden).63 Approaching the Pan-German League was a reasonable step for a new citizen of Dresden like Stresemann, although he did not share all the league’s political goals, particularly its pronounced anti-Semitism and antiSlavism. In terms of his nationalist views, however, Stresemann felt very much at home among the Pan-Germans for a long time. As early as 1903, the Dresden branch of the Pan-German League had five hundred members, and four of them were also temporarily (1907) members of the Reichstag, among them Gustav Stresemann, illustrating the league’s significance. Numerous members of the Saxon state parliament (Ernst Alfred Grumbt, Georg Friedrich A. Knobloch, and Oscar August Kretzschmar) from the so-called Ordnungsparteien—anti-Socialist parties such as the National Liberals, the Progressive Party, the Conservatives, anti-Semites, and agrarians64—were longstanding members of the league, as were prominent municipal politicians (Rudolf Heinze, Carl May, Oswald Oehler, and above all, Mayor Gustav Otto Beutler), alongside industrialists such as Karl Lingner and Paul Wilhelm Vogel.65 Not least due to its social significance, Stresemann decided to join the league at a very early stage.66 With various activities such as meetings, speeches, resolutions, and appeals, the Pan-German League promoted a nationalist foreign policy and employed xenophobic and anti-Semitic slogans domestically. Its representatives vociferously criticized any foreign policy concession and applauded every threatening military gesture by the government. Stresemann largely agreed with them on this. Social Democrats, left-wing Liberals, Catholics, and Jews were considered domestic enemies and obstacles to Germany becoming a world power. The analysis of membership registers of the Dresden Pan-German League shows that the league—unlike the Liedertafel—was dominated by the upper bourgeoisie.

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Figure 3.2.  Social stratification of the ADV based on membership registers from 1903 onward. 1 = lower-lower class 2 = middle-lower class 3 = upper-lower class 4 = lower-middle class

5 = upper-middle class 6 = upper class 7 = occupation unknown 8 = homeowner without occupational data

The majority of the ADV belonged to the conservative and reactionary camp, but members who were more left-liberal leaning such as Stresemann were not exceptional. Although the League promoted an anti-Semitic policy, from 1902 on at least one member was of Jewish faith: the banker and chairman of the Dresden stock exchange, Max Arnhold—a rather surprising fact.67 This variation in Pan-German politics clearly facilitated Stresemann’s decision to join the league and use the political and social capital he gained by his commitment to it. However, it would become obvious that Stresemann’s relations with the league were rather problematic, especially during World War I.

Stresemann’s Network in Dresden How and where can we position the young Stresemann socially, culturally, and politically in 1903? What social networks had he established and which personal

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relations emerged from this, relations that could help his political, economic, and cultural rise?68 The analysis of his memberships in Dresden associations, societies, and organizations reveals an ambitious young man who could not have been better connected. Overall, Stresemann was integrated into associations that represented the political center of his party, some of them far right of the National Liberals, and to some extent others far left (such as the Deutsche Verein für Wohnungsreform). As a national-minded man, he had joined the relevant associations, and after leaving the National Socials, he distinguished himself as a centrist politician who was able to cooperate with the Conservatives and even with the Social Democrats. Moreover, he performed his civil-political “duty” by engaging in local politics. His economic activities in and outside Dresden were exorbitant and will be looked at in detail regarding his work for the VSI. In light of this plethora of activities, the question arises of how Stresemann was able to meet all these demands—not to mention his professional and family commitments—and at what costs. Moreover, he distinguished himself as a liberal benefactor in various associations, establishing himself as a man of culture who also promoted culture—a true bourgeois attitude. It is difficult to determine just how much he directly participated in the cultural life of Dresden. His acquaintance with Count von Seebach indicates that he was, in fact, very active in cultural life, confirmed by the impressive itinerary kept by his nephew Miethke. At the beginning of World War I, Stresemann was actively involved in at least twenty-seven organizations. When we differentiate these organizations according to categories—economy, politics, welfare, culture, and “others”—economic organizations account for the most, as would be expected (fourteen). However, Stresemann was also well connected everywhere else. It is obvious that membership in these associations offered him many opportunities at various levels. But that was just one, albeit very important, side of the coin. The other had to do with it being largely the same group of men meeting in these organizations and associations. They met, knowing each other from other contexts, talked together, and made contact. They did each other favors, got into business with each other, and shared information about various topics. A circle evolved across party lines that embodied not only the upper bourgeoisie but also the elite of the city and the state; Stresemann was without a doubt one of them. So who were the most important members of this circle around Stresemann? If measured by the number of organizations in which these men were members alongside Stresemann, it was mainly industrialists and bankers who were in the inner circle of his acquaintances. The industrialist Karl August Lingner and Stresemann were both members of ten organizations together, to name a most striking example. Thus, these two men met almost every day, which must have resulted in a rather close relationship. It was by no means a coincidence

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that Lingner made Stresemann’s private secretary Fritz Rauch the director of his company. But there were also lots of opportunities to get into contact with the bankers Adolf Arnhold, Henri Palmié, Viktor Klemperer von Schönau, and Paul Millington-Hermann. The example of the banker Arnhold illustrates that these contacts often resulted in business relationships: it is fair to assume that the Arnhold brothers made Stresemann a member of the supervisory board and a (small) shareholder of the Sachsenwerk mostly because they were socially acquainted, and they were well aware of his connections and position in Dresden and Saxony. The situation was similar with Heinrich Ernemann, who met Stresemann later. It is surprising that Stresemann was also well connected within the right political camp. Stresemann and Privy Councilor Mehnert, head of the Conservatives and the agrarians and Stresemann’s fiercest political opponent, were fellow members in seven organizations. The chairman of the Pan-German League, Eugen Hopf, was a fellow member of six associations. Stresemann’s contacts to the city council and the state government could hardly be surpassed: Mayor Beutler was in seven organizations with Stresemann, which must have resulted in good relations. Stresemann met State Ministers Conrad W. Rüger and Richard Beck in four and six organizations, respectively. In short, there was hardly a social group (apart from the Socialist labor movement) with which Stresemann was not connected. Without a doubt, Stresemann had clearly come very close to his goal of getting integrated into the “social field” (Bourdieu) of the bourgeoisie. At the same time, it is fair to assume that he had begun to build a stable and robust image of the world in Henning Luther’s sense (namely, an image of bourgeois society such as in Dresden and Saxony), and that he was aware of the role he could take up within it.

The Saxon Legal Adviser: The Founding of the Association of Saxon Industrialists Thus, we see that these ideas of an association increasingly prevailed, ideas which we then expressed by saying that even the most justified petition will be useless for us if there is no power behind it to enforce it. One might regret that our legislation is as it is, but we still have to deal with the facts as they are. The one who is supposed to be the legislator is increasingly addressed by single interests, and thus we must and will be grateful if this legislator maintains a middle course. However, industry has to express its demands on all sectors, just as any other area does, so as not to dissipate its energies.69

In the second half of the nineteenth century, Saxony was one of the most developed regions of Central Europe.70 Its industrial sector was dominated by the textile, metal, and engineering industries, polygraphic businesses, and publishing

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houses. It is striking that in 1907 two-thirds of all businesses were still run by just one person without an assistant, and the remaining third had no more than five employees, with factories, predominantly within the textile sector, being the exception. In this regard, Saxony differed profoundly from other industrial regions in Germany. Despite the high level of industrialization, the Conservatives were the dominant political party in Saxony. Their undisputed leader, Privy Councilor Paul Mehnert, was said to be the dominant figure in Saxon politics.71 The Saxon Liberals, by that time rather conservative-leaning, were closely tied to the Conservatives in a political cartel and had supported Mehnert’s politics for a long time but eventually lost more and more importance. Given the state’s economic structure with just under 14 percent of Saxons working in agriculture and 72 percent in industry, commerce, and trade, the dominance of the Conservatives was rather surprising.72 The Bavarian consulate in Dresden came to the same conclusion: “It is without a doubt a strange situation that the majority of Saxon industrialists have voted for political representation in the Saxon state parliament that is predominantly agrarian-minded.” This phenomenon can be partly explained by the fact that until far into the 1890s, the Saxon Conservative Party was more open to industrial problems than the Prussian Conservatives and addressed issues of the Saxon manufacturing industry during the 1890s to some extent. “Saxon Conservatism was more bourgeois than that in Prussia. This was mainly a result of Saxony’s industrialization and urbanization.”73 This situation enabled the Saxon Conservatives “to abandon the sterile agrarian narrow-mindedness,” but it also prevented a necessary structural change in Saxony from taking place. It was not least due to the outdated economic system that other regions of the Reich increasingly caught up with Saxony, which had previously been an industrial pioneer. For this reason, the economic crisis of 1901/2 grew more serious in Saxony than elsewhere in Germany.74 Dresden and Chemnitz surpassed all other large cities in Germany concerning the number of businesses going bankrupt.75 The bank crash of 1901 that ruined the Dresden Kreditanstalt für Industrie und Handel and the Leipzig Bank, a very prestigious regional banking company, was a clear indicator of this economic and financial susceptibility.76 In addition, the growing “Red Danger” made Saxon industry’s situation more critical. After the huge election victory of the Social Democrats in the summer of 1903, the female textile workers in Crimmitschau went on strike later in August, fighting for a ten-hour workday and a 10 percent pay raise, which became the biggest strike in German history.77 The trade unions had to abort the unsuccessful strike in January 1904, but it still showed many industrialists that they had to find new ways of mastering the imminent problems. The Conservatives ruling Saxony had almost no grasp of the signs of the times and addressed problems with old recipes, one-sided pressure, and state

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repression.78 The Saxon manufacturing industry, however, could not and did not want to tolerate Conservative politics, which not only pursued a confrontational course toward the workers but had also long abandoned a compromising line with the industrialists. The intense agitation for trade agreements, which did not bode well for the export-oriented industry of Saxony, as well as the supplementary tax bill dominated by Conservative objectives—“which exclusively burdened the industry and spared agriculture”79—confirmed this view. Thus, it was no coincidence that the Association of Saxon Industrialists was founded in exactly this context at the beginning of the twentieth century. Evidently, the only thing needed was an initial spark, a dynamic, bustling figure who understood the situation, had Saxon industrialists’ trust, and was able to develop constructive plans, pull strings, and take the lead in fulfilling their needs. This figure was Gustav Stresemann, who had swiftly distinguished himself as an assistant of the Dresden Verband Deutscher Schokolade-Fabrikanten (Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers). Only rarely is it possible to determine the role a particular person played in this sort of process in as detailed and precise a manner as in this concrete case. In analyzing Stresemann’s efforts leading to the foundation of the VSI, the interplay between meticulous planning, accelerated mutual penetration of economic and political fields, and a profound industrial policy come to light. The new VSI was Stresemann’s child and “invention,” and he was its absolute “ruler.” Indeed, the story of a young man with a modest background and without any connections, who of his own accord, in a very short time and thanks only to his tireless efforts, worked his way to the top—as spread by Stresemann and his family—has a lot of truth and is not entirely unfounded.80 With all due appreciation for his personality and his enormous creativity, it is unlikely that the young, inexperienced Stresemann would have been able to forge one of the most powerful economic associations and change the political circumstances in Saxony single-handedly without any support and in only a few years. Awestruck admiration for Stresemann’s quick rise and for the organizations he created should not hide the fact that particularly positive circumstances and the help and support of many others fostered this. One important aspect was the timing of Stresemann’s activities. At the beginning of the twentieth century, development in Saxony was still in flux and open to influence. Had Stresemann come to Saxony a few years earlier, he would not have had a similar impact. During the 1890s, business was great for the majority of Saxon industrialists,81 and there was no need for change. Had he moved to Saxony a few years later, the manufacturing industrialists would have probably already created an organization without him, and his opportunities to blossom would have been much smaller. As it was, he was the right man in the right place at the right time. Saxon Conservatives lamented with good reason that the foundation of the VSI at the

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beginning of the new century meant that “an eloquent and ruthless left-liberal group [referring to Stresemann, in particular] ha[d] seized leadership early on”82 and intimidated “prudent people.” They also criticized the association’s politicking: “To sum up, by abandoning political neutrality, the Association of Saxon Industrialists has put itself in diametric opposition to its inherent and clearly positive basic principle.” This is precisely what Stresemann and his allies had accomplished. However, this success was not foreseeable when, at the tender age of twentythree, Stresemann took up his first position as administrative assistant of the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers in Dresden on 25 March 1901. As a newcomer, he had hardly any influence then.83 Yet he soon met some colleagues who recognized his talent. His new and humble workplace was located in the Haus der Kaufmannschaft (Merchants’ Building), which also housed the Dresden Chamber of Commerce and Trade and several other industrial associations, so Stresemann soon met people with important positions in Saxony’s economy—and proved himself to be a valuable asset. Together with them, Stresemann set the course for the development of the new association. On the executive board of the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers, which had been affiliated with the Bund der Industriellen (League of Industrialists; BdI) since 1898, were manufacturers Heinrich Vogel, Sr., and Otto Rüger, who were also functionaries of the regional branch of the BdI, the Sächsische Export-Verein (Saxon Export Association), and the chamber of commerce, respectively.84 In this context, Stresemann also met the chairman of the chamber of commerce, Adolph Collenbusch, who would later play a leading role in the Dresden local branch of the VSI, which was founded in 1907. But, most importantly, the secretary of the chamber of commerce, Paul Schulze, deputy chairman of the National Liberal Reich Association (Nationalliberaler Reichs-Verein) and pro forma Stresemann’s superior, was also there.85 After only a short time, the two legal advisers not only operated on equal terms but also revolutionized the association landscape and revived the stagnating National Liberals. Schulze recognized Stresemann’s extraordinary talent at a very early stage. Thus, he included him in all important decisions, including the fight against the sugar cartel, the cartel policy of the National Liberal parliamentary group of the Saxon state parliament, the Saxon tax reform bill, and efforts to gather Saxon industrialists together. Apparently, the idea of founding a Saxon industrialists’ association originally stemmed from Schulze. And yet, the “apprentice” Stresemann soon overtook his master and adopted his ideas. This is indicative of young Stresemann’s spirit, his dominant personality, a certain chutzpah, and, perhaps, also his charisma. The VSI experienced a rapid rise under its new legal adviser. In December 1903, after only one year, the association consisted of more than six hundred factories with more than a hundred thousand employees. Within ten years, it

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would gain over five thousand more business owners employing more than half a million workers. Thus, in 1912, the VSI represented almost three-quarters of all Saxon trade and manufacturing businesses, and Stresemann became the spokesman of one of the biggest regional economic associations in Imperial Germany, a position that was consolidated by his senior post as deputy chairman of the BdI and co-founder of the Hanseatic League for Commerce, Trade, and Industry.86 Moreover, the VSI had influence on the national level. The concept of an industrial association positioning itself in the public sphere, considerably influencing governments, parliaments, and the press, “became the role model for similar organizations in Thuringia, Silesia, and Wurttemberg.”87 Thus, Stresemann constituted the prototype of a liberal “economic politician” in Imperial Germany.88 Despite these successful developments, the VSI operated in a very tense field, which jeopardized its existence for a long time. First, it had a deep and longstanding conflict with the organized labor movement, which grew substantially worse at times. In addition, the rift between the VSI and the large textile factories, which did not agree with the association’s liberal social policy, was not easy to overcome. Last but not least, there was the constantly rekindled political conflict with the dominant Conservatives that had to be defused.89 However, by pursuing smooth and flexible policies within the association, Stresemann was able to incorporate the Conservative-leaning Saxon industrialists into his lobbying. He later emphasized this as a particular achievement.90 It was no coincidence that the National Liberals played a crucial role in this because Stresemann’s entrance onto the Saxon political stage brought in new ideas, both political and economic. He soon set himself up as the leader of industry and the National Liberals, connecting the two and forging a powerful entity. His new, extremely successful lobbying fed off the economic and political foundations of the VSI. Stresemann referred to this kind of lobbying aptly as new “industrial politics.” Industry must send politicians from its own ranks into the parliaments, politicians who, thanks to their practical experience and their objective knowledge, are able to give industry the position its due in the factions they belong to and to prevent onesided measures in legislation. . . . The Association of Saxon Industrialists is probably the first of the industrial organizations to abandon the principle of achieving its objectives merely by issuing petitions to the authorities. It proceeded from the principle that even the most justified petition will be without effect if there are no legislative corporate bodies, no personalities behind it who are willing to back these ideas with action.91

With this concept, Stresemann was not only successful in Saxony, but “his” VSI and the BdI—dominated by him as well—managed to strengthen their position in internal debates with the Centralverband deutscher Industrieller (Central Association of German Industrialists; CdI) and actively represent the interests of export-oriented industry.

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The VSI’s moderate social policy initiatives, however, stood out above anything else. They were both initiated and driven by Stresemann and benefited from certain Saxon characteristics, foremost and primarily Saxony’s aforementioned economic structure. The dominance of small businesses displaying a less pronounced “master-in-the-house” view than many textile manufacturers and industrialists in the Ruhr area facilitated the enforcement of social policy innovations. Second, the high degree to which labor was organized in Saxony had a moderating influence on workers, and distinctly counteracted the verbal extremism of Saxon Social Democratic members of the Reichstag. Usually, powerful trade unions have little interest in excessive strikes.92 That was particularly true for Saxony after the strikes in Crimmitschau. Labor costs also played a less important role for export-oriented industry in Saxony than for big companies in other regions, which made it somewhat easier to reach an agreement regarding workers’ wage and welfare demands. Nevertheless, this also resulted in tensions between the labor-intensive Saxon textile industry and the manufacturing industry, the majority of whose businesses involved lower wage costs. In addition, workers and industrialists shared the common goal of fighting agrarian-Conservative political dominance in order to push through general industrial interests. However, it was primarily the social commitment at the top of the VSI and among leading Dresden industrialists—a new attitude toward the workers as represented by Stresemann, a longstanding follower of Friedrich Naumann, and Victor Böhmert, the unifying figure of Dresden National Liberalism—that supported this course. In short, the dominant insight was that it was impossible to operate against workers and trade unions in a country as highly industrialized as Saxony over the long term.93 Thus, Stresemann and his allies had established an association that combined economic power and political objectives. As a pressure group it entered the stage of party politics to exercise political power. Alongside genuine interests of export-oriented industry, it advocated a view of social and welfare policy that markedly distinguished it from other economic interest organizations in Imperial Germany. Its goal was to reconcile workers with the existing state and to integrate them into the German people’s community. Under certain circumstances, the VSI was even prepared to cooperate with the Free Trade Unions, if necessary. This made it a progressive lobby group open to innovations in social and welfare policy—but, at the same time, it became the enemy of the conservative elites.

The Social Policy Advocate Previous biographical works have considerably underestimated Stresemann’s social policy achievements.94 His accomplishments in this respect, not only in

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Saxony but also on the national level, were groundbreaking even before 1914. It has remained virtually unknown even today that his work left an important mark on social policy in German history, a mark that was considerably more sustainable than his later foreign policy successes. More importantly, however, these social policies corresponded to Stresemann’s views of a bourgeois world and the duties of bourgeois individuals. Stresemann had internalized the idea that a good bourgeois citizen cared not only for himself, was not exclusively concerned with his own personal success, and did not focus only on big and small politics. In his view, a good bourgeois citizen not only educated himself culturally and presented this in public, but first and foremost cared for others, for his family, friends, the workers in his company, and the well-being of German society. Such a citizen opposed collectivism and advocated the ideal of a society of equal citizens who were able to help themselves. Stresemann was convinced that a welfare state could be brought into being through the “people’s community.” According to this concept, state bodies were (also) supposed to work toward formally granting social rights and implementing them in practice. This meant that the state had to foster assistance for self-help. For this reason, Stresemann supported the protection of all citizens in cases of illness, old age, accident, and unemployment, provided the citizens were not at fault in these circumstances arising. Stresemann also advocated the regulation of tenancy law (such as in the Mieter-Verein) based on the principle of social justice. The basic precondition for this policy was that one acknowledge the state’s (and business owners’) particular responsibility for the wellbeing of citizens. Even more importantly, one had to desire to integrate the members of the working class, to pacify them and, at the same time, to instrumentalize the middle class for one’s own partisan purposes. Stresemann particularly excelled in the latter field. It is hard to decide to what extent Stresemann’s prominent “social vein” can be traced to his background. His commitment to social policies and working-class interests is a thread running through his entire political and professional life. To name but one example: as early as 1903, during the major female textile workers’ strike of Crimmitschau, Stresemann, who had just become the legal adviser of the VSI, publicly sided with the striking female workers. The powerful textile industrialists’ lobby was in no way pleased by this.95 Similarly, Stresemann’s temporary inclination toward the National Social Association and the Mieter-Verein can also be seen in this context.

Business Owners, Free Trade Unions, and Collective Wage Agreements The orderly contractually guaranteed relationship sustained by mutual acceptance between trade unions and business owners, as well as the tool of collective

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wage agreements, are key elements of the welfare state, as we know it today. In principle, this also includes acknowledging labor organizations and their legal capacity as partners in the wage agreement.96 However, in Imperial Germany, such acknowledgment of the trade unions was the exception, and collective wage agreements remained an underdeveloped tool in most industries—particularly in heavy industry—until the revolution of 1918/19, even considering sectorspecific and regional differences.97 This was due not least to the fact that peaceful collective wage regulations were highly contested both among trade unions and business owners until far into the twentieth century. It was by no means seen universally as the ideal way to resolve conflicts. Yet in Stresemann’s Saxony, everything was different once again. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Stresemann and Saxon’s business owners who had joined forces were already pursuing a relatively friendly policy toward the trade unions and favored collective wage agreements. Ironically, the Liberals’ poor standing in Saxony, where they were politically marginalized and had lost almost all influence over laborers, was partly responsible for this. Stresemann wanted to change this. “For many years,” he quickly recognized, “the liberal parties have made the mistake of not caring enough about workers and losing touch with them.”98 However, “caring about workers” did not initially mean that the Free Trade Unions would be equal partners in cooperation in the understanding of Stresemann and his fellow party members; rather, it referred to a patronizing, patriarchal welfare system with the exclusion of trade unions and Social Democratic influences—a welfare system that Arnhold and Ernemann practiced in an exemplary fashion in Dresden. However, this strategy soon resulted in a fierce confrontation with Social Democrats and the Free Trade Unions. The attempts to “educate” the workers, to strengthen their national identity, to bind them to the companies they worked for and, thus, to the National Liberal Party mostly failed. Equally unsuccessful was the attempt to increase the attractiveness of the confessional (Protestant) or national workers’ associations and to specifically exclude Socialists.99 For example, all organized workers apart from Socialists were allowed to participate in the establishment of the central Dresden job center, yet this exclusion achieved nothing at all.100 Stresemann realized very quickly that this political strategy would not change the existing situation in the “Red Kingdom.” In this, he was ahead of many of his contemporaries. Social Democrats would remain the largest political group, whether the Liberals liked it or not, even though this was not reflected in the state parliamentary elections due to census suffrage. The Free Trade Unions, in turn, were the undisputed opinion shapers among the workers, despite all of Stresemann’s efforts to support Christian and national workers’ associations. Therefore, in Stresemann’s view, it was only realistic to accept the Socialists and most of their strong trade unions as dialogue partners, regardless of any

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objections or concerns. Although the economic and political confrontations with them were to be continued by all available means and with the utmost force, Stresemann and his allies started to respect the Free Trade Unions as equal partners and began negotiating with them. For this reason, Liberals and Saxon business owners did not reject confrontations with the Free Trade Unions, but did reject political and legal discrimination against them, as Prussian business owners had called for. Hence, the roots of Stresemann’s social liberalism were the strength of (Free) Trade Unions and the insight of their usefulness, even for employers.101 What successes did these components of “social liberalism” have then in Saxony? Stresemann and his VSI gradually—and ever more rapidly—managed to get collective wage agreements established. Nowhere in Imperial Germany did this method of problem-solving succeed as well as in Saxony, except for in Bavaria and, within it, especially the wider area of Munich.102 Since collective wage agreements were not systematically registered before 1910, precise numbers are only available from that year forward. In 1910, for example, collective wage agreements regulated the labor conditions of 7,330 Saxon companies with roughly 87,000 employees; two years later, the number had risen to 15,444 companies with 170,760 employees.103 Before World War I, an average of 15 percent of all workers were employed within the framework of a collective wage agreement in Imperial Germany; in Saxony it was 25 percent—and the trend was clearly rising. These figures were achieved despite the fact that the large textile companies vigorously fought Stresemann’s social policy course. Stresemann’s social policy clearly paved the way for the future.

The VSI and the Association for the Protection of German Industry Equal rights for both, the establishment of large employers’ associations such as our Association for the Protection of German Industry, no interference by the state, but unconditional protection from the unbearable terrorism (Bravo) [of the trade unions]. And then fight or rapprochement among the organizations. Because I do not think, gentlemen, it is a disadvantage, but an advantage of our association that the number of strikes it has settled is almost as large as the number of strikes it supports. Because whoever insinuates that the employers are in favor of strikes has no idea at all about industrial relations. . . . And often when we have reached an agreement between both sides through skillful negotiation, then we have achieved both a social success and a good representation of employers’ interests properly understood (Very true!).104

The policy of the Deutscher Industrieschutzverband (Association for the Protection of German Industry; DIV), an organization affiliated with the VSI, is another compelling example of Stresemann’s and the VSI’s new course for social policy.105 With the DIV, which dealt primarily with the central issue of strikes and lockouts on behalf of the VSI, one can once again demonstrate the kind of

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policy Stresemann and his association wanted to pursue; how far they really went in making concessions for social peace, to the SPD, and to the Free Trade Unions; and how they did—and did not—wish to settle conflicts. The textile workers’ strike in Crimmitschau had profound and direct repercussions on German employers. First, they intensified their efforts to get organized. During the textile strike, they had felt underorganized and thus inferior to the highly organized trade unions. Thus, the foundation of the Hauptstelle Deutscher Arbeitsgeberverbände (Main Office of German Employers’ Associations; HDA; a daughter of the CdI), and the simultaneous establishment of the Verein Deutscher Arbeitgeberverbände (Federation of German Employers’ Associations; VdA; a branch of the BdI) were direct consequences of the Crimmitschau strike. Both organizations were meant to confront workers with employers’ organizations of equal strength.106 In light of the activities in the Crimmitschau textile industry, Stresemann’s VSI could not remain aloof from these organizational efforts. However, the VSI was very skeptical of the HDA’s aggressive, openly anti-trade union agenda. Its confrontational policy was diametrically opposed to the VSI’s approach of necessary cooperation. Thus, in 1906 the VSI established a Saxon organization for business owners that came the closest to its own expectations and needs.107 According to its bylaws, the purpose of the DIV, which was so renamed later on, was “to prevent, if possible, walkouts in the companies of its members . . . and to mitigate the consequences of inevitable walkouts by compensating the members for their losses caused by these strikes in accordance with these bylaws.”108 These remarks were motivated by the underlying wish that the mere existence of this powerful association would prevent the outbreak of strikes in the first place. The DIV was supposed to conclude collective wage agreements in order to keep business owners’ damages and losses to a minimum. Lockouts were frowned upon within the organization, which brought it into sharp conflict with the VdA.109 However, there was one idea that remained an absolute taboo in the DIV’s mindset: “those are the cases where the issue is not the wage conditions of the individual but the power within the entire company, and where we are not familiar with negotiations because we think that industry will perish when the power in the company is no longer in the hands of those sitting at the top.”110 Hence, workers’ codetermination in industrial businesses was beyond what the DIV could imagine. This was also still Stresemann’s stance during the Weimar Republic. The positions of the DIV and the VSI concerning workers’ right to engage in trade union activities had similar aims. On the one hand, they strongly condemned trade union “terrorism” against non-striking workers; this had allegedly occurred during walkouts in Saxony and the Reich. On the other, both the VSI and DIV were unwilling to resolve this problem by supporting exceptional laws.111 Again, the VSI remained true to its principle of openly advocating its interests while utilizing the existing legal situation rather than taking legal action.

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What concrete successes did Stresemann’s version of “social liberalism” achieve?112 First, the number of strikes in Saxony declined dramatically. The “social partnership” aiming to prevent strikes that had been implemented functioned almost perfectly. The number of conflicts that could be resolved before they turned into a walkout skyrocketed. In 1906, only about 6 percent of all conflicts could be settled peacefully during the preliminary stage; in 1911, this had climbed to more than half. By that time, peaceful settlements already outnumbered non-peaceful solutions in Saxony; the Reich, on the other hand, was a long way from reaching results. However, the severity of industrial conflicts increased considerably, both in the Reich and Saxony. Second, it was successful with its smooth and rather moderate policy toward the workers and their organizations as indicated by Saxon entrepreneurs very rarely using lockouts, the most drastic employer tool. The DIV criticized the umbrella organization for its radical lockout policy and also departed from it precisely for this reason. It no longer wanted to pay high contributions for the severe actions that some employers used against workers, which Saxon employers rarely used and the DIV deplored. Stresemann’s impact on this was obvious. In sum, under Stresemann’s guidance, Saxon business owners pursued a policy of partially recognizing and cooperating to a limited extent with the Free Trade Unions and generally expanding collective wage agreements. This resulted predominantly from the insight that such measures were politically and economically necessary for maintaining social peace, stabilizing the political, social, and economic system, preventing unnecessary strikes, and keeping business owners’ losses to a minimum. Taking these positions, the VSI abandoned some of the more rigid stances of the German Conservatives and the industrialists of major industry in Rhineland-Westphalia as early as the prewar period. It shifted to a moderate course that served the interests of the majority of Saxon industrial businesses, while also positioning itself to represent the interests of the Saxon textile industry. However, first and foremost, this political course made it easier to maintain contacts with the Social Democratic labor movement and possibly intensify them; Stresemann was the driving force behind this policy. This political strategy had the potential to solve many significant problems. It served to stabilize the Wilhelmine system by generally easing the relationship between employers and employees. While it could not yet bridge the fundamental gap between capital and labor, it paved the way for the best possible conflict resolution and negotiations on a comprehensive collective wage agreement built on mutual respect between employer and employee organizations.113 Nevertheless, lest this interpretation seem overly euphoric, it must be noted that Stresemann always combated the policies of the Free Trade Unions with great force. Despite being flexible in practical politics, he considered Free Trade

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Unions and Social Democrats “arch enemies” who should never gain full rights. He always and predominantly aimed to weaken the “Reds” whenever possible, as shown by his policy against the left-wing government in Saxony in 1923.114 Stresemann always offset the beginnings of modern conflict resolution strategies regarding social questions with efforts to limit those as much as possible. However, it seemed plausible that considerations favoring cooperation would gain the upper hand. Consequently, although Stresemann had found it difficult to accept the new state, to renounce the emperor, and to endorse the revolution after it occurred in 1918, he did not have to completely bend his true will to acknowledge the welfare state that the revolution had brought about.

The Formation of the German Salaried Employees’ Insurance At this point, we shall analyze Stresemann and his policy from a bird’s eye view by putting his social policy efforts into the context of contemporary discussions on this matter in Germany and Europe and of today’s debates on social policies. As German historian Michael Prinz rightly emphasized, Stresemann’s contribution to developing and later implementing the groundbreaking Angestelltenversicherungsgesetz (Salaried employees’ insurance law) of 1911 cannot be overestimated.115 His later honorary chairman position in the employees’ association was only an outward acknowledgment of his achievements. It is fair to say that this legislation initiated by Stresemann (and others) was one of the most important social policy innovations of the early twentieth century, and its repercussions can still be felt even today.116 It is likely that Stresemann’s own socialization was a potential reason for his strong commitment to the new Mittelstand, that is, the new middle class of salaried employees. He had witnessed the old Mittelstand (comprised of self-employed craftsmen and shopkeepers, etc.) struggle to survive first-hand, and he appreciated self-employment and a clear differentiation from Social Democrats. These experiences were further reasons for his solidarity with the old and the new Mittelstand. He shared their work ethic, supported their self-understanding, and valued their cultural aspirations—and for these reasons alone, he was prepared to protect their status. As always with Stresemann, pragmatism and strategic flexibility played a pivotal role alongside personal factors. The new legislation was supposed to pay tribute to salaried employees, an important potential voting bloc for Liberals, for their “unwavering support of the national cause and their contribution to our battles for national ideas.”117 In Stresemann’s view, this continuously growing group was an important bulwark against the main enemy, the Social Democrats, and possibly the Liberals’ key clientele.118 He considered them a key pillar of the societal system of Imperial Germany—who, thus, had to be supported.

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At the assembly of representatives of the National Liberal Party, Stresemann argued that “private German salaried employees have earned a badge of honor for not listening to these whisperings [of Social Democrats] to any noticeable extent, and that the mighty and powerful Social Democratic Party has only 6,700 members in their private salaried employees’ organization compared to 800,000 members of other associations.” Therefore, the new insurance was supposed to stabilize the cultural, social, and economic status of salaried employees, which had been deteriorating from the turn of the century, and to immunize them against Social Democratic ideas. In this context, as with the issue of collective wage agreements, Stresemann criticized the industrialists who did not recognize the signs of the times and were about to throw away the chances the new insurance offered: I think it is a cardinal error to try and stir up industrialists and make them adopt an employer’s view par excellence, to tell them to take a view diametrically opposed to all employees’ efforts, instead of . . . pointing out that we have common interests with millions of strata of people who are only in the wrong political camp when they let themselves be exploited to work against industry.119

One important precondition for Stresemann’s success in implementing the special insurance was that his career was peaking at precisely this moment—just as it had been for the policy of rapprochement toward the Free Trade Unions. The VSI and BdI, of which he was one of the leading figures, served as spearheads among his industrial allies. Stresemann was also able to win over the majority of the National Liberals to this political course. It goes almost without saying that he had no difficulty convincing the salaried employees movement of his ideas.120 Yet this alone was not enough, as it had not been for his policies in Saxony, either—his policy also fit with the zeitgeist. The special role of civil servants in Imperial Germany was significant in this case. They served as a role model for the new middle class within the collective consciousness of bourgeois society and economics across European nations.121 According to German historian Michael Prinz, Stresemann was able to ascribe a positive meaning to the concept of the “new Mittelstand,” a construct he propagated. He pointed out that the members of this important societal stratum, who did not deserve social decline and had to be supported by the state and society, were, in fact, in danger of joining the Social Democratic Party. But, at the same time, offering a positively charged meaning of the “new Mittelstand” concept, he spread it publicly and convinced opponents of the benefits of the new insurance in the end. He was able to convey the achievements and general social significance of this highly heterogeneous group to society. Stresemann argued that this group had to be supported, not only for the sake of social justice, but first and foremost because it served as the backbone of the German economy and its rise; it constituted the driving force behind Germany’s

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achievements in international competition. “This is the reason that German industry, German trade, has a vital interest in supporting these salaried employees and helpers to improve their professional commitment and to prevent a decline in their working capacity.” The tenor of his remarks was that no uncertainty of any sort regarding their situation should cause the strength of these “private civil servants” to be lost to the common good. On the contrary, securing their social position would not only benefit them but also the German economy. It would guarantee that the existing economic and social system would persist.122 In the end, this appeal was not only successful within the legislative process. It also constructed the new social group that supported the state and, in turn, needed to be fostered. The new insurance contributed to making the heterogeneous strata of salaried employees a special social “class”—and one that was clearly separated from the Social Democrats—for the first time in history. Thus, the social strata of salaried employees that we know today only came into being in 1911. Social benefits were the glue that held the construct of this new social group together and also stabilized the new configuration of society. Benefits gave clear shape to that which was the opposite of the mere worker, or “blue-collar worker.” The salaried employee, or “white-collar worker,” gained a sharp new profile.123 The law that regulated the pension scheme of roughly one and a half million salaried employees—or, as contemporaries liked to call them “private civil servants”—might not have been as important as the Bismarckian social security system or the pension reform of the Federal Republic of Germany in 1957, but it can well be mentioned in the same breath with them. It “broke with fundamental principles of the previous social security system”124 and was, at any rate, a core component of the German social policies initiated by Stresemann. Three aspects, in particular, went beyond the scope of the existing social security systems:125 First, this insurance, which encompassed almost all salaried employees, guaranteed its recipients a pension that would largely allow them to maintain their previous status in old age. Thus, it was not intended as charity to support economically and socially vulnerable people but as a safeguard of material resources after one reached retirement age. This was a novelty for the German welfare state but fit with liberal-bourgeois—that is, Stresemann’s—ideas. At the same time, it clearly distinguished someone so insured from those receiving regular workers’ social insurance. However, salaried employees’ contributions to the insurance were significantly higher. Second, the law guaranteed benefits not only for the pensioners themselves, already from the age of 65, but also for their families. Moreover, benefits were paid to family members regardless of whether or how much they could work. This was a considerable extension of the previous insurance coverage and protected entire bourgeois families. Third, the concept of invalidity (i.e., worker’s disability), was redefined and significantly expanded. Salaried employees with a potential inability to work were

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no longer forced to look for and take up any job offered on the labor market but could focus on their previous career field. As a result, they were protected from social decline and their previous status was safeguarded if they were unable to work, unlike “blue-collar” workers. All in all, it is fair to refer to Stresemann’s political strategy as a success, just as German historian Gerhard A. Ritter has pointed out: “The salaried employee insurance partly achieved its political aim of strengthening the special consciousness among the by no means unified stratum of salaried employees in contrasting relation to the working class and, thus, to make it more difficult for them to become politically organized by means of socialist associations, at least until the end of the Weimar Republic.”126 It need not be further emphasized that the salaried employee insurance particularly served the interests of the National Liberal Party to the detriment of a uniform insurance system for all workers. However, it comprised an important pillar of Stresemann’s political conception.

Occupation and Assets From a very early age, and indeed, since my student days, I have had a savings account, in which I took out insurance policies with three insurance companies, one worth 10,000 marks, one 37,000 marks, and the last worth 100,000 marks. The first two insurance policies were supposed to be paid out to me when I turned 45. During all that time, I have paid into these insurances every three months. When I turned 45, inflation was at its peak and so I did not get a penny of this money.   An industrial association that I founded and raised up gave me a sum of 150,000 marks in certain annual installments as recognition of my achievements after fifteen years of work. This sum, which would have allowed me to lead a carefree life, was again almost completely lost during the inflation.   In his last will, my father-in-law decreed that his assets should be invested only in state bonds or in first mortgage bonds. The state bonds and bonds eligible for trust investment that my wife used to own are worthless. The only thing that she has left is the revaluation of her mortgages bonds. I have also contributed to the war bonds because, as the leader of the National Liberal Party, I wanted to be an example for others. When I had no money left, I borrowed from a well-known industrialist to buy more war bonds. You certainly know what happened to them.   My wife was fortunate enough to again acquire some assets upon the death of her uncle, who had owned several properties in Hamburg. My wife’s relatives as coheirs pushed to sell the properties, which took place during the inflation. She got her share afterwards. In the end, out of what could have been a substantial inheritance, she received the sum of 10.80 marks.   After twenty-five years of hard work I am almost without any assets.127

The topic of “money” and “assets” in Stresemann’s life have remained largely obscure.128 One reason for this is certainly that Stresemann—like everybody

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else—shied away from making his financial situation public. And yet it is more than fair to assume that he, as a highly experienced economic expert, did not fall victim to economic and political circumstances as easily as he described in this letter.129 Let us have a look at his financial situation.130 When young Dr. Stresemann, Traumjörg, started his new position with the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers on 25 March 1901, he did not own any assets to speak of, did not earn a big salary, and had no proper office. He had only his patented cultural capital (his doctoral degree) and social capital (the network that had helped him get his position).131 He earned 1,000 marks in salary when he started his post, which was less than a public school teacher or a very qualified skilled worker earned in Dresden at that time. Yet a laborer’s income was never crisis-proof and could hardly be increased.132 Stresemann, on the other hand, was also only at the beginning of his tremendous (also financial) rise.133 By 1902, Stresemann already had two incomes because he was appointed executive director of the Dresden branch of the BdI.134 From the outset, he also received fees for speeches, as well as for publishing and consulting activities.135 He received an annual salary of 3,000 marks from 1906 onwards as the editor of the VSI newsletter Sächsische Industrie.136 In the same year, he received compensation for establishing the Saxon strike-insurance company.137 One year later, he was elected to the Reichstag and received regular allowances. The compensation for his position as a city councilor from 1906 on was rather insignificant in comparison. As a member of the advisory board of the Hanseatic League, the 32-year-old Stresemann received an annual allowance of 10,000 marks beginning in 1910.138 The BdI, in turn, made every effort to make “Dr. Stresemann feel really comfortable in his new post [as a member of the executive board] and enjoy working.” Thus, it was important that “the League provide the necessary amount of money for Dr. Stresemann”139—and they increased this sum over the course of the following years. The VSI treated Stresemann in a similar manner, granted him an honorary pension of two-fifths of his final salary after he departed at the end of the war, as Stresemann described it.140 Stresemann’s involvement as the managing member of the executive board of the Deutsch-Amerikanischer Wirtschaftsverband (German-American Economic League)141 was financially very profitable, although he had to give up his income from the Hanseatic League in order to take on this position. In addition to an annual salary of 15,000 marks and the benefits covering loss of earnings from the Hanseatic League, he had a functioning office and a private secretary at his disposal.142 This position provided him not only with political and social capital but also helped him survive the financially difficult postwar years relatively unscathed. His salary was rather impressive: 35,000 marks annually and a special fund of 25,000 marks.143

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After the revolution of 1918, Stresemann had to overcome not only a physical, mental, and political nadir, but also an economic one. At the end of the year, he lamented to his wife: Since the value of money continues to decline and my income in this year [1919] will, thus, be considerably lower than the previous year (no salary from the Verband der Industriellen; fewer royalties), and, on the other hand, taxes are growing incredibly, we have to tighten our belts and freeze all unnecessary expenses. There might be times that we have to think twice about every 100-mark note before spending it.144

One week later, he stated the following: Financially it is getting worse and worse. Bonds are at only 90 percent of their value. If this doesn’t change soon, we will be approaching ruin. . . . There are lousy times ahead. I am trying to find a new position, but it needs to pay 25–40 thousand. This shouldn’t be rushed; I need to find something good. By the way, the new members of the parliamentary faction have provided me with profitable connections from which I expect a lot in the future.145

These remarks are paradigmatic for the convertibility of the different types of capital according to Bourdieu, and Stresemann’s mastery in handling them.146 Managing his father’s inheritance only aggravated Stresemann’s difficulties. In fact, his private secretary Franz Miethke took most of the organizational work off his hands. However, he had to pay back the accumulated debts on his own, since his father’s house had high mortgages taken out on it.147 At least Stresemann was able to transfer a 15,000 mark loan receivable claim to his colleague Greiert and receive the equivalent amount of money in cash.148 He probably also assumed the debts of his alcoholic brother Richard149 and issued a guarantee for his nephew Franz Miethke.150 His patriotic commitment to the war cost him a considerable amount of money. He invested large parts of his own fortune in war bonds and borrowed 25,000 marks from his acquaintance Uebel in 1916—as mentioned in his letter—which he also invested and almost completely lost after the war.151 Indeed, his situation did not look very good. Thanks to his position as a legal adviser and his deliberate strategy to accumulate social capital in Dresden, Stresemann became a shareholder and a very busy member of various industrial executive and supervisory boards.152 His connections to the sugar factory in Genthin and the renowned Cologne chocolate company Stollwerck stemmed from his work for the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers. In the Genthin factory, he initially worked in management and then made his way to the executive board. In this capacity, he bought (and received) several shares that he managed to consistently increase over time.153 His connection to the Sarotti chocolate factory was similar. He knew its General Director Hoffmann very well from his time as a legal adviser. Stresemann

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had co-managed the company for more than twenty years as a shareholder and executive board member, although he never joined the smaller administrative board.154 The number of shares Stresemann possessed, which were managed by his banker Arnhold, could not be determined.155 For his work on the supervisory board, Stresemann received a salary of 50,561.13 marks in 1920/21 and a 40 percent dividend. In 1922, he resigned from this post over a quarrel with the executive board due to its business practices.156 The resignation hit him even harder because he lost his influence on the company’s party donations. To give but one example: Sarotti had donated 200,000 marks to the DVP campaign for the Berlin city council assembly elections in 1921.157 By the end of the war, Stresemann held shares of the companies Polyphon, Sachsenwerk, Dux Automobil-Werke, Evaporator, Ernemann, Sarotti, Böhmisches Brauhaus, Genthin Zuckerfabrik, Krause und Baumann, and Ventzky.158 By 1923, he had become a member of the supervisory boards of the companies Sachsenwerk, Licht und Kraft AG (together with the bankers Arnhold and his brother-in-law Kurt von Kleefeld),159 Vereinsversicherungsbank Düsseldorf (together with Adolf Kirdorf, Wilhelm Merton, August Thyssen, and Louis Hagen),160 the above-mentioned Genthin sugar factory (together with Wilhelm Vogel and Max Rüger),161 the company Krause und Baumann (together with Privy Councilor Hartmann), the Deutsche Reformversicherungsbank AG Berlin (as chairman of the shareholder representatives, together with Arnhold),162 “Freia” Bremen Berliner Versicherungs AG (with which he had taken out one of his insurance policies with State Minister Viktor von Podbielski), the Böhmisches Brauhaus (together with Dr Jacob Riesser and Kammerherr Erdmann Levetzov-Markov),163 the Dresden Chromo- und Kunstdruck Papierfabrik (together with Privy Councilor Hartmann and Bernhard Lehmann, the longstanding chairman of the VSI),164 the Kriegskreditbank for the Kingdom of Saxony (together with Dresden bankers Arnhold, Georg Marwitz, Richard Mattersdorf, and Mayor Gustav Beutler),165 the DUX Automobil Werke AG (again together with banker Adolf Arnhold),166 the Lüneburg Eisenwerke (part of the Litwin concern), the Ernemann-Werke belonging to his sociopolitical role model (together with Franz Minkwitz and Paul Millington-Hermann),167 the engineering factory A. Ventzky AG, and, finally, the Polyphonwerke AG (together with his party comrade Paasche and banker Hans Arnhold).168 When he became a member of the Imperial government in 1923, Stresemann resigned from all these posts.169 The social capital Stresemann had worked for and cultivated, together with his capability and effectiveness, enabled this rapid rise. For instance, he got his posts with the Reformbank and the Genthin factory at the request of the general executive board of the VSI and the chocolate manufacturers, respectively.170 The reason for his strong position as the chairman of the Reformversicherungsbank was that

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the company’s entire business in Saxony relied on “the general agency in Dresden and the Association of Saxon Industrialists,” two organizations that heavily supported the Reformversicherungsbank and where Stresemann had decision-making power.171 Thanks to this potential, he was able to merge the company with “Freya” in 1913 and become a member of the supervisory board. This, in turn, increased his reputation as an assertive economic organizer. His fleeting appearance at “Transozean,” for its part, came from his being “deployed” by the BdI.172 At the same time, Stresemann’s activity as a legal adviser opened doors at many industrial companies in Germany and benefited his career.173 The interplay of politics, society, connections, contacts, and cultural circles can be particularly well demonstrated by drawing upon two examples from his early days in Dresden: Stresemann’s cooperation with Arnhold and Ernemann, his social and political role models. These examples are all the more noteworthy since Stresemann did not utilize his connections as a legal adviser in these cases. Instead, he was already such an important figure and political “door opener” that he succeeded in making the leap into these companies without relying on direct patronage. Apparently, investing in him was investing in the future. At that time, he was certainly a respected actor in the “economic field.” The Sachsenwerk Niedersedlitz—Licht und Kraft AG—produced mainly electronics such as engines, refrigerators, and cable cars. From the outset, the German Army was one of its most important clients, and then in World War I, the company experienced a significant upturn. At an early stage, Georg Arnhold urged the company to appoint Stresemann as a member of the supervisory board after the death of Max Arnhold.174 Stresemann sat on the board from 1909 to 1922, at which point he left for technical reasons.175 From 1909, he owned a preferred share valued at 1,000 marks and an additional equity share. In 1909, he participated as a shareholder in a general meeting of the supervisory board for the first time.176 Stresemann’s capital investments demonstrate his rise. In 1918, his portfolio had reached shares worth 66,000 marks, which was more than 1 percent of the stock capital.177 Financially, this agreement proved very profitable for Stresemann, as his royalties ran up to 11,256.03 marks. In addition, he received an annual sum of 2,500 marks as compensation for his seat on the supervisory board.178 On a political level, this relationship was characterized by give and take, although—for obvious reasons—political influence was not openly documented. In 1917, the company asked Stresemann to use his influence to modify the war tax. In 1919, he was required to prevent potential strikes.179 It remains unknown whether Stresemann was also involved in the city of Annaberg placing an order with the Sachsenwerk.180 The membership of the Association for the Protection of German Industry that he had arranged was beneficial for both sides. Strese-

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mann’s association was invigorated at a very critical phase, and was clearly stabilized by the entry of the Sachsenwerk.181 In return, the Sachsenwerk benefited from the favorable offer by the VSI subsidiary.182 It is a lot more difficult to determine whether the Sachsenwerk influenced Stresemann’s political decisions. After all, it was one of the regular donors of the National Liberals and the DVP. Beginning in 1921, the company agreed to provide 10,000 marks in annual support for five years. In November 1922, it had already donated 25,000 marks.183 Beginning in 1923, the year of defending against the “Saxon putsch,” this donation increased to 50,000 marks. It is very likely that these sums encouraged Stresemann in his policy toward the Zeigner government. The second example is Stresemann’s relationship with the Ernemann company. Ernemann was one of the biggest businesses in its field in Saxony around the turn of the century. In 1917, Stresemann was appointed a member of the supervisory board earning an annual salary of roughly 3,000 marks for this position, though few specifics are known about this.184 He held the board position until he became Reich chancellor in 1923.185 By then, Ernemann employed three thousand salaried employees and wage laborers. It is obvious that company owner Ernemann wanted to benefit from the political capital of the chairman of the National Liberal Party faction, particularly since his company relied heavily on war production. Stresemann’s partner Litwin reported the first success in this direction in August 1918. He said that he had been able to convince the authorities “to give all commissions to the Ernemann factories. . . . [They] gave me an affirmative promise to commission only this company with the production of films and to carry out all business transactions along these lines only with this company.”186 Ernemann was likewise known to be a National Liberal sympathizer. It was predominantly industrialists of his ilk who had a determining influence on Stresemann’s policy toward “Socialist Saxony” during the Weimar Republic. In 1923—the year Stresemann became Reich chancellor—they pointed time and again to the danger arising from Saxony’s socialist-communist government under Erich Zeigner that was threatening “free Saxon entrepreneurs” and urged Stresemann to take action against it.187 Stresemann’s relationship to the Deutsche Evaporator AG and its general director Paul Litwin was somewhat different.188 This cooperation proved to be very fruitful for Stresemann and was based on a close personal relationship between the two men. Litwin was born in Russia in 1866 and was originally a Russian national. He moved to Germany in 1912. Stresemann facilitated Litwin’s naturalization, which made the latter well disposed toward him and simultaneously allowed Stresemann to avoid cooperating with the company during the war because its principle shareholder and general director had been a citizen of an

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enemy state.189 Stresemann continued to cooperate with Litwin and helped him, for instance, be awarded the Iron Cross on the White-Black Ribbon,190 as well as fostering his son’s military career.191 Nevertheless, Stresemann visited the general director at his estate Schwante several times and spent a lengthy summer holiday with the whole family at Litwin’s property in Mörschwil in Switzerland.192 The two men were so close that Stresemann even issued a positive character certificate of him for the Bayerische Vereinsbank and referred to him as “particularly qualified to lead big industrial businesses” and completely trustworthy.193 They were also close in partisan politics. As early as two weeks after the foundation of the DVP, Litwin joined the party and soon became an important patron. For example, he supported Stresemann’s newspaper Deutsche Stimmen, which always had deficits. In addition, Litwin gave Stresemann access to an ominous special account “S. Gustav” set up by the Evaporator company in 1920; the exact details of the account remain unknown even today. Among other things, the account held £5,000 in foreign currency, which became especially important during the inflation period—and gave Stresemann some room to maneuver.194 What were the two men’s common economic interests? During the 1890s, “Litwin had gained a respectable and profitable position within the Russian copper and gold mining industry.”195 He became the head of a mine, a merchant in the first guild,196 and member of several industrial supervisory boards in the early twentieth century.197 In 1912, he founded the Evaporator GmbH in Germany. The company initially operated in the field of heat technology and engineering (manufacturing furnaces, etc.).198 During the war, it exported German industrial goods to Ukraine and imported Ukrainian products such as grains and other goods from the country to Germany.199 At the beginning of World War I, Stresemann became a member of the Evaporator GmbH’s supervisory board, and in 1921 became its deputy chairman.200 Initially, he held a limited partnership share of 20,000 marks.201 It increased to 58,000 marks over the course of the war. Other members of the supervisory board were Privy Councilor Heinrich Friedrichs, chairman of the BdI, and Stresemann’s fatherly supporter, Hjalmar Schacht202 (chairman of the supervisory board from the foundation of the company until his departure in 1923) and Dr. Ferdinand Schweighoffer (CdI executive committee member). Litwin owned about 80 percent of the shares, while Stresemann, Friedrichs, Schacht, and Schweighoffer held the remaining 20 percent.203 On account of his knowledge of Russia, Litwin was contracted by the Reich to organize the Ukraine-Ausfuhr-Gesellschaft (Ukraine-Export-Company) in 1917.204 In this capacity, he simultaneously worked as a lobbyist for Stresemann’s company Ernemann, making sure that Ernemann got important orders, and was also highly successful in managing the Evaporator company. The jointly owned Evaporator Company profited greatly from Litwin’s activities, as Stresemann was

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pleased to observe.205 “To my great, joy I see from your letter that the development of the Evaporator Company is still ascending.”206 It is fair to assume that Litwin supported the Evaporator Company in his further negotiations so that the company benefited greatly from his political contract. Business and politics became even more intertwined during the GermanSoviet negotiations, which were concluded in late August 1918 when the supplementary treaties concerning further political, military, and economic issues were initialed in the negotiations in Brest-Litovsk. In this context, Litwin was a sought-after expert due to his good contacts to the new government in Russia. Stresemann, on the other hand, was involved in these negotiations as a lobbyist and important member of the Reichstag.207 A circle around Stresemann, Litwin, Prittwitz, Nadolny, and Count Kessler officially represented the economic interests of the Reich.208 That did not stop them, however, from pursuing their personal interests at the same time, although Litwin’s realms of activity as the “managing director of the Deutsche Ausfuhr GmbH” are difficult to ascertain.209 Stresemann was fully aware of the difficulty that arose from his triple role as a politician, a legal adviser of an industrial association, and a co-owner of a company involved in the negotiations.210 As a result of these close connections, Stresemann gradually made his way onto the supervisory boards of various Litwin companies, such as Hager and Weidemann, Bergisch Gladbach, the Hoffmann Schokoladen AG, of which Litwin owned half of the shares, the Lüneburg Eisenwerke, another company of the Deutsche Evaporator group, and Kellmann and Detsinni, where Litwin’s son-inlaw held shares, to name but a few.211 It is still unclear whether Stresemann was involved in any of Litwin’s other companies such as the Limited Partnership Paul Litwin, the Niederbayerische Quarzwerke, or another factory (Altrandsberg near Cham).212 Litwin himself not only owned almost a dozen businesses but was also a member of the supervisory boards of dozens of important companies.213 As he later stressed, he always relied on the advice of his supervisory board colleagues Schacht, Schweighoffer, and, above all, Stresemann. The close connection between Litwin, Stresemann, and Hoffmann, the chairman of the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers, became particularly obvious when Hoffmann’s chocolate factory was founded. After Hoffmann had lost the majority share of his old company Sarotti, Litwin helped him establish a new business. Stresemann was involved in bringing about the “marriage” between Hoffmann and Litwin and also in sitting on the supervisory board, though he was excluded from being a shareholder, as he lamented in a letter to Litwin: “I only regret that I cannot be a shareholder myself due to the parity between the two owner groups, which has been cleverly designed down to the last detail. After all, the marriage between Mr. Hoffmann and you has come into being with my help, and it is a strange feeling to be on the supervisory board of a company without holding any shares.”214

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Litwin’s businesses were especially successful from late 1918 onwards as they largely turned away from production and concentrated increasingly on trade. For instance, after the war, the Evaporator Company incorporated a railway car repair department that traded in scrap metal.215 Stresemann held shares of this new Litwin company, the Produkt- und Handels AG. However, the old Evaporator company remained a gold mine for Stresemann. The company’s profit in 1919/20 alone accounted for 19.75 million marks, with dividends paid out to the limited partners accordingly.216 In 1922, Stresemann received 60,000 marks for his activities on the supervisory board; a small portion of this sum (5,000 marks) was a fixed profit share, and the rest comprised his share of net income.217 On account of the company’s attractiveness, Stresemann asked Litwin in August 1921—when the shares of the Deutsche Evaporator were supposed to be listed on the Berlin stock exchange—to sell “50 to 100 shares directly” to him “before the shares are officially issued” so that he would not “end up in the expected rise in prices during the first days.”218 Similarly and following Litwin’s suggestion, Stresemann also purchased 300,000 marks of Quarzwerke shares; Quarzwerke were affiliated with the Evaporator company.219 Thus, Stresemann’s stock portfolio was considerable in the early 1920s, which gave him no small share of independence from currency fluctuations. Moreover, Stresemann had a personal interest in the success of the Evaporator company. One must bear this in mind when examining all his interventions in favor of this company. Last but not least, he did not shy away from insider dealing when purchasing shares, either. Indeed, some of his deals were clearly shady: for example, the Evaporator company had entered the scrap business in 1920 and had bought 12,000 tons of Italian war loot munitions, which it aimed to export, from the Italian government for a good price.220 However, the goods could not be delivered on time to the Czech factory. Stresemann turned to the Reich minister of economics, his fellow party member Ernst Scholz, for help in this matter.221 The “personal tone” of this request for help—which was rejected—is striking. It was, without a doubt, an attempt to influence a government representative. In addition, it was suspected that the goods in question were not merely scrap but reusable war material—a suspicion that was never completely dispelled. In any case, it was conspicuous that batches of the goods, which had been bought as scrap for 800 marks, were sold for 1,700 marks to the Czech buyer. This profit margin was extraordinarily high, even in the immediate postwar period.222 All in all, Stresemann was a very versatile, adaptable businessman of the bourgeoisie who looked out for his own financial advantage. Sometimes, he operated on the edge of legality and did not always carefully separate his various roles (politician, businessman, lobbyist). He certainly had considerable skills in the economic arena. This does not fit the image of the “naïve Traumjörge” (dreamer) but rather suggests questionable business practices. Stresemann was certainly

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not one of the richest people in the Weimar Republic, but his statement that he had no assets at all and had become a poor man on account of inflation-period losses was not accurate. One must conclude that Stresemann became a clever and successful bourgeois businessman. In that sense, he had at least partially reached his great goal.

Notes 1. On this and the following remarks, see Kolditz, “Politische Vereine und Parteien,” 50–52. 2. A remark by Baron von Würzburg in the context of the debates in the Navy League (Flottenverein) shows that Stresemann was not always successful at this: von Würzburg described the later Reich chancellor as a badly brought up man who lacked manners (quoted in Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden, 59). 3. Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 1,1 January 1904. 4. In the preface to his funny handbook Dresden und die Dresdner of 1907, Wolf Graf von Baudissin described the city sarcastically as a dreamy “Sleeping Beauty Dresden” that could not be compared to other German or even European capitals; Baron von Schlicht (=Wolf Baron von Baudissin), Dresden und die Dresdner, 1–17. 5. On the strike in Crimmitschau, see Lassotta et al., Streik: Crimmitschau 1903—Bocholt 1913; Hauptvorstand des deutschen Textilarbeiterverbandes, Crimmitschau 1903–1928. 6. Moser, “Dresden 1903.” 7. See, in general, Lehnert, Sozialliberalismus in Europa; on Dresden: Starke, “Dresden im Kaiserreich”; Starke, “Stadtgefüge, Parteien und Politiker im Kaiserreich”; Pohl, “Nationalliberalismus und Kommunalpolitik in Dresden und München vor 1914.” 8. For instance, a reformist-conservative call for a vote of 1904 was supported by some fifty associations of various political stripes; Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, 16 November 1904, no. 113, 13. 9. See Pohl, “Kommunen, Liberalismus und Wahlrechtsfragen.” 10. In 1914, the newspaper Sächsische Nationale Blätter triumphed—in a rather non-liberal fashion: “Dresden has the advantage of a politicized city council. Even the circles that used to reject such a politicization recently consider this as an advantage.” Sächsische Nationale Blätter, 10 January 1914, no. 2. 11. “Wahlaufruf der Bezirks/Bürgervereine 1904,” Dresdner-Stadtverordneten-Wahlen 1875–1917, 3 vols., Stadtarchiv Dresden. 12. I am grateful to Holger Starke for the manuscript of his unpublished paper given in Dresden (n.d.), quote on p. 2. 13. Report of Bavarian Envoy Montgelas, 2 December 1905, HStA Munich, MA 98679. 14. See Starke, Dresden im Kaiserreich, 199–201. 15. Electoral appeal of the National Liberal Party, n.p., n.d., Stadtarchiv Dresden, PA Alldeutscher Verband, vol. 26, 291. It did not mention that three VSI legal advisers were running for the Reichstag. 16. Nationalliberales Vereinsblatt 4, no. 124 (15 December 1909): 243; Sächsische Nationale Blätter 1, no. 16 (15 January 1910): 365; see Starke, “Dresden im Kaiserreich,” 205. 17. See Starke, “Dresden im Kaiserreich,” 195. 18. Dresdner Bürgerzeitung (mouthpiece of the Dresden homeowners) 25, no. 12, 19 March 1902.

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19. See Kolditz, “Politische Vereine und Parteien,” 56. 20. See Starke, paper manuscript, 1, and also for the following remarks. 21. “Mitteilungen des Allgemeinen Mietbewohnervereins 1901,” quoted in Dresdner Bürgerzeitung 24, no. 20 (1901): 208. See the program of the Allgemeiner Mietbewohnerverein, in Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 60, 8 November 1893: 6. 22. See documents in Sächsische Landesbibliothek, report of the Verein Reichs-Wohnungsgesetz, Frankfurt 1903; and report of the Deutscher Verein für Wohnungsreform, Frankfurt, 1904– 1906, 1908–1910. 23. On this, see Dresdner Bürgerzeitung 25, no. 22 (28 May 1902): 332: “For me and every straight thinking man loyal to state and king, it is a disgrace to socialize with the Social Democrats like this [Heinze]” (emphasis in the original). 24. On this and the following quote, see Dresdner Bürgerzeitung 26, no. 19 (6 May 1903): 286. 25. Dresdner Bürgerzeitung 2, no. 45 (6 November 1901): 522–23. 26. Councilor of Commerce Marwitz (Dresden), “Wie stellen sich die sächsischen Industriellen zur Arbeiterwohnungsfrage?” Sächsische Industrie 9, no. 1 (1912/13): 5. See the letter of the VSI to the city council from 13 February 1911, Stadtarchiv Dresden, Stadtverordneten Kanzlei, B 115. 27. The Sächsische Nationale Blätter (a National Liberal paper) reported on this tendency in 1910 as follows: “There is certainly a divide between Liberal and Social Democratic opinions, which is both wide and deep. However, no one today with any understanding and insight denies the principle that the parliamentary bodies include their Social Democratic members in their work, that they offer them the possibility to fully exercise their mandates. The Liberal group on our city council has unanimously taken this point of view in an exemplary manner, which reflects justice and reason.” Sächsische Nationale Blätter 1, no. 16 (15 January 1910). 28. Report of the Dresden Chamber of Commerce on the year 1903, part 2: Berichte über die Lage der einzelnen Zweige von Handel und Gewerbe (Dresden, 1904), 1. 29. See Dresdens Entwicklung in den Jahren 1903 bis 1909: Festschrift des Rates der Königlichen Haupt- und Residenzstadt zur Einweihung des neuen Rathauses am 1. Oktober 1910 (Dresden, 1910), 50–52. 30. Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 8, 8 January 1903; and Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 27, 28 January 1903. 31. Statistisches Amt der Stadt Dresden, Statistisches Jahrbuch Dresden für das Jahr 1903, 161. 32. Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 73, 14 March 1903, and Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 92, 2 April 1903. 33. This is the background of the foundation of the Deutsche Industrieschutzverband (DIV) and the VSI. Stresemann played a key role in both organizations. See the section “The Social Policy Advocate” in this chapter. 34. Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 3, 3 January 1903, supplement: “Die neue Dresdner Arbeiterordnung.” See Pohl, “‘Einig,’ ‘kraftvoll,’ ‘machtbewußt.’” 35. On the Elberfeld System, see Reulecke, Geschichte der Urbanisierung in Deutschland 1850– 1980; and Die Stadt als Dienstleistungszentrum. 36. Sebastian Kranich, “Victor Böhmert, bürgerliche Sozialreform und Protestantismus,” 111. 37. Entstehung und Entwicklung des Vereins Volkswohl von 1888–1900 (Dresden, n.d.), Stadtarchiv Dresden. As early as 1900, the association had 6,207 members and collected almost 20,000 marks in membership fees. 38. Ibid., 1, also for the following quote. 39. Ibid., 4. 40. See Lässig, “Zwischen Markt und Kultur?”; Lässig, “Kultur und Kommerz”; Lässig, “Jüdische Privatbanken in Dresden,” 85–98; Ingo Köhler, “Soziale und wirtschaftliche Vernetzung als Erfolgsfaktor.”

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41. On this and the following remarks, see Simmich, 100 Jahre Dresdner Pensionsverein a.G. Chronik einer überbetrieblichen Pensionskasse, 24. 42. Ibid., 26. 43. These included, among others, Frankfurt Bürgerbräu, Schloßbrauerei Kiel, the Bautzener Tuchfabrik and Automat AG, later Hartwig & Vogel. 44. See the section “The Social Policy Advocate” in this chapter. 45. See Böhmert, “Wohlfahrtseinrichtungen und Gewinnbeteiligung.” 46. Lindner, “Die Kamera- und Photoindustrie in Dresden”; Starke, “Bilderbuchkarrieren?,” 20. Starke does refer to the social politician Ernemann, but only in passing. See “Heinrich Ernemann.” 47. Article 4 of the statutes; Böhmert, 304. 48. Ibid., 302–3. Statement of the directors of the Ernemannwerke from 1913. 49. On the following remarks, see Christmann, Dresdens Glanz, Stolz der Dresdner; Hans John, “Musikstadt von europäischem Rang.” 50. Ibid., 139. 51. Klenke, Der singende “deutsche Mann.” 52. See “Stresemann über Deutschlands geistige Wiedergeburt. Der 2. Tenor über das deutsche Lied,” Berliner Zeitung am Mittag, 10 January 1927. 53. This and all other tables were created in accordance with the Schüren Model. The model is based on occupational titles and has proven to be successful as shown by the Bielefeld Special Research Project 177 “Social History of the Early Modern Bourgeoisie in International Comparison” from 1985 to 1997. The coding of occupational titles into eight categories takes social stratification into account. Every occupational title is assigned a three-digit code with the first digit referring to the social strata affiliation, the second digit referring to the occupational position, and the third digit referring to the economic sector or working milieu. This model has demonstrated its benefits particularly in relation to the social stratification of urban societies. See Schüren, Mobilität. 54. Erinnerungsblätter, anläßlich des 75jährigen Bestehens der Dresdner Liedertafel (Dresden, 1914). 55. See Dresdner Liedertafel: Mitgliederverzeichnis, May 1904, Dresden n.d., Landesbibliothek Dresden, H. Sax G 939 b. 56. On this and the following remarks, see Kolditz, “Politische Vereine und Parteien,” 50–52. On the ADV in general, see Hering, Konstruierte Nation. 57. Kolditz, “Politische Vereine und Parteien,” 53. 58. On this and the following remarks, see Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden,” 43–45 59. Ibid., 45. 60. It is not known when exactly Stresemann joined the German Navy League. Documents show that he was registered as a member of the state committee from 1906; Jahresbericht Deutscher Flottenverein, Landesverband für das Königreich Sachsen, Dresden, Landesbibliothek Dresden, Hist. Sax. 058. qm. 61. Stadtarchiv Dresden, Hauptkanzlei 2.3.1, 379/07 D. R. Versammlung des deutschen Schulschiffvereins 1907. 62. Stresemann was registered among those who had made a substantial donation or a special contribution between 1910 and 1914. 63. See the annual report of the ADV, 28 February 1905, Stadtarchiv Dresden, Alldeutscher Verband, vol. 50. On the Dresden ADV, see Kolditz, “Rolle und Wirksamkeit des Alldeutschen Verbandes”; Kolditz, “Die Ortsgruppe des Alldeutschen Verbandes von ihrer Entstehung bis zum Verbandstag 1906.” 64. The Agrarian League (Bund der Landwirte), an association to promote the interests of farmers, was closely affiliated with the Conservatives. 65. Mitgliederverzeichnis des ADV 1905, Stadtarchiv Dresden, Alldeutscher Verband, vol. 88.

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66. Ibid., Stresemann to Hopf, 20 June 1905. 67. Kolditz, “Die Ortsgruppe des Alldeutschen Verbandes,” 98: “Apart from contacts and connections to the Deutschbund [German League] and the anti-Semitic Dresden Reform Association, there is no evidence for anti-Semitism within the Dresden local group of the ADV until 1906, despite the league in general demonstrating a stronger focus on anti-Semitism from the turn of the century on. Although Germanness [Deutschtum] was often glorified, none of the numerous speeches during these eleven years directly expressed anti-Semitism.” 68. The Stresemann network analysis comprises all persons (several hundred) who came into contact with Stresemann in the roughly thirty associations in which he was a member during his Dresden period. Based on this, we can reconstruct his political, economic, and cultural integration into Dresden (and Saxony) society and into a network in a league of its own. The network analysis can be accessed at http:www.v-r.de/gustav_stresemann. 69. Emphasis in the original. Stresemann said this at a celebration on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the VSI, 11 March 1912, Protokoll, 51f. (Veröffentlichungen des VSI, no. 15). 70. See Pohl, “Sachsen, Stresemann und die Nationalliberale Partei,” 198; and also for a more extended bibliography, Pohl, “Wirtschaft und Wirtschaftsbürgertum.” 71. Reports of the Royal Bavarian envoy to Dresden from 15 and 23 May 1907, HStA Munich, MA 2872. 72. Report of the Royal Bavarian consulate in Dresden on trade and industry in Saxony in 1903, HStA Munich, MH 12732. 73. On this and the following remarks, see James Retallack, “Die ‘liberalen’ Konservativen?,” 134. 74. For a detailed description of the crisis, see the extensive report (101 pages) of the Royal Bavarian Consulate General from 1907, HStA Munich, MH 12736. 75. Gerhard A. Ritter, “Das Wahlrecht und die Wählerschaft der Sozialdemokratie,” 51–52.; and the report of the Bavarian Consul in Dresden on the situation of trade and commerce in the consulate district of Dresden in 1903, HStA Munich, MH 12732. 76. Wixforth, “Bank für Sachsen oder Bank für das Reich?,” 333–35. 77. Zeise and Rüdiger, “Bundesstaat im Deutschen Reich,” 411–13; Geyer, “Der Kampf,” 567–77. 78. On this, see the more comprehensive study by Lässig, Wahlrechtskampf und Wahlrechtsreform. Lässig particularly emphasizes the role of political culture that proved to be an obstacle for a substantial change among Conservatives. 79. Report of the Royal Bavarian Consulate in Dresden on the general assembly of the VSI, 15 December 1903, HStA Munich, MH 12732. It further stated: “The dominance of the agrarian representatives in the houses came to the fore in particular on the occasion of drafting the law on the supplementary tax.” 80. On this and the following, see, in particular, Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit”; and Starke, “Dresden im Kaiserreich.” 81. Warren, The Red Kingdom of Saxony, 6; Pohl, “Der Verein Sächsischer Industrieller und ‘sein’ Industrieschutzverband,” 145–46; Pohl, “Sachsen, Stresemann und die Nationalliberale Partei,” 198–200. 82. On this and for the following quotes: Das Vaterland: Wochenblatt für Sächsische Politik. Organ des Konservativen Landesvereins 17 (1905), no. 36, 9 September 1905: 429. 83. On the significance of the Dresden chocolate industry, see Erdmann Graack, “Die Dresdener Schokoladeninudstrie,” Der Arbeiterfreund (1908): 371–88. 84. These and many of the following remarks are in Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 89–90. On personal interdependencies between the VSI and Exportverein (manufacturer B. Lehmann, etc.), see Festschrift anlässlich des 25-jährigen Jubiläums des Exportvereins im Königreich Sachsen (Dresden, 1910). 85. On his biography, see Döscher and Schröder, Sächsische Parlamentarier 1869–1918, (Photodokumente zur Geschichte des Parlamentarismus und der politischen Parteien, ed. the Kom-

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mission für Geschichte des Parlamentarismus und der politischen Parteien, vol. 5), 346. See also Sächsische Industrie, vol. 2, no. 17, 10 June 1906: “Legal Adviser of the Chamber of Commerce, Paul Schulze, Has Died.” Schulze’s early death optimized Stresemann’s scope of action considerably. 86. Hans-Peter Ullmann, Interessenverbände in Deutschland. See the section “Goal Achieved?” in chapter 4. 87. Schiffer, “Gustav Stresemann,” 296. 88. It is striking that Stresemann swiftly arranged for the VSI to purchase the Dresdner Zeitung so that it would own another press organ. Report of the Prussian legation from 1 July 1905, PA AA, R 3226. See Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?” 89. Pohl, “Der Verein Sächsischer Industrieller und ‘sein’ Industrieschutzverband”; and Pohl, “Politischer Liberalismus und Wirtschaftsbürgertum, 147. 90. Stresemann to Vogel, 13 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155: “I believe that I have contributed to getting the widest circles of Saxon industry and Saxon trade, in particular, those that used to be close to the Conservative Party, to join our party. During all these years, I had to fight against a conservative tendency within Saxon industry, which was not easy to overcome.” Later, it became obvious that this integration effort was a great obstacle for creating a clear policy regarding some pressing questions and required continual compromises. See Stresemann to Hoffmann, 26 November 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114; and Stresemann to Stache, 31 October 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 122. 91. Gustav Stresemann, Industriepolitik (Berlin, 1908) (Veröffentlichungen des VSI 9), especially 21–23. 92. Tenfelde, “Zur Bedeutung der Arbeitskämpfe,” 26–27 93. See Stresemann’s remarks at the eighth general assembly of the VSI on 15 February 1910, quoted in Nationale Blätter 1, no. 21 (19 February 1910): 486. It is noteworthy that the VSI did not grant the Reich association organizational and financial support to combat the Social Democratic Party (Sächsische Industrie 7, no. 4 [1910]: 52). However, some industrialists joined the association as individuals such as Niethammer; letter by Niethammer from 29 September 1911, SWA, N 12/R397. 94. See Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann und die Sozialpolitik im Kaiserreich. Many of the following remarks are based on this article. See this source also for a more detailed bibliography. Wright, Stresemann, 64, emphasizes that Stresemann had had the reputation of predominantly being a social policy advocate as a speaker at the Reichstag. Koszyk, Stresemann, 103–5, discusses Stresemann’s social policy achievements in detail. This shows once again that scholarship has largely underestimated Koszyk’s biography. 95. Lassotta et al., Streik: Crimmitschau, 114. 96. Schönhoven, Die deutschen Gewerkschaften, 86. 97. Ibid., 89–91; Tenfelde and Volkmann, Streik, 287–89, P. Ullmann, Tarifverträge und Tarifpolitik in Deutschland bis 1914, 97–99. 98. Stresemann in an election campaign speech in Wurzen on 20 September 1907, in Nationalliberales Vereinsblatt 2, no 13 (1907): 131; printed in Gustav Stresemann, Wirtschaftspolitische Zeitfragen (2nd ed. Dresden, 1911), 47–60. 99. For instance, in 1911, there were efforts to support the newly founded Protestant Workers’ Associations. According to Stresemann, their purpose was “to revive the national idea and Protestant identity; they feel brought together by the concepts of the national and the gospel against Social Democracy.” Speech by Stresemann at the annual general assembly of the Landesverband der evangelisch-nationalen Arbeitervereine in the Kingdom Saxony on 10 March 1912, PA AA, NL Stresemann 128, 68–69. 100. See Pohl, “Nationalliberalismus und Kommunalpolitik,” which has a more detailed bibliography.

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101. See the remarks of National Liberal representative Kaiser in the Saxon state parliament, 29 January 1914, Sächsische Industrie 10, no. 10 (1913/14): 148. 102. In Munich, about two-thirds of the entire workforce (men and women) were covered by collective wage agreements; on this, see Pohl, Die Münchener Arbeiterbewegung, 270. 103. These and the following figures are quoted in Adam, “Arbeitermilieu und sozialdemokratisch orientierte Arbeiterbewegung,” 246–48. 104. Speech by Stresemann on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the VSI, Festschrift zur Feier des 10-jährigen Bestehens des VSI (Dresden, 1912), 62. 105. For the following remarks, see Pohl, “Sachsen, Stresemann und der Verein Sächsischer Industrieller.” 106. Ibid., 424–26. 107. It comes as no surprise that the entire Saxon textile industry stayed away from this new employers’ organization established by the VSI. Saxon industrialists still wanted to be represented by the VSI in questions of economic policy but sooner trusted the harder line of the HDA in this matter. 108. “6 Jahre Streikentschädigungsgesellschaft: Entstehung, Entwicklung und Tätigkeit des Deutschen Industrieschutzverbandes im Spiegel der Akten und Statistik des Verbandes,” Festschrift zur Feier des 10-jährigen Bestehens des VSI (Dresden, 1912), 125. 109. See ibid., 137–39. 110. Stresemann on the tenth anniversary of the VSI, 63. 111. See the remarks by the Royal Bavarian Consulate in Dresden about the year 1907, HStA Munich, MH 12736, 33. 112. Data quoted in Pohl, “Sachsen, Stresemann und der Verein Sächsischer Industrieller,” 426–28. 113. Klaus Schönhoven, “Arbeitskonflikte in Konjunktur und Rezession.” 114. See the section “The Destruction of the ‘Left-Wing Republican Project’ in Saxony” in chapter 6. 115. Michael Prinz, “Gustav Stresemann als Sozialpolitiker.” I owe some decisive insights and important bibliographical references to Prinz’s article. See also Prinz, “Die Arbeiterbewegung und das Modell der Angestelltenversicherung.” See also Bichler, Formierung. 116. Gustav Stresemann, “Die Stellung der Industrie zur Frage der Pensions-Versicherung der Privatangestellten,” speech at the General Assembly of the BdI on 15 October 1906; Gustav Stresemann, Wirtschaftspolitische Zeitfragen, 47–60; Gustav Stresemann, “Zur Pensionsversicherung der Privatbeamten,” paper from 21 April 1907, in Dresden at the Privatbeamten-Versammlung (Assembly of salaried employees), Dresden (Dresden, n.d. [1907]); Gustav Stresemann, “Staatliche Pensionsversicherung der Privatangestellten,” Nationalliberale Blätter 19 (1907): 102–3; Gustav Stresemann, “Die Pensionsversicherung der Privatbeamten,” speech at the Allgemeine Vertretertag (General assembly of representatives) of the National Liberal Party in Wiesbaden on 6 October 1907, Wirtschaftspolitische Zeitfragen, 71–101. On Stresemann’s special role, see the bibliography in H.-P. Ullmann, Der Bund der Industriellen, 215–16; and P. Ullmann, Tarifverträge und Tarifpolitik, 184–86; Prinz, “Gustav Stresemann als Sozialpolitiker”; and Bichler, Formierung. 117. Stresemann, “Die Pensionsversicherung der Privatbeamten,” 6 October 1907, 84. 118. Stresemann’s model was presumably based on the concept of the pension association of bankers Max and Georg Arnhold in Dresden. On this, see the section “Company Social Policies in Dresden: The Examples of Arnhold and Ernemann” in this chapter. 119. Gustav Stresemann, “Industrie und Hansabund,” Jahresberichte des BdI für das Geschäftsjahr 1908/1909, 2nd part (Berlin, 1910): 34–53, 39. 120. Prinz, “Gustav Stresemann als Sozialpolitiker,” 123–25, thoroughly described Stresemann’s activities, his political instincts, and his swift and wise actions. He particularly stressed the political obstacles and difficulties Stresemann had to overcome. I follow his considerations in

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the next paragraphs. See also Wright, Stresemann, 39–40, who emphasizes the accumulation of forces against the Conservatives and heavy industry. 121. Kocka, Unternehmensverwaltung und Angestelltenschaft, 148–50. 122. See Stresemann’s remarks in “Die Stellung der Industrie zur Frage der Pensions-Versicherung der Privatangestellten,” Wirtschaftspolitische Zeitfragen, 57. Stresemann pointed out that the insurance would “increase professional commitment, the recruitment of better human capital, etc.” 123. Stresemann proudly pointed out to one of his most important opponents within the party: “All Conservatives, Free Conservatives, the Center Party, the Polish, the National Liberals, and the Social Democrats voted in favor of the bill. Never has a bill been met with this level of unanimous approval as the one on the pension insurance for private civil servants.” Stresemann to Consul Mühlberg, 5 June 1914, PA AA, NL Stresemann 138. 124. Bichler, Formierung, 230. 125. On the following remarks, see Prinz, “Gustav Stresemann als Sozialpolitiker,” 140–42. 126. Ritter, “Soziale Sicherheit,” 144–45. 127. Stresemann to Henriette Conitz, 2 November 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 72. Stresemann used to give this account time and again, even to the tax office in Berlin-Mitte (letter from Stresemann to the tax office Berlin-Mitte, 24 June 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 39). See Stresemann’s letter to Franz Miethke, 16 September 1925, replying to his nephew’s continuous demands for support (PA AA, NL Stresemann 344). However—and this is a reason to be cautious when interpreting this letter—Stresemann was writing to a woman who had complained about having lost all her assets and her savings during the inflation. 128. As early as 1956, Hans W. Gatzke assessed this issue critically in part by examining Stresemann’s activity for the Evaporator AG. See Hans W. Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin.” 129. In a letter to the tax office of Berlin-Mitte from 24 June 1926, Stresemann pointed out that his capital assets had declined during the years 1923/24. He did not give any further explanation. PA AA, NL Stresemann 39. 130. See Pohl, “Nation—Politik—Ökonomie,” 65–67, for this and further references. 131. See Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 88. 132. It could not be established whether this frequently mentioned sum is accurate. The very low salary might only be a myth to make his rise seem even more dramatic and extraordinary. 133. See W. Stresemann, Mein Vater, 45. It has to remain open whether the following detailed accounts are accurate or whether Stresemann later “adapted” them for his life story. 134. See Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 102–4. 135. Several activities should be mentioned in this context that have the air of taking advantage of them from a modern-day perspective. See Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 103. 136. Albert Uhlig to Stresemann, 16 December 1905, PA AA, NL Stresemann 115. See Stresemann’s remarks on why he needed an appropriate salary: “that the small Association of German Cigarette Manufacturers pays its legal adviser more than 6,000 marks in extra compensation for his additional work in fighting the tobacco tax,” Stresemann to Franke-Augustin, 18 September 1906, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. 137. Stresemann to Franke-Augustin, 19 September 1906, PA AA, NL Stresemann 115. 138. Stresemann to Uebel, 16 September 1914, PA AA, NL Stresemann 119. 139. Albert Hirth to Moras, 2 April 1912, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. 140. VSI to Stresemann, 3 December 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. In the letter to Henriette Conitz, Stresemann “reinterpreted” this fact slightly. 141. Uebel—who played a certain role in making this happen—was chairman of the VSI from 1905 to 1912. He was acquainted with Stresemann because they were members in the same associations, and Stresemann advised him on the purchase and sale of shares of the Sachsenwerk.

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142. See Hirsch, “Stresemann, Ballin und die Vereinigten Staaten.” See also Stresemann to Uebel, 16 September 1914, PA AA, NL Stresemann 119; and Bassermann to Stresemann, 31 December 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 134, who pointed out that Stresemann’s opponents would capitalize on the connection to Ballin. 143. Stresemann to the tax office of Berlin-Mitte, 24 June 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 39. 144. Stresemann to his wife, 5 February 1919, PA AA Privatnachlass Stresemann. See the letter from 21 February 1919, PA AA Privatnachlass Stresemann, where Stresemann complained about his rent in Berlin increasing to 9,000 marks. “We have to bite the bullet, or we’ll be on the street.” 145. Stresemann to his wife, 12 February 1919, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. It should be noted that a tax increase to 6,000 marks implies that there were relevant taxable assets. 146. In this context, it must be noted that Stresemann did not sell his shares rashly even in times of crisis but followed the advice of his bankers, the Arnhold brothers. In particular, he kept the Polyphon and Sachsenwerk shares that had “a poor rate” at that time (Bros. Arnhold to Stresemann, 26 November 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316; and Stresemann’s reply from 29 November 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann.) 147. As early as 1909, Miethke had transferred a 1,000-mark share of the house to Stresemann (statement from 12 January 1909, PA AA, NL Stresemann 344) and in August 1926 his remaining shares (Stresemann to Miethke, 26 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 344). Stresemann wanted to prevent “outsiders from having a say in the matter of the house” (Stresemann to Miethke, 26 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 344). 148. Undated letter, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. In return, Stresemann stood up for his colleague in 1918, when he came under attack in his capacity as a legal adviser for the cigarette industry. Stresemann had gotten Greiert the position as the legal adviser for the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers by intervening with Ludwig Stollwerck (Stresemann to Stollwerck, 16 July 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 196). See Stresemann’s letter to Head of Department Müller from 2 February 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 199, in which he effectively whitewashed Greiert. 149. See documents in PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 125, 126, 129, and 130. See also references in Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 105. It is unclear whether the story that Stresemann borrowed money from a friend for this is true. See Findeisen, speech on occasion of the thirty-fifth anniversary of Stresemann’s death, 7 November 1964, 3, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 150. Banking House Bros. Arnhold to Stresemann, 30 September 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 343. See section “Friendships and Men’s Associations” in chapter 2. 151. Stresemann to Uebel, 12 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155. 152. He faced allegations from the political Right and the extreme Left during his time as Reich chancellor and foreign minister on account of these activities. During his time in Saxony, it was primarily the Reform Party that railed against him. See the collection of newspaper clippings, Bundesarchiv Berlin, Nationalliberale, Ind. 6765. 153. See the note in PA AA, NL Stresemann 124, which mentions five shares worth 6,400 marks (March 1920). In 1922, Stresemann noted that he had received profit participation certificates of 125 percent (PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann, 1 August 1922). 154. On 30 October 1917, he informed Ludwig Stollwerck that he would join Sarotti’s supervisory board (RWWA Köln, 208, 220, fol. 1). “Mr. Hoffmann [Sarotti], who has been a friend of mine for many years, informed me today that his supervisory board is considering my election. I hope you will not see this as an ‘unfriendly act.’ I will generate any competition for Bros. Stollwerck.” 155. See Stresemann’s request from Bros. Arnhold to register the shares he owned for the company’s general assembly, 17 October 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. As a shareholder, Stresemann got six ballots for the election on 24 October 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113.

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1 56. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162.

Letter from 20 February 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 116. Stresemann to Sarotti AG, 4 February 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. Internal Memo Stresemann, 10 March 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1919/20, vol. 1. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1909/10, vol. 2. Ibid. See the minutes of the shareholders’ meeting of the Deutsche Reformversicherungsbank from 9 March 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 121. 163. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1916/17, vol. 2. 164. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1919/20, vol. 1. 165. List of members of the supervisory board, the executive board, and the credit committee (as of 12 December 1914), in Stadtarchiv Dresden, Hauptkanzlei Akte 403/14, Kriegskreditbank für das Königreich Sachsen. 166. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1921/22, vol. 2. 167. Handbuch der Deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, 1919/20, vol. 1. 168. Ibid. 169. Internal memo Stresemann, 4 March 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 91. 170. See Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Lehmann, n.d., PA AA, NL Stresemann 122. 171. On this and the following remarks, see Stresemann at the shareholders’ meeting of the Deutsche Reformversicherungsbank on 19 June 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 121. 172. Stresemann to Head of Department Hammann, 16 August 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 164. 173. Stresemann’s attempt to be elected to the supervisory board of the Sächsische Waggonfabrik Werdau is an example of how this interplay worked. See Stresemann to Consul Weissenberger, 12 September 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 163. 174. Details on this can be found in the (private) papers of the Arnhold family, New York, which are not accessible for research. Information kindly provided by Simone Lässig. 175. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 81. 176. Although it seems rather likely that Stresemann helped with the financial recovery of the company and was rewarded with some shares, no references could be found to prove this. Cf. Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 77, who explicitly states this to be the case. On the conflicts Stresemann faced simultaneously being a shareholder and a member of the supervisory board, see the correspondence between Stresemann and the banking house Arnhold, 26 and 29 November 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 316. 177. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 93 178. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 93, p. 390. In 1920, this sum had tripled. Stresemann received 33,977.49 marks. His having kept the shares paid off (HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 93, 508). 179. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 37. 180. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 84. 181. See Stresemann to Georg Rüger, 21 May 1907 (PA AA, NL Stresemann 115), in which he stressed his hope “that we will convince Mr. Max Arnhold and Mr. Councilor of Commerce Pfund . . . to join the executive board and that we will then be able to work hard.” 182. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 103, Industrieschutzverband Direktion, 1908–1919. 183. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 45. Stresemann thanked the company for its support of the election campaign again in 1928. HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 55. 184. Annual report of the Ernemann AG for 1920, Betriebsarchiv Carl Zeiss, Jena. 185. Annual report of the Ernemann AG for 1923, Betriebsarchiv Carl Zeiss, Jena.

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186. Paul Litwin to Stresemann, 10 August 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 196. For comprehensive details and insight into the topic of Litwin’s relationship with Stresemann, see Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 76–78. 187. See the section “The Destruction of the ‘Left-Wing Republican Project’ in Saxony” in chapter 6. 188. On this, see the so-called Plauen Trial. It started on 23 November 1926 and was postponed until March 1927. The verdict was announced on 11 March 1927. Some documents on the trial can be found in Stresemann’s estate and in the regional and national press as well as the court files (StA Chemnitz, Bestand 30096, Landgericht Plauen, no. 187). 189. Friedrichs to Stresemann, 11 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155; Stresemann to Zimmermann, 3 November 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 155. 190. Stresemann to Litwin, 13 August 1915, and, reply, 15 August 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 195. Stresemann communicated on this matter with Payer, Deutelmoser, and Lieutenant Colonel Bauer; Stresemann to Litwin, 10 August 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 195. 191. Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 80. In return, Litwin helped out Stresemann’s nephew Kurt Plagge by offering him a post as his private secretary (Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 84n54). It is fair to characterize their relationship as one of as give and take. 192. W. Stresemann, Zeiten und Klänge, 35. 193. Stresemann to his fellow party member, the bank director Diedrich (Bayerische Vereinsbank), 22 December 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. 194. See Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 84. 195. Ibid., 79. 196. Litwin’s copy of a letter by the governor of Yenisei (8 February 1908) to the office Stresemann, 13 March 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 22. 197. See the report on the trial in Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 79, 3 April 1927. 198. See on this and the following remarks Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 79–81. 199. Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 74, 29 March 1927. 200. Stresemann to the Deutsche Evaporator AG, 24 August 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. 201. Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 77, 1 April 1927: 9. 202. None of the biographies on Schacht nor his memoirs mention much about this extensive activity. See on Stresemann and Schacht, Müller, Die Zentralbank—eine Nebenregierung?, 27–28. 203. Litwin’s statement during the trial in Plauen, Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 77, 1 April 1927. 204. Berliner Tageblatt, no. 154, 1 April 1927, Litwin’s statement in the Plauen trial. 205. Litwin to Stresemann, 10 August 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 196. 206. Stresemann to Litwin, 13 August 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. 207. On this and the following remarks, see Grupp, Harry Graf Kessler, 176–78. 208. See Stresemann to Kessler, 16 August 1918, Schiller-National Museum und Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, Kessler, 78.461, 1733. 209. On German-Russian relations, see, among others, Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin.” 210. See Stresemann to Harry Graf Kessler, 16 August 1918, Schiller-National Museum und Deutsches Literaturarchiv Marbach, NL Graf Kessler 78461, 1733. The letter reads: “Mr L[itwin] handed some dispatches to me that the Russian embassy in Berlin had sent to Moscow. I play too large a role in these dispatches. To a certain extent, L. makes it look like as if I had conveyed statements of the servants [Badediener] and he handles the information he has been provided in a most undesirable manner as far as I am concerned, particularly because at the negotiations of the majority parties with the Poles I took the view toward Reichstag member Erzberger that the Reichstag would not interfere with pending proceedings. The outward appearance of the situation might create the impression that I am working in the interest of the Russians, although our activities are exclusively based on the German perspective.”

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211. See Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 78, 2 April 1927. 212. See Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 77, 1 April 1927. 213. On this and the following remarks, see ibid. 214. Stresemann to Litwin, 21 June 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 116. 215. See Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 77, 1 April 1927. 216. See Vogtländischer Anzeiger und Tageblatt, no. 80, 3 April 1927, as apparent from documents of the Wilmersdorf tax office. 217. See Evaporator Company to Stresemann, 26 May 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 116. 218. Stresemann to Litwin, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 113. 219. Stresemann to Litwin, 24 June 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 116. 220. On the following remarks, see StA Chemnitz, Bestand 30096, Landgericht Plauen, no. 187, 7–9. 221. StA Chemnitz, Bestand 30096, Landgericht Plauen, no. 187, 11–12, quote 12. 222. Berliner Tageblatt, no. 163, 6 April 1927, 3. Statement of witness Knoll, which remained undisputed at the trial.

Chapter 4

POLITICAL CAPITAL

S A Party Is Reinvented: The National Liberals in Saxony The Rise of the National Liberals We have spoken out against creating a German employers’ party for the Reichstag elections. . . . We keep our feet on the ground of facts instead of having our heads in the sky of illusions. We have to factor in universal suffrage for the Reichstag election, which counts the votes, and when we count the votes of the German employers and industrialists, their sum will be vanishingly small compared to the votes of other occupational classes. A candidate representing only industry would not win a single constituency in the German Reich . . . to enter the Reichstag. . . . In Saxony, we have chosen another way and, if I may say, not without some success.1

At the turn of the century, young Stresemann was still searching for a political home. Both the Conservatives pursuing a backward ideology directed against modern industrial society and the Social Democrats with their focus on class struggle and collectivism were out of the question for him. As a young adult, he was enthused by Friedrich Naumann. Naumann’s concept combined a sense of national identity—even an excessive sense of national identity—with social commitment, and it aligned with Stresemann’s ideas of a German people’s community (Volksgemeinschaft) including all social strata. Stresemann was looking for a party that pursued “the greatest harmony, a coincidentia oppositorum, belonging to the spiritual rather than political sphere: reconciling religion and—later—the nation with social passion, a liberal desire for freedom with the citizen’s affiliation to the state and the people, and even militarism with humaneness, and imperial rule with democracy.”2 Therefore, Stresemann immediately joined the small Dresden branch of Naumann’s National Social Association. As elsewhere, he soon made his way to the Notes from this chapter begin on page 161.

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top and became its deputy chairman.3 He was enough of a realist to see very soon after the Reichstag elections that this party had no political relevance to speak of and never would. Realizing that, despite his personal admiration for Naumann,4 this was not the right political home for him to bring his liberal ideas to fruition, he soon switched to the National Liberal Party, which he expected to be the stronger political force of liberalism.5 He would stay with this group until the end of his life. However, at the beginning of the twentieth century, the Saxon National Liberal Party was only a very small and politically rather insignificant organization,6 largely dominated by its liaison with the Conservatives, despite the presence of reformer Victor Böhmert.7 At that time, “left-wing” Conservative policies were hardly distinguishable from “right-wing” National Liberal ones.8 But by the turn of the century, there was already growing unrest in the national Reichsverein (National Liberal). Young Liberals and left-wing party members pushed for a change of direction. They believed that “the National Liberal Party . . . in Saxony and especially in Dresden deserves a much better position than it [currently] has.” Their wish would soon come true. Stresemann also wanted change. He wanted to turn the Saxon National Liberals into a party of the bourgeoisie in accordance with his ideas, a significant political force and a new, more left-leaning party of the political center. This new political party was to help transform the political system in Saxony gradually, implement (a bit) more parliamentarianism, (a bit) more participation, and (at least in some areas) a bit more social justice. First and foremost, he wanted more influence for the economic bourgeoisie and a clear distance from the course pursued by the agrarians. Inventing this liberal political strategy, integrating it into modernity, and successfully putting into practice in Saxony was an early masterpiece of Stresemann’s political career. First of all, Stresemann was able to implement his ideas within the party in a somewhat revolutionary fashion, with the party’s left wing prevailing over the conservative wing. At the same time, he attempted to avoid an outright confrontation with the Conservative Party and to incorporate the Social Democrats into his political model. Since the political system in Saxony was severely fossilized, characterized by an anti-bourgeois milieu,9 Stresemann believed that change would only be possible if the various factors were carefully balanced. Even as the Reich chancellor, foreign minister, and party leader of the Weimar Republic, he had not faced tasks as difficult as these. What was Stresemann’s initial position in the political landscape of Saxony? What was the status of the Saxon Liberals? What did Stresemann want and what was he able to achieve?10 The “National Liberal Association for the Kingdom of Saxony,” founded in 1882, was the first organization that deserved such a name.11 It did not yet have an office, and it neither arranged nor desired any advertising for the party. The

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association had no more than 1,430 members in 1895, and in Dresden as few as about a hundred. Due to a change in electoral law, the Conservatives gained a two-thirds majority in the second chamber of the state parliament by the turn of the century and threw the Social Democrats out. As a result, the National Liberal faction sank into insignificance and acted accordingly. The Liberals felt that they represented notable citizens, as well as the educated and economic bourgeoisie. Laborers and farmers were not meant to play a prominent role in their organization. Thus, the association (which did not yet deem itself a political “party”) was dominated by the political understanding of classically liberal notable citizens. In other words, there were no mass politics, no political mass market, and no public discourse with political opponents but rather objectivity and superior expertise in apolitical discussions among a small and intimate circle of members. It was somewhat similar to contemporary municipal politics. To let the masses participate in politics was almost considered harmful.12 It was precisely this political understanding that Stresemann set out to change.13 The concrete process of transforming the party, the change in its objectives that resulted from this, the restructuring of its policies, as well as its break with the Conservatives can be precisely identified, as with the foundation of the Verband Sächsischer Industrieller (Association of Saxon Industrialists; VSI) and the change in municipal politics. The special elections for the Saxon state parliament in 1903/414 were the initial spark prompting the party alignment with Stresemann’s political ideas. At the same time, the way these elections turned out constitutes a perfect example of Stresemann’s successful political strategy.15 Already in this period, he demonstrated all the traits of the cunning party politician he would become in the Weimar Republic. The events took place in the state parliamentary electoral district of Dresden-Altstadt, a Conservative stronghold. Initially, the National Liberals had agreed to endorse the Conservative candidate without reservations. And yet, in September 1903, seemingly unprompted, members and friends of the National Liberals—those who supported Stresemann—set up an “Independent Committee” that ignored all prior agreements and pulled off a surprise coup, promoting the candidacy of Paul Schulze, one of Stresemann’s colleagues. After an expensive election campaign—a novelty for Dresden—Schulze won by a landslide to the consternation of the Conservative candidate, Paul Osterloh, who appealed in vain to the law and earlier agreements.16 This victory for Stresemann’s political course signaled the dawn of a new era—the “Stresemann era”—for the National Liberals. Along with the change of political course, it brought a sharp increase in party membership. In 1914, Stresemann described these events rather tactfully: “I joined the National Liberal Reich Association, and within two years I was able to put a check on tendencies leaning toward cartels and toward the Conservatives and started an independent National Liberal policy.”17 The Conservatives, on the other hand, lamented that

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“The new National Liberal leaders are pushing to the Left, and there are signs that radical forces are working to drive Liberalism into opposition [against the Conservatives].”18 Disgruntled, the Vaterland (Fatherland), the Conservative mouthpiece, responded: The whip of this party [the new National Liberals], Dr. Stechemann [sic], who was summoned from Prussia, said that his party has to abandon its prior restraint; it has to be noted that one unfortunately has to admit that the old National Liberal Party, with its noble and glorious past fighting shoulder to shoulder with other national parties against the German Radical Party19 and the Social Democratic Party, has been on the brink of extinction in Saxony since Schulze, Stechemann [sic] and their comrades have taken the lead.20

Even the usually rather reserved Prussian envoy noted in 1909: “It is regrettable that the National Liberals in Dresden have moved to the left lately. Their electoral appeals are directed against the Conservatives and desperately resemble Social Democratic concoctions in form and content.”21 In summary, Stresemann’s coup had been a complete success; the conservative “association” had become a more left-leaning National Liberal “party.”22 A small structural revolution was also looming. Within a few years, the party established a working association at the state level and a party machine with an office and party press; sponsors were also recruited, not least from Stresemann’s VSI. The National Liberals adopted a highly modern election campaign strategy: they effectively used the press as an agitation tool and even built up their own media empire. In addition, industrialists began sponsoring the party as early as 1905.23 In the elections to the Saxon state parliament in 1909, the VSI provided 60,000 marks for the cities of Leipzig, Dresden, and Chemnitz alone.24 In the 1912 elections, 2,800 election workers helped “drag” every last Liberal sympathizer and supporter to the voting booth in Dresden.25 At Stresemann’s special request, the newly founded bourgeois Dresden Automobile Association provided 120 vehicles free of charge to assist in this effort.26 More than 400,000 flyers were distributed, and a National Liberal school for public speakers was even founded.27 The Kingdom of Saxony had never seen a liberal election campaign like this before.28 The newspaper Dresdner Woche reported: “[The party] fought with unparalleled acrimony, using slogans that are known only from hearsay from the Land of Opportunity, from Dollarica.”29 The political and structural realignment of the party also expanded the party’s political base. The National Liberals were able to incorporate all the bourgeois and national associations to form a powerful alliance. They certainly no longer displayed “elegant restraint” in relation to mass politics. The friend-or-foe mindset was subordinated to success, if necessary. By tapping into the reservoir of

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bourgeois-national associations—including the Pan-German League and various fraternities, citizens’ and regional associations, the German Navy League, associations of lawyers, the German National Association of Commercial Employees (Deutschnationaler Handlungsgehilfenverband), some Protestant and national workers’ associations, the (small) Reich Association against Social Democracy, and the Voters’ Association of Salaried Employees—the Saxon Liberals were able to mobilize a mass base in a way that dwarfed all previous attempts to do so.30 It goes without saying that Stresemann’s personal network was invaluable in this context. The clear change in the party’s politics and political understanding was also apparent in the swelling ranks of its membership, which grew from 1,530 in 1895 to more than 20,000 in 1911.31 The new National Liberal Party also had a new social profile. At the turn of the century, only 3 percent of its members—just a handful of men—had a working-class background, and even they came from the upper end of the working class, whereas roughly 35 Table 4.1. Membership numbers of the percent belonged to the lower middle National Liberal Party in Saxony and class and more than 16 percent to the Dresden prior to World War I. upper middle class. Almost half of the members (615 people, or 45 percent) Year Saxony Dresden came from the upper class.32 These 1888 838 111 figures demonstrate that, around the 1895 1,530 98 year 1900, the National Liberals were 1905 5,000 600 a party of notables. 1906 6,500 700 Ten years later, more than 10 per1907 11,850 1,750 cent of the members came from the working class, more than 40 percent 1908 10,500 1,877 from the lower middle class, less than 1909 14,250 1,900 20 percent from the upper middle class 1910 19,950 2,000 and only 30 percent from the upper 1911 20,765 — class. The percentage of members from 1912 20,720 — the petit bourgeoisie had tripled within 1913 21,162 — ten years and even a few workers had joined. At the same time, the number of factory owners doubled and that of the property-owning bourgeoisie had significantly increased, in general.33 Thus, the economic bourgeoisie became the dominant social group in the party. This was the first step on the long road toward it becoming a bourgeois, business-oriented, liberal “people’s” party. In no other state of the German Reich was political Liberalism able to perform such a rapid structural change at that time. The driving force behind this process was Gustav Stresemann, who (together with his Dresden friends) pushed for and eventually prevailed in achieving radical reform of the party.

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The early change in political direction toward Stresemann’s ideas can be demonstrated by the example of his Reichstag election campaign in the electoral district of Annaberg in 1907. After Stresemann’s spectacular appearance at the National Liberal Party conference in Goslar, his friend Gustav A. Slesina had persuaded him to run, though he hardly knew the area. The party accepted Stresemann as a candidate with great reluctance. Despite the National Liberals’ efforts to liberate themselves from the Conservatives, Stresemann immediately began to cooperate with them, but also with the left-liberals at the same time. He was prepared to make a victory over the Social Democrats his first priority. In the short period between 21 December 1906, and the first election on 21 January 1907, Stresemann gave thirty-nine documented speeches (despite the holidays), always accompanied by his friend Slesina as assembly chairman, in which he spoke eloquently on a variety of liberal topics. On several occasions, his audience numbered more than a thousand.34 The Amtshauptmann (senior civil servant) of Annaberg vividly described Stresemann’s personality as a campaigner.35 He noted that Stresemann stood out thanks to his dominant personality, his profound knowledge, his persuasive speaking manner and his common touch. The latter was even reflected in a special song in 1912, the “Stresemann Song.” Its first verse was as follows:36 All followers, forged in combat and torment, Hail their leader Wherever he leads us, we follow, united By work and sacrifice for our leader and friend! We are all tied by a joining band The dear, the German, the holy land!

His electoral success spoke for itself: after fourteen more speeches, Stresemann won in the run-off vote of January 1907, defeating Social Democratic candidate Ernst Grenz by a margin of 2,500 votes. Stresemann became the youngest member of the Reichstag in Berlin. This paved the way for the previously apolitical association Verein zur Stützung aller staatstragenden Kräfte (Association for the Promotion of All Forces Supportive of the State),37 which had cast itself as an anti-Social Democratic force, to adopt a programmatic approach. It abandoned its vague self-understanding and was increasingly shaped by precisely formulated political ideas, and, above all, by concepts of gaining political power. Saxon’s National Liberals, instead of being a politics of notables carried out by a few privileged bourgeois individuals, began to embrace mass politics. In so doing, they cleared one of the main obstacles that had hampered their fight against the Social Democrats. But, first and foremost— and this was a novelty—the party was able to strengthen the political weight of industrialists over agriculturalists. From that point on, the VSI and National Liberals worked hand in hand.38 The National Liberals evolved into a party of

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industry to an extent seen nowhere else in Imperial Germany. However, it was not the die-hards of the Saxon textile industry who set the tone, but those who supported Stresemann’s more moderate political approach. The economic policy program of the National Liberals was yet another indicator of the party’s new course: it was drafted by the VSI and established within the National Liberal Party by Gustav Stresemann. In his capacity as legal adviser for the VSI, he implemented the political strategies of this technically apolitical economic association within a party that was formally quite independent from it. In the process, he turned these policies into the program for a party faction Stresemann himself was not a member of. This was, indeed, quite an extraordinary achievement.

The Saxon Reform of Electoral Law The planned electoral reform in Saxony was crucial to the political sustainability of “Stresemann’s political project.”39 It was the litmus test for what National Liberals considered politically desirable and possible and whether the objective of a people’s community embracing all strata of society was feasible. The starting point of these reforms was the current “unjust right to vote.” Electoral reform secured a comfortable two-thirds majority for the Conservatives and excluded from the second chamber Social Democrats—the biggest political force in terms of its number of followers (who were not entitled to vote). In the Reichstag elections, the SPD had won twenty-two out of twenty-three constituencies; however, it was not represented in the Saxon state parliament. Stresemann and the National Liberal wanted to curb Conservative power by introducing moderate electoral reform and, at the same time, to accommodate the Social Democrats by backing partial democratization of suffrage.40 By preventing a party supported by 80 percent of the electorate from being represented in the Saxon parliament, the current suffrage was a welcome target for Social Democratic agitation and could even have subversive repercussions. In Stresemann’s view, the existing suffrage was no longer sustainable—and here he considerably differed from his Prussian party friends. After the reform, he drove the point home: [T]he history of many states [shows] that violent revolutions were best avoided when the ruling classes were prepared to make justified concessions at the relevant moment. Plural suffrage in Saxony was one of those justified concessions. It protects us from a Social Democratic flood, and, at the same time, forces the Social Democrats to do practical work instead of presenting themselves to the entire country as martyrs of the Social Democratic working class who have been excluded by legislation.41

Thus, the goal of the reform was to establish political balance, to provide the Social Democrats with an outlet, and to integrate them into state politics without

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implementing democratic suffrage. The latter would not only have contradicted liberal ideology but would also have given Social Democrats the majority in the Saxon state parliament. Under no circumstances did Stresemann want this to happen.42 Plural suffrage seemed to be a solution particularly suited to this end.43 It also corresponded with the VSI’s aim of seeking strong representation for itself.44 The implementation of new plural suffrage, implemented by the Liberals (and the Social Democrats), largely fulfilled Stresemann’s wishes. Direct suffrage was reinstated and the secrecy of the ballot was maintained against Conservative resistance. As a result, the people of Saxony became more politicized. Due to the abolition of suffrage along class lines, not only Conservative and bourgeois sections of the electorate but even some working class voters could gain plural suffrage. By means of social differentiation, the National Liberals hoped for a division of the working class: Because plural suffrage emphasizes differentiation, it is also effective in the sense of this differentiation. No worker who is entitled to cast two or three votes will consider his own privilege unjust—unless he is a party fanatic. On the contrary! The large majority will find social differentiation that matches their own estimation of themselves quite alright.45

At the same time, the new suffrage cemented the Social Democratic Party’s status as a minority, albeit at a higher level. In this respect, it flouted democratic principles. The group of eligible voters was still limited, and plural votes were unequally and quite unfairly distributed. For this reason, historians have heavily criticized the electoral reform.46 Yet if one wishes to analyze the effects of this reform on political landscape in Saxony, and particularly in the context of the development of suffrage in Imperial Germany in general, a nuanced assessment is required, particularly from a Liberal perspective.47 First of all, the reform enabled the Social Democrats to enter the Saxon state parliament. A party that had been effectively excluded from political power up to then was able to win a third of the seats in the parliament right away. The Conservatives also lost half of their mandates and, thus, their dominance. They had to accept that their most powerful positions had slid from their grasp. One of the most reactionary state parliaments in Imperial Germany was no longer a Conservative rubber stamp. It became a vivid forum for debate in which three parties of almost equal strength competed with one other politically. The fact that only the Liberals were able to cooperate with either of the two other political parties was very much to Stresemann’s liking. Thanks to this new strategy, Liberalism was able to enhance its position in the Saxon parliament considerably. The National Liberals gained many new members and voters from the politicization of the elections and the mass election campaigns that gradually emerged in the wake of the electoral reform. They also

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increased their number of seats in the parliament. As early as 1907, thirty-one National Liberals were elected to the second chamber instead of twenty-three. Stresemann was offered a dual mandate in the Reichstag and the Saxon state parliament.48 Although he was not averse to the idea of accepting it, his young age and Prussian nationality ruled this out. Thus, he did not become a member of the Saxon parliament in 1907, nor in later years, either. Unlike ten years earlier, the VSI now played a decisive role in the second chamber of the Saxon parliament. In 1907, it “delegated” as many as twenty-five of its members to the Saxon parliament—roughly a third of the entire house. Twenty-one of them were members of the National Liberal faction. Thus, it is fair to say that this party faction was, in fact, an extension of the VSI: in this respect, one must always interpret National Liberal victories and failures as those of the VSI. After the dramatic defeat of the Conservatives, Stresemann’s political Liberalism was able to pursue practical (interest-driven) politics in a political environment that he himself had transformed. Nearly everything revolved around the National Liberal Party of the middle ground.49 And yet, despite this success story, the restructuring of the first chamber did not proceed until the revolution of 1918. Clearly, Stresemann enjoyed his rapid ascent, becoming the dominant figure of the National Liberals in Saxony (and later in the Reich) and the most powerful legal adviser of the Saxon kingdom. He had worked hard to achieve this success and felt the responsibility it had conferred upon him. Nevertheless, despite his political and economic achievements it was (still) unclear to what extent he could position himself as part of the bourgeoisie and adopt ever more bourgeois values and norms. In any case, he seemed to have (almost) found his place in the social field of the Saxon bourgeoisie.

Goal Achieved? Considering his great political and economic achievements in Saxony, one must ask how Stresemann polished his self-presentation as a member of the “bourgeoisie” and gained additional cultural capital. Was he accepted as part of the (cultural) bourgeoisie in the Kingdom of Saxony? The annual conferences of the various industrial associations in Dresden provide some background and help us answer this question. The regional branch of the VSI and the nationally active Bund der Industriellen (League of Industrialists; BdI) attended these gatherings and displayed their importance to their members and the general public. Both organizations were represented and influenced by the legal adviser, Dr. Gustav Stresemann. These conferences were perfect occasions for Stresemann to successfully “perform” his bourgeois habitus.

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These conferences were, in fact, first and foremost designed for the respective associations to display their economic power, make economic decisions, and set their policy trajectory. At the same time, they used the gatherings for inward and outward self-representation and for showcasing and positioning themselves as part of the social and political field in Saxony. In order to understand the significance of these conferences, it is necessary to outline the concentrated economic (and indirect political) power of these associations and the role Stresemann and his followers played within them. The VSI was the most important industrial pressure group in Saxony and one of the foremost regional industrial associations in Imperial Germany. How was it managed? Before the war, the management consisted of legal adviser Stresemann and two of his loyal colleagues Johannes März and Bernd E. Westenberger.50 The members of the executive board were almost exclusively Saxon industrialists close to Stresemann: Bernhard Lehmann (engineering factory, Dresden), Ernst S. Clauss (cotton spinning mill, Flöha), Otto Moras (mechanical weaving mill, Zittau), Friedrich Uebel (cotton spinning and weaving mill, Plauen), and Georg Zöphel. Just like Kurt Grützner (also a member of the VSI executive board), Zöphel was chairman of the Association for the Protection of German Industry (Industrieschutzverband) and Stresemann’s personal protégé. Stresemann was certainly the uncrowned king of this association. The BdI, a counter-organization to the Centralverband deutscher Industrieller (Central Association of German Industrialists; CdI), considered itself a national special interest group for the German manufacturing industry. Founded in 1895 and restructured in 1907, the organization made its mark by emphasizing how the manufacturing industry differed from the raw-material producing industry mainly represented by the CdI. As a lobbyist for the Saxon manufacturing industry, Gustav Stresemann was in the right place. Thanks to his active efforts, the BdI had evolved into an organization that could stand up to the CdI and pursue industrial interests on a major scale by the beginning of the war; it was strongly represented in the state parliaments. How was this association managed? Just like the VSI, the executive board of the BdI consisted of many of Stresemann’s friends.51 The seven-member board was dominated (like the general executive board) by Albert Hirth (specialist engineering, Bad Cannstatt); Ernst S. Clauss (again), and, finally, Max Hoffmann (Sarotti chocolate and cocoa industry), Stresemann’s benefactor from his time as a legal adviser for the Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers in Dresden. The executive director of the BdI was “Stresemann’s protégé Rudolf Schneider.”52 Stresemann himself was a key member of the BdI executive board.53 In short, just like the VSI, the BdI was “his” association. The situation was similar in the Hanseatic League, although this organization did not play a crucial role in the landscape of Dresden conferences. The Hanseatic League considered itself an interest group of the manufacturing industry,

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wholesale and retail, skilled trades, and salaried employees; and it had the objectives of “shattering the alliance between large-scale industry and the Junkertum [landed Prussian nobility], pushing back the influence of the latter and promoting the influence of the liberal ‘economically active bourgeoisie’ on the political decision-making process.”54 Stresemann was the co-founder of this association and his brother-in-law, Kurt von Kleefeld, was its executive director.55 This alone secured Stresemann’s influence. In his capacity as a member of the advisory board to the management from 1912, Stresemann oversaw the politics of the Hanseatic League.56

The Staging of the Dresden Conferences The last meetings of the VSI before the war, particularly in 1912 and 1914, and the 15th Ordinary General Assembly of the BdI, which was organized by the VSI and took place in at the Dresden International Hygiene Exhibition in 1911, can be seen as arenas for displaying and staging power and as examples of Stresemann’s efforts to cast himself as a member of the bourgeoisie.57 During these years, the associations were aware of their political and economic significance and presented themselves to the Saxon public accordingly. In the process, political and economic groups intermingled with social groups, and the organizations became cultural bodies. The question is, to what extent did they—and, at the same time, Stresemann—get integrated into and shape the social system in Saxony? Were they able to position themselves as trendsetters? As early as at the 7th Ordinary Assembly of the VSI in 1909, Stresemann set the course that would shape future meetings: he wanted to stage them as a mixture of economic, political, and cultural themes, with a special focus on the events’ public image. Thus, the target audience was the entire social field. At these conferences, Stresemann presented himself as a relaxed public speaker, entertainer, economic expert, Saxon, Reich politician, cultural representative, and poet.58 He summarized the spirit of the 1909 conference as follows: Thundering cheers for the ladies, Which pleased and edified us; Finally, this evening I commemorate The gentlemen, especially the speaker. We honor and appreciate the industry As experts of the national economy. I call on the ladies to stand up for a last toast: Long live our men.

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Thus, these conferences were presented as jovial bourgeois get-togethers, and those attending were aware of their own power. They propagated a worldview in which industry was the motor of progress and women were supposed to look up to their men. This was the bourgeois idyll Stresemann imagined. The 1911 General Assembly of the BdI in Dresden was another example of these stage-managed conferences. The city council of Dresden, whose mayor, Beutler, was indebted to Stresemann in many respects, particularly regarding municipal politics, hosted a grand reception for the BdI in the new city hall on the night before the beginning of the assembly. The gift that the VSI had presented to the mayor in 1910—a fancy set of tableware—contributed to the opulent character of the event.59 The VSI adorned itself with this clearly visible cultural capital, which could be transformed into social capital. Gustav Stresemann was center stage at this festive conference, which was so large that there was barely room to accommodate all the guests of honor. He enjoyed this home game to the fullest.60 Since the conference occurred simultaneously to the Dresden International Hygiene Exhibition, VSI and Stresemann emphasized the social activities of their association. With great public appeal, the VSI presented its “small apartment construction project” as part of the exhibition, and provided a tour for the benefit of the BdI members.61 With this initiative, the VSI not only showcased its commitment to social policy but also took a stance in the fight against the Social Democratic Party by juxtaposing its ideas of “healthy” working-class housing with collectivist Social Democratic concepts. It is hardly surprising that this initiative was very much promoted by the “Odol king” and “hygiene pope,” Karl August Lingner, the owner of the Lingnerwerke (whose later director was Stresemann’s former secretary, Fritz Rauch). The fact that Saxon metal industrialists had locked out the majority of their workers at the same time did not quite fit into this image of social harmony.62 In 1912, the stage-management of the conferences, with Stresemann forming a focal point, became even more obvious. The 10th General Assembly of the VSI celebrated its opening event in the Zentraltheater, one of the biggest theaters of the city, which had even canceled a public performance for the occasion, a very special gesture towards Stresemann and the VSI. It was no coincidence that Stresemann had chosen this location to create a particularly festive atmosphere. The theater had the capacity to seat the nine hundred invited guests from the realms of business, politics, and culture who listened to the opening speech, written by—needless to say—Gustav Stresemann. In playing this role, Stresemann managed to occupy the political, economic, and cultural fields all at the same time. The poem he wrote for the occasion was much acclaimed and celebrated for both its content and poetic value. The first verse has Stresemann’s well-known, typical style:

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I am approaching you, in this hour of celebration In high and cheerful spirits, Bringing congratulations to your great circle, In whose midst I have appeared for a short time Since it does not befit me to rest Or to be idle in my life, The one that accomplishes every work Is the industry that addresses you.

It should come as no surprise that the amateurish verses were read aloud in the Zentraltheater not by Stresemann himself but by a member of the Royal Theater. As described in the Festschrift, the commemorative publication on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the VSI, described it, the beautiful Miss Diacono “performed a recitation.” This was precisely Stresemann’s idea of a successful combination of aesthetics and power. The Festschrift went on to describe the “poem’s language” as “clear and explicit and perfectly in tune with the festive occasion, like everything else this evening. The voice of industry speaks to the gathered people; it speaks of restless work, of the great symphony of work, near and far across the beautiful land of Saxony.”63 The remainder of the event was dominated by political and economic themes and also followed Stresemann’s specifications. After the address welcoming the numerous guests of honor on the first day, the general assembly took place the day after. As one might expect, the keynote speaker was the omnipotent legal adviser Stresemann, who speech was entitled “Ten Years of the Association of Saxon Industrialists.” He only had to describe his own success story, which he did, as the Festschrift claimed, in a “colorful and captivating” way. Naturally, there were long-lasting standing ovations in response to this success story. With this speech, Stresemann was able to present himself as the absolute ruler of the VSI. He had the association at his feet. The ceremonious “handing over of a bronze statue, a copy of the equestrian monument of Colleoni of Venice on a pedestal” symbolically underscored his special position in the VSI.64 Indeed, just as Colleoni ruled Venice, Stresemann ruled the VSI, Dresden, and Saxony. The certain irony this gift entailed was probably unintended: only thanks to his fortune was Colleoni able to have a memorial to himself erected at a central location in Venice, since the city objected to cults of personality on principle. It is unlikely that this occurred to the VSI members who were, themselves, engaged in a cult of personality around the association’s legal adviser. In 1914, the VSI held its conference again in the Dresden Zentraltheater. This demonstrates that elevating the atmosphere of this event by hosting it in a cultural institution was a deliberate strategy and not a mere coincidence. The Sächsische Industrie, Stresemann’s mouthpiece, reported: “The large, architecturally unique theater hall with its balconies was a colorful and vivid sight. The ladies’ splendid, brightly colored dresses attracted particular attention, and a

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combination of festivity and cheerfulness emerged”—just as Stresemann had wished—“which gives such events a special harmony.”65 This time, however, the king of Saxony and his entourage visited the event and listened to Stresemann’s celebratory speech on “Saxon Industry and the World Market.” This topic went far beyond the region of Saxony and hinted at Stresemann’s wider ambitions. Afterward, the king engaged in a lengthy conversation with Stresemann right in front of the 1,100 invited guests (including Mrs. Stresemann), visible for all to see.66 This event was the absolute highlight of Stresemann’s time in the VSI. No legal adviser in Saxony had ever received such an honor. Thus, the entire association saw recognition of themselves and the achievements of their legal adviser Stresemann on a high level. He had been able to persuade the monarch, who was greatly influenced by the agricultural lobby, to attend the conference. In this sense, the king’s appearance was of major symbolic significance and represented the changing mood of the political powers in Saxony. The industrialists started to outstrip the agriculturalists—and not only in the elections to the second chamber. It was not only the king but also the academic sphere that thanked legal adviser Stresemann with standing ovations and emphasized both his great success and his warm nature. The director of the Kiel Institute for the World Economy, Prof. Dr. Bernhard Harms, presented Stresemann as a great economic leader, politician, and role model as a human being, just as he had at the BdI conference in 1911: “The speaker [Harms] especially appreciated Dr. Stresemann himself, who has not only founded the Association of Saxon Industrialists but also carried out important public activities. He [Harms] has often held up Dr. Stresemann’s sense of duty regarding his tasks and his position as an example to his students.”67 Prof. Dr. Harms, in Stresemann’s eyes a representative of the scientific world and thus of the highest level of cultural capital, had not only publicly praised Stresemann’s political and economic political achievements, but also highlighted the unique relationship of mutual trust between the VSI and its management the likes of which was rarely found in Germany. Stresemann received the accolade he had always longed for: the appreciation of his “reconciliatory” work, of his activities to overcome class differences in order to pave the way for the desired people’s community, and for serving as a role model for Imperial German society. This was, without doubt, one of the first highlights of Gustav Stresemann’s career. To be acknowledged by the highest representative of the Saxon state, praised by the scientific community, and assured of the steadfast loyalty of his VSI—what else was there so accomplish? Stresemann seemed to have established himself in bourgeois society. With that said, it is worthwhile to look behind the scenes. As natural as this chain of success and as well-deserved as all his honors appeared to be at first

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glance, they were not accidents. Every year, Stresemann went out of his way to stage these conferences as uplifting and cultural events. There were few problems with the VSI. The association was favorably disposed toward Stresemann and did almost anything he asked, not least granting him a lifelong honorarium when he resigned during World War I, which was a truly extraordinary gesture. Because of his long-standing relation to the theater director and his commitment to the cultural life of Dresden, Stresemann was able to requisition the beautiful premises of the Zentraltheater. This was absolutely necessary to establish the cultural ambience of the event. It was only thanks to the cooperation between Mayor Beutler and Stresemann and his fellow party members on the city council, and against the fierce resistance of the Social Democrats in particular, that the theater had been built and opened in 1913 at all.68 It is not surprising that members of the cultural scene were happy to repay a debt of gratitude under these circumstances. Thus, Stresemann could always rely on access to premises that would provide a cultured atmosphere. But Stresemann also made provisions for the performance itself. With the help of his colleague Schneider, he had made sure that the ladies on the balcony and their endless ovations—a phenomenon that reappeared at almost every conference—favored him and his cause. Every year it was Schneider’s task to entertain the women with humorous speeches and generate a positive atmosphere. Mayor Beutler knew exactly what he had in Stresemann.69 From 1908 on, he attended VSI meetings on a regular basis and, unlike in previous years, never lacked courtesy. Press coverage was also organized to Stresemann’s liking. He and the VSI directly controlled some Saxon newspapers, such as the Sächsische Industrie, the Dresdner Zeitung, and the Leipziger Tageblatt;70 others were favorable towards him, such as the Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten. Here, it became apparent that Stresemann was already an intentional media politician in the early years of his career. He cultivated contacts and, if possible, successfully defended the interests of the press.71 It did not concern him or his friends in the slightest what the socialist papers wrote. The Dresden bourgeoisie and the conference participants largely ignored them anyway. As a result, positive press coverage was ensured. Professor Harms’s appreciation of Stresemann’s work was of particular significance. Thus, it was no coincidence that Stresemann and his Dresden friends, especially the circle around Prof. Dr. Robert Wuttke, maintained longstanding contacts with Harms’s World Economy Archive. They had supported it being established in Kiel and praised Harms to the skies. In addition to Prince Heinrich of Prussia, several of Stresemann’s friends and members of the VSI joined the “Society for the Advancement of Dr. Harms’s Institute for Maritime Transport and World Economics at the University of Kiel” (Gesellschaft zur Förderung des Harmschen Instituts für Seeverkehr und Weltwirtschaft an der Universitat

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Kiel).72 Having been thus courted by Dresden’s industrialists, Harms was bound to repay his gratitude to Stresemann.

The Dresden Conferences: The Beginning or the End of a Great Career? Given this success, Stresemann had every reason to be satisfied, even happy. It seemed he had achieved everything he had wished for. He was wealthy, had political influence, and was accepted, even by bourgeois society. He could have been at peace with himself as the bourgeois he wanted to be and further enhanced his position as an important regional figure. He seemed to have arrived in the position he had always sought. However, three obstacles were in the way: his boundless ambition, his life as a “crossover artist,” and his political fortunes.73 Politically, his situation was much less favorable than the festive events of the VSI suggested.74 Though Stresemann’s National Liberals had won one victory after another in the Saxon state parliament, his personal political ambitions took a heavy blow in the 1912 Reichstag elections. His seemingly inexorable political rise was suddenly stopped short.75 Despite his best efforts and an election campaign even more expensive than that of 1907, Stresemann lost his Reichstag seat in the constituency of Annaberg to his Social Democratic opponent in the first ballot. The campaign was a financial disaster for him.76 And that was not all. He was also marginalized within his party. He lost his seat and his vote in the important executive committee of the National Liberal Party, not least on account of his “political machinations” and right-wing members’ desire to teach him a lesson. What had made him successful in Saxony became a pitfall orchestrated by his political and economic opponents in Berlin and at the CdI. Stresemann was politically punished as Bassermann’s social liberal protégé and follower. Stresemann’s mentor, Ernst Bassermann, had been the strong man of the National Liberals. He had joined the party in 1893, had become the leader of the National Liberal Reichstag faction in 1898 and of the party in 1905. Even before the war, Stresemann rose to the position of “his young man,” not least because he widely shared Bassermann’s political views. Both politicians pursued a centrist path. In so doing, however, they were constantly in danger of getting caught between the various (economic) interest groups within the party.77 This danger had become all too apparent in the elections of 1912. In his diary entry of 6 April 1912, Stresemann clearly described the situation he faced: The new year is a year of misfortune. My defeat in the Reichstag elections was followed by me unexpectedly not being re-elected to the executive committee. I have received only 39 out of 112 votes. Berliner Tageblatt [liberal daily newspaper] reports on the

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proceedings: “Bassermann and Stresemann defeated!” BZ am Mittag [Berliner Zeitung am Mittag; first German tabloid] calls me, in relation to Bassermann: the “faithful Pylades of the wandering Orestes.”78

Stresemann’s internal party opponent Paul Fuhrmann weighed in maliciously on the same matter on 24 March 1912:79 I assume there were many in the party, even outside the executive committee, who thought that Stresemann deserved this. His multiple activities and his vanity have made him more enemies than he knows. More than once, Bassermann told me in the Reichstag, when Stresemann still had his seat, that his clamorous demeanor would cost him his entire career one day.

Thus, on the one hand, Stresemann had established and secured himself politically, economically, and culturally in Saxony. If he had wanted nothing more than to become a bourgeois citizen in a German state capital, then Dresden was the place where he could best achieve this goal. In Dresden, Stresemann had become an important local figure; he seemed to have a good command of the bourgeois habitus and to have “arrived.” As an esteemed bourgeois citizen among other members of the bourgeoisie, he appeared to be confident in this “social field.” Yet had he remained there, it would have amounted to his political stagnation. Were he to have stayed in Dresden, he would not have been able to sufficiently address the political challenges of the Reich. Feeling called to greater things, to more than the narrow milieu in Saxony and the limited possibilities of state politics, he had to go to Berlin. The political failures of the year 1912 had shown that leading a double life between the Reich and the Saxon capital did not make sense. He could only gain more political leverage by becoming a constant presence in Berlin. But that came at a cost. He had to give up being an (almost) fully integrated member of the Dresden bourgeoisie to reach this social position again in Berlin, (almost) from scratch. He had to operate in a different environment. The “crossover artist,” who was almost “at home” in Saxony, had to start again as an “outsider” with all the difficulties this status entailed. However, only in Berlin could he achieve an even higher status than in Dresden. So why did he go to the trouble of moving? Perhaps there was a crucial psychological component in this since he was a permanent outsider and crossover artist. For one thing, new and greater tasks were calling, and as an “underdog” driven by insatiable ambition, he was tempted by a move because he was a born crossover artist. Although he hated this status, he could not let it go and did not want to do without it. His move to the capital, therefore, may have been prompted primarily by his psychological makeup and his disturbed self-esteem, which caused him to fluctuate between euphoria and insecurity. He may have gone to Berlin to remain a “crossover artist” to benefit but also suffer from it.

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Apart from the political necessity of Stresemann being in Berlin in light of his defeat in the Reichstag election, some practical factors in favor of his leaving Saxony also came into play. His wife had never felt comfortable in Dresden and always wished to return to Berlin. Stresemann had kept his Prussian nationality and actively supported the Prussian Benefit Association (Preußischer Hilfsverein) in Dresden.80 All this suggested that he did not plan to settle down in Dresden. He might also have anticipated that his party in the Reichstag would need him in the future, even though it was currently punishing him for his failures. Relegated to a provincial position without a seat in the Reichstag, he could only achieve so much. The result of the 1912 election might have made this clear to him. If he wished to be a liberal party leader and legal adviser operating on the Reich level, he had to be in Berlin, where he had possessed a residence since 1910.81 Last but not least: only when based in Berlin could he prevent the National Liberals from potentially shifting to the right. The course this daring venture was to take had already been set before the war, at a time when Stresemann had achieved the first peak of his career in Saxony. He had to choose a political path, and perhaps he was helped in this by his visit to the United States in 1912, which expanded his worldview. From then on, he no longer pursued tried and true solutions but set himself new goals, took risks, and became a “crossover artist” again. He found it even easier to depart from Dresden because everything seemed to be on the right track in Saxony. Soon, Dresden would elect a National Liberal mayor (Bernhard Blüher) whom Stresemann could trust. The VSI would manage without him since his trusted and loyal confidants would continue his work (and he would still keep an eye on things). The BdI needed a presence in Berlin, so that was exactly the right place for Stresemann to be. Moreover, he could rely on even greater support from his fatherly protector Bassermann in Berlin—and may have hoped to soon succeed in politics again on the Reich level.

Notes 1. Stresemann at the 7th General Assembly of the VSI, 16 February 1909, Sächsische Industrie 5 (1909): 148, emphasis in original. On the general issue of modernization in Saxony, see Lässig and Pohl, Sachsen im Kaiserreich. 2. Radkau, Heuss, 34. 3. Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 91; W. Stresemann, Mein Vater, 56–57. 4. On this, see Pohl, Hellmut von Gerlach, 102–4. It is fair to assume that there were also political differences since Stresemann thought that Naumann excessively adhered to the principles of free trade policy, which would have considerably limited Stresemann’s scope of action at the VSI. See Kolb, Stresemann, 28.

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5. Dual party memberships were not uncommon in Stresemann’s days. 6. For a brief overview on the partisan landscape in Dresden, see Kolditz, “Politische Vereine und Parteien,” 54–58. 7. See the annual report of the National Liberal German Reich Association in Dresden (Nationalliberaler Deutscher Reichsverein zu Dresden) from 1903/4, Sächsische Landesbibliothek, H. SaxG, 364, 60; for the following quote, see ibid. See also the report in the Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, 26 May 1904, no. 140: “The National Liberal Reich Association in Dresden has just published its annual report.” Apart from Stresemann, Böhmert proved to be one of the most important speakers. On Böhmert and his role in Dresden, see Kranich, “EvangelischLutherische Landeskirche,” 111–13. 8. Report of the Prussian Envoy Monteglas, 2 March 1904, HStA Munich, MA 98760. 9. As with the foundation of the VSI, Stresemann’s political success in Saxony was due to his energy, skills, unswerving will, unwavering ambitions, and robustness, but most of all to his diligence and hard work. Moreover, numerous people favorably disposed toward him contributed—again—to his success, so that his success resulted from a mixture of various preconditions and circumstances. 10. For an overview of the political system, see Goldt, Parlamentarismus im Königreich Sachsen. However, Goldt does not offer any references to the issues discussed here. 11. Mitglieder-Verzeichnis . . . 1888, nebst einem Rückblick auf die Geschichte der Partei in Sachsen . . ., ed. National-liberaler Verein für das Königreich Sachsen . . . (Leipzig, n.d.). 12. Kühne, “Historische Wahlforschung in der Erweiterung”; and Pohl, “Kommunen, Liberalismus und Wahlrechtsfragen.” 13. But this was precisely the Conservatives’ weakness. “The Conservative leaders are old-style people who abhor any demagogic attitude towards the electorate, who, like Mehnert and Hänel, peaked at a time when the Social Democrats played no role at all in the state parliamentary elections.” Prussian legation in Dresden to Bethmann Hollweg, 25 April 1910, PA AA, R 3296 (Saxony). 14. See Pohl, “Die Nationalliberalen in Sachsen vor 1914,” 202–3. 15. Detaillierte Berichterstattung zu den Vorgängen bei den Nationalliberalen seit dem Jahre 1903, report of the Prussian envoy in Dresden to the Foreign Office, 3 March 1905, PA AA, R 3268 (Saxony). 16. On this, see the election campaign advertisement in the Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 272, 30 August 1903, 15. 17. Stresemann to Schier, 26 May 1914, PA AA, NL Stresemann 138. 18. Das Vaterland 17 (1905): 211. (Landesbibliothek Dresden). In addition, Stresemann and Schulze provided the VSI with “black lists” containing the names of all members of the Saxon state parliament who were not willing “to support the rightful interests of industry” (election campaign advertisement of the VSI in Das Vaterland 17 [1905]: 365–67.). 19. Deutsche Freisinnige Partei, DFP, German Radical Party, left-wing liberal party from 1884 to 1893. 20. Das Vaterland 17 (1905): 167. 21. Prussian legation in Dresden (Hohenlohe) to Bethmann Hollweg, 2 December 1909, PA AA, R 3296 (Saxony). 22. On this, see the account of the (Conservative) newspaper Das Vaterland 17, no. 36 (5 August 1905: 429–30, 429: “Doubtlessly against the will of some individuals, who preferred the golden middle road, an eloquent and ruthless left-liberal group soon seized the leadership. The prudent elements, who usually allow those to speak who are not able to do anything, were intimidated. In the end, the voice of the inexperienced left-liberal youth, expressed quickly and with smug confidence, prevailed over the mature knowledge of experienced Saxon industrialists.”

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23. Internal memo, Stresemann, n.d., PA AA, NL Stresemann 120. 24. Pohl, “Die Nationalliberalen in Sachsen,” 203. In 1912, one of the National Liberals’ “begging letters” was leaked to the Social Democrats, who attacked Stresemann vigorously in the 1912 elections. See Schmeitzner, Alfred Fellisch 1884-1973, 66n204. 25. The National Liberals even remembered that women were now part of the electorate. See Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 13 (16 January 1912): 10: “To the Dresden women donations by women.” 26. See “Der Kampf um Dresden-Altstadt,” Sächsische Nationale Blätter 1912, no. 4 (27 January 1912): 21. See also the letter from the VSI to Conrad Niethammer, 16 December 1912, SWA, N 12, 487/15. This contains the request for Stresemann to provide his car for these election campaign activities. 27. Sächsische Nationale Blätter, no. 11 (1913). 28. On this, see the report in the Sächsische Nationale Blätter, no. 4 (1912): 21–22 on the Reichstag election campaign in Dresden in 1912 for Stresemann’s party friend Heinze. The newspaper mentions 1,700 election workers who “dragged” people to the polls, 120 cars, and, first and foremost, “the good, willing Dresden students who distributed ballots at the polling stations on this chilly day in January and who withstood the attempts of the Social Democrats to intimidate and persuade them thanks to their strength of character.” 29. Dresdner Woche: Wochenschrift für Dresdner Leben, Verkehr, Gerichtswesen 4, no. 3 (18 January 1912). 30. Whether the initiatives to support Stresemann came from “above” or from “below” on the grassroots level remains controversial. In Stresemann’s case, it can be shown that the leadership of various supporting associations was mobilized on the initiative of the National Liberal leadership (Stresemann). This activated what had been a relatively passive base of followers. Thus, the process was mainly “top-down.” The example of the Navy League, however, shows that the National Liberals’ manipulation strategy was sometimes directed against the leading Conservative figures and was thus “bottom up.” Moreover, the members of the Pan-German League could no longer be manipulated “from above” in the 1909 election campaign, despite the pressure of the Pan-German members around Stresemann and the threat that he and other important National Liberal Reichstag members would leave the league under these circumstances. 31. Table in Pohl, “Politischer Liberalismus und Wirtschaftsbürgertum,” 111. 32. Figures in Pohl, “Politischer Liberalismus und Wirtschaftsbürgertum,” 106. 33. The class divisions are based on the model by Schüren, Mobilität, with data comprised of membership in the city of Dresden. See, on the method, Schüren, 124n53. 34. StA Chemnitz, AHS Annaberg, Annaberg, no. 49. In his chronicle, Miethke mentioned on page 25 that Stresemann gave speeches to voters in sixty-five locations. 35. StA Chemnitz, AHS Annaberg, Annaberg, no. 49. 36. “Es grüßen den Führer die Seinen all, / Zusammengeschmiedet in Kampf und Qual / Wohin er uns führet, wie folgen vereint / Durch Arbeit und Opfer dem Führer und Freund! / Uns alle umfasst ja ein einiges Band / Das teure, das deutsche, das heilige Land!” Considering the form and content of the song, it is not unlikely that Stresemann himself was the author. 37. National-liberaler Verein, Mitgliederverzeichnis 1888, 5. 38. See. the motion of the VSI to the Dresden city council, 8 September 1903, Stadtarchiv Dresden, Wahl- und Listenamt I—3, no. 8. 39. See Albert Südekum’s very clear remarks on this matter from a Social Democratic perspective: Was man aus Sachsen lernen kann (n.d.), BA Koblenz, NL Südekum 83; see also Fischer, “Der Kurs der Politik in Sachsen.” 40. Such a political concession is even more striking when one considers that the democratization of suffrage did not benefit the Liberals due to their small electorate.

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41. Sächsische Industrie 7, 25 December 1910, 85. 42. Clearly, Stresemann’s National Liberals considered themselves the victors of this reform, not least for purely self-serving reasons, as the Bavarian envoy pointed out: “The National Liberals did very well in the recent elections to the Saxon state parliament, even better than according to their actual strength. They have entered the Saxon parliament infused with a sense of triumph and consider themselves the ‘leading’ party. However, the entire Saxon government machine from top to bottom is still shaped by the longstanding era of Conservative majorities; they still do not take into account the new parliamentary situation, partly wittingly, partly unwittingly. The Conservative parliamentary group of the parliament also revels in its desired and alleged role as the legitimate masters.” (Report of the Bavarian legation from 27 February 1910, HStA Munich, Bayerische Gesandtschaft Dresden 968). 43. See the report (with comprehensive research by the Statistical Office) from 29 August 1904, regarding Prussia; Prussian legation to Dresden to the Royal Ministry of Foreign Affairs, PA AA, R 3295 (Saxony). 44. See Max Langhammer, Die Vertretung der Industrie in den sächsischen Ständekammern (Dresden, 1904); also “Eingabe des VSI an die Zweite Ständekammer des Königreichs Sachsen, February 1910,” Anlage zum Bericht über die Generalversammlung des VSI (Dresden, 1910), 134–50. 45. Nationalliberales Vereinsblatt 4 (1907): 227, emphasis in original. 46. Ritter, “Wahlrecht,” 84–86; and Ritter and Niehuss. Wahlgeschichtliches Arbeitsbuch. Materialien, 167. Interestingly, plural suffrage was brought up for discussion as a genuine alternative once again in 2014 (in this case for parents) by Social Democratic Minister Schwesig. 47. For a well-balanced account of the electoral reform, see Lässig, Wahlrechtskampf und Wahlrechtsreform. 48. Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 91–92. 49. On this and the following, see Pohl, “Politischer Liberalismus,” 110. However, it must be stressed that the rigid structures in Saxony were loosened only gradually. For example, the National Liberals were unable to pass a new elementary school bill. 50. For full details on the VSI, see material in Stadtmuseum Löbau, V 26173 CS. 51. On Stresemann’s role in the post-restructuring BdI after 1911, see H.-P. Ullmann, Der Bund der Industriellen, 71–73. See also H.-P. Ullmann, Interessenverbände in Deutschland, 79–81; and Hohberg, “Bund der Industriellen (BdI), 1895–1919 (1920).” 52. Ullmann, Der Bund der Industriellen, 73. Ullmann suggests that Stresemann and Schneider had been adversaries and Schneider would have liked to take over management. Despite this possible temporary disagreement, both men maintained friendly relations. 53. Wright, Stresemann, 39–40. 54. Mielke, Der Hansa-Bund für Gewerbe, 9. 55. Ibid., 196. A letter about tax issues illustrates Stresemann’s influence on all these associations: “I have mainly authored the statements of the Hanseatic League as well as of the BdI . . . in the context of their tax fights.” Stresemann to Lehmann, 9 July 1913, PA AA, NL Stresemann 13. 56. Mielke, Der Hansa-Bund für Gewerbe, 195. 57. For detailed reports on the 10th and 12th General Assembly of the VSI (1 and 12 March 1912 and 9 and 10 March 1914), see the special issues of the Sächsische Industrie (ed. Gustav Stresemann) 8, no. 13 (10 April 1912): 193–203; and 10, no. 12 (20 March 1914): 177–97. 58. Quoted in Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 47 (18 February 1909): 3. 59. For details, see the report of the Dresdener Neueste Nachrichten, no. 242 (5 September 1911): 3. The mayor “pointed out how very honored the city of Dresden was by the visit of the League, which he thanked wholeheartedly for coming. Dresden was especially grateful to the industrialists. The members of the Association of Saxon Industrialists who were also members of the League had presented the city of Dresden with this beautiful silverware, which was used

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60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67. 68. 69.

70. 71. 72. 73.

74. 75. 76.

77.

at tonight’s dinner, as a gift a year ago on the occasion of the opening of the city hall.” The mastermind behind this was, again, the city councilor and legal adviser Gustav Stresemann. Internal memo in Stadtarchiv Dresden (Johannes März), R 3.1 DR U 34/11; list of guests of honor. For the following quote, see L. F. Karl Schmidt (compiler), Die Kleinwohnungsbauten des Verbandes Sächs: Industrieller auf dem Gelände der Internationalen Hygieneausstellung Dresden 1911, Stadtarchiv Dresden, NL Robert Wuttke, no. IV 28. Dresdner Neueste Nachrichten, no. 240 (3 September 1911): 3. Festschrift zur Feier des zehnjährigen Bestehens des VSI, Dresden, am 11. und 12. März 1912 (Dresden, 1912), 24. The author of this glowing description was most probably Stresemann himself, who also edited all the reports about this conference. Festschrift 1912, 74. Sächsische Industrie 10, no. 12 (General Assembly issue) (20 March 1914): 1. Protokoll (Proceedings), 189. “Then his Majesty the King talked to Dr. Stresemann for a while about the content of his speech.” See on this 25 Jahre Arbeit im Dienste der Sächsischen Industrie and der Sächsischen Wirtschaft durch den Verband Sächsischer Industrieller, 1902–1927, n.d., n.p. (SAW, F 879), 68: “It was a great appreciation of the important role the association plays in Saxony that King Friedrich August and his state ministers appeared at the general assembly of the VSI in 1914 and listened with great interest to the brilliant speech of Dr. Stresemann on the topic: ‘Saxon Industry and the World Market.’” Protokoll (Proceedings) Sächsische Industrie, 192. Starke, “Dresden in der Vorkriegszeit,” 98. In 1908, Stresemann had put “gentle pressure” on Beutler and pointed out that the VSI would be quite displeased if the mayor did not treat the association appropriately. Stresemann to Beutler, 7 January 1908, and Beutler’s reply only two days later, 9 January 1908, Stadtarchiv Dresden, Hauptkanzlei 2.3.1, VSI Ortsgruppe DD 444/07 D.R. In 1913, the VSI even managed to arrange that it be asked for expert opinions regarding any issues in Dresden industry (decision of the city council on 25 February 1913), Stadtarchiv Dresden, Hauptkanzlei 2.3.1, VSI Ortsgruppe DD 444/07 D.R. Stresemann even owned some shares of the Leipziger Tageblatt; Stresemann to Niethammer, 19 October 1917, SWA, NL Niethammer, Mappe 493, 12. On this, see Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?,” 150–51. See the membership list of 1916, Kiel 1916, Institut für Weltwirtschaft und Seeverkehr. In 1912, Stresemann received a lot of bad news from his (old) family. See his diary entry from 15 April 1912 (quoted in Kolb, Stresemann, 11): “Complete collapse of the Streubel marriage [Stresemann’s brother-in-law], Arthur Streubel’s fate, Richard [Stresemann’s brother] still out of a job—bleak prospects for the family as far as one can see.” Richard passed away a few months later as a result of alcohol misuse. On this, I follow Kolb’s line of argument. For the following paragraph, see Kolb, Stresemann, 37–38. See also Wright, Stresemann, 54–55. See the appeal by “patriotic women,” PA AA, NL Stresemann 86, January 1912: “We patriotic women from the Erz Mountains, together with our husbands, deeply sympathize with this outstanding man in the hour of his great loss. . . . We call on all women and maidens who feel like we do to donate to a Dr. Stresemann trust, which will be made freely available to our dear former member of the Reichstag for a trust in the constituency (p.p. Clara Slesina).” See Kolb, Stresemann, 32: “Stresemann found a fatherly friend and political teacher in Ernst Bassermann, the party and faction leader, who was twice his age.” After Bassermann’s death in 1917, Stresemann made a natural successor. A modern biography of Bassermann has yet to be written.

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78. Quoted in Kolb, Stresemann, 37–38. 79. Internal memo by Stresemann (on internal memo by Fuhrmann), 24 March 1912, PA AA, NL Stresemann 136. 80. The association was founded in Dresden in 1900 and supported Prussian nationals in need. It was quite a big association (1909: 575 members), with many prominent members and donors (Prussian envoy, factory owners, councilors of commerce). Stresemann joined the organization after 1903 (Jahresberichte des Preußischen Hilfsvereins zu Dresden, 1913–1915, Hist. Sax. G. 0364,007. F). See HStA Dresden, Amtsgericht Dresden, Vereinsregister, vol. 1395, no. 261. In 1903, the chairman of the association was the physician Dr. Ritter, one of Stresemann’s good acquaintances he kept in contact with from various business deals concerning the Dresden liberal press. 81. Kolb, Stresemann, 122.

Chapter 5

A LIFE IN TURMOIL

S A “Hero” on the “Home Front” I believe I am in agreement with you that the National Liberal Party must remain a party in the political center. Not least due to its standing with the masses of the electorate, it needs to uphold both the liberal principle and its steadfast national conviction. In this respect, I [Stresemann] face difficulties from two directions. On the one hand, certain circles of the smokestack industry . . . are actually as conservative as the right wing of the Conservatives. On the other hand, there is a very influential group in our party that is infected by pacifist-democratic ideas to such an extent that they have hardly anything in common with the old tradition of the party.1

Nation and Nationalism The conflicts over war aims and political reforms that this letter implies not only occupied Stresemann daily during the war and beyond, but also moved the National Liberals and German politics on the whole.2 Stresemann’s judgment mattered because he had already regained such a status by the beginning of the war that both his own party and the entire Reich weighed and respected his views. Only two years earlier, in 1912, Stresemann’s career seemed to be over even before his Weimar years had started.3 However, he did not give up but kept fighting, with his former home state of Saxony backing him in Berlin.4 This support, his ambitions, and his unwavering mindset as a social climber were his bedrock and enabled him to continue to be engaged in economic and general politics, even without a Reichstag mandate. He was young and could wait (and this time he had to), even though waiting was not his strong suit. After several failed Notes from this chapter begin on page 187.

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attempts, the Reichstag special elections in 1914 gave him a chance to reenter the Reichstag. From then on, his career sky-rocketed. He not only became Bassermann’s “young man” in the Reichstag, but he also soon took over the coordination of the National Liberal’s parliamentary work since the party leader was frequently absent from Berlin. Thus, it was only too natural for Stresemann to become the most important figure in the party after Bassermann’s death on 23 September 1917: the deputy leader of the Central Committee of the NLP and the leader of the party faction in the Reichstag. The war facilitated his rapid rise in national politics and allowed him to become one of the most significant members of the German Reichstag. In this respect, he was a political “war profiteer.”5 Stresemann saw the National Liberals as the party for representing the German nation-state and serving as one of its pillars. “Nation” and “National Liberal” were almost synonymous in his view. He was convinced that Germany had a special role to play on the stage of world politics. Like most National Liberals, he hoped that Germany would be able to gain a better “place in the sun” if it exercised a powerful foreign policy. Thus, the “almost unconditional identification with the idea of the authoritarian nation-state on a global scale” constituted a continuum for Stresemann6 that he never fundamentally questioned.7 As a result, he supported the policies of Reich Chancellor Bernd Fürst von Bülow, whom he held in high esteem for as long as he lived, and whom he would have liked to see return to the chancellorship after Bethmann Hollweg’s fall in July 1917—something Stresemann had helped to bring about. By generally identifying with the state, Stresemann shared common ground with the Conservatives, despite all their other differences, and even more with the National Socialists. Stresemann believed that for Germany to achieve its foreign policy goals, it would require a strong battle fleet. This view derived primarily from his political status rather than his role as a Saxon legal adviser, since the industry segments he represented did not initially benefit from the establishment of the fleet. The strongest argument for this, in his view, was that Germany could only stand up to Great Britain if it had a strong fleet; at that time, Great Britain was Germany’s most important competitor, seeming to hamstring its international rise the most. The fleet would protect German overseas trade and new German colonies that would inevitably be acquired. Stresemann promoted this assumption first and foremost in cooperation with the national associations. In the Navy League, he was widely regarded as a hardliner. Although Anglo-German relations were shaped by a vigorous rivalry, Stresemann still advocated a peaceful solution for a long time. In 1910, he argued with conviction before the Reichstag that both nations were economically so strongly intertwined that both would lose in the event of war. He was entirely correct in this assessment, as became evident after World War I.8 Against the backdrop of increasing political tensions between the two states, he tended ever more toward

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the view of irreconcilable differences. These considerations from 1910 show that Stresemann’s political thinking was in larger, global categories prior to World War I when he was still a “regional” politician in Saxony—categories that would help shape his foreign policy in the Weimar period. Stresemann’s world view also included an aggressive colonial policy, which he and his fellow party members deemed necessary not only for political and ideological power but also for economic and cultural reasons. Even though colonies would earn no profit in the short term, they were worth striving for. In the long run, they would become bargaining chips within the international power game. If Germany did not engage in colonialism, “growth markets outside the European continent” would “remain inaccessible,” according to his line of argument.9 “We have to safeguard our rights in this division of entire countries and continents; otherwise we will be on the brink of the abyss. If we do not bring ourselves to act now, we will forfeit our place in the sun forever.”10 Some scornful remarks on colonial policy that he directed against Social Democrats in 1908 must be understood in this context. If Christopher Columbus had been a Social Democrat, Stresemann scoffed, “he would have asked the Indians who lived there for their permission to have a brief look around and to compile some maps for him to present in Madrid. Otherwise he would have returned home as soon as possible because he was not allowed to contemplate the idea of acquiring territory rights where another tribe had already settled.”11 The arrogance and outright racism manifested in these remarks apparently did not bother Stresemann or most of the National Liberals. In their view, Germany was supposed to expand, and “German culture” was to be exported to the whole world, including to the colonies, no matter what. The bourgeois-liberal value system, Stresemann and his friends argued, deserved to be spread all around the world, just like German industrial commodities. “German global politics” was also always supposed to be a “German cultural politics.” Stresemann’s desire for national greatness was increasingly contaminated by Social Darwinist ideas over the course of the following years. Due to escalating global (economic) conflicts, he believed there would only be winners or losers in the long run.12 It followed that Germany had to prevail on this battlefield, vigorously and by any available means. Thus, Stresemann and many other National Liberals were, indeed, prepared to accept the possibility of going to war.13 The National Liberals increasingly perceived the German nation as under threat, hampered in and politically excluded from the economic conquest of the world—even surrounded. Obviously, this view did not hinder the decision to venture a war in 1914. However, the majority of National Liberals did not deliberately work toward this end. Stresemann, for instance, was caught completely by surprise.14 Nothing in his political remarks from 1914 indicates that he expected an imminent military conflict; otherwise he would not have planned a second journey to the United States.15

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Considering the mix of National Liberal ideas with its various desires and actual interests, it is easy to see that the National Liberal Party, almost without reservation, supported the emperor’s “Burgfrieden” policy16 announced in August 1914. “It will come as no surprise to learn that German liberalism as a whole shared a pathos-filled longing for national unification, which no longer recognized parties, only defenders of the Fatherland. Those who had always defended the idea of the nation as the highest guiding principle of political action could not distance themselves from the longing for unity which broke out with the war.”17 Thus, Stresemann and the National Liberals did not dwell on little details like the question of war guilt. Stresemann had a clear response to such criticisms: The intrinsic reason [for the war] was surely England’s eagerness to form a strong coalition of powers against us in order to wrestle us down. We pre-empted such efforts, since we left no doubt that we were prepared and willing to attack immediately after the murder in Sarajevo. One cannot object to our actions when one considers that each additional year would have diminished our chances of victory, and, after two years, might have made our victory completely impossible.18

War and Society The war claimed huge numbers of victims on the battlefields, but its social and economic repercussions in Germany were also severe and difficult to predict, as was the outcome of the conflict. It generated huge problems for Stresemann and the National Liberals, thereby influencing his decisions. Stresemann’s politics and his political management during the war can only be understood in light of the economic and social situation of the bourgeoisie. The war that started in August 1914 almost completely destroyed the existing international trade system, which had contributed to the wealth of (nearly) all warring nations.19 The economic war imposed by the Allied Powers hit the German Reich particularly hard. Stresemann could have at least anticipated this development, given his knowledge of national economics, and yet, he did not care much about this aspect in his belief in the necessity of war. As a result of the Blockade of Germany—the British embargo to restrict the supply of goods to Imperial Germany—the Reich was almost completely excluded from international trade. This generated heavy losses for many German entrepreneurs. Had it been peacetime, they could have gained much more profit than they did in the years prior to the war. Thus, contrary to general opinion, the war did not mean good business in many economic branches, nor for large segments of the Saxon manufacturing industry.20 In this field, Stresemann had to do a lot of persuading to keep the VSI (as well as the BdI) in line. Within a short period of time, the gross national product of the Reich decreased by almost two-thirds, and individual real earnings dropped on aver-

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age by more than one-third. Thus, most social groups in Germany were economic losers in the war. However, different classes suffered to different degrees,21 including the bourgeois camp. For example, there was a huge gap between some segments of the economic bourgeoisie and the educated bourgeoisie—a circumstance that severely jeopardized the unity of the National Liberals. Stresemann, as the party leader, thus faced a Herculean task. Some members of the economic bourgeoisie who were engaged in the war industry saw a rapid economic upturn and maximum profits.22 Others, like Stresemann, who relied on a wide network of contacts and were well-informed, smart speculators, were able to earn a lot of money with clever investments. The war not only spared them sorrows but allowed some to even live in luxury, although Stresemann and his family did not. Despite the ideology of a German people’s community that Stresemann promoted, the dividing line between rich and poor was clearly visible. The consumer goods industry and the economic bourgeois members who relied on this sector—a rather large group of National Liberal voters in Saxony—experienced a rapid decline. Many businesses fought to survive.23 “Broad segments of the consumer goods industry, in particular, textile production and residential construction, virtually caved in.”24 This was a challenge for Stresemann particularly in his role as an economic politician. The skilled trades sector and almost the entire “old Mittelstand” collapsed. The term “proletarization of the Mittelstand,” coined by German historian Jürgen Kocka, aptly describes the consequences of this development, which also deeply affected the National Liberals.25 Among the educated bourgeoisie—“the war left a devastating trail.”26 Higherranking civil servants, an important pillar of the National Liberal Party, had to put up with their real earnings effectively being halved during the course of the war. They were one of the main economic losers of the war. Middle-ranking and lower-ranking civil servants also suffered losses, but to a lesser extent. Their income decreased by more than a third. This explains why these strata insisted on a victorious peace up to the bitter end. They rightly assumed that only such an outcome would compensate them for all their losses. Precisely because they were fighting for their economic survival, they were not prepared to support political reforms that might have resulted in loss of political influence in addition to their economic losses. This was something Stresemann had to consider. Their fear of loss of status outweighed political realism and political reason. Stresemann was apparently swayed by this perspective for a long time.

National Liberal Politics during the War While Stresemann championed an aggressive foreign policy, his domestic political views were rather moderate. As he had previously wished for in Saxony, he

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wished for a people’s community on the national level that would embrace all strata and classes; that is, more participation for all citizens including the working class, even if this was to be as restricted as possible. For Stresemann, the social unity of the nation was “the precondition for its success on a global scale,” as Thomas Wagner put it.27 This “national harmony” was supposed to be achieved by both integrating the working class and increasing prosperity for everyone.28 According to Stresemann, the key challenge both then and in the future was to incorporate laborers influenced by Social Democratic ideas into the nation and to offer them concessions, though not democratic suffrage. He considered modified plural suffrage along the lines of the Saxon electoral system for Prussia and the factual recognition of the Free Trade Unions as suitable means for achieving this goal. Just like the majority of his fellow party members, Stresemann did not demand the complete parliamentarization and democratization of the Reich until well into 1918. For him, the most important issue was supporting and strengthening the social security of the middle classes, the National Liberals’ most important electoral base.29 During the war, sharp conflicts emerged within the National Liberal Party over the German war aims and a peace treaty (foreign policy ideas), as well as over the question of domestic political reforms (the domestic issue of democratization of the Reich), specifically, the abolition of the Prussian three-class voting system. Thus, the Burgfrieden to present a united front that had been announced by the emperor and supported by the National Liberals did not last long. Stresemann had to constantly attempt to absorb the severe conflicts within his party, to moderate between its various groups, and to present a united National Liberal position in public.30 This was not an easy task, particularly since Stresemann leaned toward the hawks regarding war aims and toward the doves concerning political reforms. Stresemann was a ferocious whip in the debate over war aims and one of the most rabid annexationists. This attitude would later cause him a lot of trouble in his career in the Weimar Republic. With great conviction, he shared the same exaggerated demands regarding war aims as the Prussian National Liberals, the CdI—not a natural ally—and the Pan-German League. At the same time, he was able to sway the BdI to this political course, which was, indeed, a masterly tactical performance.31 Not least because of the economic interests he represented as the VSI’s legal adviser and as a member of the BdI’s executive committee, Stresemann demanded a strong Germany that would be able to hold its own against Great Britain, the main enemy, as a world power. “Lasting peace can only be a peace that makes us strong so that the global coalition that is currently attacking us will not dare to engage in another military conflict with us in the future. In this sense, the German people are striving to safeguard the German borders and to expand them.”32

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Among the cornerstones of these demands euphemistically referred to as the “safeguarding of the German borders” were, among other things, new settlement territories in East and West, German control over Belgium, France’s economic dependence on Germany, and Calais functioning as a German Gibraltar against England. These gains were to be rounded off with war reparations to be paid by the enemies. In 1915, Stresemann was thinking of roughly 50 billion reichsmarks.33 He did not wish to follow his mentor Albert Ballin’s34 idea of implementing a war tax in order to reduce Germany’s pile of debt even during the war.35 Stresemann probably did not want to further burden the National Liberal base, which had already suffered enough without such increased taxes. As Stresemann was well aware, these excessive war aims could only be achieved if Germany came out the victor. He was convinced of this political aim until autumn 1918. He also thought that Germany would be able to continue exploiting the occupied territories after its victory to economically stabilize the Reich.36 These were ideas that Nazi Germany put into practice twenty-five years later on a much larger scale and with a completely different objective.37 At any rate, these ideas put Stresemann in the right wing of his party.38 Until late into the year 1917, most Germans shared these views, except for large segments of the Social Democratic working class. It is, however, striking that the majority of National Liberals, including Gustav Stresemann, continued to champion these exorbitant war aims and dream of a victorious peace even after 1917, when prospects for a speedy end to the war had severely diminished. In light of these ideas, Reich Chancellor Bethmann Hollweg, who was rather hesitant in pursuing these aims, was Stresemann’s main adversary.39 “The fact that Bethmann Hollweg hesitated for many and good reasons in the question of the submarine war, that he wanted to avoid declaring German war aims publically under any circumstances and did not rule out a reconciliation with England, made him the National Liberals’ favorite adversary.”40 Thus, Stresemann did everything to overthrow Bethmann Hollweg. To this end, he even cooperated with political opponents like Matthias Erzberger from the Center Party. While Stresemann disagreed with Bethmann Hollweg’s hesitant war policy, Erzberger objected to his unassertive peace policy. The Oberste Heeresleitung (Army Supreme Command; OHL) and the Crown Prince were also involved in this rebellious opposition, with the result—positive for Stresemann—that Bethmann Hollweg resigned in July 1917. Stresemann’s view that the chancellor was too readily inclined to make domestic political concessions to the Social Democrats was another reason for his opposition. “I [Stresemann] criticize him in particular for giving away equal suffrage [to the Social Democrats] without any conditions. This decision of the Prussian Crown was so historically momentous that one could have and ought to have demanded the most substantial concessions from the Social Democratic Party.”41

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This was exactly what the chancellor had failed to do, though, so that, according to Stresemann, he had to go as soon as possible. Stresemann’s hugely radical war aims upset not only parts of his party, but also many of his old acquaintances such as the Dresdner banking family Arnhold. The war and the war aims were much discussed topics at the meetings of the supervisory committee of the Sachsenwerk (Stresemann attended most of them as a shareholder and member of the supervisory committee), particularly after the official part of the meetings had ended. On these occasions, opposing views were vehemently exchanged, not least because Georg Arnhold—unlike Stresemann— was decidedly pacifistic and had made several public appearances with pacifist organizations before the war. At one of these meetings, Georg Arnhold criticized Stresemann’s view on war aims as downright “criminal.”42 During the discussion, Stresemann had emphasized that the war should not end “before the black-white-red flag is flying over the crenellations of Calais” and that, after Germany conquered France, this deposit should never been given back43—a typical remark for Stresemann at that time. The pacifist Arnhold was apparently shocked by this view and made this very clear to Stresemann. Subsequently, and with relish, Stresemann called Arnhold a “war profiteer,” that is, someone who did not fare too badly from the war. Arnhold, in turn, thought it an irony of fate . . . that I as a resolute pacifist have to profit—albeit indirectly—from producing munitions. This proves that, against the backdrop of my conviction, it is very difficult for me to belong to the circle of those who profit financially from the war. . . . I can assure you [Stresemann] that if it were within my power to end the war today, I would not only give what I have earned, but much, much more.44

This exchange revealed the strong political divisions between “hawks” and “doves” not only within the National Liberal Party but also among Saxon industrialists. Accusations and counter-accusations piled up.45 One critical remark by Arnhold that was not even defamatory prompted a ridiculous conflict in which Stresemann came across as rather less than radiant and even like a genuine troublemaker.46 Despite a formal reconciliation, it took a long time for the gap between the two opponents to be bridged. The interplay between ideology, inflated sensitivity, and irritability, as well as Stresemann’s lack of poise, can be readily discerned in this incident. The social and economic capital that Stresemann had built up through arduous efforts and his relationship of trust with the powerful banking family were seriously undermined by the conflict, which was a heavy blow for him. Only after years did Stresemann and Georg Arnhold start to communicate again.47 The argument between them shows that Stresemann was unusually inflexible in this matter so that he was hardly able to separate the “cause” from “persons.”

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Concerning domestic reforms, Stresemann disagreed with his allies regarding the question of war aims but stood together with Georg Arnhold in advocating substantial changes, as mentioned above. They took the view that since the Social Democrats had proven themselves loyal to emperor and Reich by approving the war bonds, one had to acknowledge their patriotism and love of the Fatherland. In order to reward and foster this attitude, one should give them more political power. However, this would have required constitutional reform in Prussia and, to a certain extent, in the Reich, where the legislature would have had to be granted more rights. Given these demands, which by no means jeopardized the existing political system, Stresemann was regarded as a National Liberal “lefty,” an avowed opponent of the party’s right wing. There were several sources of Stresemann’s willingness to implement reforms. First, he wished to reward the Social Democrats for their behavior during the war to keep their allegiance. “Reasonable” Social Democrats were to be strengthened and bound more closely to the German state; the mistakes of the Anti-Socialist Laws were not to be repeated. Second, Stresemann brought his positive experiences in Saxony to bear on the issue. In this case, as well, he was willing to make necessary concessions in order to prevent worse consequences, namely, the introduction of democratic suffrage in Prussia. The changing war situation also added pressure. For a long time, Stresemann had wished to postpone reforms until after the war, but the political situation within the Reich from 1917 onward made it necessary to act earlier. Stresemann realized that the Social Democrats had to be appeased as soon as possible. “If we postpone the issue of suffrage until after the war, the outcome will be much more radical than it will be now. Back then, I still hoped that a reasonable plural suffrage modeled on the Saxon example could be implemented. . . . Then we could have avoided equal suffrage.”48 Strengthening the German people’s community by including “reasonable” Social Democrats within it, however, was part of a medium-term strategy. First, it would facilitate future peace negotiations. Second, if the terms of the peace accord could not fulfill everyone’s wishes, the parties could be drawn into the circle of those responsible for it. And third, it seemed “necessary to involve Social Democrats in the political work for the period after the conclusion of peace, so that they will participate in the great tax reform, and refrain from merely engaging in negative criticism regarding social policies. Otherwise, in my opinion, the Reich and Crown face risks that can by no means still be ignored.”49 Stresemann clearly anticipated the social challenges and financial exertions that the Reich would face even after a victorious war. With these analyses, he showed himself early on to be a political realist who was willing to accept, if not even actively encourage, the (absolutely) necessary steps regarding domestic politics. However, Stresemann did not achieve this goal.

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In January 1918, he expressed his view of the necessity of equal suffrage with resignation: I have been opposed to equal suffrage, and I still don’t think it is as ideal a system as its fanatical advocates claim. However, we no longer operate in a vacuum in which we could dwell on theories of an absolutely just suffrage. At the moment, equal suffrage is a necessity for the Prussian state and for maintaining and strengthening the monarchy.50

In making this statement, Stresemann proved himself to be a wise realist. Thus, it is even more difficult to understand why his position on foreign policy matters and on the issue of war aims was so inflexible. It raises the question of why a clever economic politician like Stresemann—a leading political figure with the best connections and familiarity with the United States, and an advocate of political reforms within the Reich—did not recognize the signs of the times and completely lacked any realistic assessment of Germany’s chances.51 There was probably an array of reasons for this. For example, Stresemann’s expanding foreign policy aims were not uncommon for a National Liberal. Most National Liberals believed that this was the only way they would receive sufficient compensation for the war costs up to then and maintain or regain their previous social status after the end of the war. Two-thirds of the National Liberal members of the Reichstag and the overwhelming majority of the party’s executive committee endorsed the idea that only a victory would bring lasting peace as suggested by Bassermann and Stresemann. They all assumed that World War I was “also the most gigantic economic war of all time,” which had to be won at all costs because anything less could lead to Germany’s demise.52 Apparently, Stresemann did not want to imagine any other outcome for Germany’s “struggle for survival.” The idea that Germany needed sufficient compensation for its war sacrifices was held not only by National Liberals but also by large segments of the Social Democratic Party and the Free Trade Unions. Stresemann and his party also found themselves in the company of Friedrich Naumann, whose plans for Central Europe reached far beyond Germany’s borders up to then, and Max Weber, who also demanded a “larger Germany.”53 In short, these war aims were commonplace in Germany and blinded many to the realities at hand. Another factor was Stresemann’s optimism, which nothing could dampen. In September 1918, he still believed Germany could be victorious, and he believed military personnel, considering himself to be their friend and confidant—he wanted to believe all of this. In his diary, he wrote about a lengthy conversation with Erich Ludendorff and Paul von Hindenburg, which he described as one of the most moving events of his life. He characterized the two commanders-in-chief as outstanding figures whose judgment he could fully trust.54 This demonstrates again his absolute blindness when it came to the ideas of the military.55

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Whoever dared to contradict Stresemann’s optimism (such as Chancellor Bethmann Hollweg or the opponents of the unrestricted submarine warfare) were weaklings and prophets of doom who had to be combated.56 His emotions outweighed rational analysis in this situation. His blindness became especially apparent in regard to submarine warfare, which piqued the annoyance of the United States and suggested that its entry into the war was imminent (Stresemann, as an economic expert, of all people should have recognized the significance of this development).57 Yet he utterly disregarded all the reasonable objections of his good friends Albert Ballin and Ludwig Stollwerck, who were both renowned experts on the United States.58 As a result, unlike the majority of the Progress Party, the Center Party, and the Social Democrats, Stresemann and the National Liberals did not advocate a peace without annexations until far into 1918. By early 1915, Bassermann and Stresemann were certain that it would be impossible “to ever create a world empire with Bethmann and Arnold Wahnschaffe.”59 They stuck with this view.60 At this point in time, one hardly could have foreseen that a man like Stresemann, who in all seriousness “[would] accept the deployment of a poison bomb and the death of half a million inhabitants of London if that would bring peace and save the lives of half a million Germans,”61 as he explained in the main committee of the Reichstag on 1 February 1917, would receive the Nobel Peace Prize less than ten years later. It is hardly possible to completely fathom the reasons for the blindness of Stresemann and the majority of the National Liberals. Considering this firm belief in Germany’s victory until far into the autumn of 1918, it is clear that the crushing defeat hit him and his friends particularly hard.

Revolution and a “Fresh Start” Stresemann loved Imperial Germany. He experienced the Kingdom of Saxony as a state where he was able to have a brilliant career, where he gained political and economic power, where he did well financially, and where he seemed to have arrived as a member of the bourgeoisie. In Saxony, he was obviously able to bring his life into harmony with the expectations of others in the sense of Henning Luther. He wrote that “[t]he period of Imperial Germany was a time of uplift and greatest joy for me.”62 Thus, despite all of the restrictions, shortcomings, and downsides that he was well aware of in the Reich, his feelings toward it were more than merely of a generally positive nature. Although he would have liked to modify the political system of Imperial Germany, he found it basically useful and, above all, capable of development. Stresemann had wished to have the cabinet bound to the parliament in Berlin, which would have made the latter more important within the empire—and this,

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admittedly, had never been up for debate. Moreover, the power of the nobility, which was not based on bourgeois-liberal performance criteria, seemed almost unbreakable. The upper chambers of the state parliaments obviously remained unwavering sanctuaries that favored the tax and military privileges for the nobility. Access to positions in the state administration and to higher political posts was still blocked; bourgeois citizens, let alone Social Democrats, were disadvantaged. These were negative elements of the old system that Stresemann could not deny. However, to Stresemann’s mind, numerous positive aspects in Imperial Germany countered these negatives. He had experienced Saxony as a state where he as a social climber could actively bring about political change, where he was successful both politically and economically. As a legal adviser, he knew enough to appreciate that the capitalist order was never challenged but supported and protected by the state and its bodies against the attacks of the Social Democrats. The restrictive voting systems in the states and municipalities favored his party and kept Social Democrats out of political power. Stresemann very much approved of all this and would have been reluctant to change anything about it. Moreover, the Reich and the Saxon state had always backed the “national cause,” had supported the army and navy, and had striven for a “greater Germany.” Stresemann had pursued the same objectives. He was not radically opposed to the privileged status of the military that he trusted blindly during the war, nor did he have any objections to a constitutional monarchy (along with the emperor). The list of aspects Stresemann agreed on was endless. Thus, Stresemann’s attitude toward the Kingdom of Saxony and Imperial Germany was ambivalent, but overall very favorable.63 He did his utmost to turn Imperial Germany into an economic and political world power and had spent a great deal of money and all his emotions on German success during the Great War. He considered a greater and even more powerful Reich absolutely necessary. At the same time, he urged moderate reforms, especially during the war. Thus, he was willing to compromise with Social Democrats on the issue of electoral reform by the end of the war, as he made clear in a letter in late September 1918: We [here in Berlin] feel as if we were sitting on a powder keg. If the House of Lords rejects equal suffrage at the end of this week, then we have to expect a strike of ammunition workers that might spread all over the Reich and would result in Germany’s collapse. . . . Now it is vital to keep the firefighters [the Social Democrats] happy by offering concessions in order to extinguish the fire. Otherwise many things will perish that we never believed would ever be destroyed.64

This demand, however, came too late. His love for and belief in the imperial system had impaired his judgment for too long, so that he was unable to realistically assess the political situation in Germany in 1918. Perhaps his unwavering

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optimism outweighed his usually strong sense of reality. Consequently, the revolution that aimed to sweep away almost everything he loved must have hit him all the harder. Despite all his knowledge and experiences, Stresemann’s cleverness in politics failed him in this instance, with his judgment clouded by great expectations and burdened by tremendous fears. He misjudged the possibility of a total defeat as well as rapid revolutionary developments in Germany in late 1918. As a result, he initially had to catch up with political developments, although, paradoxically, he had, indeed, anticipated the danger of a revolution. Yet his insight came too late for him to actively intervene. The consequence was that he suddenly found himself on the sidelines. His political stance had been a complete failure across the board. The war had been utterly lost, and it was no longer an option to merely make moderate changes to the political system, which would have generated a key role for the National Liberals—just as in prewar Saxony. Stresemann’s beloved Imperial Germany was finished, beyond reviving; the monarch had fled. The old system was succeeded by the republic, which Stresemann did not much like, and, along with probably confining the National Liberals to the shadows, gave the Social Democrats he had always fought against a crucial role. It was not only Stresemann and his worldview that were shaken by the events. Equally crucial was that his career as a politician and economic leader seemed to have been called into question. For the political Left, he had become a persona non grata given his extreme war-aim demands, despite his commitment to social policies and advocacy of moderate reforms. At the same time, he could not be regarded as a staunch supporter of parliamentary democracy, either, nor could or would he support the abolition of the monarchy. Yet even within the National Liberal Party, he no longer fared well, not least due to his longstanding position as a mediator. On one side, people believed that he had not gone far enough as a reformer, and he fell out with those on the other side, such as those in heavy industry and their Conservative abettors because of precisely this zeal to engage in reforms. The situation in 1918/19 was, consequently, extremely critical for him personally. One thing he certainly was not at that point: a highly esteemed citizen accepted by his environment and at peace with himself and his life. However, this is only one side of the coin seemingly overshadowing everything else in the revolutionary year of 1918 and sending him into a temporary depression. The other side looked much brighter. Thanks to his flexibility, Stresemann was able to adapt to the new circumstances and embark on a new career. His experiences in Saxony soon helped him play a crucial role in the parliamentary democracy of the Weimar Republic, after the revolution had lost its momentum and the newly established state turned out to be a rather bourgeois-democratic republic, despite having a tinge of socialism.

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In this new political setting, Stresemann’s experiences in Imperial Germany helped him by giving him what a politician in the Weimar Republic could make good use of. Already in his time in Saxony, Stresemann had developed the elements of his later “forced republicanism.” That is, although, deep down, he mourned the demise of the undemocratic imperial system and many of its structures, he was flexible enough to at least (partially) accepting the novelties of democracy and adapting his worldview accordingly. Consequently, after some time, despite his serious concerns and often some reactionary relapses and unlike many other Conservatives and right-wing National Liberals, Stresemann became willing and able to grant the new state a trial period to at least test its viability and to use it as a political framework. Stresemann never despised the new state to the same extent as the Conservatives, who could not come to terms with the Weimar Republic. Already in Imperial Germany, he had always hoped for and tended to work toward a constitution similar to that of Weimar. Nevertheless, he would have preferred to limit the power of the Social Democrats and the Free Trade Unions, to retain undemocratic voting rights on some levels, and to minimize elements of a welfare state. But it soon became obvious that the economic system would not undergo fundamental change, and the socialists would not gain complete control over the state, which was very reassuring for him. Stresemann had always striven to achieve growth in the parliament’s power, especially when many National Liberal representatives had been elected to it. Likewise, he had no objection to guaranteeing liberal basic rights, and he had always wished to become a minister, although he had had no chance of this in Imperial Germany. The National Liberal Party in Saxony had already achieved the Weimar parliamentary level long before the war in terms of how it functioned. Therefore, Stresemann, unlike, say, the Conservatives, was particularly capable of operating in appropriate ways in the new parliamentary democracy, of combining the old and the new, of compromising with the Social Democrats, and of maintaining relations with the Conservatives at the same time. In this sense, he was quite well equipped for the new era. During the Weimar Republic, his position was still close to that of the Conservatives regarding the question of “national honor.” Just like them, he had demanded a “greater Germany” during the war and denounced the Treaty of Versailles as an unacceptable catastrophe. They certainly had a great deal in common concerning the “reason of state” and the constitution. This paved the way for potential future cooperation, although Stresemann criticized the Conservatives’ “anti-modern” attitude, their lack of understanding of the labor movement and industrial society, as well as their elitist and backward-looking political ideas. For that, he was too much of a “social climber” and knew only too well what it meant to be excluded by the elites and not to be one of them.

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On the other hand, he respected the Social Democrats (albeit grudgingly), as mostly reliable partners, for example, in the attempt to improve the international standing of industrial Germany, to prevail over the excessive interests of the agriculturalists, and to maintain the rights of the cities toward the rural areas. The moderate (and, in Stresemann’s eyes, very hesitant) Social Democrats were the best guarantors against the threat of nationalization. Likewise, he agreed with Social Democrats on many educational and cultural policies and had tried out alliances with them, which had been successful, in the prewar Saxon parliament. Stresemann felt the same way about Social Democrats as he later would about the republic on the whole. He took them as an unfortunate given. However, he fought fiercely against socialist experiments that challenged the independence of capital and the economic system. So how did Stresemann achieve this seemingly impossible “revival” in the Weimar Republic? In this context, I will examine four aspects in somewhat more detail largely by following Eberhard Kolb’s line of argument:65 First, what role did Stresemann play in the planned merger of the two liberal parties, or in the failure of attempts to merge them? Second, how was Stresemann quickly able to recover from personal losses and political defeat to become the undisputed leader of a new (revived) liberal party, the German People’s Party (Deutsche Volkspartei; DVP)? Third, how can we assess his relationship to Weimar parliamentary democracy during this early time (for instance, his attitude during the Kapp Putsch, etc.), and, finally, very briefly, how did Stresemann’s connections with industrial associations develop?66

The Liberal Parties In November 1918, a merger between the two liberal parties, the German People’s Party (Deutsche Volkspartei; DVP) and the German Democratic Party (Deutsche Demokratische Partei; DDP) was in the air.67 The time to argue over war aims was over; this topic was closed. Democratic suffrage throughout the Reich could no longer be prevented, and so there was no need to discuss the matter further. From that point on, if liberalism wished to maintain political leverage given the new situation (in particular, against the backdrop of the strength of the Social Democratic Party and the new democratic suffrage), it had to speak with one voice. This appeared to be obvious in theory but proved difficult to achieve in practice. What would be the general political direction of the new liberals (left or right), who would lead the party (Democrats or National Liberals), and what role would the highly encumbered National Liberal Stresemann play (active or excluded)? From the outset of the formation of a single party, Stresemann’s future was jeopardized. In mid-November 1918, a group of heretofore barely visible left-

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liberal politicians connected with the chief editor of the liberal newspaper Berliner Tageblatt, Theodor Wolff, declared themselves the core of a new liberal party, the DDP.68 They championed policies fundamentally different from Stresemann’s own political objectives. These differences were aggravated by severe personal animosities between Wolff and Stresemann.69 That left little room for objective compromises, particularly given the wide gap between their basic political conceptions. The leadership of the new DDP thus rejected Stresemann, and he responded with bitterness and anti-Semitic comments: “Anyone [like I myself ] who has got information from the horse’s mouth and is aware of the mindset of those gentlemen who call themselves Democrats knows that the national idea is not in good hands with them and that the party backers, to put it briefly, are striving to implement the rule of mobile capital under Jewish leadership in Germany.”70 Nevertheless, he declared that he was prepared to scale down his personal involvement if the positions of the old National Liberal Party were represented adequately in the new party: I am prepared to do this [put my own wishes aside] to keep my promise, although there will probably be no National Liberal Party in the future, and although I, as an individual, will presumably be sacrificed in the merger of the National Liberal Party with the Democratic People’s Party to make room for the left-wing representatives who, unlike me, are not encumbered for having believed in German victory. But all of this party business means nothing compared to the future of our fatherland.71

However, the new DDP leadership was not prepared to make any compromises and raised strong objections to keeping on old, encumbered National Liberal leaders—a stance predominantly aimed at Gustav Stresemann. Personal insults complicated the merger, for instance, when Kurt von Kleefeld, a senior DDP negotiator, called Stresemann his “poor, unfortunate, misguided brotherin-law.”72 Robert von Friedberg, Stresemann’s old adversary, who had rejected any political reforms and had advocated annexationist war aims just like Stresemann during the war, was now among the leaders of the DDP and styled himself as an unencumbered reformer and friend of parliamentary democracy.73 That had to be galling to Stresemann. Yet Stresemann was not the only one who had difficulty identifying with the new DDP. A large segment of National Liberal Party members felt the same way. In their eyes, the DDP wished to position itself too far to the left. “Many National Liberals were as strongly opposed to the programmatic declarations of the DDP founded in the second half of November as to its leadership and did not want this new party to be their political home.”74 For them, Stresemann was still the right man as before. For his part, he remained convinced—now with a clear view of reality—of “the fundamental continuity of the basics of voter behavior.”75 Nonetheless, it proved to be difficult to give concrete shape to this abstract insight in political reality.

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Another reason to exclude Stresemann from the DDP, though, was that he still promoted his old political positions in public and was not prepared to change them, despite the new situation.76 He made no secret of the fact that he was still highly skeptical about the new democracy even after the revolution. He neither was nor wanted to be a Democrat—at least not yet. that I, personally, would refuse to stay in a party, even for only twenty-four hours, that would expect me, say, to avow myself to be a republican in general. I was a monarchist, I am a monarchist, and I will remain a monarchist. Probably the majority of our followers share this view. If those who represent the party expect a different view from me, namely, commitment to the republic, I would rather resign from public life forever than demonstrate such a lack of principle and commit to this.77

These were clear words, and they made it effectively impossible for Stresemann to join the DDP, even considering that every text Stresemann wrote was specially geared toward his respective addressee.

German People’s Party Nevertheless, Stresemann’s negative attitude toward the DDP, his mourning of bygone Imperial Germany, his (temporary) rejection of the new political situation, and, in particular, his physical, mental, and economic crisis by no means resulted in his withdrawal from politics. On the contrary, as soon as he felt better, he “made desperate efforts to maintain his political base.”78 And he intended for the new DVP to be this base. Considering the events leading up to the foundation of the DVP—including Stresemann’s exclusion from the DDP—it is clear that he did not “launch” the new liberal party according to a plan to “create a platform for satisfying his personal ambition.”79 When it became apparent that several National Liberal organizations and many individual party members were not willing to follow the DDP, Stresemann took advantage of this opportunity. Back to his old ways as a political manager, he took the lead among the discontented. “On December 15 in Berlin, in a meeting with low attendance, the Central Executive Committee [of the National Liberal Party] voted by a narrow majority in favor of a proposal made by Stresemann (33:28) to maintain the organization of the National Liberal Party, albeit under the new name and with the manifesto of the German People’s Party.”80 The foundation and the rise of the DVP is inextricably linked to Gustav Stresemann, his commitment, his political instinct, his skill as a public speaker, and, finally and predominantly, to his charisma. However, it resulted from the paradoxical situation that Stresemann, who had been in the left wing of the National Liberals—except for the discussion of war aims—became the leader of a

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party that was predominantly supported by those from the old party’s right wing. As Eberhard Kolb rightly pointed out: “When the new party of liberalism was being formed during November and December 1918, it caused an ‘imbalance’ that proved to be uncorrectable and brought about negative consequences for domestic politics in the Weimar Republic.”81

The Weimar Republic Stresemann found it difficult to accept the new republic. This became evident not least when he and his National Liberal colleagues Rudolf Heinze and Ernst von Richter sent the (former) emperor a telegram for his birthday on 27 January 1919, emphasizing their commitment to the monarchical state, criticizing the undignified departure from the monarchical principle, and thanked him for what “your majesty has accomplished true to the dictum ‘Emperorship is service to the German people.’”82 When strong criticism of this single-handed action arose from his own ranks, Stresemann tried to put his remarks into perspective. He stated that the telegram was “supposed to point out that the party would retain the monarchical idea in the sense that it considers the monarchical state the best possible political system in theory, as the National Liberal Party has done for a generation, but that it will remain on the ground of reality in practical terms.”83 This line of argument seemed far-fetched and only persuaded very obliging people. As a tactician, Stresemann had made a mistake in doing this, but as a staunch monarchist he stuck to his principles. He was less flexible in this matter, neither politically “slick,” nor an unscrupulous turncoat. In this respect, he was different from many other National Liberals, who shared most of his views but did not express them publicly.84 Stresemann, on the other hand, stuck to his old ideas for a long time, also in public, and was neither willing nor able to swiftly adjust his value system.85 One year later, when the fate of the republic hung in the balance during the Kapp Putsch, Stresemann’s reluctant attitude toward the new state became even more obvious. His behavior in this matter was far from transparent. The putschists, General Walther von Lüttwitz, Erich Ludendorff, and Wolfgang Kapp, as well as the so-called Marinebrigade (Navy Brigade) of Captain Hermann Ehrhardt spearheading the endeavor, wanted to reverse most of the achievements of the revolution and install a backward-looking state system. The putsch brought the still vulnerable republic on the verge of civil war, the Social Democratic members of the Reich government were put in mortal danger and had to flee Berlin. Only a national strike called by the trade unions put an end to the putsch. Stresemann and the DVP were (probably) not directly involved in the Kapp Putsch.86 But they behaved suspiciously and can certainly not be regarded as

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defenders of the republic.87 A DVP appeal possibly drafted by Stresemann himself88 even accused the Social Democratic government leaders of causing the collapse themselves. At the same time, the DVP accepted the “new government” (referring to the Kapp putschists) in the appeal almost without any reservations. This incident demonstrates where Stresemann stood politically, as well as who he considered to be his opponents and allies at that time. “Despite all attempts to reinterpret the events and to change the emphasis afterwards, with this, the DVP put itself in diametric opposition not only to the DDP, but also to the legitimate government of the Reich.”89 This was much more than just the famous accepting of the facts, which Stresemann was often criticized for later. It revealed a lack of love for the republic and a very one-sided view and, above all, a clear rejection of the new form of government.90 It is therefore clearly a stretch to refer to Stresemann’s actions in this as “wise politicking.” Nevertheless, in purely tactical terms, the DVP benefited from this shady behavior in the next elections:91 In the election campaign, the party did not take a stance against the putschists but became an advocate for those who condemned the national strike that had saved the republic (and not the putsch). Accordingly, the DVP demanded that drastic measures be taken against “the left,” that is, against the saviors of the republic, and, as the elections showed, many voters backed this demand. If one judges this behavior from the perspective of the new democracy, one clearly has to assess it as negative. “The party . . . showed no sign of assertive advocacy—let alone active support—of the constitutional foundations of the Weimar state in meetings, negotiations, and actions.”92 A distancing from the murderers of Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht would have had to take a different form.93 However, Stresemann was apparently not ready to do this (yet). Moreover, he never did it later, either. His phobia of communism, which lasted his entire life, obviously clouded his judgment in this matter and again in 1923 in relation to the Zeigner government in Saxony. Stresemann had many political thoughts in common with the putschists, and may have concretely wished to cooperate with them. It can hardly be determined today what Stresemann and the putschists discussed in detail and whether or how far Stresemann was informed about the plot.94 For obvious reasons, there is nothing on this in Stresemann’s written papers. It was difficult enough for him to explain what was already publicly known.

The Industrial Associations However, one of Stresemann’s heaviest defeats was not political but economic. Frustration is a mild word to describe his indignation about how poorly treated he felt by his old BdI friends concerning the establishment of the Reichsverband

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der deutschen Industrie (Reich Association of German Industry; RdI) and his virtual sacking from his previous position.95 He wrote a very angry letter to his benefactor Max Hoffmann, which he considered his final words on this matter and his work for the German industrial associations: “I will put the work for the association behind me,” he wrote, seemingly composed, “with the awareness that I have fulfilled my duty, and this awareness, which nobody can take away from me, is enough.” But he could not have been further from inner peace and satisfaction.96 Stresemann was cut to the quick that his friends in the BdI were not able or did not try hard enough to get him a leading position in the newly founded RdI, the umbrella organization of all industrial associations. Apparently, the BdI was not willing to support the key opponent of the CdI, which Stresemann, in fact, was. In so doing, the organization had bowed to the interests of heavy industry and its lobbyists after the revolution,97 although Stresemann had always fiercely, cleverly, and successfully fought for the BdI. During the war, Stresemann had made many compromises, striving to cooperate with the CdI, for instance, in the German Industry War Committee (Kriegsausschuss der deutschen Industrie). However, this resulted from the special circumstances of the war, which had demanded unity. In general, Stresemann was anxious for the independence of the BdI and its privileges. But all this proved to be futile. Stresemann had to put an end to his activities as an industrial lobbyist, not least due to his political isolation—and this came with substantial financial disadvantages for him. He lost an important source of income. Stresemann’s personal defeat was also connected with the fact that his political efforts during the foundation of the DVP had taken up all his strength. His bad health had not helped at all. For this reason, he was unable to be as present in industrial matters as he would have liked or as present as necessary to secure his success and the independence of the BdI. This was fraught with consequences. “[D]uring that time I was caught up in a severe political fight for the German People’s Party, which was in the middle of an election campaign under the most difficult circumstances and had just started its parliamentary activities. The party relied on me for its existence; I considered it my duty to dedicate all my efforts to it.”98 Stresemann’s work as a legal adviser for industry had come to an end. He became a professional politician. This was another important result of the 1918/19 revolution for him. However, at that time it was not clear how involved he would get in the politics of the new republic, whether he would consistently remain in opposition—which did not suit him because he wanted to shape politics—or whether he would gradually become a supporter and representative of republican politics, that is, an actively committed citizen in a democratic state. Everything seemed to be possible, including a new attempt to achieve his old goals.

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Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21. 22.

Stresemann to Senator Biermann, 15 October 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 175. See Pohl, “Nation—Politik—Ökonomie” and also for further reading and references. See Stresemann to Bassermann, 2 March 1912, PA AA, NL Stresemann 136. See the article in Dresdner Woche, Wochenschrift für Dresdner Leben, Verkehr, Gerichtswesen 4, no. 3 (18 January 1912). The following section puts Stresemann’s political activity on center stage. Instead of focusing on the questions of how he personally experienced the war, how he coped with everyday life, and how he acted toward his friends, this section explores the direction he gave to the National Liberal Party. Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 47. Langewiesche, Liberalism in Germany, 237. In this and the following remarks, I follow Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 103. Ibid., 127. Speech at the Bismarck commercium in Gera, 3 March 1912, 12. PA AA, NL Stresemann 303, quoted in Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 127. Quoted in Koszyk, Stresemann, 85–87. Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 92. Stresemann to Bassermann, PA AA, NL Stresemann 135 (no date): “Only recently, the Hannoversche Courier wrote along similar lines that the present time resembles the period under Friedrich II, when the army was expanded both qualitatively and quantitatively, but, at the same time, no one in Europe believed that it would ever initiate an attack. Consequently, all the expenses had no practical use. . . . my slightest suggestions along these lines met with such spontaneous approval that it is fair to say: in this case, all of the people will be with us as long as we vigorously promote this view.” See his diary entries, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. See also on this Kolb, Stresemann, 42. See Kolb, Stresemann, 42. However, his Dresden friends and acquaintances had the feeling that Stresemann was by no means euphoric. See the letter by Niethammer to Anders (both NLP), 1 September 1914, SWA, N 12, 490/1. “I was at the Bellevue with Stresemann, Zöphel, and Clauss, and I have to admit that I was not at all pleased about this company given the present situation. Stresemann’s and particularly Zöphel’s superior critical and unenthusiastic attitude annoyed me. . . . If one is not prepared nor able to unreservedly enjoy our current achievements now, well, then one will never find a better reason to do so, and it is indeed very poor if one is unable to get enthusiastic about anything. The victories of recent days are just overwhelming, in my view.” This translates literally as “castle peace.” This term was used among contemporaries to signify a truce among the political parties during the war. See Ziemann, “Germany 1914–1918,” 381. Langewiesche, Liberalism in Germany, 245. Stresemann to Senator Biermann, 9 June 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 147. Stresemann clearly saw that Germany would have to attack immediately in order to win the war because the Entente would have grown ever stronger militarily over the course of the following years. This was probably another reason that he not only condoned the war but actively championed it at that precise moment. On this and the following, see Berghahn, Sarajewo, 28. Juni 1914, 112. Kolditz, “Erster Weltkrieg und Novemberrevolution.” Salewski, Der Erste Weltkrieg, 169. In Dresden, this happened, e.g., to the Lingner Group and the businesses of the metal-working industry, provided they received military contracts.

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23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

34.

35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48.

On the following remarks, see Wehler, Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte, 4:74–76. Ibid., 74. See Kocka, Facing Total War, 77–79. This work is still informative and well worth reading. Wehler, Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte, 76. Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 93. Langewiesche, Liberalism in Germany, 237. On Stresemann’s social policies, see the section “The Social Policy Advocate” in chapter 3. On Stresemann’s difficulties in binding the party to a united course, see Stresemann’s letter to Mrs. Bassermann, 18 July 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 133. On this, see the BdI’s appeal, Deutsche Industrie, no. 15, August 1914. Stresemann, “Deutschlands Siegeswille,” Leipziger Illustrierte Zeitung, 1916. See his letter to Ludwig Stollwerck, 28 June 1915 “very instructive article in the New York Times demanding 150 billion reichsmarks in war reparations from us. Over here, the people get scared when one mentions only a third of this amount, which our enemies would have to pay if we are able to impose peace conditions.” (RWWA, 208, no. 63, fol. 5). Stresemann met Ballin through the Hanseatic League. Ballin, who was born in 1857 and committed suicide in 1918, was the general director of the Hamburg America Line, then the world’s greatest transatlantic steamship company. Both men worked closely together beginning in 1912. Together with Stresemann, Ballin founded the German American Economic Association in 1914 and made the VSI legal adviser its general manager. Wright, Stresemann, 63. Ballin to Stresemann, 10 June 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 171. Stresemann to Bassermann, 28 December 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 134: “The booty from Romania already allows us to expect at least the same amount of grain from Romania as we bought from there during peace time.” On the objectives of Nazi occupation policy, see Aly, Hilters Volksstaat. In line with his nationalist ideas, he asked Stollwerck for patriotic collector’s albums for his sons. This corresponded to the zeitgeist, but also demonstrates Stresemann’s views. (Stollwerck to Mrs. Dr. Stresemann, 19 June 1916, RW WA, 208—64-3). Stresemann blamed Bethmann Hollweg for the German defeat in the Morocco Crisis. Thus, his negative assessment of the Reich chancellor was a continuum. See also Wagner, “Krieg oder Frieden: Unser Platz an der Sonne,” 120. Kolb, Stresemann, 50. Stresemann to Thimme, 19 January 1918, BA Koblenz, NL Thimme 23. See Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Hoesch, 7 September 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 164, also for the correspondence quoted in the following. Stresemann to Hans Arnhold, 7 September 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 164. Georg Arnhold to Stresemann, 11 October 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 164. Ibid. For instance, Stresemann tried to exploit his relationships with several industrialists for himself and his theories, although nearly all of them evaded these attempts more or less openly. Correspondence in PA AA, NL Stresemann 164. Nevertheless, Georg Arnhold contacted Stresemann in 1924 and offered to be of help. Arnhold felt inclined to go to the United States and thought that he could promote Stresemann’s policies there in circles where Stresemann was not yet really trusted yet but where he, as a pacifist, had some sway. At the same time, he asked for several letters of introduction for “this or that place.” Thus, peace seemed to have been restored. Georg Arnhold to Stresemann, 8 September 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 268. Stresemann to Waldemar Feder, 26 July 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 196. See Stresemann’s letter to Councilor of Commerce Bauer, 30 September 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 194:

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49. 50. 51.

52. 53. 54. 55.

56.

57. 58.

59. 60.

61. 62. 63. 64. 65.

“If we rebuff the Social Democratic Party now, then we have to also take responsibility for a potential revolution, and this cannot be borne.” Stresemann to Mayor Blüher, Dresden, 3 May 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 192. In this letter, Stresemann adopted a realistic perspective and mentioned one million dead and debts of 100 billion reichmarks resulting from the war. Stresemann to Thimme, 19 January 1918, NL Thimme 23. In a critical analysis, it must be added that recent historiography on World War I, in contrast to the long held majority opinion in Germany, has reassessed German war aims and no longer considers them particularly excessive. A comparison to the general war aims of all the other great powers involved relativizes Germany’s war aims considerably. See Clark, The Sleepwalkers. Stresemann’s remarks at a meeting of the Pan-German League in Dresden, 3 June 1915. Stadtarchiv Dresden, PA, Alldeutscher Verband 48, Presseberichterstattung 5 June 1915. See Radkau, Theodor Heuss, 102–104. PA AA Berlin, Privatnachlass Stresemann, diary entry 15 June 1917: “[I] experienced historic hours yesterday in a conversation with Hindenburg and Ludendorff.” Eschenburg, “Stresemann,” 157: “Stresemann put a downright childlike trust in military leadership. He acted and talked in their spirit. He was called ‘Ludendorff’s young man’—and that is exactly how he behaved. And yet Stresemann only had loose personal contact with Ludendorff, whom he thrust himself upon without Ludendorff reacting in kind, although Stresemann’s contacts to people around Ludendorff were thus that much closer.” See Stresemann’s letter to Councilor of Justice Dinkgraeve, 17 March 1915, PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 147: “The people wish to persevere, but men with sensitive nerves hold the high and highest positions and still think that the policy of agreeableness we have pursued for the last 25 years that has made us bankrupt will achieve something, although everyone should learn something from this war.” See Stresemann’s letter to Bassermann, 28 December 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 134: “The evening ended with the unanimous commitment to ruthless submarine warfare. Our cause is marching on. I am convinced that we have to go all in to achieve the utmost energy in our warfare. Then out of this, our wishes will fulfill themselves.” Stresemann’s economic activities were also based on this optimism. Being the economic expert that he was, he invested vast amounts in war bonds for several years. See PA AA, NL Stresemann 194. This is shown by Stresemann’s correspondence with Ludwig Stollwerck, in which Stollwerck (and Ballin) repeatedly pointed out the negative consequences for Germany of the United States’ probable entry into the war (RWWA, 208, 174, fol. 8); among others see Stresemann to Stollwerck, 18 January 1917, with attachments. Stresemann to Uebel, 16 January 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 145. See Stresemann to Bassermann, 14 July 1917, PA AA, NL Stresemann 133: “that the chancellor’s letter of resignation was approved. I hope that this pleases you, since you have repeatedly pointed out how much Germany has been suffering under this man. Therefore, I believe I have also acted in your best interest by playing an active role in bringing him down.” Quoted in Wright, Stresemann, 79–80. Letter to Paul Boehm, 6 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 182. Ibid. “there might come a time when the vast majority of the people will want the monarchy back, given the present miserable conditions. . . . and I deeply regret that the defeat was followed by the collapse of the monarchical idea.” Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Bauer, 30 September 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 194. Stresemann stated further: “If we rebuff the Social Democrats now, then we have to take responsibility for a potential revolution, and this cannot be borne.” Kolb, Stresemann, 57–59.

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66. Stresemann’s attitude toward the Treaty of Versailles and foreign policy in general will not be discussed here. 67. On this, see Wright, Stresemann, 117–19. For details, see the masterful account in Richter, Deutsche Volkspartei, 31; see also Richter, “Von der Nationalliberalen Partei.” 68. The various negotiations will not be described here in detail. The studies by Wright and Kolb as well as the edition of meetings of leadership committees in the DVP (Kolb and Richter, Nationalliberalismus), provide sufficient information. 69. Kolb and Richter, Nationalliberalismus, first half-volume 1918–25, 13. 70. Stresemann to Councilor of Commerce Stollwerck, 11 December 1918, RW WA, 208-175-2. Stinnes also made anti-Semitic remarks (Stinnes to Stresemann, 12 December 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 183): “Finally, I would like to emphasize that a merger with the Freisinnige Partei will meet with resistance here [in the Ruhr area] because the leaders of the Freisinn are almost exclusively Jews and we here are not prepared to put ourselves under the dominion of these people.” In German, Stinnes referred to the Freisinnige Partei here, a left-liberal party in Imperial Germany that existed between 1884 and 1893, but what he meant was the left-liberal party with which the National Liberals aimed to merge. 71. Stresemann to Vogel (Saarbrücken), 3 December 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 180. 72. Entry in Stresemann’s diary, 15 November 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 362. 73. See Kolb, Stresemann, 61. 74. Kolb and Richter, Nationalliberalismus, first half-volume 1918–25, 10. 75. Wright, “Eine politische Karriere zwischen Zusammenbruch und Wiederaufbau,” 107; also Stresemann to Boehm, 15 February 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 557. 76. Henning Luther’s model aptly applies here. A “mature” adult might have basic dynamic convictions on life, but these cannot be arbitrarily changed—or only with substantial internal tensions, as in Stresemann’s case during this period. 77. Stresemann to the German People’s Party, Frankfurt am Main, 14 February 1919 (from Weimar where the National Assembly was in session), PA AA, NL Stresemann 203. 78. Wright, “Eine politische Karriere,” 101. 79. Kolb and Richter, Nationalliberalismus, first half-volume 1918–1925, 29. 80. Kolb, Stresemann, 62. 81. Ibid., 63. 82. Telegram in PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 83. Stresemann to Boehm, 30 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 84. See Boehm’s sharp criticism in Boehm to Stresemann, 30 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 85. See Stresemann to Boehm, 3 February 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 557: “it was out of the question that we distance ourselves from our previous monarchical conviction if we did not wish to give up everything that we fought for as a main objective for fifty years. At the moment, we are experiencing sycophancy toward the republic in Germany as we experienced sycophancy toward Imperial Germany before. Today, many declare themselves to be republicans in public who previously declared their monarchical conviction loud and clear. This seems to be undignified. So as not to give the impression that one changes one’s opinions from one day to another and to worship the new gods of power, this expression of our principles seemed to be desirable to us.” 86. On the Kapp Putsch and Stresemann, see in particular Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 177–79. 87. Kolb, Stresemann, 70. 88. See on this and the following Wright, Stresemann, 152. 89. Richter, Deutsche Volkspartei, 94. 90. See on this Eschenburg, “Stresemann,” 164–65.

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91. 92. 93. 94. 95.

Erger, Der Kapp-Lüttwitz-Putsch, 222. Richter, Deutsche Volkspartei, 104. On this, see the section “The Politician of Rapprochement and His Double Life” in Chapter 6. See Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 200–1. On this and the following remarks (including quotes), see Stresemann to Hoffmann, 26 November 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. 96. See his letter to Theodor Boehm, 23 June 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 233: “how much I was hurt when the League of German Industrialists refrained from offering me a position in the Reich association after the transition and did not even bid me farewell.” 97. See Stresemann to Otto Moras, 19 May 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114: “The attitude of the League of Industrialists on this matter is their own defeat and not mine.” This remark was certainly not quite accurate. Stresemann was indeed very hurt and bitter, particularly because this defeat was personal. 98. Letter to Hoffmann, 26 November 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 114.

Chapter 6

GERMAN AND EUROPEAN POLITICS

S Casting Himself as a Crisis Manager: Stresemann’s Reichstag Speech, 17 April 1923 Stresemann’s speech on 17 April 1923 was the first highlight in his postwar career and takes a prominent place within the canon of his Reichstag speeches, due especially to its effective rhetoric. It was the birth of the “new” Stresemann: the former adversary, skeptic, and hanger-on had become one of the important pillars of the republic. Stresemann’s remarks must be seen within the context of the Ruhr crisis, German reparation payments, the French-Belgian occupation of the Ruhr area, and the passive resistance in the occupied territories. After the Paris Conference in January 1923, negotiations on German reparations and inter-Allied debts had largely come to a halt. Germany had mostly ignored the British government’s demands that it make a concrete payment plan. The German government of the independent Reich Chancellor Cuno (a coalition between the DVP, the DDP, and the Center Party) expressed no more than a wish to negotiate, although the SPD, trade unions, and segments of the bourgeois parties pushed for specific actions. Stresemann assumed that the United States and Great Britain would take action as soon as negative economic repercussions of the Ruhr occupation began to affect their own countries. The United States was even inclined to contribute to solving the European crisis: US Secretary of State Hughes had made an offer that opened up new opportunities for this. The imminent collapse of the German currency, however, meant that time was of the essence because such a collapse would likely lead to French currency being used in the Rhineland1 and the region subsequently being detached from the Reich.2 Since passive resistance could not be maintained forever, delaying the solution would only aggravate the situation. Notes from this chapter begin on page 244.

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With this view, Stresemann stood in opposition to the Reich government but grew closer to the SPD. The suggestions of the former French Minister of Reconstruction, Louis Loucheur, provided an opportunity to resolve the Ruhr crisis and the reparations issue.3 His suggestions involved a reduced payment scheme that Germany would be able to meet with its own offer, Stresemann thought. According to the proportion of demanded payments, it even seemed that it would be possible for Germany to at least reach a settlement with France over reparations. If the Reich government did not want to be bypassed and presented with a fait accompli by a British-French agreement on the Rhineland and the Ruhr area, it had to take action immediately. And yet, it did not. While the German government sat on its hands, Stresemann took the initiative in April 1923 and brought about the resumption of negotiations on the reparations issue and a public debate on a possible resolution. He held no office in the coalition government, but because the DVP was a coalition partner, he was obliged to remain loyal to the coalition and the government. In any case, he was not authorized to make an offer to the Allies. Thus, his best chance to influence the public was to deliver a speech in parliament.4 The speech was not only politically highly explosive, but also momentous for his own career. The man who took the floor had long held a rather ambiguous position toward the republic. With this speech, Stresemann wanted to gain trust and acceptance as a persuasive politician committed to serving the common good.5 Before the mass-media era, parliamentary speeches resonated with the public to a much greater extent than any other political medium. Thus, backed by the institutional authority of the parliament, Stresemann had the opportunity to achieve maximum impact and reach a huge audience by delivering a wellcrafted speech. As a politician fully aware of the power of the public and the media, he took this chance.6 With this speech, Stresemann showed the public for the first time that his ambitions went beyond being a member of the Reichstag and leader of the DVP. For this reason, he shaped the speech largely out of tactical considerations: he had to satisfy the very mixed interests of a diverse audience (not least in his own party) and achieve a positive impact at home and abroad. He had to offer new perspectives in order to present himself as the “new” internationally esteemed Stresemann and, at the same time, maintain the continuity of his positions to ensure his credibility at home. As other members of the Reichstag had done, Stresemann delivered his big speech without a written text.7 However, his address was by no means spontaneous. Given its special significance, he had carefully drafted it. It was also highly successful. The Reichstag stenographers noted “rapturous applause, even from the balcony.”8 An almost unabridged version of Stresemann’s speech was also published in many German newspapers. He himself believed it to be so import-

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ant that he published it twice in his Deutsche Stimmen.9 The Reichsanzeiger also printed an only slightly abridged version,10 and it is highly regarded in many biographical studies.11 The function of this speech for domestic politics was to allow Stresemann to present himself within Germany as a statesman of the Weimar Republic and a supporter of the new state system. Its aim was to establish common ground on a broad scale, overcome internal divisions, and align the nation along a single political course (namely, Stresemann’s). The speech clearly met all these objectives brilliantly. It was frequently interrupted by applause, laughter, and cries of approval. Despite the agitated political atmosphere and the deeply divided Reichstag, only one person disapproved of it according to the minutes—the Communist Georg Ledebour.12 Stresemann surely had no objections to his criticism. The positive feedback was overwhelming. Applause broke out eighty times during the speech, with the result that Stresemann jokingly requested additional speaking time.13 The “entire house” made positive remarks twenty-five times, which came equally from the center and the Right, and even the oppositional Social Democrats applauded five times. Stresemann, who was moving from the political Right to the center but was still a thorn in the side of the political Left, could hardly have achieved more in these troubled times. In terms of domestic politics, Stresemann moved a bit further to the left with this speech. As a result, future cooperation with Social Democrats no longer appeared to be out of the question; a course for rapprochement had been set. This would be extremely important for the future political configuration of the Weimar Republic. However, Stresemann’s attitude toward Saxony and Thuringia a few months later showed how limited his willingness to genuinely accept and adopt left-wing positions actually was. In turn, the approval by the political Right indicated in the minutes to the speech was astrounding, particularly since Stresemann abandoned some of his old positions on fundamental political issues, albeit very discreetly. An example from foreign policy demonstrates how he did this. Up until then, Stresemann had adopted a negative stance toward the League of Nations. On 17 April, something sensational happened, even though it was hardly noticeable: Stresemann briefly stated his agreement, almost in passing, with the previous speaker, Georg Gothein, a member of the DDP, on the subject of the League of Nations and its international guarantees. In so doing, Stresemann signaled that he was shifting his assessment of the League of Nations without explicitly saying something positive about it. Stresemann’s tactic of adding his own position onto one previously expressed without repeating it was apparently just the right tool for keeping his options open on foreign policy issues. It even suggested he was making something of a fresh start without antagonizing the political center or the Right.14 Besides, he packaged his rapprochement toward the Left so cleverly that even the Social

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Democrats failed to notice it; unlike the Democrats, they did not applaud at this point.15 Likewise, the political Right failed to notice Stresemann’s cautious declaration of love to the League of Nations. Even more explosive for domestic policy was the fact that Stresemann indirectly recognized the Weimar Republic. At the end of this speech, he exhorted his audience “to strengthen the state in its present form by every means in our power, . . . to rally around it, to support its government,”16 thereby throwing his weight behind the Weimar democracy in front of the Reichstag for the first time. With this declaration of support, Stresemann presented himself as a legitimate representative of the republic for foreign policy, and he built a bridge toward the political Left for domestic policy. In so doing, he forged a path for him to become the chancellor on the basis of a grand coalition. Stresemann’s concession to Weimar democracy was again presented in a very clever way. With great subtlety Stresemann, placed this sentence at the end of his speech, when the audience was ready to applaud and unlikely to take much notice of this little digression. Moreover, he put this remark in the context of the need to save Germany in general, which nearly concealed the decisive passage. And finally, he referred to the leader of the German National People’s Party (Deutschnationale Volkspartei; DNVP), Dr. Karl Helfferich, and his similar remarks, so that Stresemann seemed to be merely repeating Helfferich’s words. With this strategic maneuver, Stresemann protected his close relations to the DNVP and made his statement appear to be a matter of course, which was far from the case. From a foreign policy perspective, Stresemann’s speech was a great success. It was even more effective because the keynote speech by the independent foreign minister the previous day had been rather dull. Frederic von Rosenberg had shown little knack for putting himself in the shoes of other countries and understanding their “psychology.”17 The cabinet was thus subjected to harsh criticism. Nevertheless, Stresemann opened the main part of his speech, now playing the part of the quintessential diplomat, by claiming that his party fully backed the Reich foreign minister on his “programme of the Government,” even though Rosenberg had not in fact mentioned any such program.18 Stresemann defined the new political tack he wished to take as “being prepared for any situation that may arise in international politics with a view to taking action on behalf of Germany,” but what constituted “action” in concrete terms depended on the respective situation.19 That was all well and good, but it could mean anything and everything. At the same time, as a basis for negotiations, he linked a German offer to the Allies to an independent and fair assessment of payment, which would be followed by a loan. This would enable an objective discussion, “which leaves the final decision to the experts but already establishes a certain framework today.”20 Thus, Stresemann embedded his proposal in statements that referred to the previous speaker. That was his political and coalition-building skill. On a formal

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level, he created the impression of merely elaborating on the thoughts of the foreign minister.21 Instead of criticizing Rosenberg directly, he gave himself permission to “add”22 his own ideas and, in the process, brought him on board with his own plan.23 In so doing, Stresemann avoided disavowing Rosenberg on the linguistic level. In terms of facts and content, however, Stresemann simply bypassed the foreign minister and developed ideas that were much more far-reaching. At a time when diplomacy had almost come to a standstill, Stresemann used his speech as a new means of communication to reach out to decision-makers abroad and influence Reich foreign policy as an ordinary member of the Reichstag. However, his suggestions presented an offer to foreign countries that they could not answer (directly). Nevertheless, Stresemann made consistent use of the possibilities for freedom that the genre of parliamentary speeches provided, and his proposal also exceeded the medium’s commonly accepted boundaries. As a result, he began to disrupt its ritualized form.24 From this fact alone, one can filter out the significance of this speech, which defied established forms of parliamentary communication in order to bring new topics to the floor. The speech’s form and tone also clarified Stresemann’s shift from his “old” to his “new” political position. If one compares this to his previous speech on 7 March, which dealt primarily with the political tensions following the occupation of the Rhineland,25 it is striking that the earlier speech was filled with accusations. Accusations, though, always constitute a highly negative assessment of opponents and their position. They provoke objections and counter-accusations, mask factual issues, and are unsuitable for engendering a solution-oriented discussion. They are extremely unsuitable for bridging divisions and achieving cooperation.26 Yet Stresemann’s speech of 17 April 1923 was a different matter. It featured far fewer accusatory speech acts against the victorious powers. Moreover, the remaining accusations changed slightly in content, as a closer look reveals. Stresemann no longer plainly and openly denounced the French government for pursuing an imperialist and violent policy, and thus refrained from reproaches that would constitute insurmountable obstacles to rapprochement. In his 17 April speech, Stresemann addressed this topic by expressing concern, understating the issue, and formulating it as a question.27 Stresemann acted in his speech as though the French wanted to enter negotiations, thus applying pressure to them. Stresemann’s choice of presupposition as a rhetorical tool was tactical. The French government would have confirmed the accusation that it was pursuing an imperialist policy if it did not embrace Stresemann’s proposals. This was an elegant and smooth attempt to push the French to resume negotiations on reparations with German participation. Nothing more could have been achieved in the context of a Reichstag speech and Stresemann’s political situation. In addition, Stresemann’s apparent willingness to admit German wrongdoing and put forward proposals for a solution—which was technically the responsibil-

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ity of the Allies—gave the speech an unrivaled and seemingly frank, even honest, character. Its tone was sympathetic and polite, considering the political circumstances, since Stresemann described the situation of the former war enemies in what appeared to be an unbiased way.28 All in all, the speech gave the impression of being constructive, dynamic, and at the same time unusually moderate and positive.29 It was factually based and showed a fundamental desire to initiate an open, even self-critical, dialog geared toward conflict resolution. To achieve his tone, Stresemann had to set aside his nationalism, his bitterness, and his anger toward the Allies, at least temporarily. With this speech, Stresemann developed a strategy that he would pursue in the Reichstag until the end of this parliamentary career. “To achieve results in international political negotiations . . . one has to take into account . . . the psychology of the other countries and to answer the question of how to achieve the aim that has been set.”30 One had to accept the internal logic of the potential negotiation partners: their options, objectives, requirements, and obligations to act, he argued. “To take into account the psychology of the foreign countries” meant to put oneself in the shoes of different powers, to serve their expectations, and to mediate between their conflicting views without arousing the suspicion of bad will. Stresemann the “crossover artist” displayed his mastery of these skills in the subsequent years. Stresemann’s speech had a unifying impact on German domestic politics and actively shaped foreign policy. Moreover, it enabled Stresemann to play an active part in German governmental policy. The speech contributed to Stresemann’s public image as a promising German politician at home and abroad. From this point on, Stresemann’s public image as a “politician of reconciliation” began to emerge. It was, above all, Stresemann’s political rapprochement with the republic that helped to convey this image. However, his appeal “to strengthen the state in its present form” did not indicate that his commitment to the republic derived from a change of heart. Rather, it was primarily the result of partial identification, revisionist calculations, and, not least, personal career planning. The speech revealed neither his real objectives nor whether they had changed over time. The ability to gain more political leeway by making use of new rhetorical tools and new patterns of argument, as well as by empathizing with the positions of opponents, does not determine how such leeway will be used in future. Given Stresemann’s great tactical flexibility, there is sufficient reason to assume that, despite all his apparent changes, the continuities in his thinking far outweighed the discontinuities. However, it is fair to interpret this speech as a milestone in Stresemann’s “transition into a republican by reason.”31 He no longer relentlessly insisted on alleged legal positions. His defiant attitude of the immediate postwar period gave way to a willingness to establish contact. This was what he promoted in the Reichstag

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from 17 April 1923 onward. He recognized and gave voice to the fact that Germany had no chance of regaining political significance and resolving its problems if negotiations did not resume.32 Although his motives can be interpreted from various angles, it cannot be denied that Stresemann, while still fairly young, presented himself on this occasion as a practical politician, a Realpolitiker, who acted with great skill in domestic and foreign affairs, and who soon carried the hopes of the republic. With this speech, Stresemann seemed to have truly arrived in Weimar.

The Destruction of the “Left-Wing Republican Project” in Saxony It required strong optimism to enter the captain’s bridge of the Reich ship in this moment [August 1923]. I know many who think that the ship will sink in the storm. Nevertheless, it would have been irresponsible not to follow the calling, and despite all external and internal dangers, I do believe that Germany will not go down if it doesn’t give itself up.33 The government ship must steer between the Scylla of fascism and the Charybdis of communism. Both movements are related to each other. Hitler’s power in public meetings is based on his ability to reveal grievances. . . . He utilizes immigration from East Galicia, which has provoked anti-Semitism in Germany, to achieve the approval of the uncritical masses. In front of them he blames the Jews for everything. . . . Communism draws its strength from the same sources. It is not homegrown in German soil but a foreign import that Russia deployed all the more generously the fewer other export commodities it possessed.34

When Stresemann was appointed Reich chancellor by Reich President Friedrich Ebert on 13 August 1923, he was at the peak of his political career in the Weimar Republic, even though his government lost the Reichstag’s confidence after only a short while on 23 November. During this short period, he was able to prove that he was not only a successful legal adviser, a clever regional politician, an important party politician, and an outstanding public speaker, but also the strong character he had always felt himself to be. The few months of Stresemann’s chancellorship influenced him for the rest of his life and, at the same time, shaped the image he would retain in historical studies as well as in the German culture of remembrance.35 This also has to do with the fact that the year 1923 is anchored in German collective memory as a fateful year:36 the new democratic state seemed threatened, the experiment of parliamentary democracy and the achievements of the revolution of 1918/19 hung in the balance—to an even greater extent than at the time of the Kapp Putsch—and the democratic forces of the political center seemed paralyzed. The military again proved reluctant to help save parliamentary democracy.37

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Hyperinflation seemed finally to be threatening to drive the country into economic ruin. It traumatized large parts of the population and made many— mainly in bourgeois strata—unwilling to commit to this republic any longer. The fight for the Ruhr appeared lost and the German Reich seemed incapable of taking action, a victim of France. Many believed that Germany’s “national honor,” already deeply damaged by the Treaty of Versailles, had been lost, once and for all. Then, however, came a turning point.38 Both historical scholarship and the German culture of remembrance consider Gustav Stresemann, who had already put himself forward for higher political tasks in April, to be the embodiment of this positive turn of events. In 1923, his star was finally rising. Unlike in 1919 and 1920, he seemed to be on the right side this time. Eventually, he was able to make a name for himself as a great republican statesman. But before he could go down in history as this figure, the hero of 1923, a minor and highly personal problem nearly prevented him from becoming Reich chancellor. The “Litwin case” shows that seemingly small details accompanied, advanced, and—as in this instance—threatened Stresemann’s political career. The incident proves how closely some of the most diverse aspects of his life were linked, how fine the line was between “forward” and “backward,” and, last but not least, how big a role coincidence, in Luhmann’s sense, played in his life. During the war, Stresemann had closely collaborated with the entrepreneur Paul Litwin, engaging in some shady business deals, often for his own benefit. This cooperation continued in the Weimar Republic, even beyond their relationship in the Evaporator company, where both men had met as business partners. Litwin was also an important patron of Stresemann’s journal Deutsche Stimmen, which was in chronic financial distress, and a benefactor of the DVP.39 Litwin and Stresemann were on cordial terms and helped each other. However, due to their sometimes-shady business practices, they had been publicly criticized a number of times in the early years of the Weimar Republic, and Stresemann had come under fierce attack because of his connections with the shrewd businessman.40 These allegations escalated in 1923, and the past suddenly caught up with Stresemann. In July, the Prussian attorney’s office unexpectedly charged Litwin with currency offenses in connection with the Evaporator company, where Stresemann was vice chairman of the supervisory board (Hjalmar Schacht was its chairman). Litwin was arrested immediately on suspicion of suppressing evidence. This story was exactly what the press had been waiting for. The papers discussed it extensively and turned it into a scandal to great effect.41 The Litwin case was clearly also used to feed prejudice against wealthy foreign Jews, even though Litwin was actually a German national—his naturalization had been initiated by Stresemann—and the father of seven children who all lived and paid taxes in Germany. Litwin himself had lived in Germany for years and was no nouveau-riche immigrant from the east.42 However, he was just the type of person who attracted punishment from the press: “Because of Litwin’s careless

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and spirited attitude, which antagonizes some people and has probably made him many enemies, he is an easy target and a scapegoat,” particularly in 1923, the year of crisis. That he was Jewish, rather wealthy, and from “the east” reinforced many negative clichés and whipped up resentment of him even further, especially from the political Right.43 However, the attacks on Litwin were, in reality, aimed at Stresemann. “There is no mistaking . . . that Litwin is being targeted as your [Stresemann’s] close associate and that the attacks on Evaporator are directed against the supervisory board and its vice chairman [Stresemann].” Thus, there was a risk, as the Evaporator company’s lawyer, Frankfurter, assumed, that “they want to slaughter Litwin and, in so doing, generate irreversible political effects before any help to speak of might arrive from anyone.” Stresemann was in imminent danger; his career as chancellor, which had yet to even begin, was threatened, his reputation as businessman and honorable citizen ruined, his dignified habitus possibly lost already. To fight back, Stresemann and Schacht, who was likewise involved, resorted to a flurry of activities designed to quickly and quietly fend off the dangerous repercussions of Litwin’s arrest. Between 8 and 15 July, Schacht, Stresemann, and Litwin met for extended crisis talks to develop a joint defense strategy. They finally agreed to each accept partial responsibility and admit that they had, in fact, committed minor currency offenses, but had done so unintentionally due to the complexity of the matter.44 They unanimously denied all the other allegations. In addition, both Schacht and Stresemann used their political connections to interfere with the proceedings against Litwin (and indirectly against the two of them). Schacht, in particular, intervened by contacting Prussian State Secretary Robert Weismann and Reich Minister of Economic Affairs Johann Becker, who did their part to help suppress the scandal. The Prussian state government proved to be especially “cooperative.” Evaporator thus soon had cause to thank Stresemann for his interventions, which had contributed significantly to exonerating Litwin (and thus Stresemann himself ). To settle the matter once and for all, a culprit within Evaporator was found and dismissed without notice. The incident seemed to be off the table and Stresemann’s political career and his personal integrity seemed to have been saved. However, it is striking that at exactly this point in time, Stresemann planned to deposit his last will and testament with the district court and asked fellow party member Adolf Kempkes, an outstanding lawyer, for advice. Explaining his request, Stresemann wrote that he was unsure how to correctly declare his assets, adding jokingly: “Please let me know as soon as possible so that I don’t get busted for tax evasion.”45 It is fair to assume that Stresemann wanted to declare his assets correctly at this critical point to avert any potential danger if the investigations against Litwin were to be extended. Yet the “Stresemann-Litwin” case was far from over. Only a few years later, Stresemann had to fend off allegations of corruption once again. The solicitor

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Arthur Müller from the German National People’s Party accused Stresemann of corruption and took him to court. Although Stresemann emerged victorious from the subsequent “Plauen Trial” in 1927, he was by no means completely rehabilitated.46 Nonetheless, the verdict of 11 March 1927, acquitted him of the charge of corruption, and his opponent was sentenced to pay a fine. However, several allegations against Stresemann could not be refuted, although they were not litigable.47 An aura of corruption still surrounded him. Let us go back to the year 1923 and to Stresemann in his role as a statesman. Stresemann’s starting position for his political course for consolidating the republic was both favorable and unfavorable at the same time. Technically, the grand coalition, the possibility of which Stresemann had already suggested in his speech in April, could rely on a broad majority in parliament when it took control of the government. However, a substantial segment of the Social Democrats and the DVP, Stresemann’s own party, deliberately declined to take part in the central vote on the government subsequent to Stresemann’s government declaration. This shows the strength of the centrifugal forces from the outset of the coalition. Nevertheless, Stresemann used this unstable basis to address the mounting political problems with his usual vigor. There were three issues on the agenda that Stresemann decisively helped resolve with his political agenda: the occupation of the Ruhr and the unity of the Reich, hyperinflation, and uprisings of both the political Right (Bavaria) and the political Left (Saxony and Thuringia). The French invasion of the Ruhr region initially generated considerable solidarity among the German population. It was a general conviction that national unity had to be maintained and resistance had to be strengthened and continued under all circumstances. Yet Stresemann had realized, as he already indicated in April, that it was absolutely essential to end the struggle over the Ruhr region in order to prevent the Reich from spiraling into bankruptcy. For him, there was no reasonable alternative to this policy, even though he personally wished for another solution. It was a testament to his political mastery that he implemented this decision with little difficulty, despite the damage to the nation’s political “honor” it represented to the German Nationals.48 In so doing, he terminated the confrontational course toward the French and Belgian “occupiers” of the Ruhr and showed an openness to negotiations that ultimately led to the gradual resolution of the conflict. This policy was courageous, wise, far-sighted, and ultimately successful, but it also brought him bitter enmity (not only) from the political Right. On the other hand, many people in the occupied areas could imagine allowing certain parts of the occupied territories to be detached from Prussia, at least temporarily, on account of mounting problems in those areas. These included the deterioration of the political and economic situation, traditional hatred

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toward Prussia, a francophone attitude, self-interest, and French pressure.49 Consequently, the unity of the Reich was in immediate danger. Industrial magnates, such as Stresemann’s fellow DVP member Hugo Stinnes,50 or the mayor of Cologne, Konrad Adenauer,51 were involved in discussions that aimed toward such a detachment. In this instance, Stresemann was again able to fend off the danger with his successful policy of rapprochement toward the Allies and maintain the unity of the Reich. Then again, hyperinflation was closely connected to the occupation of the Ruhr area, unlike postwar inflation, which resulted from the irresponsible financing of the war (as Stresemann was well aware). A substantial share of tax income was lost due to the passive resistance there, and the government’s financial support of the resistance also caused a sharp, unfunded increase in public spending. As a result, inflation turned into hyperinflation. This was an essential economic reason to terminate the Ruhr struggle as soon as possible (26 September 1923) and to adopt a new currency (November 1923). These decisions were enormously risky and again very courageous, and they provoked fierce public criticism of Stresemann. However, he was able to rely on the competence of experts, such as his business friend Hjalmar Schacht.52 Another issue was the fight against the republic, which was instigated especially by Bavaria. After the Bavarian Soviet Republic had been quelled—a development Stresemann more than welcomed—the Bavarian cabinets were dominated by the German National People’s Party (DNVP) and the Bavarian People’s Party (BVP), which fostered right-wing radicalism and promoted the separation of Bavaria from the rest of the Reich. They openly favored a very different, authoritarian state, a position Stresemann had some sympathy for. However, when the conflict between Bavaria and the Reich culminated in the Hitler-Ludendorff Putsch (9 November), the unity of the Reich was in imminent danger. Yet Stresemann seemingly had limited options to exert influence since, once again, the Reichswehr was unreliable. In this context, the dismissal of the Socialist-Communist government in Saxony, orchestrated by Stresemann and implemented by the military, had a “calming” effect on the Bavarian separatists and stole their thunder by averting the threat of a “communist revolution.” Over the course of that year, the situation in Bavaria and the Reich gradually improved. Stresemann and his government sacrificed the left-wing government in Saxony, so to speak, to ease the situation in Bavaria. What, then, can one criticize in Stresemann’s successful political course? Did he not save the republic and master the crises? Such a positive assessment of Stresemann’s political course needs to be dramatically qualified and should even be partially called into question53 in light of his attitude toward his first political home of Saxony.54 This is because Saxony in 1923 represented a socialist experiment that aimed to stabilize the democracy of the Weimar Republic, advance the revolution of 1918/19, and, above all, reconcile the state with the (left-wing)

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working class. Its objective was to consolidate parliamentary democracy and enrich it with social policies.55 But Stresemann deliberately destroyed this politically pioneering Saxon experiment. In cooperation with his cabinet, and, above all, with the minister of defense and the leadership of the Reichswehr, Stresemann arranged for the Reichswehr to invade Saxony and Thuringia. He dismissed the lawfully elected Zeigner government in Saxony and appointed a Reich commissioner. This action precipitated the break-up of the grand coalition and the loss of the Stresemann government’s majority in the Reichstag, but he saw this as the lesser evil. What was this project that Minister President Zeigner wanted to accomplish in Saxony with a narrow parliamentary majority (forty-nine out of ninety-six members of parliament) and a coalition of Communists and Social Democrats, and why did it antagonize Stresemann’s government to such an extent?56 In order to resolve the particularly burning political and social issue of unemployment, Zeigner’s Socialist-Communist government developed an active labor-market policy combined with increased financial support for the unemployed. These measures were supposed to reduce long-term unemployment.57 With transfers and retirements, as well as an age-based retirement law for judges, the Zeigner government also attempted to fill some important positions with democratic civil servants. A few came from the ranks of the DDP, and even fewer came from the SPD. Communists opposing the republic were not among them.58 Not by any stretch of the imagination was this revolutionary. Zeigner’s government also implemented the so-called Staatswirtschaftsgesetz (Law on the state economy) of 1923, in an attempt to make state-owned enterprises economically viable, and the Arbeitskammergesetz (Law on the chamber of employment) to establish workers’ participation and co-determination.59 Overall, this was a packet of legitimate economic and social political measures covered by the constitution. It goes without saying that many of them were not to the liking of the Saxon entrepreneurs, the VSI, and Stresemann. In addition, Zeigner’s government enacted a municipal constitutional reform60 that attempted to force greater democratization in self-governing bodies. Up to then, workers and their representatives had essentially been systematically excluded from any genuine responsible activity on the municipal level, and not only in Saxony. Stresemann was well aware of this. He himself had done his share make this happen during his time in Dresden. Stresemann and the Liberals saw the democratization process that had been launched in Saxony as an attack on their core political bastions (which was an accurate assessment). In fact, however, it simply put an end to old, undemocratic privileges. The Saxon reformers applied their concept of democratization throughout society as a whole, including in the field of education, and this in an alliance with the majority of Saxon school teachers (Volksschullehrer).61 In this matter, Liberals and Social Democrats were not so far apart. Their core objectives could

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be summarized as “schools for everyone,” “secular schools,” “vocational schools,” and “democratic comprehensive schools.”62 In light of the perfectly understandable distrust toward the Reichswehr and the national units but also as a political concession to the Communists, Minister President Zeigner and his administration held out the prospect of increasing the democratic Heimwehr, initially unarmed proletarian units formed of a hundred men each (Proletarische Hundertschaften). Their aim was to use these military units to stabilize and protect democracy from the political Right.63 This seemed justified and necessary given the events in Bavaria, the anti-democratic position of the Reichswehr, and the existence of several national Heimatschutzverbände— right-wing paramilitary groups—which were particularly strong in Saxony. The Weimar administrations, including Stresemann’s, not only tolerated but even actively supported these reactionary organizations. It was an important objective of the Saxon government to counteract these activities and mobilize democratic forces. The further history of the Weimar years proves that support for democratic rather than national organizations would have been badly needed to maintain the existence of the republic state. However, the “Saxon experiment” was not fully thought through. It seemed opaque and very fragile and, given its short duration, condemned to remain unfinished. It was by no means foreseeable where it would lead, what impact it would have, and whether the people would accept it. Even its two pillars, the Socialists and Communists, were not in total agreement about it. Some Saxon Communists offered only reluctant support; others were markedly opposed to it. The bourgeois and Conservative camp, including Stresemann’s industrial friends, fought it from the outset. Nevertheless, a (narrow) majority of the electorate and the freely elected government backed the concept of more democracy, especially more social democracy, in Saxony.64 Yet after seven months, everything was over. The Reich government and Reichswehr put an abrupt end to the Saxon experiment and toppled Zeigner. After a long history in which the lower classes had been perpetually disadvantaged and excluded, this constituted a missed opportunity to allow the majority of the Saxon people to shape the state according to their own will without being prevented from doing so, as had happened up until the revolution of 1918/19, by a dominant minority imposing political, economic, and cultural restrictions. So why did Stresemann find this experiment in “his” Saxony so dangerous that he was willing to have the Reich government intervene against its member state to eliminate the threat (a so-called Reichsexekution) in September 1923?65 His decision was not based on facts alone, since the actions of the Saxon government were still (though only just) within the law. Thus, the invasion of the Reichswehr was mainly motivated by other factors. In Stresemann’s case it was, for one thing, his fear of socialism and communism,66 and, for another, a latent lack of understanding of what a social democracy was about. These were the reasons he and

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large segments of the bourgeoisie, but also many Social Democrats, were willing to violently quell the Saxon experiment. Stresemann and like-minded people considered this experiment a “Bolshevist threat,” even though it was legitimized by democratic processes. They did not see it as a potential expansion of the opportunities inherent in the Weimar constitution to achieve greater social justice and restructure state institutions accordingly. It was undeniable that the Communists in Saxony were highly unreliable, absorbed in internal struggles, and by no means all Democrats. It was also true that the Communist International in Moscow very much wanted to transform Germany into a Soviet republic and to prepare the Communist revolution by force, including and especially in Saxony. However, this was only one side of the coin. The other side was that the majority of the members of the Saxon state parliament who supported the government were in favor of parliamentary democracy and wholeheartedly grounded in the Weimar constitution. What they wanted was to put more life into this constitution. This was a legitimate and by no means revolutionary aim. Left-wing Social Democrats had already wanted to achieve these same objectives during the revolution, but without success. Stresemann himself, who had substantially shaped Saxon politics for more than fifteen years and knew the Saxon Social Democrats better than anybody else, was aware that the majority consisted of committed Democrats.67 Even a large proportion of the Communists who supported the Saxon government were by no means blind “slaves to Moscow,” let alone staunch anti-republicans.68 Where did this fear of upheaval, or a left-wing revolution, come from? Stresemann had always been open to partial cooperation with “reasonable” Social Democrats. It was for good reason that he was the first Reich chancellor who was able to create a grand coalition including the Social Democrats. “If one wants to achieve law, order, and the chance for wealth in Saxony,” he wrote, “one has to strive for a political course of rapprochement.”69 A left-wing socialist political course however, even if democratically legitimate, was something completely different in his eyes. It was not based on balance and rapprochement and was incompatible with his core values, which were still anchored in Wilhelmine culture. He would never have been willing to help establish a republic that not only substantially changed the political structure but also deeply affected the capitalist system and restricted the power of business owners. He was and would remain too much a Liberal and an industrial legal adviser for that. Clearly, in 1923 Stresemann was still unable to relate to the paradigmatic change resulting from the revolution, which aimed to transform the repressive structures of the monarchy into a parliamentary democracy. This was true even though he brilliantly mastered the democratic repertoire of the new republic. For decades, the Conservatives and later the Liberals had done everything to fight this democracy. They had implemented undemocratic suffrage and excluded

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Social Democrats wherever and whenever possible. They had prevented legitimate Social Democratic participation on the municipal level and denied senior state positions to Social Democrats, though this practice gradually declined from the early twentieth century onward, also thanks to Stresemann’s own initiatives. However, he always considered these basic injustices a matter of course since he had internalized them as the “natural” state of affairs. From a democratic viewpoint, it was only just that the majority of the people who had previously been excluded and disadvantaged now claimed their right to implement a political course that was based on democratic decisions, broke with structures long taken for granted, and abandoned old privileges. However, this and the new forms of protest voiced by the lower classes was something Stresemann and his friends found difficult to stomach. They were much too deeply rooted in Imperial Germany and its structures. In 1923, Stresemann still opposed democratic suffrage, even though he reluctantly accepted it and had no plans to abolish it. He also thought the capitalist economic system untouchable in principle, although he himself advocated a reformed patriarchal capitalism. But any form of nationalization was unthinkable for him. For these reasons and despite his pronounced flexibility, he was unable to even begin to tolerate the Saxon experiment, let alone grow fond of it.70 In addition, Stresemann profoundly and fundamentally disliked everything that he defined as socialism, communism, and Bolshevism. That even applied to democratic socialism. To imagine the “red flag” flying over Berlin was not only a terrible vision that Stresemann used skillfully to get the Crown Prince on his side in 192571 but also an absolute nightmare for him personally. Finally, Stresemann’s specific affinity for the military also played a role in this context. The attacks by Zeigner and his administration on the Reichswehr, which revealed illegal activities and offenses against arms control, made them Stresemann’s enemy. He regarded this as a discredit to the Reichswehr, which was synonymous with the military Stresemann valued so highly, and felt this way even though Zeigner’s criticism was actually justified. In addition, Zeigner’s actions indirectly opposed Stresemann’s political course, which relied on the Reichswehr. Last but not least, Stresemann was convinced that the Saxon minister president was weakening Germany’s ability to defend itself, which he felt could only be safeguarded by the Reichswehr and its illegal suborganizations and not by the hundred-men proletarian units. This meant that the Reichswehr and Reichsminister did not have to pressure Stresemann into ordering a military intervention in Saxony to secure their continued loyalty. The Reich chancellor was more than willing to do this of his own accord.72 In sum, the foundations of Stresemann’s stance on Saxony rested on his deep hatred of Bolshevism and socialism, his secret affinity for the military, and his lack of understanding that democratic decisions were to be respected even if they were diametrically opposed to his conservative-liberal-capitalist worldview. He

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was a hardliner against the Left and rather flexible and soft toward the Right.73 This was all the more true since he hoped, with good reason, to “strengthen the Reich’s position toward Bavaria” by striking against the “Communists.”74 However, the situation in Bavaria was not the main reason for Stresemann’s actions. Taking measures against Saxony instead of Bavaria apparently fit his ideological principles and the values he had internalized in Imperial Germany, which still held sway in his mind. He could better relate to national, bourgeois, and traditionally liberal values than to a further, systematic democratization of state and society. To have managed this, he would have had to be a “fervent democrat,” which he never became. His political confidants in Saxony, who were constantly raising the alarm, applied additional pressure. In 1923, he still trusted these people, who shared his most important political and economic political convictions, more than almost all other politicians. The Saxon DVP,75 “his” VSI,76 his industrial friends like Ernemann, but also the Arnhold banking house,77 the Command of the Fourth Army District, and the bourgeois and nationalist press bombarded him with messages criticizing the situation in Saxony.78 They all warned of the “red terror” and the specter of looming nationalizations, a scenario that pushed all of Stresemann’s buttons. The emphatic warnings from his friend Moras are an example of such pleas: “Given the recent developments in Saxony, I believe it absolutely essential that the Reich government take drastic measures, . . . . As long as the authorities do not execute some racketeers, thieves, and saboteurs in certain places as a warning to all other scoundrels, there will be no peace.”79 Consequently, Stresemann took the strongest action against the “Saxon project” and the driving forces behind it. First, as historian Chris Szejnmann put it, Stresemann sacrificed the democratically elected government of Saxony (and the government in the neighboring state of Thuringia) to please the Reichswehr leadership and steal the thunder of the anti-democratic Right in Bavaria.80 Second, according to historian Karsten Rudolph, this action, fully endorsed by Stresemann, was a punishment of a left-wing government that had proved unwilling to align itself to the national unity front and had dared to publicly criticize the course of the Reichswehr.81 An additional factor was political pragmatism. By rating the danger from the Left as more threatening than the danger from the Right, Stresemann reflected a common bourgeois opinion in his response. It was always possible to gather members of the bourgeoisie and form an anti-left-wing political front, not to mention the behavior of the Reichswehr, which was an important power factor in the republic. Stresemann’s action was a decisive strike against the stabilization and entrenchment of democratic elements within the Weimar Republic, and it encouraged those who opposed a further democratization process.82 At the same time, it successfully tested the tool of Reichsexekution for dismissing unwelcome individual

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state governments, even if they had been elected legally. However, Stresemann did not live to witness how this political instrument was used against Prussia by the Nazis in the late Weimar Republic. Independent of Stresemann’s policy toward Saxony, it still holds true that his mastering of the crisis of 1923 was one of his great political and personal achievements. To name but a few significant points: he helped to secure the unity of the Reich, prevent a military dictatorship, regain a free hand in foreign policy for Germany, and consolidate the currency. However, the way these goals were achieved prevented other important structural problems from getting resolved.83 Stresemann’s strike against Saxony might have prevented further democratization and stabilization of the republic and significantly impeded the identification of the working class with the Weimar state. The alleged and short-term benevolence of the political Right and the Reichswehr toward the new state was by no means worth this price, as subsequent political events made clear.

Thick Description II: The Policy of Locarno Historical research of the last decades has strongly focused on Germany’s Locarno policy and its stance toward the League of Nations.84 Accordingly, numerous publications have appeared on these topics.85 Thus, the following description summarizes important results and indicates potential areas for further research. The subsequent sections will add more information to provide a more nuanced insight into Stresemann and his foreign policy and cast some doubt on Stresemann’s very positive assessment overall and the rather uniform current image of his career as a German politician. Initially, early historical researchers in the Federal Republic largely ignored the Weimar Republic’s foreign affairs.86 The question of why the republic had failed was a more pressing issue. From a systematic perspective, problems of the political system, the economy, the parties, the constitution, and the ideologies were much higher on the agenda. Diachronically, the early and, to an even greater extent, final phases of the republic played an important role. The causes of the republic’s “fall” seemed to show up as if viewed under a magnifying glass during these periods. Foreign affairs, especially during the relatively quiet period between 1924 and 1929, were certainly relevant but were mostly subordinated to the negative factors responsible for the failure of the republic: the Versailles Treaty and its burdens (reparation payments, loss of territories, etc.). They were rarely seen in their own right. This lack of interest also derived from the fact that foreign affairs initially played a minor role in the emerging field of the history of society, which increasingly gained dominance. The new research paradigm focused on long-term structures and economic factors. Foreign policy, foreign political configurations,

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and problems of the international system were analyzed from the perspective of domestic political questions. From a methodological point of view, research on foreign policy (and on the history of diplomacy that had long dominated historical scholarship) seemed to be rather unproductive. Despite this general development, Stresemann and his political activities always aroused great interest among German historians, but also among their international, and especially their American, counterparts. In this research (at least temporarily), historians reached very different conclusions and assessments. Their opinions ranged from admiration for a great statesman with early European ambitions to contempt for a politician who paved the way for the “Third Reich.” They fluctuated between an image of Stresemann as an incorrigible annexationist and admirable peace advocate,87 and between his being a stabilizer and destroyer of the Weimar Republic.88 On the one hand, they characterized Stresemann as an emotional person who was not only warm-hearted and sensitive but also straightforward; on the other, he was unmasked as a devious and spineless maneuverer, a power seeker, and a pragmatist who even lacked character. In sum, “rarely has a politician been assessed as controversially as Gustav Stresemann.”89 These differences in judgment arose from factors inherent to scholarship (for example, the body of source material), as well as the various historians’ contrasting foci.90 For example, many authors in the Federal Republic wished, with educational intent, to see Stresemann as a historical figure they could refer to in the present and the future. Moreover, some of his first biographers were his old acquaintances, contemporaries, or previous employees.91 This clearly influenced their works. Almost apologetically, many of them claimed that Stresemann had fundamentally changed after World War I and saw development in this phase leading to Stresemann’s “real history” and achievements during the Weimar Republic. For a long time, interpretations of Stresemann were filled with a narrative of biblical conversion from his being a Saul-like figure (nationalist warmonger) to a Paullike one (European peace politician).92 In this way, a legend began to be created that dominated public, political, and scholarly discourse. Consequently, an image of Stresemann as a good democrat, an early European, and a pioneer of a united Europe long prevailed in the public debate. Other authors had a rather political agenda when interpreting Stresemann within a framework with “war violence as a trait of German imperialist power politics.”93 This was particularly, but not exclusively, true of accounts from the GDR and the Soviet Union, wherein politicians and historians construed Stresemann in a rather blunt fashion as an agent of industrial capitalism and a representative of the German expansionism, which still reigned in the Federal Republic.94 This line of interpretation temporarily gained traction in the mid-1950s when Stresemann’s estate was released.

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Thereafter, mainly historians in the United States, who were the first to have access to the documents of his estate, criticized Stresemann’s foreign policy goals and opposed the findings of the previously dominant scholarship.95 They renegotiated question of continuities and discontinuities in his life and policies and seriously challenged the purity of his European intentions. When his entire estate—and not just the “legacy” published at the end of the Weimar Republic— was analyzed, it generated substantial doubts as to whether Stresemann had really been so peace-oriented in his foreign policy initiatives as his previous biographers had suggested. Another theme then taken up was whether Stresemann refrained from using military means to revise the Treaty of Versailles and return Germany to the status of a great European power only because the Reich lacked the military power at that time. This would not necessarily have reflected his later plans. Some historians implied that he remained a chauvinist foreign politician just as he had been during the Great War and shrewdly concealed this attitude by pretending to be peace loving. Some even wondered whether and to what extent he could be seen as a forerunner of Hitler, despite all his assertions to the contrary and public displays of moderation. All these topics were fiercely and controversially discussed. In their political implications, especially, these heated debates were somewhat reminiscent of the Fritz Fischer controversy over the question of German war guilt after World War I.96 In this context, Stresemann’s famous, oft-interpreted letter to the Crown Prince of September 1925 plays an important role. This document must be related to Germany’s Locarno policy. In this letter, Stresemann outlined his foreign policy objectives for the Crown Prince in sometimes drastic language. For example, he referred to the French, with whom he would negotiate the Locarno Treaties a month later, as “stranglers” that “we must first get . . . off our neck” and clarified that “German policy . . . must in this respect consist first in showing finesse [Politik des Finassierens].” However, interpreting the style and content of this letter requires critical source analysis. Stresemann intended not only to convey his political objectives but also to induce the Crown Prince to influence right-wing circles. In this way, Stresemann hoped to find domestic political support for his Locarno policy. It was particularly necessary to keep the co-governing DNVP in line with his foreign policy. Stresemann’s drastic language was obviously a concession to very skeptical German Nationals. Historians discussed in depth whether Stresemann revealed his true colors in this letter, contrary to his assertions in Locarno, as a man motivated by power, and as a cunning politician, who predominantly wanted to buy time and did not shy away from unscrupulously deceiving his negotiation partners. Many suggested that for all his peaceful gestures and affirmations of peace and European rapprochement, his real intentions were very different.97 It was hotly debated

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whether this document showed him to be an incorrigible, two-faced German nationalist, even during the Weimar period. It seems that this debate has been put to rest in the last fifteen years.98 Three recent and important biographies published almost simultaneously in Germany, Great Britain, and the United States by Eberhard Kolb, Jonathan Wright, and John P. Birkelund, respectively, apparently ended it. They demonstrate that debate on Stresemann and his policy was quite virulent up until about the year 2000, but they also show that a judgment on Stresemann has finally been passed: all three authors essentially agree in their assessment. Thus, the current interpretation of Stresemann is final. Kolb, Wright, and Birkelund clear up any doubts about Stresemann being a “good” politician. They acknowledge that he was genuinely committed to parliamentary democracy during the Weimar Republic and wanted to pursue a peace-oriented foreign policy by integrating Germany into the European system. They almost completely rule out power politics or nationalism as motivating factors. Thus, scholarship seems to have returned, after a couple of detours in the interpretation of Stresemann’s career, to where it began with results similar to those of the early postwar period, though the current findings have a firmer basis in the source material. Stresemann emerges from this (final?) view, however, not only as a model German politician of foreign affairs and rapprochement par excellence but also as Weimar’s “greatest statesman,” and even as a significant pro-European politician. This current scholarship regards him as a great figure and arguably the only politician who (perhaps) would have been able to stabilize and save the republic from the abyss of National Socialism had he not died prematurely.99 Stresemann is described as a “patriot and statesman” and is worshiped as one of the few German politicians who attempted to civilize Germany’s foreign policy. In short, Stresemann has incontestably entered the Valhalla of great Germans, primarily in the field of German and European foreign affairs. Historian Ursula Büttner makes a statement along these lines in her reference work on the Weimar Republic: Meanwhile, international scholarship has come to broad agreement that there is no doubting his [Stresemann’s] sincere willingness to cooperate. He was convinced that the German Reich could achieve its interests, including, above all, the revision of the Treaty of Versailles, only in agreement with the European powers and the US. Thus, he saw no alternative to a peace policy in Europe.100

This unanimity among historians has discouraged further work on Stresemann and his policies and made the positive assessment of him almost irreversible. As a result, there have been hardly any studies on him since the year 2000 and the release of these last three biographies. It appears that Stresemann and his life have been deciphered once and for all and that there is nothing new and unknown

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about him. Stresemann would probably have liked this research outcome. When he was a young man, he did his utmost to achieve such an interpretation and construction of his life. What are these positive assessments based on? According to the consensus in recent scholarship, Stresemann never completely forgot the national interests (even in the 1920s) that had made him the nationalist whip during World War I, but he did finally overcome them. The period of World War I and his activities in Saxony were, in a sense, just the “back story” to Stresemann, the great Weimar politician. During the Weimar Republic—almost the only period that is referred to in assessing him and his policy—Stresemann eventually realized after a learning phase that national (rather than nationalistic) goals could only be implemented by means of international negotiations and agreements. This was why, after he changed inwardly and adapted to the realities of the postwar period, he pursued a political course of cooperation out of inner conviction rather than simply out of pure necessity. This political course differed systematically—and not just gradually and temporarily—from the power-oriented expansionary foreign policy of Imperial Germany, let alone the Nazi era. In this sense, Stresemann substantially contributed to a new path for German foreign policy and, at the same time, to the establishment of a peaceful European order that, at least to a certain extent, excluded no country but integrated all European states into a system of agreement aimed at peaceful conflict resolution. Thus, he fully deserved the Nobel Peace Prize he was awarded in 1926. Proof of this peaceful approach to foreign policy is found, above all, in Germany’s key foreign policy achievements in 1925 and 1926: the conclusion of the Locarno Treaties in October 1925, and Germany’s entry into the League of Nations in the autumn of 1926, both spectacular agreements that Stresemann himself had helped to initiate. The Treaty of Berlin made with Russia in 1926, on the other hand, is not often examined in this context.101 With the Locarno policy, Germany became a respected and equal partner among the countries that were engaging in international cooperation. First, it had now renounced (again, but now voluntarily) claims to Alsace-Lorraine (and Eupen-Malmedy) and suggested that it could join the League of Nations, which happened in 1926. Last but not least, it provided reasonable hope that the issues of disarmament and evacuation could be swiftly resolved in the future. These are the most widely discussed positively construed aspects of Stresemann’s foreign policy. Aside from these concrete results, the consensus opinion also holds that it was in Locarno that initial steps were taken to create a positive atmosphere of mutual trust. The outlines of a new political system for Europe were drawn, and the old system based on mistrust, which had burdened the Treaty of Versailles, at least

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from the German perspective, was overcome. It was important that all the partners renegotiated on an equal footing. Germany was thus reintegrated.102 Nevertheless, this overall positive assessment also contains some criticism in the existing literature, including the fact that the borders of the eastern European states were not as strongly guaranteed by the Locarno Treaties as those between Germany and France or Germany and Belgium. However, most accounts emphasize the positive aspect that arbitration agreements with the eastern states were also concluded in Locarno. They suggest that this provided the option of further integrating Germany’s eastern neighbors into the “Locarno system.” This aspect, it is believed, must be seen in a positive light, particularly since the principle of nonviolence had not been categorically ironed out in these cases. Another point of criticism is Stresemann’s position on the secret rearmament of the Reichswehr.103 He largely failed to take action and even tolerated the violation of the Treaty of Versailles, which casts a substantial shadow over his image as a peace-oriented politician. However, because Stresemann is mainly appreciated as a diplomat, these aspects only play a minor role. They are conveyed as regrettable but are not highlighted. But more importantly, these critical aspects are not systematically pursued or combined to create a “counter-image,” a new construct. Thus, they do not fundamentally challenge the overall positive verdict of Stresemann as a statesman. What, then, was the “Stresemann system” that is so highly praised by scholarship, and what did it look like? A key aspect, mentioned above, is that his foreign policy is interpreted as primarily driven from a European perspective. In addition, the new methods of his foreign policy are emphasized, so that it is credited with “modernization.” A final related point that such scholarship highlights is the broad, holistic nature of his new policy, for instance, in its inclusion of economic and cultural factors (though these have not been examined deeply) as foreign policy tools. Consequently, Germany’s policy in Locarno and in relation to the League of Nations is regarded as being both national and European at the same time.104 Germany’s joining the League of Nations in the autumn of 1926 is a particularly illustrative example. Despite all of Germany’s European-leaning tendencies, it managed to have its special national needs as a disarmed country addressed in the treaties on the basis of a specific interpretation of §16 of the constitution of the League of Nations. This guaranteed that the Weimar Republic would be effectively granted neutral status in the event of a war in Central Europe. With this success, which simultaneously safeguarded the content of the Treaty of Berlin, the republic proved it had equal status within the international concert of nations, although only after overcoming substantial difficulties. However, the international system was not challenged by the German demands. On the contrary, it proved to be highly flexible. “[From then on,] a new method and a new

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style of international politics began in Europe—though only for a few years”—as long as Stresemann lived.105 It was important that the new European regulations were neither rigid nor forced upon Germany or any other country. Instead, decided on by consensus, they remained negotiable and thus flexible. The one thing all participating powers agreed on in the negotiations was the importance of refraining from conflict resolution by military means. This was progress not only from a pacifist point of view, but also very important for Germany. No longer a military power, Germany gained the most from the renunciation of the use of force. Germans firmly believed that the events of 1923—the unexpected invasion of French and Belgian troops in the Ruhr area—could not be allowed to happen again. Through Locarno and Germany’s entry to the League of Nations, a path was created for developing a European system that incorporated all the great powers of central Europe except for the Soviet Union. The new set of rules limited the freedom of action of all countries involved, not just Germany’s. It was legally binding for all and stipulated a joint responsibility to keep the peace, according to the currently predominant historical interpretation. Germany was sufficiently taken into consideration with its difficult geopolitical situation in the center of Europe. The new contractual obligations seemed to prevent Germany from massively expanding its sphere of power in Central Europe. Accordingly, it was supposed to be unable to assert its interests with (future) military means. Historians agree that, unlike during World War I, Stresemann no longer wanted to use force, even if the republic were able to do so, and that this was his great achievement. He had to defend this course within German politics and reinforce it over and over, which is even greater evidence of his exemplary skills as a politician, they claim. In this context, the term “modern foreign policy” has been used106 to refer to the type of policy Stresemann initiated. It describes a policy that implements “innovations” and has a decidedly liberal bent, presenting a model of peacekeeping based on democracy, collective security, and free world trade. Another novelty of this new foreign policy was that it not only entailed diplomacy, secret policy directives, and the politics of conferences, but was supposed to be discussed publicly and to take foreign economic and cultural policies into consideration.107 Within this interpretive framework, it is claimed that Germany’s importance as an economic power and as an exporting and importing nation was crucial for such a policy: “he [Stresemann] wanted to end discrimination against Germany as a great power by stressing the fact that Germany was a trade nation and should see itself as such.”108 Franco-German relations, in particular, were vital in this context. Both powers were closely linked both politically and economically. Thus, there were numerous common interests that could be used politically but could also potentially cause substantial problems.109

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Among the major issues were, first, the need to resolve the question of reparations and military control, and, second, trade negotiations between Germany and France that began in early 1925. These issues are interpreted as an important part of Stresemann’s “modern foreign policy.” “By returning to world politics ‘via the global economy,’ he [Stresemann] did without the military component of power politics but still impatiently demanded the swift revision of the Treaty of Versailles.”110 The bottom line was that “the German liberalization initiatives during the Stresemann era were not part of a neo-Wilhelmine concept of imperialism but were a constructive response to the political and economic isolation of Germany in Europe.”111 However, while Stresemann’s diplomatic activities have been well researched, this area of his foreign policy has remained relatively unexamined. Little has been done in recent years other than to call for case studies and for a plausible analysis. This might be due to the current trend in German historiography to focus more on cultural factors than economic ones.112 Evidence to prove the plausibility of Stresemann’s “modern” foreign policy, in any case, has been partial at best. One success that could be held up in light of these considerations is the Franco-German Trade Treaty, which was concluded at the same time as the political negotiations and agreements (Locarno, League of Nations). Yet the value of this agreement was somewhat undermined because it did not result in general tariff reductions.113 Thus, it hardly presents an example of liberal global trade. Consequently, one can conclude that the modernity of Stresemann’s foreign policy had only limited effects on the economic domain. Nonetheless, the German ambassador to Paris, Leopold von Hoesch, confirmed that concluding the treaty was still important:114 Of course, it cannot be claimed that the conclusion of a Franco-German trade treaty would guarantee the possibility of cheaply regulating disarmament, evacuation, and security issues. On the other hand, without a doubt the fact of concluding [such a treaty] is regarded as an important step toward Franco-German rapprochement and, thus, would help us enormously in continuing on this path.

This statement illustrates the coincidence of diplomacy and economics, as well as the objective common to both to improve relationships in all realms (politics, economics, and, though not mentioned here, culture), to overcome nationalist thinking, and, if possible, to establish a European mode of thought. These were clearly the key ingredients of a “modern” German foreign policy. Only by taking these fields into consideration can Stresemann’s foreign policy be assessed and appreciated as a whole. Despite years of research, a study that includes all these aspects has yet to be written. However, an analysis of his economic foreign policy alone could potentially change Stresemann’s current image and trigger a new discussion of him and his political career.

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The Role of the Economy and Stresemann’s Policy on France This section examines whether and to what extent Stresemann pursued any coordinated efforts in politics and economics with his “modern” foreign policy, whether diplomacy and economic foreign policy shared common objectives, and whether there were pronounced differences between these realms of policy.115 Germany’s policy on France and the role Rhineland Westphalia’s heavy industry played in it serve as good examples to analyze these interrelationships,116 since any revisions Germany wished to make in policy had to be done either in opposition to or in concurrence with France. This held true in both the political and economic realms.117 The possibilities for a German political offensive that was likewise an economic one depended on the Treaty of Versailles and the timeframe it stipulated. January 1925 was an important month for two reasons. It was the time when Stresemann drafted the German memorandum for a security pact on the Rhineland and sent it to the Allies, thus triggering the Locarno policy. At the same time, the trade policy restrictions on Germany stipulated in the treaty expired on 10 January; these included France’s one-sided most-favored nation clause and French duty-free quotas to Germany. After the Dawes Plan had initiated a period of stabilization, Germany could abandon its previous defensive position and use economic policy tools in its new foreign policy.118 Stresemann considered Germany’s economic strength the only instrument of power the German Reich could use as leverage, as he publicly pointed out again in 1926:119 “Our only source of greatness is our economy. Through it, we can either show friendliness toward other countries or proceed with hostilities.”120 Thus, it was important to use both economic strength and diplomacy at the same time and with a common objective to benefit Germany. Heavy industry had considerable political power within the Reich—even before 1925 when the DNVP entered the government coalition in the First Luther cabinet. In this context, it is of crucial importance that this industry was also the key asset of German foreign economic policy that the political leadership intended to utilize toward France.121 This was because the French iron ore mining industry depended on exports to Germany. France’s dependence, which had been hidden in the Treaty of Versailles, remained in place after 1925 when the treaty expired, although under different circumstances. This was the other side of the coin of France’s annexation of Alsace-Lorraine. After the end of the five-year term of the Treaty of Versailles, France relied on the goodwill of the German ironproducing industry to continue importing coal from Germany and exporting iron ore to the Reich. Thanks to its newly gained sovereignty in trade policy, Germany was able to stop importing French minette (iron ore from Lorraine of lesser quality) and buy raw materials of better quality and for a better price from Sweden or Latin

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America, for example, or from the international scrap market. It was largely independent of France. “France’s dependence on German coal and the dependence of the French steel industry on the German market were supposed to be long-term leverage for political concessions.”122 Stresemann’s strategy for modern foreign policy included, on the one hand, a diplomatic large-scale offensive that would result in the Locarno Treaties, and, on the other, successful trade negotiations, international agreements, and cooperation within the private sector while at the same time potentially granting France economic advantages. Stresemann wished to achieve concessions in the occupation policy as soon as possible, as well as a diplomatic and political revaluation and better international treatment of Germany. He also hoped to poke some holes in the Versailles system. Nevertheless, for this economic foreign policy to succeed, the cooperation of German heavy industry was required.123 This was the only way the French iron-producing industry’s wishes (and thus indirectly those of German foreign policy) could be met. As expected, there were substantial obstacles since German heavy industry was not of a mind to be altruistic. Instead, it attempted to implement the highest possible tariff on iron in order to keep French industry out of the German market and achieve higher profits. Representatives of heavy industry held that German exports would thus be strengthened and regain previously lost ground in the global market. Yet this inevitably led to a clash of interests not only with France but also with the German Foreign Office. Therefore, Stresemann had to satisfy the interests of heavy industry in order to put it into the service of German foreign policy. Consequently, the German Foreign Office attempted to win the support of Rhenish Westphalian industry by granting massive concessions in financing, as well as in social and tariff policies. Favorable to success was that the Bülow tariffs, which had automatically gone back into effect on 10 January 1925, were less effective than heavy industry had hoped and not strong enough to get the inconvenient French competition off its back.124 With rising inflation of Belgian and French francs, their plans were thwarted. Thus, heavy industry was under some pressure to cooperate. In the spring of 1925, heavy industry’s leading representatives were prepared to reach an economic agreement with France that would regulate the problems of both the German and the international iron markets. However, their support was conditional on the Reich government bearing the main burden of the additional costs and agreeing to steer a “reasonable” socio-political course. On this basis, an agreement was reached between the Reich government and heavy industry as early as March 1925.125 But the government paid a heavy price for this agreement. It strengthened the position of some important heavy industrial business owners and even became vulnerable to blackmail, as illustrated by the example of the “Krupp case.”126 During the early days of Stresemann’s policy on France, Krupp indicated that

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it was in financial crisis. It notified the Foreign Office that it intended to orient itself more closely toward England and seek business ties with the British Vickers group in order to recover financially. Krupp was well aware that this would severely burden Franco-German relations and impede the objectives of Stresemann’s foreign policy. Only with the promise of significant financial support was Krupp dissuaded from further pursuing its England project and brought in line with Stresemann’s political course.127 Another repercussion in domestic politics resulted from the German side wanting to present a united front to secure the best outcome in international talks. German heavy industry became more concentrated, as had been foreshadowed in its increasing tendency to organize in associations (such as the German Raw Steel Community in late 1924). Also, a favorable arrangement was made between the iron-producing and iron-manufacturing industries in December 1924. These developments were directly related to the new economic foreign policy.128 In the so-called AVI Agreement between the German iron-producing and iron-manufacturing industries, both sides settled on a common strategy with the blessing of the Reich government. The two industries acknowledged the necessity of sufficient tariff protection. In return for this acknowledgement by the iron manufacturers, heavy industry agreed to grant them tariff reimbursements for their exports and provide them with a sufficient quantity of raw iron to ensure their export business.129 The iron manufacturing industry, on the other hand, promised not to buy on the international market under these circumstances. Despite these promises, the agreement demanded great sacrifices from the iron-manufacturing industry.130 Yet it was still willing to “show loyalty and not cause any difficulties for the negotiations given their significance,” even though it believed that “the negotiations of the iron-producing industry that are under way for the purpose of an international iron cartel will unintentionally cause grave negative repercussions for the German iron-manufacturing industry.”131 Heavy industry could hardly expect more concessions than that. Another important favor granted in return for cooperation was the support the German Foreign Office provided for the foundation of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke in 1926.132 In order to facilitate the establishment of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke, the Reich Ministry of Finance, headed by Peter Reinhold (DDP), an old acquaintance from Stresemann’s years in Saxony, gave financial support. The Foreign Office had pressured the ministry to do so with the following argument: The planned merger puts such a substantial part of Westphalian iron industry in the same hands that it will strengthen Germany’s negotiating position immensely. I would like to ask the Reich Ministry of Finance to fully take this aspect into consideration when examining the question of taxation . . . and to provide for a special arrangement that enables the German companies involved to swiftly implement this merger.133

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In this way and with the aim of presenting as united a front as possible in the trade negotiations, the German Foreign Office supported the trend toward concentration within the steel and coal sector, a development that the manufacturing industry did not share. This favoritism enabled German heavy industry to gradually expand its political power in the subsequent years (particularly compared to other industrial sectors), with all the economic and sociopolitical consequences this entailed. When examining the “European objectives” of Stresemann’s (economic) foreign policy in autumn 1926, one has to keep a number of conditions in mind, including domestic circumstances and economic policy conditions, as well as the limited scope for development resulting from tensions between the economic interests of German heavy industry and the German government.134 What were the “European” negotiations among the Western European heavy industries about? In the autumn of 1926, the negotiations came to a close with the foundation of the International Raw Steel Community (IRG). This was a successful outcome of the joint efforts by the government and private sector to bring about intensive cooperation in the iron and steel market in Western Europe.135 The agreement has been referred to as the economic “Locarno” with France and Germany (as well as Belgium and Luxembourg) agreeing on future cooperation and deciding to seek compromise instead of fighting each other in the event of an economic conflict. This provided an additional impetus to Stresemann’s European ideas.136 Among other things, the participating countries came to an agreement on the import of raw steel to Germany. France and Luxembourg were granted a fixed export quota. The agreement also stipulated that a particular percentage of the raw steel production would be distributed to the countries involved. Germany’s quota of over 43 percent made it by far the strongest country. The pact, which was later joined by Czechoslovakia, Austria, Hungary, and Yugoslavia, soon grew into a European iron cartel, even though Great Britain did not then become a member. Thus, this agreement corresponded to the political course that had been decided one year earlier with the Locarno Treaties. From that point on, Franco-German economic relations were contractually fixed, as well. The IRG eliminated competition among the participating nations and paved the way for a general increase in prices. German and French heavy industry could henceforth combine their interests to their mutual benefit. The French market was largely protected from German imports, and France was able to export a substantial contingent of iron to Germany. As the strongest partner within the cartel with a 65 percent share of global steel exports in 1926 and a 70 percent share in 1927, German heavy industry almost had a monopoly on the domestic market and was able to gradually improve its international position. On the surface, the policy concluded in the fall of 1926 appeared to be driven by the European spirit. It even seemed as if Stresemann’s commitment to the

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idea of Europe,137 “as it appeared to be expressed at around the same time in his famous League of Nations speech,”138 was supported and facilitated by the October 1926 agreement of the Western European iron industries in the IRG,139 which would later become the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC). It was later euphorically suggested:140 “If the iron industries of Germany, France, Belgium, and Luxembourg engaged in collective organization, it would be the beginning of an economic rapprochement across the borders.”141 In addition, voices from all sides explicitly pointed out the enormous political implications of the agreement, which increased its foreign policy significance. “The tariff agreement of the iron pact and the resulting coupling of interests of German, French, Belgian, and Luxembourgian heavy industries will clearly have a beneficial impact on the political relations between the countries involved and diminish the sources of friction,” the Foreign Office stated. The same was true of the Franco-German Trade Treaty of 1927. It is, therefore, more than fair to speak of a congruence of strategies in diplomacy and trade policy. To some extent, this was the official interpretation and the “European face” of the IRG, which seemed to be fully in line with Stresemann’s modern foreign policy.142 However, the creation of the IRG looked completely different—and by no means “European”—from the perspective of its German economic partners.143 The objectives of Rhenish-Westphalian industry were not at all compatible with the ideas outlined above. On the contrary, there was no doubt that Rhenish-Westphalian industry had national—one might even say nationalist—motives. Rhenish-Westphalian heavy industry was entirely self-interested in its efforts. “The International Raw Steel Community has the purpose of increasing prices abroad. . . . It also aims to eliminate the rivalry among the iron-producing countries in western Europe and the arms race between them by maintaining the existing status quo on a percentage basis for several years,” as the representative of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke made clear.144 Fritz Thyssen also clarified: “If the international iron pact came into being, one would have complete control . . . over the market. An increase in production is out of the question for countries other than Germany and Belgium. . . . If Germany holds on to higher prices, it will . . . get its share based on these higher prices.”145 The industrialists were very blunt in pointing out what they really wanted: The iron pact is not an end in itself but merely a means to an end, namely . . . enabling the independent national iron industry to recover. . . . After the complete failure of our foreign policy . . . the economy was left with no choice but to recreate the environment that had been built up before the war as the fruits of decades of international rapprochement. Given our political weakness, such agreements are only one step on the way to regaining our economic and therefore also our political freedom.146

This openly nationalistic objective was pursued with the blessing of the Foreign Office, as Albert Vögler, the representative of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke,

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stressed:147 “The iron pact can only exist if Stresemann is able to create his political pact. We have made this pact out of optimism that we are heading toward healthy times. This economic pact will also foster the stabilization process in the West.” To achieve its economic objectives, heavy industry was prepared to temporarily support all activities relating to Stresemann’s policy. Consequently, it aligned itself with the Foreign Office’s plans. These remarks also illustrate that the short-term objectives of Central European cooperation were dominated by national considerations in the medium and long term. Evidently, this aligned with the policy of the Foreign Office. Therefore, it must be asked whether this national objective also applied to Stresemann’s foreign policy and his diplomatic efforts. Were they supposed to give Germany some breathing space to enable it to pursue the national cause with even more strength later on? This assumption is corroborated by the fact that the national objective of the IRG was not an isolated incident. The formation of the European customs union, a project that seemed truly European at first glance, must be seen in the same light.148 These plans, aiming to strengthen the political power of the German Reich in Europe—at least with regard to German heavy industry—were jointly pursued by the Reich government, the Foreign Office, and industry. In general, a Central European customs union entailed a certain automatism that had the potential to propel the political unification of Europe, as shown by the analysis of Director Heinrich Klemme of the Gutehoffnungshütte (GHH) in Oberhausen: “In my opinion, a customs union in Europe is only possible as the precursor to political cooperation between the countries of the union. The customs union must be a unifying tie that embraces politics. Anyone not willing, not able or not permitted to do that must give up the idea.”149 The industrialist further pointed out that a customs union promoted the potential political unification of Europe. But it was precisely this “unifying tie” that bothered German heavy industrialists. In their eyes, it was unacceptable and went much too far; in short, it was undesirable. Considering the indirect political consequences of a European customs union that Klemme had suggested, and on the basis of a realistic economic analysis (“a customs union would bring no direct improvement in the current situation of German iron sales, only severe disadvantages”150) the important associations of heavy industry, the Verein Deutscher Eisen- und Stahlindustrieller (VDEStI; Association of German Iron and Steel Industrialists) and Langnamverein,151 as well as leading heavy industrialists,152 came to the following conclusion:153 From the perspective of the German iron industry, it must be pointed out that a European customs union . . . would enormously damage the German iron industry. Thus, any kind of European customs union is to be rejected from the perspective of the German iron-producing industry.

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Therefore, one must view the Foreign Office’s general paeans about the successful foreign economic and trade policy and its “peace-making” development with some skepticism, particularly in relation to the founding of the IRG (and the customs union policy), as well as to the Locarno policy. To interpret this policy as a true paradigm shift toward a liberal (economic) foreign policy based on reason and cooperation instead of confrontation with long-term consequences is highly premature. This is especially true for the claim of there being a European dimension. There is no trace at all of an ambition to achieve peace and a unified Europe beyond the national interests in the IRG. In any case, it would be wrong to suggest that the IRG was part of a European unification process as finally actually happened after World War II in the form of the European Coal and Steel Community. Stresemann was well aware of this. Whether he deliberately supported the anti-European attitude of heavy industry or whether he was simply unable to prevent it must remain an open question. At any rate, the policy of heavy industry cannot be referred to as “European,” as “refraining from power politics,” or as evidence of the peaceful European intentions of German economic foreign policy in general.

The Locarno Treaties, the IRG, and Poland Every German foreign politician in the Weimar period faced the task of revising the Versailles “treaty of shame.” Any politician would have been swept away, had he not constantly and insistently pursued this goal.154 From the German perspective, the “most shameful regulations” of the Treaty of Versailles were ranked in a certain order of severity. Apart from the so-called war-guilt clause,155 which many Germans felt unjustifiably discredited the Reich, the “occupation of the country by foreign troops,” the effective “disarming” of the Weimar Republic, and, most of all, the ceding of German territories to Belgium, France, and Poland were particular sources of resentment. Yet there were differences in the ranking in this case, as well. The ceding of Alsace-Lorraine to France (and Eupen-Malmedy to Belgium) was regarded as a painful loss the German population could overcome in time, as proved by the Locarno Treaties in 1925. A majority of Germans eventually accepted that it would be effectively, if not legally, impossible for these territories to be returned to the German Reich, even though many chafed inwardly and protested outwardly about it. However, the territories ceded to Poland were a different story. The eastern borders had to be revised in any case and could never be accepted as final. No German foreign minister, not even Stresemann, was able to escape this commandment.156 Thus, it is particularly interesting to examine how Stresemann dealt with this revisionist mood and whether he was able to integrate this issue into his modern

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strategy of dialogue and peaceful conciliation. This foreign policy terrain was particularly precarious for a peaceful and modern course, so it can serve as a litmus test of whether and to what extent the new paradigm was sustainable in political practice. Some scholars, such as the French historian Christian Baechler, one of the most renowned experts on German foreign policy during the Weimar Republic, believe they have proof of a true change in Stresemann’s policy toward the East and of its increasing integration into the general liberal concept of a new modern foreign policy.157 According to Baechler, Stresemann’s territorial demands on Poland became more moderate from 1925 onward. He had made these claims mainly because of the unambiguous public opinion and political pressure that left him no choice about it. However, this view is controversial. The doyen of Stresemann historiography, Henry A. Turner, emphatically insisted that “Poland is still the biggest question mark in assessing Stresemann’s career.”158 Turner questioned whether the paradigmatic shift commonly attributed to Stresemann’s foreign policy also applied to Poland and its borders. Thus, instead of focusing on Germany’s policy toward the West, which is usually regarded as paradigmatic for Germany’s peaceful foreign policy objectives,159 we will examine its policy toward the East and especially its eastern borders, that is, aspects of the Locarno Treaties concerning Poland that were either deliberately avoided or only partially laid out. Shortly after the negotiations of the Locarno Treaties, Stresemann made the political objectives toward Poland very clear to senior staff in the Foreign Office. With rare frankness, State Secretary Carl von Schubert,160 Stresemann’s confidant, informed all German embassies and delegations in a strictly confidential decree about the most important results of this conference from his and the minister’s point of view immediately after the ratification of the treaty on 28 October 1925.161 The decree astutely analyzed the policy toward the West, relativizing the German renunciation of Alsace-Lorraine; it is fundamentally incompatible with the “modern” foreign policy attributed to Stresemann. It reads as follows: “Germany, in regard to its western borders, accepts no other obligation than to refrain from any offensive war and from any other aggressive act. Peaceful development, especially the principle of self-determination, will not be affected by this.”162 For Stresemann, then, there were ways around the renunciation of the territory and grounds to keep hope alive that Germany’s western borders could be revised. The decree was much clearer concerning the German borders in the east. A document attached to the decree, most likely drafted by the legal expert at the Foreign Office, Ministerialdirektor Friedrich Gaus, emphasized the important indirect consequences of Locarno that were not explicitly mentioned in the treaty. It stated with utmost clarity:

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Apart from these specific advantages [regarding the guarantees in the West stipulated in the treaty], there are benefits of much more far-reaching significance in general political terms. The treaty’s fundamentally different treatment of the German borders in the west and in the east leads to the inevitable fact that there will be, in future, firstand second-class German borders. As a result, the revisability of the eastern borders has become a subject of the international legal order.

The German side’s thinking on the borders between Germany and Poland could not have been expressed more blatantly: Stresemann’s office clearly understood the treaty as a decision that, albeit indirectly, significantly “unsettled” or even potentially challenged the western Polish border. It considered the Locarno treaty carte blanche in “general political terms” that allowed those borders to be questioned and undermined in the future. From then on, Germany’s eastern borders were much easier to revise than those in the west. Given this situation, the arbitration treaties signed by Germany with Poland and Czechoslovakia (the latter country was also excluded from the guarantee agreements of the Locarno Treaties) were of little help to the young Republic of Poland, proclaimed in 1918. The German Foreign Office explained why: “The arbitration treaties with Poland and Czechoslovakia by no means recognize the eastern borders. They are standard arbitration treaties.” They did not stand in the way of future border revisions. Almost triumphantly, the German side emphasized that the original plan for a special agreement with France guaranteeing the eastern arbitration treaties had failed completely. After Locarno, ran the German line of argument, France was no longer able to act as protector of the Polish borders. Jacques Bariéty, a French expert in German foreign policy, succinctly summarized the situation: Thanks to his intensive diplomatic activities . . ., Stresemann was able to achieve a string of concessions that legally and practically ruled out the resumption of a bilateral relationship between France and Poland opposed to future revisionism in the east and, at the same time, opened up the opportunity to rekindle precisely this revisionism.163

With Great Britain’s explicit refusal to guarantee the German-Polish borders, they lost all relevance in the end. The British Foreign Office emphasized that it was willing to guarantee only the French-German border and nothing else. The German Foreign Office summed up the situation as follows: “The main consequence of the Western pact [Locarno] is probably the fact that both England and Italy are separated from the previous alliance with France.” Against this backdrop, it is difficult to prove that Stresemann’s policy toward the East was driven by the intention to integrate Europe and had overcome national aims.164 The treaties also marginalized Poland in terms of the political atmosphere: the country was excluded from the general protection created by the Locarno Treaties. The Polish side soon became aware that the country now stood in a worse

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position. Thus, it was no coincidence that, after the conference, the Polish press used the fateful words the “looming fourth separation of Poland.”165 The first step in this dreaded direction had already been taken when Germany, during the course of the Locarno Treaties, rejoined the circle of great European powers while Poland departed from it.166 Against the express wishes of Great Britain and France, Germany successfully prevented Poland from being granted a permanent seat on the League of Nations Council in the autumn of 1926, whereas the Reich became a permanent and equal Council member. After Locarno, Poland had every reason to feel pressured by Germany. The results of the Locarno conference show that Stresemann was focused on stabilizing relations with Germany’s western neighbors, France and Belgium. However, he was equally keen on preventing a similar improvement in the relationship with Poland. Locarno was supposed to make the international community accept that the issue of the German-Polish borders was still open. “There was no non-aggression pact, no ‘complete’ arbitration agreement for Poland. And even the second-to-last position that France held in favor of Poland, the demand that France should become a guarantor power for the arbitration agreement, had to be given up in Locarno.”167 Thus, the Locarno Treaties must be seen not only as a document of international understanding between Germany and France, but also as an agreement directed against Poland, as an indirect invitation to revise Germany’s eastern borders. It had both stabilizing and destabilizing consequences for Europe at the same time.168 This critical evaluation of the treaties is applicable even though Germany was not going to be able to revise the eastern border within the next years. The crucial point was to make this option internationally acceptable. As early as 1976, Klaus Megerle pointed this out in relation to the German objectives of the negotiations in Locarno: “The revision claim had to be upheld, a leverage point created, the actual revision, however, postponed.”169 It would be, however, merely speculative to prematurely conclude from the results of the conference that Stresemann intended to violently revise the borders in the foreseeable future. The foreign minister knew even better than the nationalist propagandists in Germany, who constantly demanded he take such action, that this was impossible for the time being. On the other hand, it is also true that the Locarno Treaties kept all options open, even those that seemed completely unrealistic at the time. This was not a coincidence but rather Stresemann’s deliberate strategy.

Economic Foreign Policy: The IRG Both alongside and intertwined with the diplomatic efforts, economic developments also played a decisive role. In appearing not to affect Poland directly, they

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resembled the political negotiations of Locarno, yet, like those negotiations, they also had a tremendous indirect impact on the country. Similarities between the diplomatic negotiations (Locarno Treaties and League of Nations) and the economic ones (International Raw Steel Community and Trade Treaty negotiations) are immediately obvious.170 Every area of German (economic) policy toward the east included elements indirectly aimed against Poland. This applied to both formal and content-related aspects of the IRG treaties, which resembled the Locarno Treaties in many respects.171 What had been essential for the Locarno Treaties was also true for the IRG: both those who joined the treaty and were allowed to enjoy its benefits and those who did not or were not allowed to do so were important. It was clear from the beginning that the IRG aimed at expansion. Only this would stabilize the (European) market and put the member states in a position to dominate it. Under no circumstances did the German side want to jeopardize its interests through the accession of further central European countries. Therefore, although it attempted to integrate the candidate countries into the system of the IRG, it also aimed to maintain its own dominant position within it. The Polish side realized the danger. It was well aware of the significance of the pact and that it could potentially be directed against Poland. In political terms, it [the cartel of the IRG] is the foundation of the Franco-German entente. Harmonizing the interests of two large and politically influential industries, such as the German and the French iron industries, eliminates the main source of the previous competition, and as a result the mutual hatred of both countries. Not only does this band of steel and iron, tying France and Germany together, facilitate a peaceful settlement of political differences, it also prevents the spread of differences that are not yet resolved. . . . Therefore, the Polish iron industry will sooner or later be forced to seek entry into the Franco-German cartel.172

But that took time. As a result, Poland was the only outsider in the late 1920s and regarded as a fifth wheel by all IRG members. As with the conclusion of the Locarno Treaties, the negotiations on the iron industry produced an “orderly” and contractually regulated situation in the west and dysfunctional, unresolved circumstances in the east. Poland was the victim in both cases, politically and economically. The reasons for excluding Poland were political and economic. Poland, an important steel producer with heavy industry that had formerly belonged to Germany, was in a position to prevent price increases and thwart the IRG’s planned elimination of competition on the European iron market. From the perspective of the IRG, this was an argument in favor of integrating the country into the cartel. Given high production costs in Great Britain, there was no question of it becoming a member of the IRG. Besides, the United Kingdom had little interest in ruinous European competition as it focused on sales markets outside of

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Europe. With transport costs high, the US competition was not yet a threat, nor was IRG price rigging under any danger from the very competitive Swedish iron industry after its friendly negotiations with the IRG. Only Poland presented a problem. But the country was isolated and its position weakened enormously once Czechoslovakian iron producers had joined the IRG. An additional problem was that the Polish metal-working industry relied heavily on German iron manufacturing. According to the Geneva Convention, Germany could terminate the export of scrap iron to Poland beginning in June 1927. Thus, the Poles depended on Germany’s goodwill, just like France in January 1925, and faced organized competition not only from Germany but from the Western European cartel as a whole.173 Given Poland’s enmity toward Russia and Sweden’s closeness to the cartel, it was extremely doubtful that Poland would be able to switch to Russian or Swedish ore. The Polish iron industry was thus forced to find a way to join the IRG and, in the process, had to accept conditions largely dictated by the cartel. A further condition of Polish membership was that the differences between Germany and Poland be resolved, which was exactly what the German Foreign Office had been counting on. Poland was trapped between its own precarious situation, the interests of the IRG (including the French industrialists), and the even farther-reaching economic and political wishes of Germany. To make matters worse, the mood of the economic negotiators at the IRG increasingly shifted against Poland. The longer the state of limbo lasted, the worse it became. For Poland to become a new member would mean that the cartel would have to deal with several demands that could jeopardize the privileges of other countries, including France. This development substantially enhanced Germany’s anti-Polish position. It allowed the German delegation at the negotiations on the accession of Poland to the IRG to demand harshly that it would be willing to negotiate only if Poland met several preconditions. This attitude helped the German government use the accession talks as leverage for their policy and as a weapon in ongoing negotiations for the trade treaty with its eastern neighbor. The Reich government required German heavy industry to “ensure that the final decision on the result of the negotiations not be made without the approval of the German government.”174 The strong position of German heavy industry within the IRG as well as the cartel’s economic objectives were supposed to serve as weapons of German foreign policy aimed at weakening Poland’s (economic) position.175 Under these circumstances, it was virtually inevitable that Poland would fail in its candidacy to become a member of the IRG. Again, Poland was excluded, at the request of both German heavy industry and, indirectly, the Foreign Office. In this case, Stresemann’s policy was dominated by a strategy of exclusion that deliberately neutralized Poland in case it was unwilling to bow to German wishes.176

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These wishes, however, were unacceptable to Poland and could only be fulfilled by force, as the German envoy to Warsaw, Social Democrat Ulrich Rauscher, repeatedly emphasized: it was his “strong belief . . . that territorial changes to the German eastern border cannot be achieved peacefully, but only through violent means.”177 Yet the IRG’s policy had presented another option for reaching this goal. This was one of the main aims of German foreign policy during the Weimar Republic—exerting maximum pressure on Poland—even though war was not considered an option during the Stresemann era. Only by excluding Poland from Europe, then, is it accurate to claim that Stresemann pursued a policy of peace and security within Europe and deliberately refrained from power politics. Stresemann’s strategy toward Poland was different from his policy toward France at every level. He was prepared, at least temporarily, to accept Germany’s integration into the circle of (Western) European nations and to renounce power politics. It is possible that he wanted, as Peter Krüger points out, “to anchor Germany in Europe, for its own sake and for the sake of its stabilization and pacification, for the sake of its own security and that of other states.”178 Perhaps he really thought that this was the best and, for the time being, only way to represent German interests—but this is by no means certain. But this sort of aim definitely does not apply to Stresemann’s policy toward Poland and the strategy of German heavy industry toward the East and the West, which Stresemann probably supported with reservations. Heavy industry’s plans, especially regarding the West and even more so the East, were far from “European” and “conciliatory” in nature. The industrialists wanted to achieve strength through their own, independent national power rather than as a member of the community of European nations. The German foreign minister was well aware of this—and did nothing to change their course. It is fair to say that neither the Foreign Office nor German heavy industry (including in the context of the IRG) pursued peaceful and European objectives. There is no sign that either of them wanted to integrate Poland as an equal partner and codify its borders. Stresemann’s “European” policy did not go this far. However, his partial pursuit of a policy focused (also) on reconciliation in the west is a great achievement. From a present-day perspective, it justifies his outstanding reputation as politician and statesman in the realm of foreign policy.

The Rapprochement Politician and His Double Life: Pabst, Orgesch, Wilhelm and Co. The nation, its greatness, and its continued existence determined Stresemann’s political thought and actions throughout his life. This is equally true for him both in Imperial Germany and in the Weimar Republic during the “Stresemann

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era.” The bourgeois-liberal and imperial worlds, militarism and nationalist heroism—but not Communism and atheism—all had a special place in his heart and in the people’s community that he propagated.179 He approached Germany and Europe, rapprochement and power politics, collaborating with the moderate Left and Right, and affiliating with the middle and lower strata of society, which all peacefully coexisted in Stresemann’s worldview, all with the same openness. Inevitably, these fundamental contradictions led to considerable tensions. Ambivalence and hybridity characterized Stresemann’s life and his political perspectives in almost every respect. This is also true of his personality. He oscillated between two seemingly mutually exclusive paradigms that recent gender history has developed for Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic.180 On the one hand, he admired male associations and secret organizations that were regarded as the “breeding ground for charismatic male heroes.”181 He sought an almost “libidinous bond with his fraternity brothers (Bundesbrüder), comrades (Bundesgenossen), ‘friends.’”182 This culture of male associations was clearly dominated by the leader-follower principle, by order and obedience—in short, it had an anti-bourgeois and militaristic element. On the other hand, Stresemann opposed hierarchies. He wanted bourgeois freedom and liberalism. Time and time again, he was able to combine his bourgeois life trajectory with the essentially anti-bourgeois and anti-democratic foundations of the male associations. For example, he undermined their structures, modified their rituals, and subverted them by taking over the leadership or reorganizing them, without, however, creating new democratic leadership structures, which is rather striking. Stresemann was no warrior or soldier type. He saw this as a personal flaw in himself and attempted to compensate for it with his deep admiration for warrior strength and bellicose men. He even secretly supported their unlawful military activities. Klaus Theweleit has interpreted the excessive virility of the Freikorps members from a psychoanalytical perspective not as a compensation for a lost war but rather as personal weakness.183 This also applies to Stresemann. His demonstrations of masculinity mainly resulted from his “non-participation in the great patriotic war,” that is, his failure to do what he saw as a real man’s duty. At the same time, he steadfastly refused to uncritically court the male body cult that played such an important role during the Weimar Republic and, more importantly, to place the body over the mind: Even at the risk of offending the broad masses, it seems necessary to me to point out that the intellectual must not take a back seat to the physical as is the case today [1927]. We are friends of every form of physical exercise. But . . . the nobility of the mind [must] not be replaced by the nobility of the biceps.184

His political activities were characterized by similar ambivalences. Although right-leaning, he swung between the Right and the Left, between monarchy and

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democracy. When the right-wing putschist Waldemar Pabst praised Stresemann in 1926 for his “manly” defense of Tyrol’s interests185 and explicitly emphasized the “balanced” nature of his policy, Stresemann, deep in his heart, felt understood by his right-wing “friends.”186 This accolade probably meant more to him than those of the political Left, though it was they—and not the right-wing camp— who supported Stresemann’s internationally acclaimed policy of rapprochement. However, he did not want his policy to be dominated by either his left-wing or his right-wing friends.187 Stresemann’s ambivalence and his attempts to combine almost incompatible elements can be discerned as clearly as his existence as a crossover artist, which made him open to a wide variety of influences but also failed to give him the stability he needed. The following section will present examples to answer the question of whether his actions were as independent and open as he (and most of his biographers) believed them to be and whether his inner reservations toward the admired “men from the Right” were sufficient; in short, it will show what his understanding of democracy looked like in this context.

Major Pabst Waldemar Pabst (1881–1970),188 a career officer and glorious war hero, especially successful as a general staff officer in World War I, became the commander of the still-intact Garde-Kavallerie-Schützen-Division after the revolution of 1918/19, the “strongest counter-revolutionary military formation” of the time.189 “Vain, ambitious, and hungry for power, he was one of the most notorious figures of the revolution of 1918/19.”190 His pathological hatred of the revolution, Socialists, the Republic, and parliamentary democracy was known throughout the entire country. Yet this did not stop the Social Democratic Reich Minister of Defense Gustav Noske from collaborating with him and his men and deploying them in the fight against the revolutionary Volksmarinedivision (People’s Naval Division).191 Pabst showed a similar spirit in eliminating the two leading Communists Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht. He set the course for their murder, ordered the deed together with other officers, arranged the scene, and protected the perpetrators without ever being punished.192 As if that were not enough, the passionate, workaholic, and reckless Pabst also took over preparing the coup of Wolfgang Kapp and General Walther von Lüttwitz.193 As de facto head of the National Union, he pulled the strings but was unable to make the putsch a success in the end.194 After its failure, he first fled to Hungary, then, in 1921, to Austria.195 He was hardly a friend of the republic or a true democrat. Yet this did not bother Stresemann at all. From the end of the war until his death, he maintained very close and even friendly relations with Pabst as well as

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with the general from the putsch, General Lüttwitz, and Forstrat Georg Escherich, the initiator of the Bavarian Heimwehr (Orgesch). He knew all along that these men were no democrats but reactionaries and arch enemies of the Weimar constitution—murderers whose organizations were out to kill him, too. Nevertheless, he kept seeking contact—albeit conspiratorially—with Pabst.196 There are no known similar relations with left-wing Social Democrats, for instance, in his “home” of Saxony. Pabst was temporarily sought by warrant, but still frequently appeared in Berlin to “exchange ideas” with Stresemann, who paid Pabst’s travel and accommodation expenses.197 An important reason for this collaboration was to resolve the problem of how to exempt the Kapp putschists from punishment and rehabilitate them as free and honorable men. Stresemann himself evoked a moral obligation that forced him as a German patriot to do so. It is true that he still leaned toward the reactionaries’ ideas in many respects when he was chancellor and foreign minister. At the same time, Stresemann’s connection to Lüttwitz and Pabst was related to the Kapp putsch. In 1920, Stresemann had played a more than dubious role in this coup. He became very close to the putschists, condoned their actions, and even made himself available to them. He was thus more deeply involved in the putsch than he was later willing to admit—he always vehemently denied any involvement.198 In the context of this cooperation, Stresemann apparently signed a document “in which the leaders of the bourgeois parties,” as Pabst quoted, “promised us [the putschists] unconditional amnesty in return for our withdrawal from the enterprise.”199 From this, the officers demanded certain rights after the failed putsch, which Stresemann apparently was unable to withhold from them. Kapp and Lüttwitz even threatened to hand themselves in to the German authorities and reveal the true background circumstances of the coup and Stresemann’s role in it. This threat to expose Stresemann clearly encouraged his efforts to give them amnesty.200 The spirits he had evoked in 1920 proved difficult to get rid of.201 In this sense, Stresemann’s collaboration with Pabst and his kind was based on a mixture of blackmail, shared anti-socialism among friends, personal appreciation, and probably, at least partially, shared domestic and foreign policy ideas.202 Both sides agreed that it had been a great service to avert the “red threat” in 1918 and 1919. “The salvation and the chance for a national revival”—in this, Pabst almost emulated Stresemann’s rhetoric—“are only thanks to the deeds of the military that is still committed to the old order.”203 Given such a worldview, it was impossible for Stresemann to accept, let alone support, the hundred-men proletarian units (proletarische Hunderschaften) in their fight against the “Black Reichswehr” and the political Right, that is, against Pabst and his comrades. Initially, Stresemann regretted that Hindenburg had been elected Reich president in 1925. He made every effort to prevent this because he did not want his

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security pact policy to be jeopardized by the election of a war general.204 This had already motivated him to undermine the candidacy of Reich Minister of Defense Otto Geßler (DDP). However, in so doing, Stresemann had impeded a politician supported by all the bourgeois parties, a move which greatly alienated the coalition partner, the DDP. The fact that Hindenburg, the center-right candidate, emerged victorious from the second round of the Reich presidential elections was not least a consequence of Stresemann’s poorly thought out maneuverings. When Stresemann realized that it was, in fact, possible to talk to Hindenburg about foreign policy matters after all, he started to see the bright sight of the election result. In contrast to Wilhelm Marx from the Center Party or the Social Democratic Minister President of Prussia, Otto Braun, the new president, whom Stresemann admired as a war hero but also viewed with a great deal of political skepticism, seemed to uphold the tradition of a strong military. Having Hindenburg as the Reich president also opened up the possibility of binding the political Right more closely to Stresemann’s foreign policy. Last but not least, Hindenburg’s presidency moved the desired amnesty of the Kapp putschists into the realm of the possible. In the summer of 1925, Stresemann pursued a general amnesty that also covered Pabst and his friends, not least thanks to Hindenburg.205 In so doing, Stresemann secured the appreciation of the “right men” who were so important to him: “Keep in mind,” Pabst assured Stresemann in a patronizing manner, “that you are gaining grateful and faithful followers with your word and your manly attitude of standing up for us. This will be publicly shown as soon as we return home.”206 This could have been the end of Stresemann’s relationship with the putschists if he had regarded the amnesty as a mere “duty.” In fact, however, his relationship with them intensified after this, casting doubt on Stresemann’s commitment to democracy. Straight away, Pabst, who had built up a comprehensive network in the German-speaking Alpine countries from 1921, served “as a kind of special agent for Stresemann in Austria” as his commissioner for matters relating to the Austrian Heimwehr (Home Guard).207 Once Pabst had been promoted to chief of staff of the Alpine Heimwehren in Austria, he (rightly) became known as Stresemann’s “most reliable, most faithful and best associate” in Tyrol’s rightwing circles,208 where speculation had swirled all along about why Pabst had been “banished” for such a long time, while “hundreds of vermin [the political Left] were allowed to roam free, even the Rhenish traitors.” As Stresemann’s cooperation commissioner and together with his right-wing friends in Austria,209 Pabst reinforced German cultural propaganda during this time to encourage and keep alive the aspiration of Austria being annexed. It was without doubt a “modern” German foreign policy that Stresemann pursued, albeit not in the sense of those who coined this term. At the same time, Stresemann assigned Pabst to discreetly make inquiries about the situation in South Tyrol. For example, Stresemann requested Pabst’s advice on “whether it is in the

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interest of the people of South Tyrol to vigorously continue the agitation against Italy, namely, in Munich and elsewhere.”210 There is no direct evidence of many of Stresemann’s assignments to Pabst. However, it is fair to assume that the “idea of annexation” played a role in them, as did the preparation of activities of German Heimwehr units in Austria should Italy intervene in the Alpine state and the funding of “activities” in South Tyrol.211 There are, however, archival documents revealing that Pabst urgently cautioned Stresemann in September 1925 against accepting the Brenner border in any form in the Locarno Treaties. Otherwise, he wrote, the “idea of the unification [Zusammenschluß ]—I deliberately do not call it the annexation [Anschluss]—would be dead and incapable of being revived, at least in the Alpine countries, the pillars of Germandom in Austria.”212 Stresemann even openly admitted to the Prussian Minister of the Interior, Social Democrat Carl G. Severing, that Pabst had acted on his behalf in Austria. “In those times, when a fascist invasion of North Tyrol was imminent, I arranged for Pabst to take certain border control measures for defense so that I would have been able to make a formal protest to the League of Nations on time and call upon its mediation.”213 Apparently, Stresemann had no reservations about his “right-wing assistant.” In this context, Stresemann’s dubious political activities are not all that must be highlighted, but also the type of assistants and employees he chose and their political ideas. It is more than striking that a man like Pabst enjoyed Stresemann’s trust in highly complex matters such as the issue of the German-Italian border. Stresemann’s intensive cooperation with Pabst is but one example of his relationships with right-wing associations. It is very difficult to reconcile these relationships with his image as a “politician of European peace.”

The Escherich (Orgesch) Organization Stresemann’s close contacts with the former head of the Escherich Organization and the German Protection League (Deutscher Schutzbund) are further examples of his collaboration and clear affiliation with “right-wing comrades.”214 The always busy Georg Escherich, a Bavarian Forstrat (forester, upper-level civil servant) and the founder of the Heimwehr in Bavaria in 1919 (together with General Franz von Epp and Ernst Röhm) became the leader of the Escherich Organization in 1920, which was euphemistically referred to as a merger of all the “protection leagues in the German Reich loyal to the state and the constitution.” In reality, it was nothing but a disguised Freikorps organization. In its heyday, it consisted of almost one million members and a correspondingly high volume of weapons. When the Reich government banned the organization in 1921 and the Entente issued an ultimatum, the Escherich Organization officially dissolved

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and the underground organization Black Reichswehr took over most of the illegal weapons. Though the Escherisch Organization no longer officially existed, it remained politically active. Despite this formal loss of power, Escherich and his colleague Karl Christian von Loesch,215 the chairman of the German Protection League, were still central figures in the Weimar Republic’s network of right-wing associations and, at the same time, important political advisers to Stresemann and Hindenburg. Escherich shared the same political ideas as Pabst and his friends: anti-democratic, antiliberal, and anti-republican, nationalist, and völkisch. And yet, that did not prevent Stresemann from maintaining close social and political contacts and financially supporting these individuals. Again, this was not tactical cooperation to move the political Right closer to the republic but, without a doubt, an elective affinity. The German Protection League received substantial continuous funding from the Reich Ministry of the Interior. Stresemann still insisted on supporting the organization when it became public knowledge that this right-wing splinter group had been financed by the state. By emphasizing the significance of this association and his personal agreement with its goals, he successfully prevented Social Democratic Minister of the Interior Severing from cutting these expenses as part of austerity measures when the latter took office in 1928.216 Pabst too benefited from these funds, and he also received financial support from the Association of Germans Abroad from the Reich.217 From 1926, Pabst received a monthly salary of 1,000 marks from the German Protection League funded by the Foreign Office. It is striking that these subsidies continued to be paid, even when Stresemann came under substantial public pressure on account of this cooperation.218 Additionally, support funds from Stresemann’s secret account were transferred to Pabst and Escherich on a regular basis. The list of documented subsidies alone is impressive. In 1926, Pabst received an “entertainment allowance” of 3,000 marks in February, March, May, and October, each via secret accounts.219 In April and November, Pabst meticulously billed his travel expenses for his trips to Berlin.220 In addition, he received subsidies via the account of Ottmar E. Strauss, a partner of the Otto Wolff company and a friend of Pabst’s. This was a source of the large sums of money Pabst used to operate in Austria.221 In the event of any problems, Strauss told Stresemann that he was prepared to help conceal the state-funded subsidies, to top them up, or even to take over providing them completely. These machinations indicate a financial swamp that has by no means been fully investigated, and they do not put Stresemann’s transactions, including during his time as foreign minister, in a good light. To complete the picture, it should be mentioned that in 1926 Escherich received 3,000 marks in February, 2,000 marks in March, June, and July, respectively, and a further 3,000 marks in November, paid to a secret account in Munich.222

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Escherich was a frequent guest of the foreign minister and the Reich president. According to his diary entries,223 he had regular meetings with prominent politicians in Munich and Berlin. Significantly, he visited Stresemann on almost all these occasions and was immediately received in the foreign minister’s house. Stresemann’s appointment diary confirms the unusual closeness between them: meetings with Escherich on 8 March 1924, and 31 July 1924, are noted in it, together with Hans von Seeckt on the next day and again with Stresemann on 10 October. On 1 May 1925, at ten o’clock in the morning, Escherich requested a meeting that took place the same day from six o’clock until half past seven in the evening. This again shows how close the relationship between Stresemann and Escherich was. Two more meetings—one in July in von Seeckt’s house and afterwards from five thirty to six thirty at Stresemann’s and one on 28 October, again at Stresemann’s—completed the social activities in 1925. Stresemann’s collaboration with Pabst and other right-wing activists became closer than ever in 1926, the year Germany joined the League of Nations. On 1 February, Escherich documented a meeting with Stresemann in his diary, followed the next day by another with von Seeckt, Hindenburg, and Stresemann. On 16 July, Escherich held a meeting with Hindenburg and afterwards with State Secretary Meissner. On 22 August, the Reich president even visited Escherich in Bavaria and stayed at his home, a rare honor. On 28 September, Escherich visited Hindenburg again, on 30 September von Seeckt, on 4 November Stresemann (together with Minister of Defense Geßler), on 9 December Hindenburg, and the next day Hindenburg and Chancellor Marx. Pabst had two meetings with Stresemann on 15 and 23 November, one of them together with von Loesch. This was due to the fact that the chairman of the German Protection League was also a leading member of the German-Austrian Working Committee, founded in the same year, which maintained close cooperation with Pabst. Tellingly, no minutes or transcripts of any of these meetings exist. Escherich did not cast himself in the role of a petitioner at these meetings. On the contrary, Stresemann courted him, for example, by emphasizing how pleased he would be to see him in Berlin again. Stresemann took a great interest in “the Bavarian situation, in which I [Stresemann] would very much like to see your influence as a statesman restored.”224 Even considering the intended flattery and the purpose of the letter, this meant, in plain words, that Stresemann favored a political order in Bavaria dominated by anti-democratic, militaristic, or at least anti-republican circles. A former organizer of the Freikorps (Escherich) and a serial murderer, putschist, and violator of the constitution (Pabst) were evidently perfectly acceptable partners for him. This again proves that his support for the intervention in “left-wing Saxony” in 1923 was no coincidence but a product of his clearly right-leaning political worldview. In 1926, Stresemann used Escherich’s comprehensive knowledge just like a private detective agency. He had him report on his visit to Turkey225 and, as with

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Pabst, also benefited from Escherich’s profound knowledge of Austrian politics. What was more, he used Escherich’s contacts with Mussolini to obtain information on the latter’s policies226 and Escherich’s friendship with Hindenburg to keep himself in the loop about the president’s state of health. Stresemann was grateful to Escherich for the latter’s attempt to prevail on the president to approve the Locarno Treaties.227 Escherich was also an important contact between Stresemann and von Seeckt. He provided both men with information and conveyed their mutual high esteem.228 Again, it is difficult to determine to what extent Stresemann used Escherich for his policy and to what extent he actually agreed with his political ideas. Stresemann’s emotional and political affinity for the Right is unmistakable. No equivalent relationships with Social Democrats are documented.

Crown Prince Wilhelm The complex of Stresemann’s “conservative worldview” and his “admiration” of conservative and warrior leaders and anti-democratic forces of bygone Imperial Germany also includes his longstanding relations to the imperial family and especially to Crown Prince Wilhelm.229 These extended back to the time of World War I, when Wilhelm and Stresemann had instigated the overthrow of Reich Chancellor Bethmann Hollweg in 1917 with the crown prince pulling the strings and Stresemann playing his role in parliament.230 Stresemann, who was still enthusiastic about a Volkskaisertum (popular emperorship) long after the revolution and still during the Weimar period, visited the crown prince as early as 1920 and again in 1921 on the island of Wieringen in the Netherlands, the place of Wilhelm’s exile. It was the beginning of a close relationship. Stresemann maintained friendly relations with the former crown prince until his death. Stresemann’s desire to have close ties to the former imperial family had several causes. He certainly felt flattered to be, to some extent, accepted by the crown prince as his equal, that is, to be respected by the highest-ranking old elite of Imperial Germany that he admired so much. Stresemann often boasted that the crown prince’s family referred to him as “Uncle Gustav.” But his contacts with Wilhelm also reflect his attempt to combine the old political system with the new one, namely, to keep the idea of the monarchy alive in the republic and give the republic more stability by implementing it in a conservative spirit. This aspect must be kept in mind in relation to Stresemann’s attitude toward the Conservative elites and especially the DNVP and the political Right. This was arguably one of his greatest domestic political achievements. Another decisive factor was that he steadfastly maintained the values embodied by the Prussian emperorship even after the revolution of 1918. He saw the

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militarist spirit of the Hohenzollern monarchy as a value in its own right, irrespective of the democratic order of the Weimar Republic. Two examples illustrate this assumption: Stresemann’s efforts to bring the crown prince back to Germany and the correspondence between Stresemann and Crown Prince Wilhelm that reveals Stresemann’s extraordinary admiration for the Prussian monarchy. The crown prince was no great man and certainly not Stresemann’s equal intellectually. At some point, Stresemann had even felt contempt for him because of the airs he had put on during World War I.231 Despite this, Stresemann always stood up for him during the first years of the Weimar Republic. Most of all, he enabled him to return to Germany in 1923, at a time when other issues were far more pressing. The repatriation of the crown prince did indeed take the wind out of the sails of the political Right, which had been outraged about the exile of “this charming and insignificant young man who spends his time with sports and very personal activities.”232 But Stresemann’s actions were not solely prompted by tactical considerations. His respect for the monarchy and the values embodied by it were far more important motives. Thus, Stresemann rightly told Wilhelm “that this decision has been made unanimously by the cabinet, due to my approval and, if I may add, without objections or criticism thanks to my explanations.”233 The cable from 27 January 1919,234 in which Stresemann and the party leadership of the DVP paid homage to the emperor in a way that was “by no means appropriate to the mindset of all truly liberal circles in Germany,”235 proves that Stresemann’s affinity and admiration for the German emperorship were ongoing and unchanged. At some point, Stresemann’s confidant Rudolf Schneider could no longer bear the adulation for the imperial house that Stresemann promoted for years in his newspaper Die Zeit; Schneider canceled his subscription to the paper. “For a long time, I have suffered from disappointment that I have endured with exemplary patience. But today’s issue of Die Zeit, which honors the birthday of Crown Prince Wilhelm, has caused me to cancel my subscription to the paper, and I will prevail on all my acquaintances to do the same.”236 As a “citizen,” Stresemann never developed an attitude toward the old authorities appropriate of a minister in a parliamentary democracy or the self-confidence needed to put the emperorship where it had belonged since 1919—namely, in the past. From 1921, Stresemann regularly exchanged letters with Wilhelm237 expressing his subordination.238 This did not change even when he became the leader of the government in 1923 and then the most important cabinet minister. None of his letters indicate that he was, in fact, the legitimate representative of the republican state, a central figure in European foreign politics, and an important member of German parliamentarianism and the new German democracy, or that he was corresponding with an insignificant “private individual” who was forbidden to engage actively in politics. The communication between them rather

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suggests that Stresemann took every wish of the Crown Prince as an order, in the full sense of the word.239 All salutations and letter closings, and the obeisant remarks interspersed in the letters allow for only one conclusion: Stresemann saw himself as the subordinate. With great awe and respect, he spent hours in the palace of his majesty, and he referred to “patriotic grief ” in the age of the new republic.240 These remarks were matched only too well by his disdainful comments on the new representatives of the republic he made in confidence to his wife during the constitutional convention in Weimar.241 “Ebert’s speech was so bleak it could have been held by an inferior speaker at a district assembly. And this man is supposed to be Reich president in the Berlin Palace! One does not know whether to laugh or cry.” In 1921, Stresemann still pointed out that he agreed with the crown prince’s ideas on foreign policy and emphasized that he could convey his most secret thoughts to him not in a letter but only in a private conversation.242 The implicit desire for male bonding with the crown prince emerges throughout the entire correspondence. In addition, Stresemann never confronted Wilhelm’s anti-democratic and anti-republican torrents of hatred. As a democratic politician, he condoned Wilhelm’s reference to the German populace as “plebes” and accepted the view that politics should be suggestive and did not have to be convincing. He did not pass comment, let alone terminate the correspondence, when Wilhelm called Raymond Poincaré an “Apache chief ” who worked with “consorts.”243 These aspects put the so-called crown prince letter of September 1925 in perspective. Stresemann’s remarks in this document reflect the typical style of his correspondence with Wilhelm in general. For example, the word “finessing” (finassieren) belonged to the usual repertoire of their letters. Every piece of information Stresemann conveyed in the letter was part of a normal tone between sender and recipient, even though Stresemann made his request particularly urgent in this particular letter in order to gain the crown prince’s support for his security pact policy and to win over the DNVP. Against this backdrop, it is hardly surprising that Henry Bernhard, who published Stresemann’s “Legacy” after his death, took no offense at these parts of the crown prince letter. On the other hand, he omitted passages that were too private and too obsequious. It seems that in Bernhard’s eyes, Stresemann’s closeness to the emperor was far more damaging to his legacy than the actual content of the letter. Without a doubt, Stresemann’s affinity to the political Right was part of his character. It largely corresponded to his worldview. However, during the Weimar period, he did not belong to either of the two political camps. He was neither a firm democrat nor a staunch reactionary, neither a right-wing warrior, nor a member of the liberal bourgeoisie. He remained a crossover artist outside of all these milieus. We can only speculate whether and to what extent he suffered as a result.

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“And Wanted to Be a Bourgeois”: Liberalism, Culture, Nation, War, and Democracy [A]nd it [Konrad Flex’s letter] brings back memories of your family I [Stresemann] was very close to. I had very close intellectual ties particularly with your father, and I still feel especially attached to your brother. If I had the time to write, I would very much like to delve into the history of your family and your house and write a book on the Flex family as a family of the German bourgeoisie, which would show the great and remaining values of idealism in our seemingly rationalist times. I read the letters your brother wrote to me from the front lines and that you kindly sent to me. I am still undecided whether it was right to send a man like Walter Flex into the line of fire, just like Gorch Fock and the young Braun. The Fates severed the thread of life before his great creation could begin, and we are left with the fragments of a great life and a great work that could have developed.244

So far, we have analyzed Stresemann’s presentation of himself in his estate, described his illnesses, his physiognomy, his efforts to be cultured, and his oratorical skills. We have also investigated his efforts to gain acceptance among the bourgeoisie and examined his activities in Dresden and Saxony, during World War I and the Weimar Republic, his foreign policy, his vacillation between Right and Left, between his militarism and liberalism, between male associations and family—this list could go on. After all this, we must again ask what sort of life Stresemann dreamed of. What kind of person did he want to become? How did he assess his life? These key questions can be answered only rudimentarily, yet a letter Stresemann wrote in 1928 to Konrad Flex, the brother of Walter Flex, the “cult poet” of World War I and author of the literary bestseller Der Wanderer zwischen beiden Welten (The Wanderer between Two Worlds), gives important hints.245 This letter, written a year before his death, reveals—apart from the political activities and tasks he was engaged in at the time—some facets of Stresemann’s ideas about himself, his life, and his worldview that are both fundamental and astonishing. This letter poses interpretive problems typical of ego documents. As with every source of this kind, we must be aware of potential self-representations and take into account the letter’s purpose. Stresemann wanted to appear congenial to the “bourgeois” Flex, even though he himself was a famous foreign minister and Nobel Peace Prize laureate. It is fair to assume, however, that Stresemann, in the waning years of his life, was more willing than ever to express his (unfulfilled) wishes toward such a “friend in spirit.”246 In this handwritten letter, Stresemann (apparently) revealed his innermost thoughts; he disclosed his wishes, emotions, and unfulfilled hopes, not as a Weimar politician, but rather from the perspective of his literary and cultural interests. The private letter does not describe and assess his life as lived but focuses on how his life could have been. It also indicates how Stresemann interpreted,

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ranked, and judged the various dimensions that shaped his life trajectory—politics, culture, and economics—at the end of his life. The letter is dominated by a great and longing admiration for the German bourgeoisie of late Imperial Germany, an admiration that Stresemann maintained until his death. Believing that he at last really and truly belonged to the educated bourgeoisie a thought that directly and indirectly permeates the entire letter, filled him with great joy and satisfaction. At the same time, he felt wistful and sad because his life trajectory had not (always) gone along these lines. The author of the letter wished he had been able to play a greater role in shaping bourgois culture and the bourgeoisie in a strong nation-state, given his various roles as an economic leader, member of parliament, active politician, and family man. However, he believed that he had made every effort not to lose track of the cultural sphere and to participate in bourgeois and cultural life. Is this again fiction, a vision, a message purposely composed for the recipient, or is it a genuine and sincere assessment of the life he had lived? To be sure, there are some facts from this life that corroborate the latter. Stresemann’s cultural activities and his tireless efforts to gain cultural capital and the bourgeois habitus, even during times of extreme political stress, underpin the view that he had a self-image as a member of the educated and cultural bourgeoisie. Stresemann was clearly one of those politicians of Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic who always pursued cultural interests, were actively engaged in culture, and strove to establish close ties to the scientific world. Stresemann went on to assert that such a bourgeois life would have entailed both growing up in a bourgeois family and having had the opportunity to describe this environment. With this, the letter pointed to Stresemann’s second great desire, his “mission” as a writer. He had never been able to fulfill this aspiration, though he wrote and published prolifically and always saw himself as a “poetizing bourgeois.”247 Stresemann’s desire for a childhood in a German bourgeois family of the late nineteenth century, combined with his aspiration to write about this family background, seems to have been the last item on his wish list. The first had been to become a liberal journalist when he was a high school graduate. However, he turned out to be a legal adviser and politician, even an active statesman who, in his own estimation late in life, had been accepted and integrated into bourgeois society. Enthusiastically, sometimes even pompously, Stresemann, as a politician and shrewd business manager, showed a clear commitment to the bourgeois values of the late nineteenth century. Apart from political and economic values, these included mainly anti-rationalist elements and a large dose of idealism. These values were hard to live up to in the political and capitalist economic realms in which Stresemann successfully operated. The letter to Konrad Flex clearly reveals how much he was absorbed by these ideals (or pretended to be), and how much he missed them.248

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However, to return to the reality of his life, he had always been able to combine these enthusiastic ideals with enlightened Liberalism and economic rationality and to control irrationality and sentimentality when it mattered. At the end of his life, he seemed increasingly to long for more emotionality and harmony as he understood them. Was that only a construct for the sake of his recipient? Was it the sentimentality of an old man, intensified by his illness? Stresemann’s idealization of the bourgeoisie and the bourgeois family, embodied by the Flex family, cannot be missed by readers of this letter. His specific appreciation for the cultural achievements of the German bourgeoisie, personified by the admired poet Walter Flex, also stands out. Last but not least, it is the German nation and the inflated image of the war and German warriors, demonstrated by Walter Flex (and Richard Dehmel) and their literary production, that dominates Stresemann’s letter. The Flex family seemed to serve as an example and role model for him, and even as the very essence of the bourgeois way of life he admired and strove so tirelessly to obtain. What exactly did this image of the Flex family look like that so fascinated and intrigued Stresemann? The father, Rudolf Flex, a teacher at the Gymnasium in Eisenach, had distinguished himself as a local politician for the National Liberals (chairman of the National Liberal Reich Association). He had unsuccessfully run for the Reichstag and later become a leading member of the German Fatherland Party. Stresemann seemed to see in Rudolf Flex someone he would have liked as the head of his own family: not a hardworking beer seller, not a worn-out man marked by hard work, not a petit-bourgeois individual like his own father, but a wise and literate member of the educated classes, politically active, in a liberal sense, and interested in culture.249 With a politically active father, who dabbled in lyric poetry on Bismarck with some success, and a strong, socially engaged, Christian mother who advocated radical nationalism, the Flex family represented to Stresemann what his own parents could not offer him and what he had longed for his whole life: intellectually stimulating conversation, education, and the security and confidence of belonging to the educated bourgeoisie.250 It seemed to Stresemann that the Flex family sons had the social and cultural capital served to them on a silver platter that he himself had had to chase after his entire life. The political activities of the father, Rudolf Flex, in the Reich Association against Social Democracy also fit Stresemann’s conception of an ideal bourgeois man. Emphatically, he pointed out that it would be more than worthwhile to write a biography about Rudolf Flex as a model member of the German bourgeoisie. Throughout his entire life, including in the Weimar Republic, Stresemann too disliked the Social Democratic Party and its “collectivism” and “leveling down.”251 The Flex family’s liberality, which was rather limited toward the Left, perfectly corresponded to Stresemann’s worldview. Was it only coincidence that in 1928, shortly before his death, he no longer focused on the liberal and rebellious period of his early days in Dresden?

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In light of his “Flex family euphoria,” he failed to see in 1928 (or perhaps was, in fact, well aware) that he had chosen as his role model a bourgeois family that embodied the bygone, undemocratic, authoritarian, strong Germany, which had since evolved into a republic through the revolution of 1918. This backwardness obviously neither bothered him nor affected his positive assessment. Orienting himself toward the ideal society of Imperial Germany was a constant theme in his life. Stresemann also ignored the Flex family’s flaws in relation to the bourgeois ideal. For example, before becoming a great poet, Walter Flex was forced to drop out of university and give up on his doctoral dissertation in Strasbourg after only a short period of study due to the family’s difficult financial circumstances. He then had to make a living as a private tutor in the households of wealthy noble families. This was no role model for a bourgeois life. However, Stresemann preferred not to see these flaws. He himself did not belong to the cohort of young men who excelled as poets and war heroes and whom he admired so much. But he felt like he belonged to this circle thanks to the poet’s letters and his own poetic activities. Stresemann’s admiration in 1928 went to a group of young men characterized by a moral and political compass and a widespread ideology that, as critics pointed out, “evoked nightmarish prospects created by a combination of the cult of the dead, a mysticism around the idea of the people’s community, the adoration of a leader, and the Darwinian ‘struggle for existence.’”252 Walter Flex, the author of Der Wanderer zwischen beiden Welten to whom Stresemann felt deeply attached in 1928, was a prototypical representative of German war nationalism, which, from the perspective of cultural history, paved the way for National Socialism and could easily be adapted by it. . . . Thanks to his nationalistic cult of the dead, his people’s community mythology, his latent war readiness, and, last but not least, his adoration of a charismatic leader, Flex . . . offered [National Socialism] ample opportunity to recruit appreciation and followers from circles that might not otherwise have reached out so willingly.253

One does not have to go as far as Hans Rudolf Wahl in his critical study on the significance of national literature in Imperial Germany to determine Stresemann’s affinity for a (from today’s perspective) militaristic and authoritarian, partly nationalist heroism. This important part of his personality, which has been largely overlooked, can be discerned all the way up to his death. In this context, his long-standing relations with the “men from the Right” cannot be overestimated; they certainly must not be dismissed as negligible and marginal.254 Stresemann could clearly always relate to this world represented by the milieu of the Flex family. It corresponded to his explicit nationalism during the Wilhelmine period, the war, and the Weimar period—albeit in a mitigated form given the political circumstances.255 From 1923 onward, he was ambivalent

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toward the right-wing milieu as an active politician, but he nonetheless continued to admire this world considerably. Richard Dehmel was another author who belonged to this milieu. Beginning in 1914, he made a name for himself, like other intellectuals,256 with poems glorifying the war and a strong sense of nationalism. He had the same difficulties as Stresemann in coming to terms with the Weimar state after the revolution.257 Yet this did not spoil Stresemann’s admiration for Dehmel himself or his poetic achievements. On the contrary, in Stresemann’s eyes, Dehmel’s nationalist attitude enhanced and enriched his poetry and made it significant for the cultural memory of the nation. He stressed that Dehmel “went into the trenches to defend the homeland [like Walter Flex], although he was already far beyond the age for military service.”258 In 1928, Stresemann still regarded Dehmel as a poetic hero on account of his commitment to war and patriotism. It obligated contemporaries and future generations to commemorate and appreciate him and his work.259 This was exactly what was missing in Weimar Germany, Stresemann complained in 1926 when he forwarded a critical request by Dehmel’s daughter to the Prussian minister for culture. “The republic, the new German Reich, has done nothing to honor and preserve the memory of Dehmel as a role model. It is not Dehmel who damages the power of today but the latter that damages itself. Thousands who have not been thanked for their sacrifice would feel honored if the state honored him.” From the early 1920s, when Stresemann returned to active politics and pursued (had to pursue) Realpolitik, he increasingly distanced himself from any form of irrationality. Indeed, he fought against the wishful thinking of his enemies in domestic policy, especially regarding his foreign policy approach. Nevertheless, he apparently remained attached to these dreams, even though he subordinated them to necessity, as is evident from the ambivalence of his foreign policy. All this made him a Realpolitiker (a political realist) par excellence. As a representative of an aggressive nationalism, Stresemann—at least during the period of World War I—counted among those who fully identified with Walter Flex. This is why he always saw Flex and Dehmel as like-minded spirits and was proud to be worthy of receiving their letters. Stresemann, too, was almost obsessed with the war until shortly before its end. With tangible admiration, he congratulated his old friend Moras when the latter was drafted to military service. He then followed his military career260 and absorbed his war stories with fascination.261 Enviously, he read the narratives of the General Manager of the National Liberals in Saxony, Konrad Brüß, who raved about life as a soldier.262 Maybe, despite all this, he was secretly relieved not to be one of them.263 It was not just empty words of thanks for the superficial accumulation of cultural and social capital but a deep inner feeling of belonging that shaped Stresemann’s response to the medals and decorations he was awarded (for example, the War Merit Cross,264 the Star of the Knight Commanders of the Bulgarian

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National Order of Civil Merit, and the Iron Cross265) and his stern rejection of the Saxon Service Medal (Sächsische Bewährungsmedaille) because he believed that “it is not right when individuals who did not take part in the fighting in Upper Silesia are rewarded with this medal that is solely and specifically intended for those war veterans.”266 All this fit with his inner belief and was not (just) pretense. Painstakingly, he followed reports on whether his war speeches were received positively by German reserve officers “in the field,” although this was probably also due in part to vanity.267 His appeal to “noble human values” in front of the war industrialists and his condemnation of war profiteers—let us not forget that he himself was in fact one of them—seems almost touching and naïve in this context. His references to the “bigger picture” must be seen in a similar way: “It is necessary for the Reich to continue to exist and to grow; it is not necessary for the individual to continue to exist or to grow.”268 These remarks were not just “empty phrases,” the product of politics and adjustment merely intended to stabilize the people’s community during the war, but came from his firm inner convictions. The people’s community was and would remain his ultimate good, both during Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic. In this sense, his letter to Flex was a highly realistic reflection of his beliefs. Yet the letter also manifests a rather elitist attitude about the value of individual human dignity. A lifelong opponent of universal suffrage, Stresemann’s elitist tendencies were also evident in his wish that representatives of the cultural realm (of any political stripe) should have been spared war and death. He argued that young poets should not have been allowed to go to war given their immense cultural value. Was that flattery, was it his inner belief, or was it an “excuse,” an absolution of his important industrial colleagues who had not taken part in the war? However, despite his enthusiasm for backward-looking ideas and his advocacy of reactionary ideologies, Stresemann always avoided abandoning rationality and never failed to adjust to the present. On the contrary: in real life, the prudent economist was never overwhelmed by emotion. Does this imply ambivalence, constant oscillation between two poles, a dual nature, or just disorientation and opportunism? Was he a rationalist pretending to have strong emotions? Or does this once again reveal him to be a hybrid figure, a crossover artist, and a great realist all at the same time?

Notes 1. On this and for further references, see the knowledgeable study by Blessing, Der mögliche Frieden, 102–4. 2. It is not clear whether or to what extent Stresemann put any trust in the effectiveness of passive resistance. A great many people warned him of an imminent collapse.

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3. See Michael-Olaf Maxelon, Stresemann und Frankreich. 4. Parliamentary speeches were a form of communication with special meaning and characteristics. They were especially significant due to the legislative power of the Reichstag (and thus of the speakers). Because they were part of the parliamentary system, parliamentary speeches had to have a special form that was, to a certain extent, ritualized and inherent in the parliamentary system. All representatives of the political parties had to comply and were not allowed to overstep certain rules. Complying with this predefined form of the speech and adopting parliamentary rules were of utmost importance, and any contraventions of these rules were therefore highly significant. 5. In his capacity as chairman of the Reichstag committee on foreign affairs and leader of the DVP, Stresemann was highly esteemed both inside and outside Germany. 6. See Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?” 196–98. 7. Vossische Zeitung, 18 April 1923, 1: “Über Lösungsmöglichkeiten: Ein Weg.” 8. Verhandlungen des Reichstages: Stenographische Berichte des Reichstages (VRSBR), vol. 359, 335th session, 17 April 1923: 10573–80. An abridged English translation of the speech appears in Rheinbaben, Gustav Stresemann: Essays and Speeches on Various Subjects, 150–61. 9. Deutsche Stimmen (DS) 8 (20 April 1923): 135–37; and DS 10 (20 May 1923): 175–77. 10. Deutscher Reichsanzeiger, 20 April 1923, evening issue; an almost unabridged version appears in Schleswig-Holsteinische Volkszeitung, 18 April 1923, 1–2. 11. Berg, Gustav Stresemann und die Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika, 127; W. Stresemann, Mein Vater, 220; Zimmermann, Deutsche Außenpolitik, 172; Baechler, “Gustav Stresemann (1878– 1929),” 333, all refer to the speech in a different fashion. The same is true for Cornebise, “Gustav Stresemann und die Ruhrbesetzung”; and, rather briefly, Wright, Stresemann, 207. Unlike the speech Stresemann made on 7 March 1923, the speech on 17 April 1923 is not included in the collection of Stresemann’s Reichstag speeches in Zwoch, Reichstagsreden, 134–35. 12. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10579. 13. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10577. It should be briefly noted that Stresemann often exceeded his speaking time and was given a warning. 14. Later, Stresemann acted in a similar way as foreign minister when he had to change his views on difficult issues. 15. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10579. 16. Rheinbaben, Essays and Speeches, 161 (In German: VRSBR, vol. 359: 10580). 17. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10539. 18. Rheinbaben, Essays and Speeches, 150 (VRSBR, vol. 359: 10573). 19. Ibid. 20. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10573. 21. Rheinbaben, Essays and Speeches, 151: “The value of this speech, to my mind, lay in the fact that it paves the way for the conclusion of international agreements in the event of the Entente, and France in particular, being desirous of coming to an understanding.” 22. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10574. 23. VRSBR, vol. 359: 10573. 24. See Mergel, Parlamentarische Kultur im Reichstag der Weimarer Republik, 231–33. 25. VRSBR, vol. 358; 312th session, 7 March 1923, 9975–77. 26. Groeben et al., “Fairness beim Argumentieren, 355. 27. VRSBR, vol. 359, 10579: “We are alarmed . . . I would almost like to say”; Rheinbaben, Essays and Speeches, 152 (VRSBR, vol. 359: 10574): “destroy the unity of Germany?” 28. In relation to France, he said: “We can freely admit all this. It is a fact.” Rheinbaben, Essays and Speeches, 152 (VRSBR, vol. 359, 10574). 29. Large segments of the French and British press were surprised by the overall tone of the speech; see press review of the Schleswig-Holsteinische Volkszeitung (SHVZ), 19 April 1923, 2; Die Rote

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30. 31. 32.

33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

54.

Fahne, 19 April 1923, 2; “Stresemann Willkommen in der Ententepresse” (Stresemann welcomed by the Entente press). DS 10, 20 May 1923; Gustav Stresemann, Politische Umschau, 168. Turner, Stresemann and the Politics of the Weimar Republic, 68. Stresemann, almost youthful at forty-five, radiated unspent energy and revitalized the “bourgeois type” he represented, as shown by the plethora of caricatures depicting Stresemann as the “strong man” of Weimar in 1923. The new active bourgeois man was bald, strong, and had a stern look. See also the section “Gustav Stresemann and His Physiognomy” in chapter 1 of this volume. Stresemann to the fraternity Suevia, 10 August 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 264. Stresemann in DS 35 (1923): 48. See Pohl, “Die Zerstörung des ‘linksrepublikanischen Projektes.’” Winkler, Deutsche Geschichte, 434–36. For a summary, see Longerich, Deutschland 1918–1933, 131–58; and Kolb, Die Weimarer Republik, 53. Another source written for a broader audience is Pleticha, Deutsche Geschichte, 41. This is true of almost all the literature on Weimar and Stresemann. To give but a few examples, see Peukert, Die Weimarer Republik, 191; Elze and Repgen, Studienbuch Geschichte, 553; Turner, Stresemann: Republikaner. Different interpretations by some American historians as early as twenty years ago can be found in Feldman, “Bayern und Sachsen in der Hyperinflation 1922/23”; Jones, German Liberalism and the Dissolution of the Weimar Party System; Lapp, Revolution from the Right. See also Eley, Forging Democracy. See Stresemann to Litwin, 10 July 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 215. See Annika Klein, Korruption und Korruptionsskandale. On the following remarks, see especially Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 84–86. Gatzke was the first scholar to address this issue. Many of the following reflections draw on his research. See also Frankfurter to Stresemann, 15 July 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 117. See Frankfurter to Stresemann, 15 July 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 177, and also for the following quotes. In this context, one should recall the similar case of Social Democrat Parvus-Helphand. He was accused in a similar way of similar offenses and behaviors and was publicly disparaged, not least on account of anti-Semitic motives. See Scharlau, Freibeuter der Revolution. On the following remarks and the quote, see Gatzke, “Stresemann und Litwin,” 85. Stresemann to Kempkes, 21 July 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 260. For materials on this, see StA Chemnitz, Bestand 30096, Landgericht Plauen, no. 187. See Klein, Korruption und Korruptionsskandale, 254–55. Kolb, Stresemann, 81. Wright, Stresemann, 202–4. Hallgarten, Hitler, Reichswehr und Industrie, 67–68. See the meeting in the Cologne city hall, 16 November 1923, ADAP, Serie A, vol. IX: Göttingen 1991, 51–52. See Kopper, Hjalmar Schacht, Aufstieg und Fall von Hitlers mächtigstem Bankier, 41–43. For a relatively recent study, see Keller, Landesgeschichte Sachsen; and, although with some inconsistencies, Wißuwa et al., Sachsen. From the GDR perspective, see Czok, Geschichte Sachsens. See the excellent review essay on Saxony in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by Retallack, “Society and Politics in Saxony.” A critical perspective appeared as early as 1957: Thimme, Gustav Stresemann: Eine politische Biographie, 59. See Pohl, “Die Zerstörung des ‘linksrepublikanischen Projekts.’” See also Karsten Rudolph’s groundbreaking study, “Erich Zeigner und die Reichsexekution gegen Sachsen 1923.” Some important reflections in the present volume on Social Democratic politics after World War I

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55. 56.

57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67.

68. 69. 70. 71.

72. 73.

74.

are based on Rudolph’s study. See also Lehnert, Die Weimarer Republik, 110–15 (“Zweierlei Maß: Sonderweg Bayern, Execution Sachsens”); and Szejnmann, Vom Traum zum Alptraum, 46; and Szejnmann, Nazism in Central Germany. See also Rudloff, Erich Zeigner; Schmeitzner, Alfred Fellisch; and Helga Grebing et al., Demokratie und Emanzipation. From the Communist perspective and with a plethora of interesting details, see Krusch, Linksregierungen im Visier. See for references Lapp, “Remembering the Year 1923.” See also Lapp, Revolution from the Right. From Stresemann’s perspective, see Wright, Stresemann, 238–40. Rudolph, Die sächsische Sozialdemokratie vom Kaiserreich zur Republik, 281. See Rudolph, “Die Sozialdemokratie in der Regierung”; and Rudolph, “Erich Zeigner und die Reichsexekution gegen Sachsen.” For information specifically on the achievements of the Communists, See Rüdiger, “Freistaat in der Weimarer Republik,” 441–43. Schmeitzner and Rudloff, Geschichte, 72. See also Feldman, “Saxony, the Reich and the Problem of Unemployment”; Rudolph, “Erich Zeigner und die Reichsexekution gegen Sachsen,” 39–40. Adam and Rudloff, “Mythen sächsischer Geschichtsschreibung,” 310–11. See Rüdiger, “Freistaat,” 442. Schmeitzner and Rudloff, Geschichte, 79, consider this aspect the “centerpiece of the reforms.” The German Volksschule was introduced in the nineteenth century when school education became compulsory. It combined primary and secondary education. Rudolph, “Erich Zeigner und die Reichsexekution gegen Sachsen,” 46. See also Andreas Pehnke, Sächsische Reformpädagogik. See Keller, Landesgeschichte Sachsen, 270. For an account critical of the sustainability of the Saxon project, see Ewald Frie, “Die sächsische Sozialdemokratie.” See also the reply by Adam and Rudloff, “Mythen sächsischer Geschichtsschreibung.” For Stresemann’s perspective, see Bernhard, “Das Kabinett Stresemann,” 23–29, especially. See Stresemann’s article: “Vom Rechte, das mit uns geboren,” 48 (quote from the beginning). Stresemann to State Minister Kaiser (DVP), 28 October 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 97: “you know that Saxony is my political home and that during these early years of my life, when one’s mind is still susceptible to all the impressions that besiege it, I lived in Dresden and got around it, like probably few others have been. Saxony was the historical field of experimentation in the battle between Social Democracy and the bourgeoisie.” It must be pointed out that, even if Saxony had indeed been on the verge of a revolution, this danger was averted as soon as the Reichswehr had marched into Saxony. See Wright, Stresemann, 242–43. Stresemann to State Minister Kaiser (DVP), 28 October 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 97. See the emphatic warnings of his friend Moras, 22 September 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 1. See the famous letter Stresemann wrote to the Crown Prince in September 1925 and the scholarly discussion on Stresemann’s “actual” objectives. See the sections “The Rapprochement Politician and His Double Life: Pabst, Orgesch, Wilhelm and Co.,” as well as “Thick Description II” in this chapter. See Stresemann’s contribution at the Cabinet meeting of 6 October 1923, in which he referred to Zeigner’s explanations on the issue of “border protection” as treason: Akten der Reichskanzlei, Weimarer Republik, vol. 2, no. 117, 497. See Wright, Stresemann, 234. “It was not, as he subsequently admitted, an even-handed policy. He justified the bias by saying that no understanding with the Moscow-led KPD was possible, whereas the patriotic associations in Bavaria were fundamentally well meaning though misguided.” Wright, Stresemann, 239.

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75. See Stresemann to State Minister Kaiser (DVP), 26 September 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 87: “and that I am anxious to contrive and take ways and means in order to eliminate the incommodities that have emerged in Saxony, as I have already discussed this with representatives of the Saxon economy and the gentlemen of your parliamentary group.” 76. Stresemann to State Minister Kaiser (DVP), 28 October 1926. “I still see the cables from Saxony from that late summer and autumn of the year 1923 that were requesting protection from Communist rule. I see in my mind’s eye the deputies, men of the Saxon business world and well-known to me, who pointed out to me that law and order were no longer guaranteed in Saxony.” 77. The Sachsenwerke promised annual financial support of 50,000 marks for the DVP provided the “Saxon putsch” be quelled (HStA Dresden, Sachsenwerke 11646, no. A 81, 1903–1930, no. 45). 78. Rüdiger, “Freistaat,” 442. However, these “alarms” were very often based on exaggerations or simply false reports. 79. Moras to Stresemann, 22 September 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 1. 80. Szejnmann, Vom Traum, 45. 81. Rudolph, “Erich Zeigner und die Reichsexekution gegen Sachsen,” 50; Keller, Landesgeschichte Sachsen, 271, has a similar perspective. 82. Wright, Stresemann, 234–36, neglects this aspect. 83. Szejnmann shares this negative assessment: Vom Traum, 45–46. 84. In this context, the focus is on Stresemann as an expert in foreign policy rather than on his party and domestic policies. On Stresemann as a liberal politician on domestic affairs, see the reference work by Jones, German Liberalism and the Dissolution of the Weimar Party System. A summary can be found in Jones, “Stabilisierung von rechts.” 85. The best study on the state of research around the turn of the millennium is Niedhart, Außenpolitik. 86. Niedhart, Außenpolitik, 41–43. 87. Early biographies of Stresemann, especially, were conceived in this spirit. See, for instance, Olden, Stresemann; Rheinbaben, Stresemann; Stern-Rubarth, Stresemann der Europäer; and Vallentin, Stresemann. 88. This is the tone of the biography by Ruge, Stresemann. 89. Michalka and Lee, eds., Gustav Stresemann, vii. This edited volume mirrors the state of research of its era. 90. See the detailed and well-informed study by Körber, Gustav Stresemann als Europäer. 91. In this context, I will just mention Theodor Eschenburg as an example of one of these biographers. As a student, he admired Stresemann, carried out some work for him, completed his doctoral thesis on the National Liberals (Eschenburg, Das Kaiserreich am Scheidewege), and preserved the memory of Stresemann as a university professor in the Federal Republic. Stresemann’s activities in Saxony and especially during World War I were largely neglected because his early biographers were not contemporaries of this period and many of them were still in shock about the downfall of the Weimar Republic. 92. See Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann (1878–1929).” See this source for further references. 93. Niedhart, Außenpolitik, 50. 94. Thimme, “Gustav Stresemann: Legende und Wirklichkeit.” 95. See as one example Thimme, Gustav Stresemann. Stresemann’s estate was transferred to the United States after the end of the war. Therefore, historians working there were the first to have access. 96. See Thimme, “Einmal um die Uhr. Die Stresemann-Kontroverse.” 97. See Pohl, “Der ‘Kronprinzenbrief.’” 98. On the state of research at the turn of the millennium, to the essay collection Pohl, Politiker und Bürger.

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99. Turner, “Überlegungen zu einer Biographie Stresemanns.” 100. Büttner, Weimar, 363. 101. On this, in depth, see Wright, Stresemann, 354–56. The treaty regulated economic issues and military relations and stipulated that one of the two partners had to remain neutral in the event of an attack on the other by a third party (from the German perspective, this part of the agreement was primarily aimed at Poland). 102. P. Krüger, “Zur Europäischen Dimension,” 215–17. Krüger’s article is an example of the current state of research regarding the assessment of Stresemann’s foreign policy. There is probably no expert more knowledgeable on the documents of the German Foreign Office than him. 103. See Wright, Stresemann, 385–87. He continues in a rather placatory manner: “The programme continued on a limited scale throughout his time as foreign minister and was sanctioned even by the SPD chairman, Hermann Müller, when he became chancellor of a grand coalition in 1928.” (Wright, Stresemann, 386). 104. P. Krüger, “Zur europäischen Dimension,” 217–18. 105. Ibid., 217. 106. Blessing, Der mögliche Friede, 9–11. 107. Along these lines, see Wurm, “Deutsche Frankreichpolitik und deutsch-französische,” 138: “Studies that exclusively focus on the examination of diplomacy and high politics and ignore the internal foundations of foreign policy will barely be able to give sufficient answers to the key question [of how to explain the later downfall of German foreign policy during the great crisis].” 108. Niedhart, “Außenminister Stresemann,” 234. 109. See Schwabe and Schinzinger, Deutschland und der Westen. 110. Niedhart, “Außenminister Stresemann,” 242. 111. M. Schulz, Deutschland, der Völkerbund und die Frage der europäischen Wirtschaftsordnung, 335. 112. Against this backdrop, it is surprising that the cultural aspect of Stresemann’s innovative foreign policy has been so severely neglected. This field provides many opportunities for new research projects. For some suggestions, see Wurm, “Deutsche Frankreichpolitik,” 145–47. 113. Blessing, Der mögliche Friede, 435. 114. Telegram from Ambassador von Hoesch (Paris) to State Secretary von Schubert, 16 June 1925, PA AA, R 28237 k. As this document is a telegram, it is written in a telegraphic style. 115. See Pohl, Weimars Wirtschaft und die Außenpolitik; Pohl, “Deutsche Wirtschaftsaußenpolitik.” 116. See Bariéty, “Frankreich und das deutsche Problem.” 117. This aspect was probably not to the liking of the former lobbyist of the manufacturing industry and fierce adversary of Rhenish-Westphalian heavy industry. As far as the archival documents show, however, personal animosity did not play a major role in this. 118. The Dawes Plan of 1924 was meant to support Germany’s economic recovery to enable the Reich to meet reparation payments. Apart from a newly agreed upon installment payment plan, it was of considerable importance that Germany was granted large loans (800 million Reichsmarks in initial support). With this, the policy of productive guarantees came to an end. 119. Weidenfeld, “Gustav Stresemann: Der Mythos vom engagierten Europäer,” 745. 120. Stresemann’s speech to German industry in Dresden, 22 April 1926, PA AA, Büro RM, 1c, 6, 70. 121. This is a controversial topic because many leading representatives of heavy industry (such as Stinnes or Thyssen) distinguished themselves during World War I by displaying chauvinism, nationalism, and expansionism (such as Stresemann), but counted among the vocal opponents of Stresemann’s industrial policy. See Weisbrod, Schwerindustrie in der Weimarer Republik. Bariéty, “Das Zustandekommen,” argues in a similar vein: “The political importance of the agreement is explained by the iron and steel industry, which is vital for Germany.” Quote 553.

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122. Stegmann, “‘Mitteleuropa,’” quote 208–10. 123. See Wurm, “Deutsche Frankreichpolitik,” 137–58, for a detailed and critical analysis of the subsequent events. 124. This refers to the tariff legislation from 1902 when Germany substantially increased its tariff rates not just on agricultural products. These tariffs automatically went back into effect in 1925. 125. Minutes of the meeting through the RDI, 11 March 1925, HA GHH, HA GHH, 400101222/7, from the perspective of the government, BA Koblenz, R 13 I, 363. 126. Pohl, “Finanzkrise.” On the Krupp company in the Weimar Republic, see Wixforth, “Bank für Sachsen,” 101–3. See also Stegmann, “Hugenberg contra Stresemann.” 127. Krupp’s leading negotiator, Otto Wiedfeldt, was not only intimately acquainted with Stresemann’s foreign policy—he had served as German ambassador in Washington until the beginning of the year—but he was also one of Stresemann’s arch enemies. As a result, the divisions between Krupp and the German Foreign Office became even more entrenched. 128. Bariéty, “Zustandekommen,” 562: “With the foundation of the German Raw Steel Community, Fritz Thyssen deliberately created an ‘ad hoc’ instrument for the upcoming economic negotiations with France.” 129. Pohl, Weimars Wirtschaft, 51–52; Bariéty, “Zustandekommen,” 563. 130. See in particular Nocken, “Das Internationale Stahlkartell”; and Nocken, “International Cartels and Foreign Policy.” 131. Minutes of the negotiations between both parties on 20 May 1926, GStA Munich, Ges. Berlin 1845. 132. See Reckendrees, Das “Stahltrust-Projekt.” 133. Draft of a letter for Reich Minister Stresemann (MD Ritter), 4 March 1926. PA AA, Sonderref. W/Industrie 20 (1). 134. See Wurm, “Deutsche Frankreichpolitik,” 153: “The conclusion [of the IRG] was no isolated incident. It must be seen in context with other cartel agreements, the abovementioned Franco-German Trade Treaty and the intensification of mutual trade relations.” 135. See Wurm, “Internationale Kartelle und die deutsch-französischen Beziehungen.” 136. On this idea, see Gillingham, “Coal and Steel Diplomacy.” 137. Göhring, Stresemann: Mensch, Staatsmann, Europäer, 49. 138. Stresemann gave this speech on 10 September 1926, on the occasion of Germany’s admission to the League of Nations. For a critical perspective, see Maxelon, Stresemann und Frankreich, 219. 139. See Pohl, Weimars Wirtschaft, 221–23; and Kiersch, Internationale Eisen. 140. Lochner, Die Mächtigen und der Tyrann, 76. 141. See the draft of an article in the Berliner Tageblatt written by Eisenlohr (Foreign Office) for Stresemann, 30 September 1926, PA AA, Handakten Ritter, HaPol MD Ritter, 1; and also for the following quote. 142. On the importance of the IRG, see especially Wurm, “Deutsche Frankreichpolitik,” 154–56. 143. See M. Schulz, Deutschland, 103: “The International Raw Steel Community, which has been considered the precursor of European integration to some extent, developed into a regional cartel with tariff protection and shared markets according to national borders and joint outlets selling to third countries.” 144. Ernst Poensgen (Vereinigte Stahlwerke) as a representative of heavy industry in a meeting of the Reich Ministry for Economic Affairs (Curtius), iron manufacturing and iron producing industry, 30 June 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 40000090/14. 145. Fritz Thyssen at a meeting in Düsseldorf on the pricing system of the international iron cartel, 2 September 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 400000/1. 146. Drafted by Blank (GHH—Berlin) from 22 November 1926 for General Director Reusch for his speech to representatives of industry and agriculture on 9 December 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, NL Reusch 4001012024/3A. These remarks can be seen as representative of all

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147. 148.

149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155.

156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161.

162. 163. 164.

165. 166. 167. 168.

of heavy industry because they had been discussed with other industrialists and emphasized certain basic positions of industry toward agriculture. Vögler to the Industrial Committee of the DVP, 4 October 1926, quoted in Hannoversche Anzeiger, 6 October 1926. See the expert reports by Reichert (Verein deutscher Eisen- und Stahlindustrieller, [VDEStI; Association of German Iron and Steel Industrialists]), 31 March 1926; Klemme (Gutehoffnungshütte), 23 April 1926; and Schlenker/Hahn (Langnamverein), 30 April 1926, all GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. Klemme, GHH, 23 April 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. Expert report Reichert (VDEStI), GHH, 23 April 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. Expert report Hahn/Schlenker and Reichert, GHH, 23 April 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. Klemme, GHH, 23 April 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. Reichert, GHH, 23 April 1926, HA GHH Oberhausen, 4000020/9. See Pohl, “Deutschland und Polen,” 223–44. Article 231 of the Treaty of Versailles: “The Allied and Associated Governments affirm and Germany accepts the responsibility of Germany and her allies for causing all the loss and damage to which the Allied and Associated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies.” This is the consensus within international scholarship. See, for example, Kolb, Weimarer Republik, 195–97. See Baechler, Stresemann, 729–31, for this and the following considerations. Turner, “Überlegungen zu einer Biographie,” 295. See the reference work P. Krüger, Die Außenpolitik. See P. Krüger, “Carl von Schubert und die deutsch-französischen Beziehungen.” This decree did not aim to tell an agitated public what they wanted to hear, to calm them, or to present things in a positive light. Instead, the most senior staff of the Foreign Office were to be given very accurate and realistic information (without the usual whitewashing typical of public statements) on the precise objectives of the leadership of the office. This document is therefore highly authentic and extremely significant. Attachment to the remarks by State Secretary von Schubert, 28 October 1925, PA AA, Ges. Bern, Rep. Sicherheitsfragen, vol. 472/3. See this also for the following quote and remarks. Bariéty, “Die französisch-polnische ‘Allianz,’” 91. For a contrasting perspective, see Krüger: “Indeed, Locarno created the foundation of a European security system that included Poland and Czechoslovakia and improved their position, even though they were still worse off than France and Belgium. . . . Only a rather formalistic and shallow line of argument can conclude that the security order implemented in Locarno substantially weakened the security system established by the peace treaties and the League of Nations and increased the threat against Poland.” P. Krüger, “Locarno und die Frage,” 26. Report of the German envoy to Warsaw (Rauscher) of 30 December 1925, quoted in Höltje, Die Weimarer Republik, 210. Megerle, Deutsche Außenpolitik, 334. Lippelt, “Politische Sanierung,” 337. Peter Krüger takes a different view. He has decisively influenced the scholarly debate on Stresemann and his foreign policy up to the present. “Poland’s western borders and its existence as a state had become more secure. Even though the Rhine Pact guaranteed the French-German borders to a much greater extent, it is no longer tenable to argue that Germany wanted to make Poland’s status less secure or was keen on initiating ‘active revisionism’ in this sense through the Locarno Treaties and the different treatment of the eastern and the western borders.” P. Krüger, “Der deutsch-polnische Schiedsvertrag,” 610.

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169. Megerle, “Danzig, Korridor und Oberschlesien.” 170. See the internal memo by Ministerialdirektor Ritter, 2 July 1926, PA AA, R 28918; Reich Minister Kanitz (DNVP) to Stresemann, 23 October 1925, PA AA, R 29110. 171. Pohl, “Deutschland und Polen,” 235–37. 172. Report of the Polish newspaper Nowa Reforma on the IRG, 30 September 1926, attachment to the report of the German envoy to Warsaw (Rauscher) of 9 October 1926, PA AA, R 117980. 173. See the report of the Nowa Reforma (Rauscher, 9 October 1925, PA AA R 117980, attachment). 174. Ministerialdirektor Posse to Poensgen, 9 December 1927, Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik IV, doc. 170, 367. See also the minutes of the meeting of the IRG from 8 to 9 June 1927 (minute taker Poensgen), Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik V, doc. 220, 500–1. 175. It is still worth reading Puchert, “Der Wirtschaftskrieg.” 176. Poland was blamed for supposedly demanding quotas that were too high. See Kiersch, Internationale Eisen- und Stahlkartelle, 20. See also Stresemann’s press statement on the conclusion of the IRG, undated, PA AA, R. 105624: “This is but another example that an idea has become reality to which I have dedicated my political life . . . What I like most about the international iron pact is the fact that it really aims to be international. This is expressed in the regulation that the iron industry of any country can join it.” 177. Report by Rauscher on the German security initiative, 13 February 1925, PA AA, R 290084. 178. Krüger, “Zur europäischen Dimension,” 227–28. 179. Schilling, “Kriegshelden,” 19. 180. Kühne, Männergeschichte—Geschlechtergeschichte. 181. Ibid., 18. 182. Sombart, “Männerbund und Politische Kultur,” 139. 183. Theweleit, Männerphantasien, 1:13–15. 184. Stresemann to State Secretary Lewald, Deutscher Reichsausschuss für Leibesübungen (German Reich Commission for Physical Exercise), 10 January 1927, PA AA, NL Stresemann 48. 185. Pabst to Stresemann, 11 February 1926, PA AA R 27960. 186. Interview of the Neues Wiener Journal (1 March 1927, no. 11): “We cannot afford the luxury of fighting over a system of government. We need peace and must gather all citizens who, like us, want to maintain public order.” 187. See Stresemann’s letter to the General Secretary of the Saxon DVP, Dieckmann, from 25 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 96. 188. On the topic of Stresemann and Pabst, see, in particular, Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, especially 231–33. A journalist, Gietinger is almost the only author who has addressed this issue for years. For older research literature, see Gumbel, Verräter verfallen der Feme. 189. On this and the following remarks, see Gietinger, “Nachträge”; and Gietinger, Eine Leiche. 190. Gietinger, “Nachträge,” 324, and Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 202. 191. Hotzel, Deutscher Aufstand, 34, here Waldemar Pabst: “But we were not prepared to negotiate with those fellows. In our view, they were traitors, traitors of the holy of holies, the fatherland; rebels, not out of honor but out of the lowest of motives of a subhuman being [Untermenschentum!], out of sheer lust to kill, to plunder, to pillage. . . . There was no negotiating with riffraff like that, only taking action.” Elsewhere (42), Pabst even refers to the revolutionaries as “brutish figures.” 192. Gumbel, Verräter, 43–45. Pabst was never brought to justice for his complicity in several murders in the Federal Republic. See Gietinger, “Nachträge”; and Gietinger, Eine Leiche im Landwehrkanal. 193. See Erger, Der Kapp-Lüttwitz-Putsch. 194. Stegmann, “Vom Neokonservativismus,” 227–28 195. Gumbel, Verräter, 52.

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196. See the discreet letter by the German National politician Hergt, 5 April 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 245: “Yesterday I talked to Pastor Traub about the address of the gentleman who recently sent you a letter from Innsbruck. Herr Traub suggests that you send the letter that you want to write to the gentleman in question to his own address . . . and he will take care that the letter is duly forwarded. It is impossible to give the whereabouts of the gentleman in question in advance for a certain period of time, as the gentleman is currently traveling and changes his whereabouts frequently.” As with Litwin, Stresemann always marginalized the significance of this relationship, which he could not completely deny. 197. See Pabst-Peters’ letter to Stresemann, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 274. 198. See Gietlinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 204–6.; and Richter, Deutsche Volkspartei, 59–60. 199. Pabst to Stresemann, 15 May 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 9. 200. Stresemann to Ludendorff, 27 April 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 243. 201. See Kapp’s letters to Stresemann, 18 March 1922; and Stresemann’s response from 21 March, PA AA, NL Stresemann 245. See Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 219. 202. Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 257–60. 203. Pabst to Stresemann, 15 May 1924 PA AA, NL Stresemann 9. 204. On Hindenburg, see especially Pyta, Hindenburg, 461–63. On the election and Stresemann’s response, in particular, see Wright, Stresemann, 308–9. 205. See Gatzke, Stresemann and the Rearmament, 51. Gatzke was the first scholar to analyze the close connections between Pabst and Stresemann. The following assertions are based on his work. 206. See Pabst to Stresemann, 27 April 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 24, and also for the following. 207. This is analyzed in detail by Gatzke, Stresemann and the Rearmament, 51–53. See Gatze also for the following assertions. 208. See Member of the Bundesrat and the Tyrolean state parliament Richard Steidle (Tyrol) to Stresemann, 20 July 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 27, for the following quote. Stresemann did not comment on these remarks. 209. Pabst to Stresemann, undated (1926), PA AA, NL Stresemann 28: “all the more since I have created something here that covers all Alpine countries, not just Tyrol, and that might become vitally important for Austria’s future.” See also Gietinger, Der Konterrevolutionär, 260–62. 210. Stresemann to Pabst, 23 January 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 279. Stresemann later noted with indignation: “I ask you to take care that such important documents [as the one sent by Pabst] are not sent as open letters.” (Stresemann to Pabst, 30 January 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 279.) 211. Gatzke, Stresemann and the Rearmament, 52. 212. Pabst to Stresemann, 2 September 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 29. 213. Draft of a letter by Stresemann to Minister of the Interior Severing, undated, PA AA Berlin, NL Stresemann 24. 214. It was also politically explosive that Stresemann not only received messages from Captain Ehrhardt but also used them in his foreign policy (recorded by Bernhard on 18 August 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 42.) 215. Loesch skillfully tapped into Stresemann’s fondness for culture. For his fiftieth birthday, he gave the foreign minister a present for his Goethe collection: “a humble contribution to your Goethe collection, an engraving from . . . the last year of the master” (von Loesch to Stresemann, 9 May 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 324). 216. Draft of a letter from Stresemann to Minister of the Interior Severing, PA AA Berlin, undated, NL Stresemann 24: “I attach the greatest importance to collaborating with Dr. von Loesch and the Protection League who has proved to be loyal and acted correctly toward my office at all times.” 217. Gumbel, Verräter, 78.

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218. See Escherich’s diary entry from 7 May 1928: conversation with Redlhammer, “who is under heavy pressure because of the payments he made to Pabst on behalf of his lord and master.” Redlhammer was Stresemann’s assistant and handled financial transfers such as those involving Pabst (BA Koblenz, NL Escherich, Tagebücher). 219. For all payments, see PA AA, R 27960 and R 27961. 220. PA AA, NL Stresemann 279. Example from April 1926: 279.60 marks. 221. Strauss to Stresemann, 8 May 1929, PA AA, NL Stresemann 5. 222. PA AA, R 27960 and R 27961. 223. Bundesarchiv Koblenz, NL Escherich, Tagebücher. 224. Stresemann to Escherich, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 6. 225. Internal memo Stresemann, 10 October 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 17. 226. Escherich to Stresemann, 26 May 1929, on a conversation with Mussolini, PA AA, NL Stresemann 54. 227. Internal memo Stresemann, undated, PA AA, NL Stresemann 35. 228. See internal memo Stresemann, 1 March 1925, PA AA, NL Stresemann 277. 229. See Wright, Stresemann, 231–33. See also documents in BA Berlin, R 43 I, 2204. 230. On this and the following remarks, see Olden, “Hat Stresemann betrogen?,” 233. 231. Wright, Stresemann, 114: “Stresemann went on to condemn . . . the behaviour of the whole imperial family. The Crown Prince, he alleged, had had generals moved to other positions because they refused to greet his mistress.” 232. Olden, “Hat Stresemann betrogen?,” 233. 233. Stresemann to Wilhelm, 10 October 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 261. 234. PA AA, NL Stresemann 202, 27 January 1919. 235. Theodor Boehm to Geheimrat Riesser, 30 January 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 236. Schneider to Stresemann, 6 May 1922, PA AA, NL Stresemann 246. Stresemann’s response from 12 May 1922 PA AA, NL Stresemann 246, reveals how deeply he still despised the republic at that point. “When I drove to Werder on Sunday to see the flowering trees, I could observe that the republican idea is making progress in Germany. We drove by an inn that was called ‘The German Republic Inn.’ I was not thirsty and therefore did not go inside. If I had been thirsty, I would not have been dissuaded by that name. This proves again that the wicked reactionary monarchists are much more tolerant than the steadfast republicans.” 237. See Pohl, “‘Kronprinzenbrief.’” 238. See the letter from 13 May 1921, as an example (PA AA, NL Stresemann 235): “I beg to express my most reverential thanks for the great goodness of your majesty for sending me your picture and for your exceedingly gracious words on my Reichstag speech, which have deeply touched and shaken me. In these hours I was still under the impression of the day when, your majesty, the empress and queen was escorted to her final resting place in her beloved Potsdam. I was allowed to follow the coffin with the funeral procession and had the opportunity to observe the mood of the people who were watching the event in the thousands, perhaps in the hundreds of thousands.” The crown prince, on the other hand, finished his letters to Stresemann mostly in a rather patronizing way: “with best wishes, dear Dr. Stresemann, for today” (Wilhelm to Stresemann, 10 November 1924, PA AA, NL Stresemann 18). 239. See Pohl, “‘Kronprinzenbrief,’” 156. 240. Stresemann to Wilhelm, 5 March 1919, PA AA, NL Stresemann 202. 241. Stresemann to his wife, 6 February 1919, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 242. Stresemann to Wilhelm, PA AA Berlin, 24 August 1921, NL Stresemann 232. This remark was clearly a sleight of hand that Stresemann also used in the crown prince letter to stress the intimacy between sender and recipient. 243. Wilhelm to Stresemann, 18 March 1923, PA AA, NL Stresemann 1. 244. Stresemann to Konrad Flex, 27 June 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 336.

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245. Flex, Der Wanderer. The book narrates the story of a student war volunteer and his friendship with the author. The text is in prose but is interrupted by passages in verse and quotations referring to important literary and religious figures. The introduction entails the famous poem Wildgänse rauschen durch die Nacht. . . . In the Weimar Republic it became a cult book of the young generation. In 1920, it was printed in more than fifty editions. According to estimates, about a million copies have been sold. As a literary bestseller, it is only surpassed by Buddenbrooks, Maya the Bee, and All Quiet on the Western Front. 246. This letter from the Stresemann estate does not play any role in more recent Stresemann biographies. Nor does Wolfgang Stresemann mention Flex in his biography of his father. 247. See Zwoch, Gustav-Stresemann-Bibliographie. According to his Abitur essay, Stresemann had also considered a career as a journalist. See Pohl, “Ein früher Medienpolitiker?,” 148–50. 248. It goes without saying that the source’s referentiality toward the recipient has to be taken into account in this context. 249. Biographical dates taken from Wahl, Religion, 289. 250. Ibid., 290: “Thus, this is a highly politicized family simultaneously interested in art from the milieu of the educated bourgeoisie.” 251. This holds true although he did not join the Reich Association against Social Democracy in Imperial Germany (probably for tactical reasons). 252. Wahl, Religion, 354. 253. Ibid. On the effect of Walter Flex’s works, see Reulecke, “‘Wir reiten die Sehnsucht tot,’” 261. 254. Nonetheless, the fact remains that Stresemann hated National Socialism and the National Socialists hated him. 255. See Wahl, Religion, 29, for this and the following remarks. 256. See Ungern–Sternberg and Ungern–Sternberg, Der Aufruf ‘An die Kulturwelt!’; and Wahl, Religion, 22–24. 257. See, for example, Henning et al., WRWlt—o Urakkord, and, in it, especially Mainholz, “Leutnant Dehmel—eine Polemik.” 258. See Stresemann to Prussian Minister for Culture Becker, 8 November 1926, PA AA, NL Stresemann 46. For the following quote from Ida Dehmel’s letter to Stresemann, see PA AA, NL Stresemann 46. 259. Dehmel also flattered Stresemann in return: “Last Sunday, a lovely little incident happened that might please you to hear. You passed a patisserie—probably coming from the Reichstag—when a gray-blue pigeon flew into a tree just a few steps behind you. It did not carry the obligatory olive branch in its beak, but acted just like a real peace dove: you had just disappeared behind the gate of the Wilhelm Gardens in Friedrich Ebert Street when the pigeon followed you, perched in a tree in the gardens near the street and softly started cooing, which was clearly audible despite the street noise. Three minutes later, however, a love partner in the form of another pigeon was a stronger attraction than the statesman and Nobel Prize laureate.” (Dehmel to Stresemann, 2 April 1928, PA AA, NL Stresemann 66.) 260. Stresemann to Moras, 5 January 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 145; and 11 October 1915, PA AA, NL Stresemann 148: “That you are in a hurry to get back to your regiment even though you still haven’t completely recovered. That you have had such great losses in the last battles and that you can tear yourself away from your family and from your important business to get back to your comrades is a wonderful trait showing the spirit of community of the German soldiers.” 261. Stresemann to Moras, 21 August 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 164; see also Moras to Stresemann, 6 December 1917; PA AA, NL Stresemann 114. 262. Brüß to Konrad Niethammer, 31 July 1917, SWA Leipzig. NL Niethammer 443, 2. It also reads: “One learns a lot of things in the military. In my opinion, there is a great deal of reason, logic, and purposefulness . . . to German militarism. It is only due to clumsy human influence when these things change to the opposite.”

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263. Stresemann’s last transfer to the Landsturm was on 14 July 1916, Stresemann, PA AA, Privatnachlass Stresemann. 264. Mayor Blüher to Stresemann, 13 January 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 161. 265. Correspondence with his personal assistant, Hauptmann Rauch, 13 February 1920, PA AA, NL Stresemann 220. 266. Stresemann to Greiert, 21 August 1921, PA AA, NL Stresemann 231. 267. On this and the following remarks, see Stresemann to Richard R. Otto, 30 December 1916, PA AA, NL Stresemann 157. 268. Stresemann to State Minister of Finance von Seydewitz, 27 June 1918, PA AA, NL Stresemann 197.

Chapter 7

AFTERLIFE

S If one looks back on Stresemann’s life and his political career, there is no doubt about his significance, in spite of any criticism of individual actions. It seems that no other figure from the Weimar period had the personal, political, and statesmanlike qualities and pursued a policy as sustainable as Stresemann did to be preserved in the collective memory of Germans and even become a guiding figure within historical remembrance in the Federal Republic.1 Hardly any other politician was and remains as esteemed as Stresemann throughout Germany and the whole of Europe. This is true despite the doubts about his commitment to democracy and some of his political objectives—which are rarely mentioned these days. Virtually no other figure from the Weimar period had charisma like Stresemann’s. Friedrich Ebert, Otto Braun, Wilhelm Marx, and even Walther Rathenau, not to mention Matthias Erzberger, cannot hold a candle to him. Hardly any other politician of his time was so successful in casting his life in a positive light and stage-managing it to make possible a biography he deemed worthy of himself for future generations. There is every reason to suggest that Stresemann is remembered today exactly as he wished to be remembered. This was another facet of his life at which he excelled. And yet, this only appears to be a given. This has less to do with the generally very positive assessment of Stresemann and more with a general lack of societal remembrance of the Weimar period. For this reason, Stresemann plays only a minor role in the current culture of remembrance in Germany and is thus no exception to the Weimar “remembrance deficit.”2 It is striking that not even political Liberalism, although it is currently fading, commemorates Stresemann in any special way. The Liberals do, in fact, remember figures from the Weimar period, but they favor politicians such as Friedrich Naumann, Theodor Heuss, Hugo Preuß, and Wilhelm Külz.3 Did Stresemann thus fail in his desire to be accepted as a bourgeois and democratic politician, and go down in history? This is certainly not the case when Notes from this chapter begin on page 268.

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looking at those who are more interested in the history of the Weimar Republic than the average person. In this context, a different and much more positive picture comes to the fore, just as Stresemann had wished. Scholars and members of the broader public who are interested in history remember his personality, ideals, values, and foreign policy achievements in a very positive way. The terms “culture(s) of remembrance,” “historical culture(s),” and “politics of history” were coined in the 1990s to describe historical remembrance in its various forms. In Stresemann’s case, the notion of “culture of remembrance” is particularly vital—that is, the question of how and why individuals, groups, and whole societies choose certain aspects of the past to keep in the public eye by means of book publications, memorials, festivals, exhibitions, films, and so forth.4 Which traits are required to make people suitable for the culture of remembrance? And what specific characteristics did Stresemann have that made him interesting enough for the culture of remembrance—or let him fall into oblivion?

His Personal Desire to Rise Economic and political achievements through hard work, ambition, diligence, commitment, willpower, and hunger for social advancement are key bourgeois and liberal virtues. Anyone can achieve anything, as long as one works hard and is diligent. Stresemann had lived his life in accordance with this principle and successfully advocated these values to the public. This attitude is a basic foundation of most current societies in Europe. Thus, there are a lot of links between Stresemann and the present.

Bourgeois Commitment, Political Activities at the Municipal, Regional, and National Level Stresemann was very well integrated into the bourgeois milieu of Dresden (and later Berlin). He helped shape, foster, and expand his political home. In this respect, he seemed to be an ideal bourgeois individual. Stresemann himself circulated this version of himself, and research regarded and positively appreciated him in a similar way. His extensive political commitment at various levels corresponds perfectly with today’s values, particularly against the backdrop of the current “disenchantment with politics.”

Social Security for the Bourgeoisie The ideal society Stresemann advocated was supposed to take care of the wellbeing of all its members. He attempted to implement the model of a classless

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society and is therefore regarded as a man of the political middle, of balance, and “reason,” an attitude that matches current political views. He would probably have agreed with the welfare state and the “social market economy” of the Federal Republic, which are supported by almost all political parties in Germany today. This again highlights that Stresemann fits the concept of remembrance of the Federal Republic of Germany perfectly.

Individuality, Independence, and Opposing Collectivist and Especially Marxist Ideas Throughout his entire life, Stresemann fought the Social Democrats and Free Trade Unions, but he never denied their right to exist. It was only the Communists whom he hated wholeheartedly. His key political objective was to enable all citizens to help themselves rather than be dependent on collective interest groups. His motto was to challenge and to support. These ideas still prevail and considerably shape the current society of the Federal Republic, including the Social Democratic Party, which makes Stresemann a perfect bourgeois role model.

Foreign Policy Ideas, Germany’s Integration into “the” West According to current research trends, Stresemann wanted to integrate Germany into “the” West. He pursued a policy of rapprochement with France, wanted to overcome Franco-German enmity, and bring Germany into the international community, the League of Nations. In so doing, he stood for the same policies that the governments of the Federal Republic from 1949 onward have advocated. Stresemann’s anti-Communist attitude corresponds to most twentieth-century German foreign policy, which had difficulty achieving a policy of rapprochement with the Soviet Union and Poland.

Gustav Stresemann in the Remembrance Culture after 1929 As a result of all of these characteristics, Stresemann is an appropriate subject of the liberal-democratic culture of remembrance in Germany. He represented at least some of these values as early as during Imperial Germany. He was virtually “the” proponent of a parliamentary democracy in the Weimar period; the political savior in 1923; a national and European-oriented statesman and Nobel Peace Prize laureate; a political crisis manager; an advocate of social policies; a liberal moderator toward the political Right, the German National People’s Party, and toward the Left, the Social Democrats; a modern member of parliament and party leader; a dyed-in-the-wool parliamentary liberal; a staunch anti-Communist;

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and he was highly educated. This is how he is assessed in historical scholarship— and how he wished to be assessed. There appear to have been no dark sides to him. In any case, no negative opinions have survived in collective memory. At the same time, Stresemann is regarded as a man who was capable of learning and politically maturing, who admitted his mistakes and seemed open to valid arguments. He was a pragmatic and very flexible person also attached to ideals, who wanted to reconcile opposing views rather than sow division. In this respect, his self-image and public image are almost completely congruent. The fact that he oscillated between right and left, between wishing for a powerful nation-state and rapprochement, has barely become part of the collective (West) German memory. It is only mentioned that he needed some time to find the right way into democracy, which perhaps makes him even more likeable as a person. Stresemann never had to pretend to be an opponent of the Völkische Party and the National Socialists. He was threatened by them and heavily attacked in political meetings. He seemed to be immune to anti-Semitism—or rather he presented himself in public in this way—because he was married to a baptized Jewish wife and therefore often targeted by anti-Semites. Public memory of Stresemann does not even touch on the question of whether he was anti-Semitic. More importantly, Stresemann is one of the few democratic role models of the Weimar Republic who were not compromised by National Socialism and the Holocaust. This is even more significant because there were not many “true” democrats during the Weimar period.

Stresemann as a Topic of Scholarly Debate After some detours, Stresemann advanced in the scholarly literature to being a model politician of foreign affairs and rapprochement, and also one of the greatest statesmen of the Weimar Republic. Scholars regard him almost unanimously as a great figure.5 Historians hardly cast any doubt on the image of him as a Weimar peace politician, a democrat, and a protector of the Weimar Republic. This is explicitly shown by recent publications of the early twenty-first century. Critical voices have become silent. According to historical scholarship, no politician from the Weimar period seems more suitable to be a guiding figure for the Federal Republic than Gustav Stresemann. He would certainly have been delighted about such a positive assessment, particularly since he always admired historiography. He would have agreed with it unconditionally.

Stresemann in German History Textbooks after 1945 The historical memory that is favored and supported by the state manifests itself primarily in history textbooks.6 They convey the cultural techniques that are

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deemed important by the state for dealing with history as well as—and this is paramount in this context—basic knowledge and fundamental ideas about history and historical figures that are desired and accepted by state and society. Textbooks have long played a key role in offering specific identity concepts for social and political socialization as well as a cultural orientation that the state and society wish to promote. This is especially true of disciplines involving political convictions and beliefs such as history. The impact of history textbooks on the historical awareness of each young generation can barely be overestimated, even today with the vast array of modern media. This impact is everywhere and in all generations. Textbooks reflect the prevailing political and social opinions on the past not just in individual aspects, but almost completely. Thus, they reveal the mainstream assessment of certain historical events and figures more than any other medium. The historian and educator Andreas Körber has spent a great deal of time analyzing the public remembrance of Gustav Stresemann as conveyed by history textbooks, so that we can utilize his findings in this context.7 In sum, he concludes that West German history textbooks painted a consistently positive image of Stresemann throughout all the decades of the Federal Republic. This is also true in the present (his analysis covers the period up to the year 2000, and there is no sign of any change having occurred since then).8 It was important in the spread and persistence of this historical image of Stresemann, Körber points out, that Stresemann and his policies were highly flexible and adaptable to many different political positions and questions—and remain so. Both his policies and his personality left enough “blanks” that could be filled as needed. Thus, Stresemann could easily be integrated into the many various constructions of the past that dominated in different configurations in the postwar period. This also holds true for GDR history textbooks: they unanimously depicted Stresemann in a negative fashion and, in a way, seemed happy to turn him into an enemy stereotype.9 The openness of Stresemann’s image derives, first of all, from the broad spectrum of his political activities and the diversity of his interests. He was a poet and a manager, a politician and a family man, a citizen and a peacemaker—public remembrance can refer to Stresemann in all these fields and many more. Second, his political flexibility as a Realpolitiker—a practical politician—facilitated this openness. Conservatives and Social Democrats, liberals and pacifists, Christian and Jewish members of the bourgeoisie—Stresemann offers something for each group to discuss. He cannot be defined in a clear-cut fashion and thus interpreted as a “linear” politician. There are “open flanks” in many facets of his biography, allowing highly different cultures of remembrance to build up his image for their own purposes—an ideal precondition for being remembered in a broad and sustainable way in the wider public. History textbooks indicate that in the early Federal Republic Stresemann was seen mainly as the role model of the “good German.”10 They depicted him and his

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political course as (co-)founding a tradition of democracy, parliamentarianism, and liberalism, and political values the young Federal Republic was committed to. These textbooks cast Stresemann as a true German democrat, the memorable face of the other “good Germany.” By referring to his achievements, the German bourgeoisie could somewhat clear itself of being partially at fault for the Nazi system and emphasize its own positive values and norms. Alongside those who resisted the Third Reich, Stresemann represented a positive continuity in German history that had allegedly been there all along and to which the bourgeois and non-Socialist Federal Republic could relate. Given the circumstances after 1945, Stresemann’s hatred of Communism was not negative. Such a functionalization matched the policy of the Federal Republic at that time. At a later stage, when European integration and binding Germany to the West were on the Federal Republic’s agenda, Stresemann was cast as an “early European,” as a pioneer of the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), the European Economic Community (EEC), and later the European Union (EU).11 After all, he had allegedly promoted economic cooperation by facilitating the establishment of the International Raw Steel Community (IRG) in 1926. Additionally, Locarno and the League of Nations, international trade treaties and the Nobel Peace Prize seemed to prove his European intentions. According to the unanimous opinion of West German history textbooks, Stresemann’s cooperation with the French Minister of Foreign Affairs Aristide Briand and both statesmen’s reflections on the idea of a unified Europe demonstrated Stresemann’s European aims. In the Federal Republic, all this was used as historical evidence to prove that in the 1920s Germany had pursued a policy of rapprochement rather than violence. References to Stresemann were supposed to show that German politics after 1945 pursued similarly positive objectives and was as serious about them as he had been. The politically useful “legend of the great European” could be underpinned by history and exploited. History textbooks still perpetuate this legend. For this reason alone, criticizing Stresemann and his policy had to appear anachronistic, incongruous with the German political landscape, and politically undesirable.12 And, finally, there was Stresemann’s relationship to France. German politics after 1945, which focused on abolishing the enmity toward Germany’s western neighbor, establishing Franco-German rapprochement, and integrating Germany into the West, could find no better politician than Stresemann for historical instrumentalization. Stresemann was said to have promoted Franco-German rapprochement in the West and fought Bolshevism in the East. This masked potential doubts about his policy toward the East. He would have fit well into the Federal Republic of the 1960s and 1970s, and could easily be adapted to it accordingly with great success. Consequently, history textbooks powerfully contributed to laying the foundation for presenting Stresemann in collective memory as a great liberal and democratic figure.

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Stresemann in Public and Political Memory Foreign affairs politicians as well as heads of governments are often in the limelight of parliamentary democracies. This is true particularly when they stay in office for a long time or serve in difficult circumstances, which applied to Stresemann more than any other politician of the Weimar Republic. No other member of the cabinet, let alone a minister of foreign affairs, was in office longer than he was. In addition, he was involved in several controversies related to both domestic and foreign policy. Stresemann was by no means timid and inconspicuous. He had (and has) public attention. Politicians also take center stage when political events affect the masses emotionally, when their policies are controversial, or when a political consensus is difficult to reach. This was true of Stresemann and his foreign policy, as well. It was one of the most important and discussed topics in the Weimar Republic. Contemporaries might have considered social and domestic policies equally significant, yet today it is mainly foreign affairs that he is remembered for. Every history textbook paints a positive picture of the “Stresemann era.” In the Weimar Republic, Stresemann was a man of controversy whose adversaries used him to polarize opinion. It is usually stressed that his opponents were enemies of the democratic state, enemies of a policy of rapprochement and European integration, anti-Semites and Communists, nationalists and fascists. From today’s point of view, his opponents are not positive in collective memory, which has facilitated his fame and made his fight even nobler. Therefore, it is no surprise that Stresemann’s premature death in 1929 elicited strong reactions both in Germany and internationally.13 It is, however, astonishing that these reactions were almost unanimously positive, despite Stresemann’s numerous enemies within Germany and all the criticism of his political ideas that could have been mentioned.14 This confirms, once again, that Stresemann was judged exactly how he wanted to be judged. One example of the world response was captured in Count Harry Kessler’s remarks on Stresemann’s death from France on 3 October 1929: He [Stresemann] died of a stroke this morning at half past six. It is an irreplaceable loss with consequences barely to foresee. That is how it is felt here [in Paris] too. Everyone is talking about it, the waiters in the restaurants, the drivers, the women selling newspapers. . . . It is as if the greatest French statesman had died. The grief is universal and genuine. . . . The legend begins; Stresemann has become an almost mythical figure. None of the great statesmen of the nineteenth century, not Pitt, nor Talleyrand, Metternich, Palmerston, Napoleon III, Cavour, Bismarck, Gambetta, or Disraeli, achieved such unanimous worldwide recognition and apotheosis. He is the first one to go into Valhalla as a true European statesman.15

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Finally, he commented on the tremendous response to Stresemann’s funeral in Berlin: “it becomes more and more apparent that the people have participated in the ceremony of Stresemann’s funeral to a huge extent. Many hundreds of thousands have bowed to his coffin. One newspaper rightly wrote that this was not a state funeral, but a funeral of the people.”16 One might say that up to this point everything went exactly as Stresemann had wished, although Count Harry Kessler probably embellished the reaction to Stresemann’s death with a slightly too positive assessment. Yet Kessler’s ambivalent relationship to Stresemann as a social climber and his aristocratic condescension toward the man with the petit-bourgeois background are likely to have prevented him from falling into admiration and hero worship. However, the events appear altogether less impressive and positive when one examines the history of the Stresemann memorial in Mainz, the first material form of public remembrance dedicated to him.17 Nonetheless, that there was a plan to swiftly erect a memorial can still be seen as a sign of admiration and respect. The construction of the memorial was initiated shortly after Stresemann’s death by the industrialist Wilhelm F. Kalle, who had been close to Stresemann and the Liberals, with support of the Mainz Automobile Club. It was supposed to commemorate Gustav Stresemann as a great politician and his rapprochement policy as a tremendous achievement for the Weimar Republic, even in the time of great crisis in the Weimar Republic when the first German democracy was being contested and rejected on so many sides. At the same time and above all, though, the memorial had already come to commemorate Stresemann as a failed minister of foreign affairs. The memorial, whose cornerstone was laid in a ceremony after some delays on 5 July 1930, was supposed to highlight the “liberation of the Rhineland” from French occupation on 30 June 1930. It was not supposed to stand for Stresemann’s European policy or his Franco-German rapprochement policy, as he had aimed to cast it for future generations. Consequently, the commemoration, by presenting the withdrawal of French troops not primarily as a result of Stresemann’s peace policy, got the point exactly wrong. The circumstances of this commemoration event reflected the new political climate in Germany: the festivities for the “liberation of the Rhineland”—the context of the cornerstone ceremony—were nationalistically charged and filled with national satisfaction, combined with growing confrontation with the neighbor to the west. Thus, the event no longer fit with Stresemann’s policy of reconciliation and rapprochement. It was symbolic of this change that “the official proclamation of the Brüning government even avoided mentioning Stresemann.”18 A change of view in foreign policy was already under way. The later history of the memorial also calls for skepticism. In contrast to the euphoric remarks on the part of the initiators, it proved to be difficult to implement the project, not just because of the precarious economic circumstances of that time.

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“Venomous arrows of all kinds in the form of letters and newspaper articles were shot. Little money was given at that time.”19 About ten thousand individual letters and more than a hundred thousand petitioning letters and donation forms had to be sent out to generate a solid financial basis for the plan. Apparently, already shortly after his death, the memory of Stresemann no longer sold itself. The unveiling ceremony of the memorial made this change visible. It was cool and functional, and Foreign Minister Curtius, one of Stresemann’s fellow party members, was the only representative from the Reich government present at the event.20 Until the Nazis seized power in 1933 and closed down the memorial, demolishing it a few years later, it had quite a few visitors, as far as this can be documented. Particularly in the Rhineland, Stresemann still loomed large in the memory of a large segment of the bourgeois and democratic population in the late 1920s and early 1930s. This changed profoundly after 1933. After being almost completely banished from national memory between 1933 and 1945, the creation of the Stresemann legend was resumed after the war and the end of National Socialism. This took place very much in the spirit of Stresemann’s and Count Kessler’s interpretation. This legend-building was pursued even more intensely after 1945, particularly because it was assumed that Stresemann might have been able to prevent the rise of National Socialism in the final crisis years of the Weimar Republic or at least would have fought with the Nazis conflicts, had he not died prematurely. As a man who had been an opponent of the Nazis throughout his entire life and attracted the hatred of the political Right due to his “policy of renunciation” almost had to become a figure of political integration after 1945, not only among the bourgeois parties. Consequently, doubts about his policy were unwanted.21 Therefore, it is no surprise that there the remembrance of Stresemann during the first years of the Federal Republic was broadly positive, as shown by the many streets, roads, avenues, and squares named after him in the postwar period. There is not one German city that did not commemorate Stresemann in this fashion, mostly in central places. There were also schools all over Germany named after the former foreign minister and Reich chancellor. Pictures of Stresemann decorated the walls of several German archives. The positive image of Stresemann dominated everywhere. The intensive activities of the Stresemann Society in the early years of the Federal Republic are another example of the efforts to keep this positive remembrance alive. Its honorary members come from a broad political spectrum, ranging from conservatives (Helmut Kohl, CDU) to liberals (Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Klaus Kinkel, FDP) to Social Democrats (Kurt Beck, SPD). The Stresemann Society organized a large festive event in honor of Stresemann at which Hans-Dietrich Genscher gave a very positive speech on Stresemann, the “European.”22 The attempt to replace the destroyed memorial from the 1920s, again initiated by the industrialist Kalle, belongs in this context.23 Kalle and his supporters

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had a new memorial site set up in the Mainz Zeughaus, a very modest project compared to the old monument. These plans were financially supported by the federal government, and all high-level German politicians attended the opening ceremony on 16 October 1960, each finding kind and appreciative words.24 The CDU (Christian Democratic Union, center-right German party, founded in 1945) has commemorated and utilized Stresemann in a similar way by emphasizing the European dimension of his policy. In this context, it was of no concern that Konrad Adenauer, the CDU leader, had not been friends with Stresemann during the Weimar period. The former mayor of Cologne had had considerable doubts about Stresemann’s political agenda and disliked the then Foreign Minister Stresemann with a passion.25 But Adenauer was well aware of the symbolic advantage Stresemann’s name had for his policy after twelve years of National Socialism. He understood how to exploit the memory of Stresemann for his own political goals and disregarded his previous objections against him. The political wish to use a constructed image of Stresemann for one’s own political course can be easily discerned in the example of the film on Stresemann from 1956/57, which was subsidized by the CDU government.26 Körber rightly pointed out that “the Stresemann film was the first attempt to exploit the Reich foreign minister for Adenauer’s policy toward the West in front of a broad public audience.”27 Although it had little public success, this film utilized and adjusted history to the contemporary political context with pomp and circumstance: “The premiere of the film amounted almost to a state ceremony, framed by the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, whose famous conductor was Stresemann’s son.”28 Using Stresemann in this fashion was indirectly supported by the Protestant Film Guild (Evangelische Filmgilde), which declared the Stresemann film the best film of February 1957, and by the Catholic Film Service, which vigorously recommended it.29

Stresemann in the Present Culture of Remembrance: An Outlook What role does Stresemann play in the present German culture of remembrance? One thing is quite certain: not a major one, like almost all Weimar politicians. This was pointed out as early as 1957 by journalist Gunter Groll reviewing the Stresemann film in the Süddeutsche Zeitung: “According to surveys among the younger generation, many have no idea who ‘Stresemann’ is. Some think it is the name of a smart suit, others that it is the inventor of the latter, among them some believe ‘Stresemann’ is a men’s tailor, some that he is an actor.”30 Not much has changed since then. This is a surprise given the background to Stresemann’s remembrance and the positive preconditions for it. There is still a wide range of forms of remembrance: hotels without any connection to Stresemann are named after him in many cities using his celebrity capital for

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advertisement purposes. The same applies to the Stresemann-Haus in Bonn. However, no surveys could be found inquiring into views of Stresemann and his image among the populace. It is fair to assume that few respondents would have given any meaningful answers. It seems that while Stresemann has not fallen entirely into oblivion, he is certainly no longer as present in the mind of the general public. Memoirs of leading politicians of foreign affairs barely mention Stresemann. Joschka Fischer’s view of Stresemann and his policy was positive;31 Willy Brandt32 and Hans-Dietrich Genscher33 honored him. And yet, it is rather surprising that the FDP (Free Democratic Party, a German liberal party) has rarely or insufficiently referred to this iconic figure of Liberalism and did not use him as a subject of its politics of history. Theodor Heuss and Friedrich Naumann, rather than Gustav Stresemann, are the liberal favorites. Apparently, Stresemann’s self-representation was unsuccessful with those who were rather close to him in political, economic, social, and cultural terms and whose opinions would have been most important to him.34 The “remembrance deficit” of the liberals, particularly, but also across Germany, in general, is still surprising. To reiterate, this deficit is not because the image of the “good Stresemann” was challenged in recent decades based on new important facts that would put Stresemann in a different light: as a Weimar politician who had remained a monarchist his entire life, who despised the republic up to a certain extent, collaborated with the political Right, and favored a policy toward the East that was not compatible with the policy of rapprochement ascribed to the “good” Stresemann. The fact that Stresemann has fallen into oblivion is not due to a paradigmatic change in the assessment of him as a Weimar politician. To put it provocatively: building upon the “other side” of Stresemann and his policy that has been revealed in this study, future politics of remembrance would well be advised not to overemphasize Stresemann’s positive traits. Rather, ambivalence characterizes his life and his politics and is worth remembering, at least more than the biased and now untenable construct of the “good Stresemann.” Such an ambivalent image could be paradigmatic for the instability and the conflicting nature of the Weimar Republic as a whole and for the weakness of the German bourgeoisie. It would do greater justice to Stresemann as a person in than the currently existing construct. Remembering Stresemann in this way would remind us that even a “gem of the Weimar Republic” like Gustav Stresemann, a German Nobel Peace Prize laureate, a first-class member of parliament, was only a half-hearted advocate of democracy and reconciliation among peoples, and accepted the republic only to a limited extent. Thus, this Stresemann would represent the Germany of the 1920s with all its strengths and its weaknesses. It would signify both the opportunities seized and missed.

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Notes 1. See Pohl, “Gustav Stresemann (1878–1929).” The study by Jenke, Bonn—besser als Weimar?, which addresses this aspect, does not live up to its promising title. 2. To give but one example: a survey among senior high school students in Kiel in the winter of 2014 revealed that 95 percent of them did not know the name Hindenburg, although there was a fierce debate going on in Kiel at that time about whether to rename a street that had been named after him. Currently, remembrance of the Weimar Republic seems to play a rather minor role in German collective memory, unlike some decades ago. National Socialism and coming to terms with this specific period of German history significantly overshadow the remembrance of Weimar. 3. For example, the respective political, cultural, and scholarly institutions or liberal promotion societies run by the FDP are named after these figures instead after Stresemann. The Stresemann Society in Mainz, which is committed to commemorating his political career, never achieved much significance. Moreover, it does not regard itself as a site of liberal remembrance. 4. The problems arising from the culture of remembrance have been discussed in detail over the last decades. To mention but a few examples of the vast number of publications on this topic, see Assmann, Der lange Schatten der Vergangenheit; Berek, Kollektives Gedächtnis und die gesellschaftliche Konstruktion der Wirklichkeit; Cornelißen, “Was heißt Erinnerungskultur?”; Schmid, Geschichtspolitik und kollektives Gedächtnis; B. Wagner, Thema: Erinnerungskulturen und Geschichtspolitik; and Welzer, Das kommunikative Gedächtnis. 5. See the section “Thick Description II” in chapter 6. Almost no other Weimar politician has been the subject of such a vast number of biographical studies at various intervals. See references in the bibliography of this volume. 6. On the importance of history textbooks for historical awareness, see, among others, Fuchs et al., Schulbuch konkret. 7. Körber, Stresemann als Europäer. The presentation here largely follows his persuasive argument. It is unlikely that there have been any changes in this matter since the publication of his book. 8. Ibid., 335–36. 9. See above all the very critical studies by Wolfgang Ruge on Stresemann and his policy. For example: Ruge, Stresemann; Ruge, “Die Außenpolitik der Weimarer Republik”; Ruge, “Stresemann—Ein Leitbild?” However, this critical approach had little impact on contemporary research or German history textbooks and did not gain acceptance overall. 10. Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 201–2. 11. Ibid., 210–12. 12. The controversy over Stresemann in the late 1950s was not reflected in most German history textbooks. 13. On this in detail, see Wright, Stresemann, 492. 14. See the obituary in Vossische Zeitung, 3 October 1929, evening issue, no. 467: “Whoever had the opportunity to observe the deepest respect with which Stresemann was regarded abroad got an idea about the political credit Stresemann has generated for us in the world. The day will come that the judgment of his life work will be unanimous in the German Reich. That will be the day when everyone realizes how significant Stresemann’s death is for the German Reich: not just a loss, but a misfortune!” 15. Kessler, Tagebücher, 594–96. 16. Ibid., 597. See Kolb, Stresemann, 6–8. 17. On this and the following remarks, see Scheidel, “Die Entstehung”; Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 272–74. 18. Ibid., 90–91. 19. See Scheidel, “Die Entstehung,” 126, for this and the following remarks.

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20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 90–91. See the discussions triggered by the assumptions of Turner, “Überlegungen,” 290–92. Stresemanngesellschaft, Gustav Stresemann, 1878–1978, 36–47. Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 272–74. Scheidel, “Die Entstehung,” 129–31. For details on this, see Erdmann, Adenauer in der Rheinlandpolitik. On the analysis and the making of the film and for the following remarks, see Landesbeauftragter, Der Stresemann-Film. For a personal perspective on the film, see W. Stresemann, Zeiten und Klänge, 271–73. On the context of the film, see Körber, “Der Stresemann-Film”; and Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 229–31. Körber, Stresemann als Europäer, 260. Der Spiegel, 27 January 1957. See also W. Stresemann, Zeiten und Klänge, 271–73. Landesbeauftragter, Der Stresemann-Film, 20. Gunter Groll, “Denkmal ohne Pose ‘Stresemann,’” Süddeutsche Zeitung, 23 January 1957. See Joschka Fischer, “Außenpolitik im Widerspruch,” Die Zeit, 3 February 2000. See Brandt, “Introduction” (this is a reprint of Brandt’s speech at the Stresemann memorial ceremony in Mainz in 1968). Genscher at the opening of the Stresemann exhibition on 9 May 1978, in Mainz, Stresemanngesellschaft, 36–47. The fact that a great liberal politician—Theodor Heuss—did not like Stresemann on a personal level can hardly be the reason for this and for the suppressed remembrance of Stresemann in the Federal Republic. On the relationship between Stresemann and Heuss, see Heuss, Erinnerungen 1905–1933, 272–73. “Completely primitive, I did not like him as a human being and may assume that this feeling was mutual”; and Heuss, Tagebuchbriefe 1955–1963, for example, 182–83, 241, 246, and 505.

Conclusion

THE CROSSOVER ARTIST

S A First Glance Gustav Stresemann was extremely successful as a politician in the Weimar Republic. His achievements have been extensively acknowledged in the scholarship, and almost no historian today questions them. His activities as Reich chancellor in 1923 gave the republic a few years of breathing space, preserved the nation’s unity, consolidated the economic situation, calmed the political Right, and gave the Reich a free hand in foreign affairs. This positive assessment is valid even if one considers the political costs of this stabilization policy (intervention against the SPD/KPD governments in Saxony and Thuringia, tolerating the forces from the Right in Bavaria). This aspect is largely ignored in the current scholarship anyway, as it is regarded as rather marginal.1 The scholarship generally holds that Stresemann, as foreign minister, attempted to peacefully revise the Treaty of Versailles by employing all means at his disposal, including the power of the German economy, which he knew how to instrumentalize for his policy. This approach was markedly different from the one he employed in Imperial Germany. It was modern foreign policy. This is the current state of research. The Locarno Treaties (1925) and Germany’s entry into the League of Nations (1926) are interpreted as visible signs of this policy. Stresemann’s attempt to improve relations with France is, likewise, praised. His aggressive policy toward Poland is usually downplayed and thought to be uncharacteristic of his foreign policy, as well as generally not very relevant. At the same time, Stresemann is cast as an exemplar of a politically active citizen. His curriculum vitae is taken as proof that could succeed in politics based on one’s own achievements, rising “from a petit bourgeois to Reich chancellor,” so to speak. His life shows how one can learn from one’s mistakes, change one’s position, adapt to new circumstances, and transform oneself from an advocate Notes from this chapter begin on page 281.

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of monarchy into a democrat—all in a protracted and difficult but understandable learning process. The scholarship suggests that this should be particularly emphasized. Finally, the scholarship generally casts Stresemann as an outstanding politician in domestic affairs. Throughout his entire political career, he made every effort to reconcile the old with the new. This is said to be particularly true of the Weimar period, when he did everything to stabilize the democratic system—a judgment questioned by very few critics. Rather, his efforts are acknowledged as exceptional achievements in domestic policy, although he did not meet his aim to integrate the right-wing DVP (Deutsche Volkspartei [German People’s Party]) into the democratic system. Most historians shy away from delving into how far right or toward the old imperial order he leaned. Today, almost no one doubts that, despite some detours, he became a staunch democrat. As emphasized in the scholarship, Stresemann’s outstanding accomplishments in domestic and foreign policy, but also as a party founder and leader, make him an important symbol of the viability of the Weimar Republic, a guarantor of its existence, and, not least, a beacon of hope for a successful future for the democracy, though his premature death meant that he was not able to help shape that future. Hardly anyone challenges this interpretation, let alone detects any dark sides to his policy. On the contrary, the middle years of the Weimar Republic, when Stresemann was the German foreign minister, have now been characterized for decades as the “Stresemann era” and are generally associated with positive developments. The nice image of Stresemann that emerges is as a successful Weimar politician and staunch democrat, as a politician who both advocated European rapprochement and advanced moderate national goals, as a stabilizer of German domestic policy and as a citizen who was capable of “learning.” However, with all due appreciation of his achievements, this image cannot be maintained in its exclusivity. It is a mere construct of Stresemann. It cannot adequately describe him as a person, his life, his wishes and objectives, but remains rather one-sided. Although this image has its own internal logic, this logic cannot hold up under close and critical scrutiny. This seemingly coherent success story is far from complete in its construction. It urgently requires some adjustments, as this biography has made clear. First, previous biographies of Stresemann construct his life predominantly as that of a (Weimar) politician. However, his life encompassed so much more. Alongside politics, it was shaped by economics and culture, and entailed breaks and discontinuities, unfulfilled or half-fulfilled wishes, internal insecurities and fluctuations. Illness and permanent strain left their mark as well as, above all, a plethora of ambivalences. These biographies largely ignore Stresemann’s existence as a “crossover artist” and outsider. This study has shown the consequences of these misperceptions.

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Second, current biographies focus almost completely on the second phase of Stresemann’s life, the Weimar period, and ignore his years in Saxony. Yet that part of his life was particularly influential, as this biography has shown. In Saxony, he worked as a young liberal, a dynamic legal adviser, a multi-functionary, a modernizer; he was a model social climber, a man who virtually embodied the social mobility of Imperial Germany. Stresemann blossomed in this period, experiencing one success after another, gradually acquiring the new conservative bourgeois system of values that would shape his entire life (despite later breaks and discontinuities), along the lines of Henning Luther’s considerations.2 Saxony was where Stresemann started to shake off his despised non-bourgeois background and was in the process of leaving this milieu to move up to a new social field—an extremely difficult endeavor, according to Bourdieu’s theory.3 In Saxony, he believed he could become like other members of the educated class or the economic bourgeoisie. He hoped to live a “normal” bourgeois life, embedded in the bourgeois system that supported him and fulfilled his expectations and where he could feel at home: a strong, bourgeois Germany modeled on the system of Imperial Germany. This study has addressed these fundamental wishes, a basic constant in Stresemann’s life, in depth, thematizing and giving them their due for the first time. Previous historiography widely ignores these aspects. Without considering the system of values Stresemann acquired and internalized in his time in Saxony, his life in the Weimar period cannot be understood.

The Saxon Politician Stresemann’s political achievements in the Kingdom of Saxony are not well known, so they have remained largely underexplored in the scholarship. For the first time, this study makes them the focus of the analysis. In Saxony, Stresemann’s political rise was even more remarkable than in the Weimar Republic, where, although he was politically compromised on account of his annexation demands during the war, he was not a political newcomer. In Saxony, by contrast, he became a leading political figure over the course of only a few years. Supported by the “newly” founded National Liberal Party he helped to establish, this “nobody” managed to initiate a gradual “modernization” of the political system in accordance with his bourgeois and liberal ideas. He strengthened (National) Liberalism and dared to integrate Social Democratic ideas and free trade unions into existing Wilhelmine society, with only slight modifications—and this in Saxony, of all places, the cradle of the German Socialist labor movement. Such an objective was highly modern by contemporary standards, even though Stresemann did not (yet) think of granting Social Democrats full equality. Moreover, Stresemann initiated the revision of voting laws together with the Social Democrats and against the Conservatives. The new legislation brought

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Social Democrats into parliament and helped the National Liberals gain a key position. This was almost a quiet revolution: the Conservatives lost more than half of their seats in the second chamber, and with them their seemingly unbreakable dominance. This political course in Saxony—though not all historians view it as successful—showed how gradually transforming the Reich from a monarchy into a modern system could have been achieved.4 Above all: Stresemann was the driving force behind this political course, which he regarded as bourgeois and liberal. Thus, Stresemann turned into a “grown up,” in Henning Luther’s sense, during his time in Saxony. He lived his life in accordance with his own ideas, and formed a relatively stable image of the world and the role he wanted to play within it. He was able to make these ideas acquired in Saxony more dynamic later on, but he never changed them arbitrarily or fundamentally after that. His image of the world remained relatively stable. This had a huge impact on his behavior in the Weimar Republic. During Imperial Germany, Stresemann was one of the politicians who favored and supported the Wilhelmine system. He was well aware of its weaknesses and wanted to amend them because overall he considered the system capable of development. And yet, neither current scholarship nor the culture of remembrance has included this influential stage into their image of Stresemann. The essential significance of this period for the “bourgeois” Stresemann, his gradual development of a bourgeois habitus and acquisition of political, economic, and cultural capital have previously been (widely) ignored. The resulting ambivalences that shaped Stresemann, his character as a “crossover artist” who oscillated between right and left, were not taken into account. Nevertheless, although Stresemann gained a great amount of political capital in Saxony, his political career there was not entirely a success story. He wished for a politically strong Germany, as mighty as Great Britain, and for a modified political system close to that of Imperial Germany rather than what would be established later in the Weimar Republic. He wished for a “people’s community” in Germany that would overcome the country’s internal tensions and be dominated by the Liberals. He wished for a system that would overcome the need for the Social Democratic Party based in class struggle. He did, in fact, come rather close to these aims in prewar Saxony—much closer than later in the Weimar Republic—but never entirely reached it. As a “crossover artist,” he soon got in his own way and left the bourgeois milieu of Dresden, which might (soon) have supported him—for new ventures.

Homo Economicus Stresemann’s career in Saxony as a homo economicus5 was even more stellar than his political one. His economic achievements in Saxony shaped his life and his self-image at least as significantly as his political success. His economic rise there

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brought him substantial private wealth at the beginning of the twentieth century when he was still a young man, despite rather unfavorable starting conditions. It seems that obtaining economic capital came naturally to him, although he worked hard for it. This biography is the first to take his early economic accomplishments—which he was able to continue in the Weimar period—duly into account and put them in the context of his life as a whole. One thing that helped this rise was his position as a legal adviser for the Association of Saxon Industrialists (VSI), which he almost single-handedly built up into the most powerful regional economic organization. His other leading positions in the Hanseatic League and the League of Industrialists (BdI) enabled him and his Saxon friends to decisively influence the interest-driven policy of the export-oriented industry in Imperial Germany. In this way, Stresemann consolidated his status as an economic bourgeois, enhanced his social capital, and exerted considerable influence on economic and social policies in Imperial Germany. In the Weimar Republic, he was pushed out of all these posts, mainly because of his excessive war aims. He never completely got over this blow and the resulting economic losses, including the severe damage to his corresponding habitus. Along with Stresemann’s attempt integrate laborers into his political course, one must highlight his general socio-political commitment, whose effects can still be felt today to some extent. With this, he definitely proved that he had the highest bourgeois virtues, according to his own view of what those were. He was almost solely responsible for introducing a special insurance for salaried employees. This insurance was supposed to improve the social situation of salaried employees and help immunize them against Social Democratic tendencies, thereby consolidating bourgeois society in Germany. It significantly influenced the system of social insurance in Germany. Without a doubt, Stresemann can be regarded as a successful social political reformer and stabilizer of the Wilhelmine system, which had considerable consequences for his behavior during the Weimar Republic. After the war, he did everything he could to carry the bourgeois values he had formed in his Saxon period into the Weimar Republic. This study is the first to give these facets of Stresemann’s life due consideration and importance in interpreting his achievements.

A Member of the Bourgeoisie It appears that Stresemann was able to enter the upper strata of the bourgeoisie in Imperial Germany in many respects: he obtained a university degree, married a beautiful, intelligent woman, started a bourgeois family with two sons who turned out well, and had an open house in Dresden and Berlin where Käte Stresemann was able to shine as a society hostess. Whether or not it is justified, Strese-

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mann was (and still is) deemed an expert on Goethe and literature in general. To spread this view in the public was one of Stresemann’s greatest achievements in stage-managing his life, and it continues to influence his biographies today. Thus, it is fair to conclude that he was almost entirely successful in creating the view of his having the habitus of a member of the bourgeoisie in his legacy. However, a pall was cast over his good fortune by the many illnesses he suffered from since his youth, which had a strong negative impact throughout his life. The VSI and BdI conferences in Dresden—just to name one salient point in time from his early life—were probably highlights of his life, rather than 1923, the “year of crisis,” or the “Locarno era,” when he succeeded as a politician. The glory of the democratic Weimar Republic clearly faded in comparison to his personal and social accomplishments in prewar Dresden. In that setting, (former) petit bourgeois Gustav Stresemann had already presided over glamorous banquets for his industrial association in the festively decorated theater when he was still a young man. This was probably the closest he got to his ideal of becoming an esteemed bourgeois figure in a strong nation. Hence, if one wishes to find the period in which Stresemann was most successful and satisfied with himself, in which his political, economic, and cultural ideas almost became reality, when he was on the path to becoming an esteemed member of the bourgeoisie in every respect, then it was probably his period in the Kingdom of Saxony. That is where the “bourgeois Stresemann” at peace with himself and the world, in Henning Luther’s sense, can be found. In this period, he had found, elaborated, and consolidated his values, he was in the process of acquiring a bourgeois habitus and a firm position in the “social field” (Bourdieu)—and was publicly accepted as a member of the bourgeoisie. There is every indication that Stresemann was happy in Saxony, but, as a “crossover artist,” he could not hold onto this happiness.

Stresemann in Weimar A Second Glance In Weimar, when, from posterity’s point of view, Stresemann enjoyed his greatest political success, he faced a difficult situation: he was not only forced to find a new political direction, but he also lost almost all his economic connections due to his political viewpoints during the war, and because from 1923 onward, his leading political office made it necessary to freeze most of his economic mandates. More importantly, he had to start again as a cultural bourgeois in the Weimar Republic. He was compelled to reacquire what had been part and parcel of his life in prewar Saxony. This new beginning was difficult for him, and he was not completely successful at it, although it looked quite different at first glance.

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In prewar Saxony, he had exerted great effort to internalize (in Bourdieu’s sense) values and norms that he later neither could nor wished to change. Yet the change in the political system, a “break” in Henning Luther’s sense, forced him to rethink his entire moral framework. He could call it into question, amend it, or maintain it with slight modifications. Because he loved the old system with all his heart, the political, social, cultural, and economic changes accompanying the revolution hit him particularly hard. He never severely questioned the system of Imperial Germany. For this reason alone, he could never become a “fired up democrat,” which is what the Weimar Republic really could have used as it was becoming firmly established. These existential problems caused by the revolution triggered a severe mental and physical crisis in Stresemann. His illnesses took over his life, and he suffered a breakdown. Thus, he (initially) attempted to escape into the cultural realm to stabilize himself and his worldview because he no longer had political and economic capital at his disposal to the same degree as in the prewar period. During the entire Weimar Republic, whenever he made any effort to maintain the old and to combine it with the new, he agonized over the problem of operating within the new system while still loving the old one. As a result, he never got close to leading a model life in the Weimar period, as he had, at least temporarily, during his time in Saxony.

On Politics In historical scholarship, Stresemann is mostly described as a democrat, as a pillar and stabilizer of the Weimar system. This assessment is not wrong, yet it is not entirely accurate either. Stresemann was highly ambivalent toward democracy. He never loved this system. He mourned Imperial Germany until his death. It is doubtful whether the notion of “republican by reason” quite fits him. Rather, he was a “republican by necessity,” temporarily adjusting to the contemporary realities in domestic and foreign affairs. His oscillation between the republic and a constitutional monarchy, between resolving parliamentary conflicts and admiring military solutions to problems, was characteristic, dominating his thoughts and actions. His ambivalence and ambiguity become particularly apparent in his stance on the military. In his eyes, military structures such as order and obedience were to be ranked at least as high as democracy, although he brilliantly mastered democratic procedures. It was typical for him to act in accordance with democratic principles during the Weimar Republic while simultaneously admiring military thinking (and its radical representatives, who were “wanted” by the authorities). One thing is almost certain: if he had had the chance to choose between democracy and monarchy, he would not have preferred the world of the Weimar

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Republic, in which the nation was weak and divided and Social Democratic ideas were powerful. However, the present widespread interpretation of Stresemann as a model democratic-republican statesman hardly allows for such ambivalences; they are almost never discussed. Within this interpretation, Stresemann was first a monarchist and then a converted republican, and finally he became a staunch democrat. This development is almost never questioned anymore. Nevertheless, shying away from the ambivalences that shaped Stresemann and his policies misses a great deal about him and does not do him justice. It is unnecessarily narrow, failing to consider that it is generally very difficult and often impossible to change one’s worldview. This was particularly true for Stresemann. The coexistence of the non-simultaneous, of the seemingly incompatible, dominated his life and his political thinking. It was a manifestation of his existence as a crossover artist— and has been taken into consideration accordingly in this book. The same applies to his foreign policy. Stresemann always strove to see Germany rise to a great European power and used all means available to achieve this end. This was true in Imperial Germany, when he saw Germany encircled by enemies and thus favored extremely aggressive and expansive war aims to safeguard the future of the Reich. In the Weimar period, he understood that violent means were out of the question for the time being, at least concerning Germany’s western neighbors. Poland, however, was a different matter, and Stresemann did not accept the country’s right to exist in the borders stipulated by the Treaty of Versailles. It is certain that he played the European card predominantly because it worked to Germany’s advantage. But his agenda was to ensure a strong Germany rather than to implement a “vision of Europe.” Ambivalence was not only a characteristic of his foreign policy and his relation to democracy. Whatever area one looks at, Stresemann’s behavior was ambivalent. For example, his relation to Germans of Jewish faith was not entirely dominated by anti-Semitism, yet he did not unreservedly stand up for all German Jews, either. His theoretical ideas and political remarks about women differed substantially from his actual behavior toward them. And, finally, regarding the men’s associations he had joined, he vacillated between general acceptance and rejection of their rituals. In a negation of the ideas of Bourdieu and Luhmann, one might be inclined to see these ambivalences as a common theme in his life, deriving from his status as a “crossover artist.”

The Goal: Recognition as a Member of the Bourgeoisie The Weimar period was not a hugely successful time for Stresemann in his attempt to gain recognition as a member of the bourgeoisie. Hardly anyone even noticed his perpetual efforts to elevate himself from his narrow petit-bourgeois

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environment and enter the upper-middle class—a Sisyphean task. In Dresden and Saxony, he might have felt like he belonged, as evident in his successful presentations for his economic associations. This was a completely different matter in Weimar and his position as foreign minister. The aristocrat Count Harry Kessler was able to see through this with acute clarity, just as Stresemann’s fellow party member Schiffer did. In Weimar, he remained a social climber—while capable, efficient, and assertive, he was nothing more than a parvenu. His attempt to distinguish himself as an expert on Goethe—in his eyes a necessary requirement for a member of the educated bourgeoisie—failed. Despite his early biographers praising his essays on Goethe, they were second-rate, merely generating ridicule among scholars with genuine expertise. His poems were amateurish and of no literary value. His wish to accumulate and present bourgeois cultural capital remained mostly unfulfilled. This was his real personal tragedy. Especially against the backdrop of these failures, the early Saxon period was a particularly important part of his life, not just in terms of its duration, but also because of its significance to the rest of his life. It was there that his dreams almost came true. Weimar, on the other hand, was much less fulfilling. Stresemann always strove to achieve emotional security. This, however, meant that he did not live the model life of an adult in the Weimar period. He seemed to be a happily married man and have a family that his children raved about their entire lives. At the same time, he constantly wished for emotional security outside the family, either within the “people’s community” or in men’s associations. Much to his chagrin, he was never part of the “warrior community.” It is very likely that this unfulfilled desire fed his affinity for right-wing men and the military, also during the Weimar Republic, an attitude that is otherwise difficult to explain. Why else would he have communicated and politically collaborated with murderers and radical enemies of democracy who even wished him dead? In terms of his cultural and social status, Stresemann had been a little king in Saxony. In the Weimar period, it was his wife who flourished. She was one of the beauties of Berlin; unlike her husband, she conversed fluently in several foreign languages, was always up to date on all cultural matters, and could perform modern dances with the young officials of the Foreign Office night after night. In this context, Gustav Stresemann, marked by Graves’s disease, seemed clumsy, irritable, impatient, unduly old, and vulnerable. His deteriorating health did not help any of this. It prevented him from taking part in the social life of his class, excluded him from many activities, and clouded his view of the present. Living with chronic pain and the knowledge that his time was limited certainly robbed him of peace, joy, and emotional security. His life, friendships, love, and zest for life increasingly suffered, not to mention the impact his health had on his politics. His perpetual illnesses were a constant in his life; he struggled with them but could hardly change anything about them. They certainly did not help make him happier, although Stresemann did all he could to deal with them appropriately.

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Although Stresemann was one of the very few politicians after whom a piece of clothing was named, he himself wore the “Stresemann” with elegance only rarely. In the context of fashion, as well, he always remained an outsider who provoked the scorn of critics and “true” members of the bourgeoisie. He could counter this reaction only with excessive ambition, outstanding achievements, and an extreme work ethic. We do not know whether this made him likeable or helped him make friends (and whether he was happy). In any case, all of this ran contrary to his aim of achieving recognition as a human being and as member of the bourgeoisie. In addition, his perpetual border-crossing role in the Weimar period, when he was an important political figure, was difficult for him to bear and made him insecure. He always lived with the risk of being “exposed” as an “imposter,” as someone who was not what he pretended to be—at least according to his own self-awareness. He never lost his fear of being detected and denounced as a fraud because of his dubious business deals in the prewar period, during the war, and during the period of hyperinflation. This is shown, for example, by the “Plauen trial,” when he had to fight for his reputation in court.6 Moreover, his family, including his nephew Miethke, was not always a source of joy; Stresemann was often forced to intervene in unpleasant matters. Miethke’s debts alone occupied Stresemann for years, but he still supported him until his death. It was similar with other relatives: Stresemann paid off debts, took care of inheritance matters, lent money, and mourned the premature deaths of relatives. Conflicts with his family reminded him of where he came from and where he (still) belonged. All of this notwithstanding, it should be stressed that Stresemann did, indeed, face the difficult tasks that a member of the bourgeoisie had to handle appropriately. Supporting one’s family was a bourgeois duty and part and parcel of the bourgeois habitus. Thus, this attitude not only corresponded to the tasks he imposed on himself, but also to those of the bourgeois he wanted to be. In this respect, not everything was negative. He could be proud of his bright sons and his wife, who always stood by his side. At least in this realm, Stresemann seemed to have found some bourgeois happiness during the Weimar period as well.

New Perspectives Only when one deals with all of these problems concerning Gustav Stresemann can one achieve a better understanding of his life. His life is not adequately summarized by his straightforward political trajectory, although there is no doubt that this was an important aspect—and he did his utmost to assure that future generations would see him mainly from this angle. His life was far more complex. Stresemann’s worldview was shaped predominantly by the formative power of the bourgeoisie, bourgeois society, and its values—values that he internalized

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during Imperial Germany and cherished his entire life. Striving to get to the top and to become an esteemed (cultural) member of the educated bourgeoisie was apparently a constant factor in his life plan. In this sense, his poems and their acceptance (for instance, at the conferences of his associations in Dresden) probably meant as much to him as a seat on a supervisory board. Being successful as a public speaker must have given him more satisfaction than some of his political victories. Probably not least because of this, he stretched himself to the limit in his election campaigns. While Stresemann’s own perception of his acceptance was important, his genuine acceptance in his “social field” (Bourdieu)—bourgeois society—and his integration (or lack thereof ) into this society as a notorious crossover artist were just as important to him. Only when one takes Stresemann’s self-perception and others’ perception of him into account with a multi-perspectival approach can one achieve the necessary openness in the analysis to comprehend such a complex life. This should have become clear in this biography. Stresemann was a perpetual crossover artist, a seeker, a hybrid personality. This caused difficulties for him, fostering a certain kind of homelessness, and made him insecure and dependent on the judgment of others. However, this hybrid existence also had a positive side that gave him strength, comprising one reason for his political, economic, and cultural successes. As someone who perpetually crossed into new milieus, it was less difficult for him than for others to identify and overcome the tensions between various social strata, to understand others and be open, to look beyond his own “social field.” This made him more flexible and gave him a greater understanding of other people, both in Imperial Germany and the Weimar Republic. His strength of judgment was outstanding because he always looked at things “from the outside.” Thus, it was easier for him to overcome borders than for his friends, business partners, and colleagues who were fixated on certain milieus. He was always able to find his bearings, was flexible, pragmatic, and open toward new things. Only in this way could he deal with the transition from Imperial Germany to the Weimar Republic without going under. He would not just adhere to an old idea when there were new and interesting ones on the horizon. This was his strength. He was able to put himself into others’ shoes and anticipate their moves. This ability was the main reason for his achievements in foreign affairs. However, it also prevented him from finding his own lifestyle, in Erikson’s sense, and from maintaining it internally and externally.7 For this reason, he was always at risk of being too flexible, of having no basic principles or “foundation,” and of being seen as an opportunist. As a crossover artist, he was to some extent “blind” and sometimes even spiteful toward his old class. Because he wanted to switch to another milieu and adopt educated bourgeois values rather than those of the petite bourgeoisie, his judgment was at times particularly critical. His ambivalence (or dislike) toward the higher classes

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such as the old nobility must be seen against this backdrop. As a bourgeois, he rejected the nobility. As a social climber, he courted its members—a very ambivalent attitude. Stresemann’s life is best characterized by this ambivalence: always striving to climb socially by all means possible, but suffering from this decision and its consequences, constantly feeling insecure and being on guard at all times. It does not matter what area, situation, or period of time in his life one looks at. It is one constant—and most probably the only one—in his life. Politically, he was a very successful man, but at the same time, he was often very unhappy—a crossover artist, with all the characteristic weaknesses and strengths that entailed.8 Constructing Stresemann’s life in this way not only revises the current dominant and almost fixed image of him and deconstructs the “Stresemann myth,” but it also avoids the “biographical trap” (Bourdieu) that almost all existing biographies on Stresemann fall into. This biography cannot do entirely without structural continuities and chronological organization. However, it attempts to break their dominance, to reflect and question their validity, and to keep as many options as possible open for potential ambivalences, coincidences, and “inexplicable” factors.

Notes 1. Wright, Stresemann, 239–44. Wright sees the intervention in Saxony quite critically but dedicates only a few pages to these events. 2. Henning Luther, “Identität und Fragment,” 160–62. 3. See Schmuhl, “Lebensbedingungen und Lebenslagen,” 134–36. 4. Ritter, “Das Wahlrecht und die Wählerschaft.” For a very balanced perspective on this issue, see Lässig, Wahlrechtskampf und Wahlrechtsreform. 5. This term is used in this context to distinguish the “economist,” that is, Stresemann as an entrepreneur, and his economic policies, from Stresemann the “politician.” Thus, it is used as an analytical category and is not meant to signify a person focused exclusively on economic utility. 6. The latest literature on Stresemann omits this chapter of his life almost completely. 7. Erikson, Identität und Lebenszyklus, 144–46. 8. Attempting to deal with this issue not only reveals that this endeavor is completely futile in respect to Stresemann’s life, but it also demonstrates the gaps within research on the bourgeoisie in the Weimar period. Is it not true that many members of the bourgeoisie, just like Stresemann in his efforts to cross over into this class, were deeply disappointed and personally frustrated by and during the Weimar Republic, despite great political successes and personal appreciation?

SELECTED WORKS BY GUSTAV STRESEMANN

“Die Entwicklung des Berliner Flaschenbiergeschäfts.” Berlin, 1901. Wirtschaftspolitische Zeitfragen. Dresden, 1911. Deutsches Ringen, deutsches Hoffen. Berlin, 1914. Englands Wirtschaftskrieg gegen Deutschland. Stuttgart, 1915. Das deutsche Wirtschaftsleben im Kriege. Leipzig, 1915. Michel horch, der Seewind pfeift…!. Berlin, n.d. [1916]. Deutsche Gegenwart und Zukunft. Stuttgart, November 1917. Warum müssen wir durchhalten?. Berlin, n.d. [1917]. Napoleon und wir. Berlin, 1917. Macht und Freiheit. Halle, 1918. “Neuordnung der Wirtschaft durch Sozialisierung. Auszug aus einer Rede in der Nationalversammlung in Weimar.” Sächsische Industrie- und Handelszeitung 15 (1918/19): 231–36. Rede des Abgeordneten Dr. Stresemann zu Weimar am 4. März 1919 zur Verfassungsvorlage. Flugschriften der Deutschen Volkspartei 4. Berlin, 1919. Weimar und die Politik. Berlin, 1919. Von der Revolution bis zum Frieden von Versailles. Berlin, 1919. Die Märzereignisse und die Deutsche Volkspartei. Berlin, 1920. Deutsche Volkspartei und Regierungspolitik. Speech at the Third Party Conference of the DVP, December 3, 1920. Berlin, 1921. “Die Außenpolitische Lage bei Jahresbeginn.” DS 35 (1923): 6–8. “Jahreswende – Schicksalswende. Ein Rückblick von Dr. Gustav Stresemann.” DS 35 (1923): 1–5. “Reichskanzler Dr. Stresemann. Ein Begrüßungswort.” DS 35 (1923): 269–70. “Ruhraktion und politische Lage” (Reichstag speech from March 7, 1923). DS 35 (1923): 97–110. “Reparationen, Wirtschaft und Rheinlandpolitik” (Reichstag speech from April 17, 1923). DS 35 (1923): 134–41 and 175–86. Der Wille zur Verständigung. Speech in front of the German Chamber of Industry and Commerce on August 24, 1923. Berlin, 1923. “Sachsen am Scheideweg. Dresdner Brief.” DS 35 (1923): 125–28. “‘Sittlicher Wiederaufbau Deutschlands.’ Briefwechsel zwischen Kardinal Faulhaber und Reichskanzler Dr. Stresemann.” DS 35 (1923): 382–86. “Vom Rechte, das mit uns geboren.” DS 35 (1923): 48–51. “Die Rekonstruktion der Weltwirtschaft.” DS 36 (1924): 190–95. Nationale Realpolitik. Speech at the Sixth Party Conference of the DVP. Berlin, 1924. “Deutsche Weihnachten 1924.” DS 36 (1924): 399. Das Werk von Locarno. Berlin, 1925. Politische Gedanken zum Bismarck-Gedenktage. Berlin, 1925. “Goethe und die Freiheitskriege.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 50 (1927): 385–97. Neue Wege zur Völkerverständigung, Rede zur Verleihung der Ehrendoktorwürde. Heidelberg, 1928.

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Other Published Primary Sources 1902–1912. Verband Sächsischer Industrieller: Festschrift zur Feier des zehnjährigen Bestehens des VSI. Dresden, n.d. Akten zur Deutschen Auswärtigen Politik 1918–1945 (ADAP). Series A. Vols. 8–14. Göttingen, 1990–1995. Series B. Vols. 1–13. Göttingen, 1966–1979. Berichte über die Lage der einzelnen Zweige von Handel und Gewerbe. Dresden, 1904. Bernhard, Henry, ed. Vermächtnis. 3 vols. Berlin, 1932. Bund Deutscher Frauenvereine, ed. Nachrichtenblatt des Bundes Deutscher Frauenvereine. Berlin, 1927/28. d’Abernon, Viscount. Ein Botschafter der Zeitwende, Memoiren. 3 vols. Leipzig, n.d. Dresdens Entwicklung in den Jahren 1903 bis 1909: Festschrift des Rates der Königlichen Hauptund Residenzstadt zur Einweihung des neuen Rathauses am 1. Oktober 1910. Dresden, 1910. Döscher, Elvira, and Wolfgang Schröder, eds. Sächsische Parlamentarier 1869–1918: Die Abgeordneten der II. Kammer des Königreichs Sachsen im Spiegel historischer Photographien. Ein biographisches Handbuch. Düsseldorf, 2001. Handbuch der deutschen Aktiengesellschaften, Jahrbuch der deutschen Börsen, 1907/08ff. Berlin, 1908–1923. Harttung, Arnold, ed. Gustav Stresemann: Schriften. Berlin, 1976. Heuss, Theodor. Erinnerungen 1905–1933. Tübingen, 1963. ———. Tagebuchbriefe 1955–1963. Eine Auswahl aus Briefen an Toni Stolper, ed. Eberhard Pikart. Tübingen/Stuttgart, 1970. Hürten, Heinz, ed. Das Krisenjahr 1923: Militär und Innenpolitik 1922–1924. Düsseldorf, 1980. Kessler, Harry Graf. Tagebücher 1918–1937, ed. Wolfgang Pfeiffer-Belli. Frankfurt, 1961. Kolb, Eberhard, and Ludwig Richter, eds. Nationalliberalismus in der Weimarer Republik: Die Führungsgremien der Deutschen Volkspartei 1918–1933. 2 vols. Düsseldorf, 1999. Matthias, Erich, and Rudolf Morsey, eds. Der interfraktionelle Ausschuss 1917/18. 2 vols. Düsseldorf, 1959. Rei, Klaus Peter, ed. Von Bassermann zu Stresemann 1912 bis 1917: Die Sitzungen des nationalliberalen Zentralvorstandes 1912–1917. Düsseldorf, 1967. Rheinbaben, Rochus Freiherr von, ed. Stresemann. Reden und Schriften: Politik – Geschichte – Literatur, 1897–1926. 2 vols. Dresden, 1926.

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Secondary Literature Up to 1929 “A.” Zwischen Staatsmännern, Reichstagsabgeordneten und Vorbestraften. Berlin, n.d. Apponyi, Albert Graf. “Stresemanns Ziele.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 52, ed. Ludwig Stein (1929): 970–72. Baligand, Albert von. “Um die deutsch-französische Verständigung.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 51 (1928): 587–90. Böhmert, Victor. “Wohlfahrtseinrichtungen und Gewinnbeteiligung der Arbeitnehmer in der Aktiengesellschaft für Camera-Fabrikation Heinrich Ernemann in Dresden.” Der Arbeiterfreund 51 (1913): 297–307. Briand, Aristide. “Mein Bekenntnis zum Frieden.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 50 (1927): 398–406. d’Abernon, Viscount. “Stresemanns Außenpolitik.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 52 (1929): 966–69. ———. “Zurück zu Locarno!” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 51 (1928): 960–64. Einstein, Albert. “Stresemanns Mission.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 52 (1929): 953–54. Eschenburg, Theodor. Das Kaiserreich am Scheidewege: Bassermann, Bülow und der Block. Nach unveröffentlichten Papieren aus dem Nachlass Ernst Bassermanns, introduced by Gustav Stresemann. Berlin, 1929. ———. “Stresemann und die Studenten.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 52 (1929): 998–1003. Entstehung und Entwicklung des Vereins Volkswohl von 1888–1900. Dresden, n.d. Flex, Walter. Der Wanderer zwischen beiden Welten. N.p., 1916. Gestalten rings um Hindenburg: Führende Köpfe der Republik und die Berliner Gesellschaft von heute. Dresden, 1929. Grumbach, Hermann. Beiträge zur Geschichte der A. D. B. Burschenschaft Neogermania in Berlin: Eine Festgabe an die Bundesbrüder. Berlin, 1908. Gumbel, Emil Julius. Verräter verfallen der Feme: Opfer, Mörder, Richter 1919–1929. Berlin, 1929. ———. Vom Fememord zur Reichskanzlei. Heidelberg, 1922. Hauptvorstand des deutschen Textilarbeiterverbandes, ed. Crimmitschau 1903–1928: Blätter der Erinnerung an Sachsens bedeutsamsten Arbeitskampf. Berlin, n.d. [1928]. Hellpach, Wilhelm. “Stresemanns Leistung.” Nord und Süd: Monatsschrift für internationale Zusammenarbeit 52 (1929): 955–66. Kalkoff, Hermann. Nationalliberale Parlamentarier 1867–1917 des Reichstages und der Einzellandtage: Beiträge zur Parteigeschichte. Berlin, 1917.

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INDEX

Adenauer, Konrad, Cologne mayor, federal chancellor, 202, 266 Albert, King of Saxony, 97 Alldeutscher Verband, ADV. See PanGerman League alternative biography, 2–4 anti-Semitism, anti-Semite, 54, 64, 76, 79–84, 88, 92n81, 92n95, 92n100, 93n112, 94n131, 94n132, 94n137, 94n139, 94n148, 98–99, 107–108, 136n67, 182, 198, 246n43, 260, 263, 277 arbitration treaties, 213, 224–25 Arnhold, Adolf, 127 Arnhold, Georg, 174–75 Arnhold, Hans, 127 Arnhold, Max, 108, 141n181 Arnhold, Saxon banking family, 60–61, 71, 81, 101–103, 110, 117, 127–28, 207 Arnhold and Ernemann, 102–103, 117, 128, 138n118 Association for the Protection of German Industry, DIV, 118–20, 128, 134n33 Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers, 112–13, 125–26, 131, 140n148, 153 Association of German National Jews, 60, 82, 84 Association of Saxon Industrialists, 18, 21, 69–72, 91n67, 96, 103, 106, 109–10, 112–15, 118–20, 122, 125, 127–29, 137n88, 137n93, 138n107, 146–47, 149–59, 156–57, 164n59, 165n66, 165n69, 170, 172, 203, 207, 274–75 AVI Agreement, 218 Ballin, Albert, Hamburg shipowner, 81, 173, 177

Bassermann, Ernst, chairman of the NLP, 159–61, 165n77, 168, 177, 189n56 Bauer, Heinrich, journalist, historian, 33 Bavarian Soviet Republic, 202 Beck, Kurt, politican, SPD, 265 Beck, Richard, Saxon minister, 110 Becker, Johann, Reich economics minister, 200 Beethoven, Ludwig von, 104 Berliner Tageblatt, 54n95, 82–83, 159, 182 Berliner Vertrag. See Treaty of Berlin Bernhard, Henry, Stresemann’s private secretary, 18, 40, 49n11, 54n108, 71, 77–78, 92n102, 238 Bethmann Hollweg, Theobald von, Reich chancellor, 61, 173, 177, 188n39, 236 Beutler, Gustav Otto, mayor of Dresden, 98, 107, 110, 127, 158, 165n69 biography, 1–6, 8–9, 11, 13n35, 14, 19, 21–24, 61, 241, 257, 261, 271–72, 274, 280–81 autobiography, 14 constructivist biography, 2 Bismarck, Fürst von, Reich chancellor, 79, 102, 123, 241, 263 Blüher, Bernhard, mayor of Dresden, 161 Böhmert, Victor, National Liberal social politician, Prof., 101–102, 115, 145, 162n7 Bolshevism, 78, 206, 262 Bondy, Felix, Saxon banker, 60 border revisions, 224 Bordieu, Pierre, French philosopher, 3, 6–8, 10, 49n10, 75, 103, 110, 126, 272, 276–77, 280–81 cultural capital, 7–8, 10, 58–59, 75, 96, 98, 103, 125, 152, 155, 157, 240–41, 273, 278 economic capital, 7, 10, 174, 274, 276

306 | Index

social capital, 7, 60, 74–75, 98–99, 107–108, 25–127, 155, 243, 274 social field, 4, 7–8, 13n35, 110, 152, 154, 160, 272, 275, 280 bourgeoisie, 7, 11, 23, 32, 73, 76, 77, 88, 92n97, 96, 102, 105–107, 109–10, 145–46, 154, 158, 160, 170–71, 177, 205, 207, 238–41, 261–62, 267, 272, 274–75, 277, 279–80 bourgeois worldview, 82 educated bourgeoisie, 58–59, 61, 63, 69, 81, 90n45 petite bourgeoisie, 104, 148, 280 system of bourgeois values, 11, 78–80, 103, 152, 240, 274 Brahms, Johannes, composer, 104 Brandt, Willy, federal chancellor, 267 Braun, Otto, Prussian minister president, 232, 239, 257 Briand, Aristide, French foreign minister, 301 Brücke, die, a group of German Expressionist painters, 97 Brüning, Heinrich, Reich chancellor, 264 Brüß, Konrad, Saxon National Liberal, 243 Bücher, Karl, Leipzig national economist, Prof., 59 Bülow, Bernd Prince von, Reich chancellor, 168, 217 Bund deutscher Industrieller, BdI. See League of Industrialists Bünger, Wilhelm, Saxon minister president, 85 Burgfrieden, 170, 172 caricature, 24, 34, 36, 52n52, 54n95, 54n96 Cavour, Camillo, Italian politician, 263 Central Association of German Citizens of Jewish Faith, CV, 82, 84 Central Association of German Industrialists, 72, 114, 119, 130, 153, 159, 172, 186 Centralverband deutscher Industrieller, CdI. See Central Association of German Industrialists Centralverein deutscher Staatsbürger jüdischen Glaubens, CV. See Central

Association of German Citizens of Jewish Faith Chamberlain, Sir Austen, Foreign minister, Great Britain, 30 civil war, 184 Clauss, Ernst, Saxon industrialist, 153 collective wage agreement, 116–122, 138n102 Collenbusch, Adolph, Saxon industrialist, 113 Colleoni, Bartolomeo, Venetian Grande, 156 colonial policy, 169 Columbus, Christopher, 169 communism, communists, 80, 129, 185, 194, 198, 202–207, 229–30, 248m76, 259, 262–63 Crimmitschau, 97, 101, 111, 115–16, 119 crisis manager, 192, 259 crisis year 1923, 72, 200, 275 crossover artist, 6, 159–61, 270, 273, 275, 277, 280–81 cultural capital. See under Bordieu, Pierre Cuno, Wilhelm, Reich chancellor, 26, 192 Curtius, Julius, foreign minister, DVP, 78, 265 customs union, 221–22 Dante, Italian poet, 68 de Montgelas, Eduard, Bavarian envoy in Dresden, 98 Dehmel, Richard, poet, 58, 68, 241, 243 Deutsch-Amerikanischer Wirtschaftsverband. See GermanAmerican Economic League Deutsche Evaporator AG, 129, 131–32 Deutsche Volkspartei, DVP. See German People’s Party Deutscher Industrieschutzverband, DIV. See Association for the Protection of German Industry Deutscher Schulschiffsverein. See German Training Ship Association Deutscher Schutzbund. See German Protection League Deutschnationale Volkspartei, DNVP. See German National People’s Party Dingeldey, Eduard, politican, DVP, 40

Index | 307

Dingelstedt, Franz von, poet, 63 Disraeli, Benjamin, prime minister, Great Britain, 263 Dresden, 16, 60–61, 64, 70–74, 80, 84–85, 96–113, 115, 117, 125, 127–28, 144–48, 152–56, 158–61, 203, 239, 241, 258, 273–75, 278, 280 Dresden Philharmonic, 104 Homeowners’ Association (Hausbesitzerverein), 98 Liedertafel, 10, 104–107 Mietbewohner-Verein, 99–100 municipal politics, 98–103, 101 Duisberg, Carl, industrialist, 81 Ebert, Friedrich, Reich president, 198, 238, 257 economic capital. See under Bordieu, Pierre educated middle-class life. See educated bourgeoisie Ehrhardt, Hermann, Freikorps commander, 184 Eichendorff, Joseph von, poet, 64, 67 electoral law, 146, 150–52 electoral law reform, 150–54 equal suffrage, 176 Epp, Franz von, career officer, NSDAP, 233 Ernemann, Heinrich, Saxon industrialist, 102–103, 110, 117, 127–30, 135n46, 207 Erzberger, Matthias, finance minister, 32–33, 173, 258 Escherich, Georg, Bavarian forester and politician, 31, 231, 233–36 European Coal and Steel Community, 220, 222, 262 Federation of German Employers’ Associations, 119 Fichte, Johann Gottlieb, philosopher, 58 First World War, 1, 26, 61, 68, 71–72, 80–81, 106, 108–109, 118, 128, 130, 148, 158, 168–69, 176, 209–210, 212, 214, 230, 236–37, 239, 243 war aims, 80, 168, 172–76, 181–83, 189n51, 274, 277 war aims debate, 80, 168, 172–76, 183

war aims demands, 173–74 war bonds, 79, 124, 126, 175, 189n57 Fischer, Joschka, German Foreign minister, 267 Flex, Konrad, brother of Walter Flex, 59, 239–240, 254n244 Flex, Rudolf, father of Walter Flex, 241 Flex, Walter, poet, 59, 239, 240–243, 255n253 Foerster, Friedrich Wilhelm, pedagogue, pacifist, 63–64 Franco-German Trade Treaty, 215, 220, 250n134 Free Trade Unions, 101–103, 115–20, 122, 172, 176, 180, 259, 272 Freemasons. See under men’s associations Freikorps, 229, 233, 235 Freiligrath, Friedrich von, poet, 182 French-Belgian occupation, 192, 196, 201–202, 264 Friedberg, Robert von, politician, DDP, 182 Friedrich August III, King of Saxony, 97, 165n66 Friedrichs, Heinrich, industrialist, 130 Frucht, Else, writer, 62 Fuhrmann, Paul, lawyer, 160 Gambetta, Lèon, Italian politician, 263 Gaus, Friedrich, Ministerialdirektor in the Foreign Office, 223 Geibel, Emanuel, poet, 64–65 Genscher, Hans-Dietrich, foreign minister, 265 Georg, King of Saxony, 97 George, Stefan, poet, 69 Gerlach, Hellmut von, politician, pacifist, 80–81 German-American Economic League, 125 German Democratic Party, 72, 82, 181–83, 185, 193–95, 203, 218, 232 German Empire, 177 German National People’s Party, DNVP, 43–44, 81, 195, 201–202, 210, 216, 236, 238, 259 German people’s community (Volksgemeinschaft), 10, 13n35, 76, 80, 102, 104, 115–16, 145, 150,

308 | Index

157, 171–72, 175, 229, 242, 244, 273, 278 German People’s Party, DVP, 1, 32, 40–41, 46, 48, 69–70, 72, 77, 82, 85–86, 93n124, 94n128, 127, 129–30, 181, 183–86, 192–93, 199, 201–202, 237, 271 German Protection League, 233–35 German Salaried Employees’ Insurance, 121–24 German Training Ship Association, 73, 106–107 Geßler, Otto, Reich defense minister, DDP, 232, 235 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 21, 60–64, 67–69, 275, 278 Goldschmidt, Rudolf, college teacher, 62 Gorch Fock, poet, 239 Gothein, Georg, politician, DDP, 194 Greiert, Paul, Saxon lawyer, 100, 126 Grenz, Ernst, Social Democrat Reichstag member, 149 Grumbt, Ernst Alfred, Saxon politician, conservative, 107 Grützner, Kurt, Saxon lawyer, 153 Günther, Anton, Heimat poet, 70 Gwinner, Arthur von, banker, 61 Habicht, Karl, Freemason, Grand Master, 76–78 habitus, 7–8, 63, 74–75, 96, 103, 152, 160, 200, 240, 273–75, 279 Hagen, Louis, banker, 127 Hänisch, Konrad, Social Democratic politician, 83 Hansa Bund. See Hanseatic League Hanseatic League, 72, 114, 125, 153–54, 188n34, 274 Harms, Bernhard, founder of the Kiel Institute for the World Economy, 157–59 Hartmann, Wilhelm, Saxon privy councilor, 127 Hartwig, Gustav Emil, anti-Semitic regional politician, Dresden, 100 heavy industry, 117, 179, 186, 216–22, 226–28, 249n117, 249n121

Heine, Heinrich, poet, 64 Heinrich of Prussia, Prince, 106, 158 Heinze, Rudolf, politician, NLP, DVP, 99–101, 107, 184 Helfferich, Karl, conservative politician, DNVP, 195 Hergt, Oscar, conservative politician, DNVP, 81 Herwegh, Georg, poet, 63 Hertwig-Bünger, Doris, women’s rights activist, DVP, 85 Heuss, Theodor, federal president, 44–45, 258, 267 Himer, Kurt, student, friend from Stresemann’s youth, 19, 22, 64 Hindenburg, Paul von, general, Reich president, 176, 231–32, 234–36 Hirth, Albert, industrialist, 153 Hitler, Adolf, 202, 210 Hitler-Ludendorff Putsch, 202, 230, 235 Hoesch, Leopold von, German ambassador in Paris, 31, 215 Hoffmann, Johannes, Bavarian minister president, SPD, 83 Hoffmann, Max, industrialist, 78, 126, 131, 153, 186 Hoffmannsthal, Hugo von, poet, 69 Hohenzollern dynasty, 237 Hollweg, Bethmann, 61, 168, 173, 177, 188n39, 236 Hopf, Eugen, municipal political in Dresden, ADV, 110 Hugenberg, Alfred, industrialist, newspaper mogul, DNVP, 75 Hughes, Charles Evans, American Secretary of State, 192 hyperinflation. See under inflation industrial conferences, 152–55, 158–59, 214, 275, 280 industrial policies, 112, 114, 249n121 inflation, 124, 130, 133, 139n127, 202, 217 hyperinflation, 199, 201–202, 279 International Hygiene Exhibition, 154–55 International Raw Steel Community, 219–22, 225–28, 250n143, 262

Index | 309

Internationale Rohstahlgemeinschaft, IRG. See International Raw Steel Community

Krupp (family), 61, 217–18 Külz, Wilhelm, politician, DDP, 257 Kunze, Kurt, Stresemann’s lawyer, 78

Jews, 60, 72, 74, 77–84, 88, 93n118, 93n124, 93n125, 94n128, 94n131, 94n132, 94n139, 107–108, 182, 190n70, 198–200, 260–61, 277 Johannesson, Fritz, Stresemann’s school principal, 59 John, Augustus Edwin, portraitist, 25

labor market policies, 124 League of Industrialists, BdI, 71–72, 113–14, 119, 122, 125, 128, 130, 152–55, 157, 161, 170, 172, 185–86, 274–75 League of Nations, 1, 23, 75, 194–195, 208, 212–215, 220, 225–26, 233, 235, 251n164, 259, 262, 271 Ledebour, Georg, Communist member of the Reichstag, 194 Left Liberals, 113 Left Republican Project, 198 Lehmann, Bernhard, Saxon industrialist, 127, 153 Lersch, Heinrich, poet, 68 Liebermann, Max, painter, 59 Liebknecht, Karl, politician, KPD, 185, 230 Liliencron, Detlev von, poet, 64, 67–68 Lingner, Karl August, Saxon industrialist, 61, 106–107, 109–10, 155 Linksliberale. See Left Liberals, 113 Litwin, Paul, entrepreneur, 129, 129–32, 199–200 Locarno, Treaties of, 1, 23, 40, 43–44, 208, 210, 212–217, 219, 222–26, 233, 236, 251n164, 251n168, 262, 271, 275 Loesch, Karl Christian von, chairman of the German Protection League, 234–35 Longfellow, Henry W., poet, 64 Loucheur, Louis, French minister, 193 Ludendorff, Erich, general, 176, 184, 189n55 Luhmann, Niklas, 3, 6, 199, 277 Luhmann, Niklas, sociologist, 3, 6, 199, 277 Luther, Hans, Reich chancellor, 30, 43, 216 Luther, Henning, theologian, 3, 6, 110, 177, 272–73, 275–76 Luther, Martin, 69 Lüttwitz, Walther von, general, putschist, 184, 230–31

Kafka, Franz, writer, 68 Kahl, Wilhelm, politician, DVP, 78 Kaiser, Friedrich, Saxon politician, 81 Kalle, Wilhelm F., industrialist, 264–65 Kapp Putsch, 181, 184–185, 198, 230–232 Kapp, Wolfgang, conservative politician, putschist, 181, 184–85, 198, 230–32 Keller, Gottfried, writer, 64 Kempkes, Adolf, politician, DVP, 200 Kerner, Justinus, poet, 64 Kessler, Harry (Count), patron, politician, DDP, 28, 30, 32, 53n67, 131, 263–265, 278 Kinkel, Johanna, poet, 64 Kinkel, Klaus, foreign minister and minister of justice, 265 Kirdorf, Adolf, industrialist, 127 Kladderadatsch. See under press Kleefeld, Käte. See Stresemann, Käte Kleefeld, Kurt von, Stresemann’s brother-inlaw, DDP, 72, 78, 127, 154, 182 Kleefeldt, Kurt von, 72, 78, 127, 154, 182 Klemme, Heinrich, director, GHH, 221 Knobloch, Georg Friedrich Alexander, Saxon state politician, conservative, 107 Koepke, Gerhard, Ministerialdirektor in the Foreign Office, 78 Kohl, Helmut, federal chancellor, 265 Kraft, Christian, Fürst zu HohenloheÖhringen, 72 Kreis, Konrad, poet, 58 Kretzschmar, Oscar August, Saxon politician, conservative, 107

310 | Index

Luxemburg, Rosa, politician, KPD, 185, 230 Mann, Thomas, writer, 68 Marschall, Georg, portraitist, 36 Marwitz, Georg, banker, 127 Marx, Wilhelm, Reich chancellor, 79, 232, 235, 258 März, Johannes, Saxon lawyer, 71, 153 mass politics, 146–47, 148 Mattersdorf, Richard, Saxon banker, 127 Matthäi, Albert, writer, 58 Maurenbrecher, Max, politician, 75 May, Carl, Saxon politician, conservative, 107 Mehnert, Paul, Saxon politician, conservative, 98, 110–11 Meissner, Otto, state secretary, 235 men’s associations, 69 Neogermania fraternity, 73–74 Freemasons, 10, 46, 75–78, 88, 92n101, 92n102 “Friedrich the Great,” lodge, 73, 75–76 Merton, Wilhelm, entrepreneur, 127 Meyer, Conrad Ferdinand, poet, 64 middle class. See bourgeoisie Miethke, Franz, 22–23, 70–72, 105, 109, 126, 279 Miethke, Franz, Stresemann’s nephew, legal adviser, 22–23, 70–72, 105, 109, 126, 279 military, 10, 59, 74, 79, 88, 107, 130–131, 169, 172, 176, 178, 198, 202, 204, 206, 210, 214–15, 229, 231, 232, 243, 276, 278 military control, 215 Millington-Hermann, Paul, banker, 127 Minkwitz, Frank, entrepeneur, 127 modern foreign policy, 214–15, 217, 220, 223, 270 Montan-Union. See European Coal and Steel Community Moras, Otto, Saxon industrialist, 70–71, 153, 207, 243 Mörike, Eduard von, poet, 64–65 Most, Otto, politician, DVP, 77 Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 104 Müller, Arthur, lawyer, DNVP, 201

Müller, Wilhelm, poet, 64 municipal politics, 81, 97–101, 107, 146, 155, 203, 206, 258 Mussolini, Benito, 30, 236 Nadolny, Rudolf, diplomat, 131 Napoleon I, 62 Napoleon III, 28, 263 Nathanson, Leon, lawyer, NLP, 60–61, 81, 84 National Liberal Association for the Kingdom of Saxony, 145–48 National Liberal Party, 70, 117, 122, 124, 129, 145, 147–50, 152, 159, 167–68, 170–72, 174, 179–80, 182–84, 272 National Social Party, 64 National Socialism, 76, 211, 242, 255n254, 260, 265–266 national unity. See Reich unity nationalism, 74, 76, 79–80, 167, 197, 211, 241–43, 249n121 Nationalliberale Partei, NLP. See National Liberal Party Nationalliberaler Verein für das Königreich Sachsen. See National Liberal Association for the Kingdom of Saxony Nationalsoziale Partei. See National Social Party Naumann, Friedrich, politician, National Social Association, 44, 75, 96, 115, 144–45, 161n4, 176, 257, 267 Neogermania fraternity. See under men’s associations Niethammer, Konrad, Saxon entrepreneur, 18 Noske, Gustav, Reich defense minister, SPD, 230 Odol, 106, 155 Oehler, Oswald, Saxon politician, conservative, 107 Oldenburg, Grand Duke of, 107 Organisation Consul, OC, 42 Orgesch (Escherich Organization), 228, 231, 233

Index | 311

Osterloh, Paul, Saxon politician, conservative, 146 Paasche, Hermann, politician, NLP, 41, 127 Pabst, Waldemar (Pabst-Peters), major, putschist, 31, 228–36 pacifism, 80, 167, 174, 188n47, 214, 261 Palmerston, Viscount, politician, Great Britain, 263 Palmiè, Henri, Saxon banker, 110 Pan-German League, 73, 108, 136n67 physiognomy, 24, 26, 31–32, 36, 52n49, 239 Pitt, William, prime minister, Great Britain, 263 Platen, Karl August Graf von, poet, 64–65 Plauen trial, 201, 279 Podbielski, Victor von, Prussian general, 127 poetry, 19, 59–60, 63–68, 75, 241, 243 Poincarè, Raymond, French state and minister president, 238 Poland, 26, 44, 222–28, 251n168, 252n176, 259, 271, 277 political culture, 1, 98 practical politics, politician. See Realpolitik press, 26, 28, 36, 40, 60, 82–83, 114, 137n88, 147, 158, 199, 207, 225, 245n29 Berliner Tageblatt, 54n95, 82–83, 159, 182 Kladderadatsch, 34, 36, 38, 54n95 Ulk, 34, 36–37, 54n95, 83 Zukunft, 83 Preuß, Hugo, politician, DDP, 257 Prussian state government, 200 rapprochement, 1, 118, 194, 205, 215 policy, politican, 122, 194, 197, 202, 211, 220, 228–29, 259, 262–64, 267, 271 Rathenau, Walther, foreign minister, DDP, 30, 42, 59, 258 Rauch, Fritz, Stresemann’s private secretary, 83, 110, 155 Rauscher, Ulrich, German ambassador in Warsaw, SPD, 228

Realpolitik, Realpolitiker (practical politics, practical politician), 63, 198, 243, 261 Redlhammer, Hans Heinrich, ministerial official in the Foreign Office, 78 Reform Party, 81, 98–101 Reich Association against Social Democracy, 148, 241, 255n251 Reich Association of German Industry, 71, 186 Reich unity, 170, 172, 186, 201, 202, 207, 208, 245n27, 270 Reichsverband der deutschen Industrie, RdI. See Reich Association of German Industry Reichsverband gegen die Sozialdemokratie See Reich Association against Social Democracy Reichswehr, 202–204, 206–208, 213, 231, 234 Reinhold, Peter, Reich finance minister, DDP, 218 reparations, 173, 192–93, 215 republican by reason, 197, 276 revolution, 1, 9, 23–24, 47, 58, 64–65, 74, 78, 82–83, 117, 121, 126, 147, 177, 179, 183–184, 186, 198, 202–203, 205, 230, 236, 242–43, 273, 276 Richter, Ernst von, politician, NLP, DVP, 184 Riesser, Jacob, entrepeneur, 127 Rilke, Rainer Maria, poet, 69 Rochus, Baron von Rheinbaben, state secretary, DVP, 23–24, 50n20, 77–78 Röhm, Ernst, officer, politician, NSDAP, 233 Romanticism, 65, 67–68, 70 Rosenberg, Frederic von, foreign minister, 195–96 Rückert, Friedrich, poet, 65 Rüger, Conrad Wilhelm, Saxon minister, 110 Rüger, Max, Saxon industrialist, 127 Rüger, Otto, Saxon industrialist, 113 Ruhr crisis, 192–93 Sachsenwerk, 101, 110, 127–29, 174

312 | Index

Sächsische Industrie, 125, 156, 158 salaried employees, 121–24, 129, 148, 154, 274 Saxon experiment, 203–206 Saxon National Liberal Party, 81, 102, 145 Saxon socialist experiment, 203–206 Schacht, Hjalmar, Reichsbank president, 72, 130–131, 199–200, 202 Scheffel, Victor von, poet, 65 Schiffer, Eugen, politician, DDP, 30, 278 Schiller, Friedrich von, writer, 21, 60, 64 Schneider, Rudolf, 16, 71–72, 153, 158, 237 Schneider, Rudolf, lawyer, NLP, DVP, 16, 71–72, 153, 158, 237 Scholz, Ernst, Reich economics minister, DVP, 132 Schubert, Carl von, state secretary in the Foreign Office, 223 Schubert, Renata von, 30 Schuch, Ernst Edler von, 104 Schulmann, Otto, Stresemann’s physician, 43, 77–78 Schulze, Paul, lawyer, 100, 113, 146–47 Schwabach, Paul von, banker, 31, 81 Schwarz, Martha, women’s rights activist, DVP, 85 Schweighoffer, Ferdinand, lawyer, 130–31 Seebach, Nikolaus Count von, artistic director of the Dresden playhouse and opera house, 105, 109 Seeckt, Hans von, head of the army command of the Reichswehr, 59, 235–36 self-construction, 22 Severing, Carl, Reich minister of the interior, SPD, 233–34 Shakespeare, William, 21, 68 Slesina, Gustav Adolf, Saxon industrialist, 70, 149 social capital. See under Bordieu, Pierre social field. See under Bordieu, Pierre socialism, 100, 179, 204, 206, 211 Socialist Democratic Party of Germany, 82, 98, 119, 150, 192–93, 203, 265, 270 source analysis, 210 Soviet Union, 209, 214, 259

Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, SPD, 82, 98, 119, 150, 192–193, 203, 265, 270. See also Socialist Democratic Party of Germany Stinnes, Hugo, entrepeneur, DVP, 60, 202 Stollwerck, Ludwig, entrepeneur, 126, 177 Storm, Theodor, writer, 64, 68 Stein, Friedrich Karl, Reich Baron vom, 61 Strauss, Ottmar E., industrialist, 234 Stresemann, Agnes, 21 Stresemann, Emil, 21 Stresemann, Ernst August (father), 22, 126 Stresemann, Gustav Abitur essay, 19, 21–22, 255n247 image, 5, 11, 213, 233, 261, 267, 273 Memorial, 264–66 Reichstag speech (1923), 192 Stresemann, Joachim (son), 70 Stresemann, Käte (née Kleefeld), 14–15, 28, 49n8, 72, 87, 98, 151, 126, 161, 238, 298, 274, 279 Stresemann, Mathilde (mother), 22, 65 Stresemann, Richard, 16, 126 Stresemann, Robert, 21 Stresemann, Wolfgang (son), 2, 14–16, 42, 78, 274 strike, 97, 101, 103, 111, 115–16, 118–20, 125, 128, 178, 184–85 Stumm Halberg, Carl Ferdinand Freiherr von, industrialist, 30 Talleyrand, Charles Maurice de, French minister, 63 Theweleit, Klaus, writer, 229 thick description, 2, 9, 11n7 Thyssen, August, industrialist, 127 Thyssen, Fritz, industrialist, 220 trade agreements, 112 trade negotiations, 215, 217, 219 Treaties of Locarno. See under Locarno Treaty of Berlin, 212–13 Treaty of Versailles, 180, 199, 210–13, 215–16, 222, 270, 277 Uebel, Friedrich, Saxon industrialist, 126, 153 Uhland, Ludwig, poet, 64

Index | 313

Ulk. See under press Vallentin, Antonina, journalist, biographer of Stresemann, 45, 87 Verband der Schokoladefabrikanten. See Association of German Chocolate Manufacturers Verband nationaldeutscher Juden, VnJ. See Association of German National Jews Verband Sächsischer Industrieller, VSI. See Association of Saxon Industrialists Verein Deutscher Arbeitgeberverbände, VdA. See Federation of German Employers’ Associations Vernunftrepublikaner. See republican by reason Victor, Edler von Klemenau Klemperer, banker, 61, 110 Vogel, Heinrich, entrepeneur, 113 Vogel, Paul Wilhelm, entrepeneur, 99, 107, 127 Vögler, Albert, representative of the Vereinigte Stahlwerke, 220–21 Völkisch, 68, 76, 79, 83–84, 234 Volksgemeinschaft. See German people’s community Vossische Zeitung, 268n14 Wagner, Richard, composer, 104 Wahnschaffe, Arnold, head of the Reich Chancellery, 177

Warburg, Max, banker, patron, 81 Weber, Max, sociologist, 176 Weimar Republic, 1, 6, 9–11, 28, 31–33, 40, 46, 59, 69, 71–72, 76, 82, 86, 119, 124, 129, 133, 145–46, 172, 179–81, 184, 194–95, 198–99, 202, 207–12, 222–23, 228–29, 234, 237, 239–41, 244, 258, 260, 263–65, 267, 268n2, 270–80 Weismann, Robert, Prussian state secretary, 200 welfare state, 116, 117, 121, 123, 180, 259 Westenberger, Bernd E., Saxon lawyer, 153 Wilhelm I, 58 Wilhelm, Crown Prince, 9, 53n74, 173, 206, 210, 236–38, 254n231, 254n238 crown prince letter, 238, 254n242 Wilson, Woodrow, American president, 31 Wolff, Otto, entrepeneur, 234 Wolff, Theodor, journalist, politician, DDP, 46, 182 women’s rights, 11, 13n37, 84–87, 277 Wronker-Flatow, Manfred, Freemason, 78 Wuttke, Prof. Dr., Robert, Dresden college teacher, 158 Zeigner, Erich, Saxon minister president, SPD, 129, 185, 203–204, 206 Zöphel, Georg, Saxon lawyer, 153