Reparations Committee (1): Charles Evans Hughes
"Prince Adalbert?"
"Yes, that's right."
When I mentioned that Adalbert von Preußen had taken charge of Karl I's exile issue, Joseph Wirth let out a shallow sigh, his face a mix of relief and concern.
"I'm worried this might expand the influence of the imperial family."
"If it were up to me..."
As I tried to continue, Wirth fixed me with a sharp glare. I clamped my mouth shut.
"Hughes is visiting today, as you know. Frankly, that's a concern too. The plan you proposed will save Germany's lifeline for now."
I nodded at his words. But he stared down at the desk floor with uncertain eyes before continuing.
"On the other hand, there's a real risk of Germany's economy becoming beholden to America."
It was hard to respond to Wirth's worried remark. He was right. Germany's economy would be at America's mercy, and even if the Dawes Plan were introduced now, there simply wasn't enough time to avert the Great Depression of 1929. But there were no alternatives. The moment hyperinflation hit even once, Germany's history would repeat itself. Knowing that, I had no choice but to acquiesce.
"...If I may be so bold, the real issue we should worry about now isn't economic subjugation. What we truly fear is the loss of honor and the collapse of our currency."
Wirth nodded at my words.
"I know that well. If our economy flows with America's will, even France won't dare touch us."
"We're buying time. If we don't endure this short-term pain, we'll suffer greater agony and humiliation, and the regime will fall."
At my firm declaration, Wirth merely clasped his hands and nodded.
"I've never given up my dream of a political life. But today feels like that dream is breaking."
Wirth's exhaustion was visibly mounting with each passing day. Steering a Weimar cabinet—formed in a fragile coalition with an average lifespan of less than a year—was no easy task.
"...Officially, I'm also serving as Foreign Minister, but I'm sorry to say I'll have to entrust this to you as well. Please handle it well."
I bowed my head at Wirth's words.
"Yes, I won't disappoint."
"English? French?"
Charles Evans Hughes, holding a cigarette, asked me directly.
"I have trouble with English, so French, if you please."
"Very well."
He slowly raised his head. The light slanted across his sharply angled face. His forehead was broad and smooth, his hair neatly combed back. His eyes were calm but unnaturally cold—not so much a gaze at a person, but one appraising something. His mustache and goatee were impeccably trimmed, his lips barely moving. He seemed unaccustomed to showing emotion. His black suit fit perfectly without a wrinkle, his seated posture rigidly straight. One arm rested lightly on the chair arm, but even that felt calculated. It evoked the old era on one hand, yet exuded seasoned sophistication on the other.
"I hear you've shared some intriguing thoughts with our chargé d'affaires, Mr. Dresel. I was quite surprised and interested myself."
Hughes exhaled smoke as he spoke. A brief silence followed.
"...Let me be direct. Why did Germany take the initiative? That's what I want to know."
I paused at his question. I'd anticipated it.
I tapped the documents lightly and replied.
"The current reparations structure is no framework for payment."
Hughes's gaze dipped ever so slightly.
"It's a structure for exploitation, designed to induce collapse."
He said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow as he smoked, inviting me to continue.
"If Germany collapses, reparations end. Who loses then?"
This time, his eyes met mine. I held them steadily.
"...The United States, wouldn't it?"
Hughes was silent for a long moment. He slowly removed the cigarette, tapped off the ash.
"Evidence?"
I tilted my head slightly in response.
"From the Great War, Britain and France still owe the U.S. debts they haven't repaid. They're in the position of rebuilding war damage while paying those off."
Leaning forward questioningly, I added,
"So where will the funds for those debts come from?"
Hughes drew deeply on his cigarette; the burning tip flared wide in an instant, ash dropping into the tray with a soft plink. He exhaled a long sigh of smoke.
"I expected a groveling plea for mercy, not this rational negotiation."
He stubbed out the nearly finished cigarette and straightened up.
"Well, I've heard your intentions. Now it's time for the negotiators to talk."
His tone grew more serious.
"Your plan is fairly concrete. Adjusting roughly, a credit of about 1 billion dollars seems appropriate. That would extinguish the reparations issue for now, but..."
Hughes glanced up from the documents.
"It won't solve the root problem."
He set the papers down. I hesitated, looking at him.
"Is there a problem?"
Hughes didn't answer immediately. He tapped the documents lightly with his finger, then spoke slowly.
"Not a problem, per se. The premise is wrong."
I stayed silent. He tilted his head slightly and continued.
"Germany's current currency, the Papiermark, isn't redeemable."
He tilted his head again.
"In other words, the only collateral for credit is Germany's national banks."
I didn't interrupt. Hughes pressed on.
"But there's a bigger issue."
His eyes met mine.
"No upper limit on issuance."
He tapped the table once.
"The state regulates it now, but in a crisis, they print as needed—and more if short. No one can explain where its value is anchored."
I breathed quietly, watching him. Hughes concluded calmly.
"This currency doesn't just vulnerable to price fluctuations—it's the fluctuation itself."
The room fell silent. He picked up the documents again.
"The plan is solid, but you know what injecting credit into this system would do."
I nodded.
"Our condition is simple: alongside implementing the plan, reform the currency or issue a new one. Inflation is already steep, I imagine..."
Hughes trailed off. As he said, the Papiermark wasn't backed by gold, making it highly susceptible to price swings. In history, facing reparations-driven outflows of foreign exchange and gold, the German government resorted to extreme money printing to cover deficits, "overcoming" the early 1920s crisis—only to trigger the 1923 hyperinflation. I knew it all too well.
I steadied my breath and replied.
"This will require discussions with the government."
"We have time."
Hughes nodded and extended his hand. The meeting was over. I shook it and stood.
...Grateful he brought it up first.
It was necessary, but not my direct duty, so I'd hesitated to raise it. Now, his demand gave me the perfect justification. Suppressing a grin, I ended my first meeting with Hughes on a high note.
"...Currency reform?"
Wirth, who never set aside even shocking news without finishing his work, put down his documents and stared at me.
I nodded.
"Yes. That was America's precondition."
A short silence. Wirth said nothing for a while.
"...That's no simple economic policy."
His voice was low but heavy. I met his gaze.
"...We'll need one of two things: the massive damage from our current currency to surface, or a draining quagmire fight in parliament."
Wirth's eyes turned to me. I didn't flinch. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly.
"...Do you think the people can endure it?"
I thought briefly.
"They'll endure, but their patience won't be infinite."
His eyes flickered faintly. I continued.
"We must do it now. Delay, and it becomes not a choice, but a necessity."
Wirth said nothing. He picked up the documents but didn't turn the page for a long time.
"...Hughes raised it first?"
"Yes."
He closed his eyes, then opened them.
"...Then we can't refuse."
With that, Wirth slumped forward, resting his forehead on his clasped hands atop the desk. Without lifting his head, he said,
"...Go. I'll manage somehow."
I quietly left the office at his words. He seemed burdened more than ever today, but we couldn't stop. All I could do was hope he held out longer.