Thunder
at Twilight offers a detailed history – really almost
an exposé – of the conditions of Viennese life that preceded the assassination
of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which, as we all know, indirectly led to the First
World War. The book is extraordinarily well-researched; the author even goes so
far as to relay to us the weather on days of particular importance, and to describe
which writers and operas were popular at the time. In other words, it creates a
very large picture of Viennese society – a society on the verge of cataclysm –
by revealing the minutest details of everyday life in a city in turmoil, and,
by extension, a Europe in turmoil.
What’s particularly interesting and most unique
about this book is the way it examines its chosen moment in history by tracing
the thoughts and interactions of a variety of important figures of its time.
Thus not only are we offered insight into the life of Emperor Franz Joseph, and
of the Archduke’s eventual assassins, but also of Adolf Hitler, who was then
residing in Vienna as an unknown painter, and Leon Trotsky, who had made of
Vienna a temporary home, and even Josef Stalin, who visited the city during
these crucial years. Even the story of Sigmund Freud is deftly interwoven into
this fascinating mix of individual histories, thus providing a perspective on
the psychoanalytical as well as the political thought of the that era.
It is perhaps because of this unusual presentation
that Morton manages to strike us with particularly fresh observations on the
very essence of Viennese life. He remarks, for example, that Freud’s theory of
the id-ego-superego parallels the structure of the old Viennese government. By
focusing on slights on the Archduke’s wife, a mere Duchess who is not permitted
royal privileges in accord with the aristocratic distinctions of the time, he
effectively illustrates the rigidity of the turn-of-the-century Viennese class
system. He notes the power and prevalence of “thunderbolt” imagery in
contemporary politics, and imagines the storm that follows as a means of clearing
away the stifling air of industrialization. And, ultimately, he concludes that
the Great War was a reaction, not to the political assassination alone, but to
the changes effected by modernization; to “progress unmoored from God.” Thus he
departs somewhat from the oft-heard presumption that World War I was a result
of rabid European nationalism; rather he claims that this nationalism was
engendered by a vague and even continent-wide dissatisfaction of the people of
Europe with their economic and social lives.
All in all, it’s a fascinating book, and well worth
the read. I did find the style of writing a bit cheesy at times, and the
characterizations of Vienna (of which Morton is a native) occasionally a little
harsh. But it also lends a wonderful reality to one’s perception of the
situation in Europe a hundred years ago, a climate that resulted in the worst
war the world had then known. By looking at the years 1913/1914 through
Viennese eyes, the reader can clearly see, can even possibly hope to analyze,
the events, both direct and indirect, that led to that war. And this is perhaps
the first step towards an understanding of the genesis of all wars.
Thanks forr sharing this
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