in themselves but, because exchangeable, represented real and constant (precious metal) value. And, indeed, the amount of paper money issued could, by law, never exceed two-thirds of the money in circulation. The remaining one-third had to be backed directly by gold. This was the promise, so the theory went, that for the previous forty years had kept the value of the German currency, like those of other major countries before 1914, concrete and graspable.
Exactly why the Reichsbank’s drastic step away from the gold standard was necessary would have been clear to any interested observer who, as Europe teetered on the edge of war, had found themselves at No. 34–38 Jägerstrasse. Here, hard by the historic Gendarmenmarkt in the heart of Berlin, stood the Reichsbank’s imposing neo-classical head offices. Concerned citizens, alarmed by the headlines in the newspapers during the first part of July, had begun to form lines at the doors of the country’s private banks, and finally at the Reichsbank itself, which was also a retail bank, though a very privileged and special one. The threat of war had revived old anxieties about paper money, inspired a desire for the tangible, the immutable. They wanted to exchange their mark notes for gold and silver coins, those ancient, reliable stores of value.
With war on the near horizon, Hans Peter Hanssen, a member of the German Reichstag, finished a meal in a Berlin restaurant. He offered the waiter a hundred-mark note in payment. The waiter refused it. Everyone, he said, seemed to be paying in notes and wanting coins in return. The next day, in another restaurant, Hanssen tried to pay with a twenty-mark note. The waiter, like his colleague the previous day, was displeased, but went off to look for change. He came back fifteen minutes later, empty-handed. The restaurant had run out of coins. Hanssen was forced to ask for credit. 1
Despite attempts by the government-guided press to convince them of the solidity of the everyday currency, many Germans suddenly didn’t trust paper any more. They wanted the security of the gold that the currency was alleged to represent. In the first weeks of July, around 163 million gold marks * were redeemed from German banks and stuffed under the nation’s collective mattress. 2
On Friday 31 July 1914, the doors of the Reichsbank were closed (private banks had already stopped exchanging currency for gold three days earlier) and they did not reopen until the following Tuesday – by which time there was no point in demanding gold for your paper money, because the bank would not give you any. On 4 August a raft of emergency currency and financial laws formally declared the convertibility on demand of paper money to gold suspended for the duration of the conflict. It was at this point, actually, that the term ‘gold mark’ came into usage, referring to the actual gold coin worth, by metal weight, either five, ten or twenty marks. There were also one-, two-, three- and five-mark coins struck from 900/1000 silver, and their convertibility was suspended as well. After all, until then all notes had been convertible, merely representing a gold value, so there were only ‘marks’.
Paper currency – fiat money, it has often been called – now rapidly became the only currency in circulation. Gold coins, from now on, were either hoarded by individuals, therefore being removed from circulation, or became the property of the government, which was from the start keen to persuade an often reluctant populace to hand over whatever gold it still had, whether in the form of money or valuables. Gold represented, to the German government, something they could trade internationally, for precious militarily important minerals and products that had to be purchased abroad. Most important of all, under the Loan Bureau Law ( Darlehenskassengesetz ) that had also been included among the 4 August measures, the more gold the government had in its vaults, the more paper money
Ann Voss Peterson, J.A. Konrath