We were not in the position of the man in the sledge, for, thank God, we had our arms and could beat off the wolves; but even in the extremest emergency, never would I accept a peace that deprived us of Bozen and Meran. My listener did not disagree with my argument, but could see no end to the war in that way. England was ready to carry on the war for another ten years and, in any case, would crush Germany. Not the German people, for whom no hatred was felt--always the same repetition of that deceptive argument--but German militarism. England was in a condition of constraint. Repeatedly it had been said that if Germany were not defeated in this war she would continue with still more extensive armaments. That was the firm belief in London; she would then, in a few years, have not 100, but 1,000, U-boats, and then England would be lost. Then England was also fighting for her own existence, and her will was iron. She knew the task would be a hard one, but it would not crush her. In London they cite again the example of the wars of Napoleon, and conclude with: "What man has done man can do again." This fear of Prussian militarism was noticeable on all occasions, and the suggestion constantly was put forward that if we were to declare ourselves satisfied with a general disarmament, that in itself would be a great advantage and an important step towards peace. My speech on October 2, 1917, at Budapest, on the necessity of securing a reorganised world was prompted by the argument that militarism was the greatest obstacle in the way of any advance in that direction. At Budapest on that occasion I was addressing an audience of party leaders. I had to take into consideration that too pacifist a tone would have an effect at home and abroad contrary to my purpose. At home the lesser powers of resistance would be still further paralysed, and abroad it would be taken as the end of our capacity for fighting, and would further check all friendly intentions. The passage in my speech relating to the securing of a new world organisation is as follows:-- The great French statesman, Talleyrand, is supposed to have said: words are merely to conceal thoughts. It may be that it was true respecting the diplomacy of his century, but I cannot imagine a maxim less suited to the present day. The millions who are fighting, whether in the trenches or behind the lines, wish to know why and wherefore they are fighting. They have a right to know why peace, which all the world is longing for, has not yet been made.