Chapter XX: Part SEVEN (2)

Everything will not be different at once, but gradually—of course; but
the tempo decides. “Gradually” everybody says; the point is whether it
is slow step by numbers—One—back again—One—back again—Twooooo (you
surely know something of the drillground?) or, of course, rather
livelier, try even a bit of quick step for aught I care—no need that
it be a double quick with _tambours battants_. And it is coming. It
has to come. What phases we may still have to pass through I would not
say, in view of the latest phenomena in our public life. As yet I
still do not believe in a bloody settlement. The incoming of the new
view of the world will come about, not without tears and outcries, but
still as a natural process, as a birth.

You speak of my working power. Well, yes, I have working power and
creative impulse, and how I yearn to be able to bring both
“immediately” into service. Inwardly I am so well prepared and
equipped that at a second’s notice I could take up my duties. I am
sure of myself. If one chooses to speak at all of a value which I may
be supposed to represent (as your words do in such a wonderfully
pretty way), this value can only be seen in the future. Many have
already spoken and written, but if they were put before the “doing”
they gave out; they made miserable compromises with shallow
unchangeableness and other wretched notions. Honesty, concord, the
bringing into concord of preaching and practice, is what the business
means for me. And in this matter I will not yield a hair’s breadth
from my apprehension of the truth.

On our return from Hamburg, where we had gone after my Berlin address, we stopped in Berlin (as has already been mentioned) for only an hour at the railway station. Thereupon Egidy wrote me the following letter, which also I will put on record here because it shows so very clearly how Egidy conceived of his busy work and of a possible coöperation with me:

Berlin, N. W., Spenerstrasse 18, May 11, 1892

Highly honored Lady:

You passed through Berlin and we knew nothing about it, when we had
been taking so much pleasure in the anticipation and planning
everything so as to enjoy, if possible, a few more hours of
interchange of thought with you and Herr von Suttner.

For in truth I had my heart very much set on it. I would gladly have
anchored our acquaintance on a ground that might be fruitful for the
community. We must act (operate) on one set of principles. Guerrilla
warfare of individuals, or even of groups, must be superseded by a
systematic action of all under one controlling idea, with each one
conscious of the object to be attained. The heads of all columns must
now appear on the battlefield; those who always do nothing but talk of
religion, Christianity, and the Church, without being honest men or
thinking of their brothers,—those we leave to march in circuit around
the battlefield as they have been doing in the past. Our idea is the
conquest, not merely the combating, of the old view of the world; the
new appears to me under the name “Christianity,” to you under the name
“Humanity.” That ought not to separate us, however, but should make
the one complement the other. Perhaps, too, with the meaning which I
give to the concept “Christianity,” “Humanity brought closer to the
Godhead,” you may be able to accept the word. For the success of our
endeavors, and _that_ is the only point that concerns us, the word
“Christian” is indispensable. Yes, the circles that you already have
will be content with the word “Man”; but millions will not accept it.

We must take Christianity _seriously_—that is the sentence which I
lately cried out to the literary world when I had invited them to meet
in the Chamber of Deputies. In speech and writing, in our own lives,
wherever we come forward, we must verify the Christian consciousness,
must “_live love_” I was understood without doubt—but faith is
lacking; faith in the possibility of a realization of my endeavors.
And that is fearfully sad!

Others again, who share the faith with me, cannot conceive the
realization with retention of the external forms, as I strive for it;
often, therefore, they scarcely believe in the audacity and
intrepidity of my will. The sort of spiritualization of the
established (altar and throne), or “idealization,” is to them
unthinkable, and just as unthinkable to them is it that in my concrete
demands on the future I go beyond them all. None of all these dream of
anything _so_ radical as the changes I want to make, because in many
cases, it must be admitted, they lack the clear conscience: they want
to “destroy”—much at any rate—while I would only build up.

I recently had an intensely serious interview with two teachers. One
of them wanted to compile the views of the most prominent champions of
the development of mankind relative to the schools: the anonymous
author of _Maschinenzeitalter_—I helped him over the anonymity to
begin with (could do so the more freely because on the day before that
splendid booklet _Wilhelm II., Romantiker oder Sozialist_ had come
into my hands, on the cover of which Frau v. S. is named as the author
of that work). It was highly interesting to hear and to see how the
two developed the fact that, and the reasons why, they had believed,
not believed, believed again, and ultimately not believed, this or
that. The other observations of these (still rather young) men were
also very noteworthy, their zeal for the development of mankind
downright magnificent. And of such there are thousands—only the faith
is lacking, and for that we ourselves are to blame, if we do not work
unitedly and so become to those who are striving and willing,
demanding and yearning, a real _safeguard_ for their hopes.

Therefore, Frau von Suttner, place your efforts also under the banner
of a pure religiousness, true and genuine;[38] only so can you _uphold
them before every one_ as justified. Those who care nothing for the
word “Religion” will not ostracize your efforts because of a word; and
those to whom religion is everything will recognize your efforts for
very religion’s sake. But religion in a sense which excludes any
limitation of belief, any Churchism and any Judaism, all sectarianism,
and the like.

I had my heart too much set on saying these additional words, highly
honored lady; I may take it, since the acquaintance we have formed,
that you have a friend’s comprehension of the unreservedness of my
discussion. We are dealing here with something too high for
phrase-making. Above all, I beg you to see in the fact that I have
written you thus at all a proof of pure and genuine esteem—else had I
remained silent. And this honest and convinced esteem I feel (together
with all my family) in no less a degree for your husband, whom I
respectfully salute. My wife and daughter desire me to express to both
of you their warmest greetings and respects. Your visit remains for us
all a valued memory.

Sincerely yours
M. von Egidy

I should not be at a loss to characterize the whole man Egidy in one word. Just as there are, for example, men of steel and iron, so hard and keen; men of gold, so good and true; men of wax, so soft and plastic; so is Egidy, in his transparent luster, a man of crystal.

XXXVI
VARIOUS OPINIONS
Letters from Alphonse Daudet, Paul Heyse, the Bishop of Durham, Ruggero
Bonghi, and Count Kamarofski

After our return from Berlin we gave ourselves up once again to our literary and propagandist labors. We exerted ourselves to find out what distinguished contemporaries thought of our purposes, and to utilize their approval if we got it. So it was that I gained the authoritative approval of Björnson and Fulda and Edmondo de Amicis and Émile Zola and many others. But we also encountered opposition and doubt, though only rarely. My husband, who during our stay in Paris had won Alphonse Daudet’s sympathies, now wrote to him about the founding of the Peace Society and about the Congress in Rome, and asked him if he would help in the cause. Here is the answer:

My dear Colleague,

War is odious and your work is fine. So I am with you against war; but
do you really believe that we can do anything in behalf of peace
except wave our arms and utter sounds? To me war is a thing fated, and
the _apple_ side of my nature—mankind is divided into pears and
apples, idealists and others—the terrible apple side of me, then,
takes from me all hope of success in the campaign which I am ready to
undertake with you.

Remember me to Madame Suttner, and believe me wholly

Yours, Alphonse Daudet

And to me a famous German poet wrote:

Honored Baroness:

Is there need of an express assurance of my warmest approbation of the
ends and aims of the Peace League? And yet, as I am convinced that
mankind, ruled as they are more by passions and instincts than by
reason and love, will approach these ends only by the civilizing
labors of centuries if they ever do at all, it goes against my grain
to express in solemn protests, from which I am unable to hope for any
practical result, pious wishes which for a nobler humane minority are
self-evident. As long as European civilization is still threatened by
a half-Asiatic barbarism which will never submit to an arbitrator’s
decision but will yield only to force, I regard the _Ceterum censeo_
of such congresses even as a danger, like everything else by which our
readiness for defense, indispensable in the interest of the world’s
peace, is impaired.

With sincere respect
Yours very devotedly
Paul Heyse

Munich, October 31, 1891

I append a few other letters from that time:

Auckland Castle Bishop Auckland
July 12, 1892

Dear Madam:[39]

Englishmen cannot but hail with the fullest, heartiest sympathy the
work which you have taken in hand, as well as the success that has
attended it. The promotion of the business of peace in the nearest
future depends in large measure on the mood of the German race, and on
this you have already made a deep impression.

As far as I am personally concerned, I have faith enough—may I say, I
have confidence enough in the power of the Christian faith?—to expect
that if once the magnanimity of opposing nations is awakened, which is
quite within the range of possibility, there will also be found a way
to obviate the persistent causes of mutual irritation. Then the
natural institutions of peace will suffice to furnish the nations with
that powerful discipline, consisting in self-denial, which at present
has to be maintained by perpetual readiness for war.

Would it be going too far to express the hope that even our generation
may yet live to see France, Germany, Russia, fenced in as it were by a
neutral girdle, enabled to improve their resources without being
obliged to anticipate untoward events, and to perform their functions
in the service of man—at the same time forwarding the kingdom of God
on earth.

May a rich blessing attend your efforts!

With the sincerest feelings of respect, dear Madam, I am
Yours truly
B. F. Dunelm.[40]

I had kept up a correspondence with the chairman of the Congress at Rome, Minister Ruggero Bonghi. Here is one of his letters (the original in Italian):

Anagni, July 9, 1892

Dear Friend:

Since you permit me to call you “friend,” I will no longer give you
any other name, for there is none tenderer. And the consciousness that
I am speaking to a friend sweetens writing for me, makes it almost
seem pleasanter to me than wandering about the fields to breathe in
the fresh breezes which blow here on the heights of the Apennines in
these early morning hours—here where I now, as Petrarch says, “dwell
serious and sad” (_doglioso e grave or seggio_), and where in days
gone by so much martial rage was let loose, while to-day such deep
peace and quiet reign. Here in this ancient Anagni whose origin is
lost in gray antiquity, which took the highest place in a people that
had been subjected by Rome, and which was once the home of haughty
popes who from their dwelling-place there ruled the world—here, I say,
I indulge in considerations about the fortunes of my country, about
the difficult remedies for its ailments; and withal, in my orphanage I
watch the little girls grow up. And I instruct them so that when they
have grown big, and return to their families, they may have an
influence upon them to make them better and may turn the future into a
more friendly channel....

It almost seems to me, dear friend, that I am thus doing a work
perhaps more useful—though it may be insignificant—than the work of
very many who carry their chatter into the assemblies, and their
passions and infatuations into the privy council. And when I think of
you I rise to that ideal of unity and peace which lives in your spirit
and your heart, and which bears witness to nobility of soul in those
who can grasp it and love it,—while despising it, deriding it, and
denying it, attests the opposite.

What has war accomplished here? It has laid waste these landscapes,
and often in the course of the centuries scattered the inhabitants so
that even the traces of their habitations have disappeared. Often,
also, in the course of the centuries, Anagni and the Secco valley
above which it lies have risen; and as often it has been again reduced
by the power of arms and the ambition of the great. And now the valley
is unhealthy; one can scarcely get safety from its miasmas up here,
about five hundred meters above the level of the sea.

I have an idea, and I am almost afraid to express it, my dear lady. It
is this: I believe that Rome, by which the first conquest of these
territories was effected, also brought the first misfortune upon them.
Either the whole history of the first centuries of Rome is false, or
else the peoples which first fell under the Roman yoke were previously
happier and more numerous and lived on healthier and more fruitful
lands and in more widely spread residences than after that. What
benefit has war realized here or anywhere else?

If in the deeds to which it constrains men not all is evil, and if
many a virtue shines out in connection with them, this is because man,
savage and—I feel like saying—bestial as he may become, still never
wholly ceases to be human, and in some way mitigates the harm which
his own work inflicts. If war has done anything good in any respect,
this has been done, one may say, in its own despite and contrary to
its intent. Even if many instincts impel man to war, how much nobler
are those that repel him from it! How august sounds the voice that
would restrain him from it, in comparison to the angry shout that eggs
it on! To-day I read the maxim of old Lao-Tse: “If two armies of equal
strength are pitted against each other, the victory belongs to that
one whose leader was the more merciful.”

That is—unfortunately—not correct. But it is one of those human
illusions that are more valuable than a truth, because they prove that
man feels ruth at the use of arms, that his conscience is not easy
even when he is compelled to use them, and that he seeks the basis for
victory in some virtue, in some feeling that might absolve him. We
promoters of peace, who work for it with glowing zeal, have in the
last analysis no other object than this,—that man shall become _wholly
human_.

And, as I am in the habit of ultimately ending my letters to my
friends, I make an end of this one. Have a little affection for your

Bonghi

After my trip to Berlin I received from Bonghi the following lines, this time written in French:

Rome, April 26, 1892

I follow you and applaud you. You have everything that is necessary
for the beneficent and intelligent part that you are playing. You have
had the courage to go and plant our banner in Berlin, in the very
fortress of our enemies.

Write me, dear Baroness, as often as you can; you will be doing me a
very great favor. A thousand greetings to your husband.

Yours altogether
R. Bonghi

From the famous Russian folklorist and professor in Moscow University, Count Kamarofski, I had received an article for my review and the following letter:

Moscow, May 18/30, 1892

Highly honored Lady:

Accept my thanks for your letter and the pamphlets accompanying it.
You are right: you are no stranger to me since I have learned to
esteem you from your beautiful story, _Die Waffen nieder_. I am
sending you herewith my lecture which I delivered in behalf of the
famine-stricken, and give you permission to make such extracts from it
as you may see fit. As for an original article for your review, I will
get one ready as soon as I find the opportunity.

In Russia people defend the tremendous military preparations as
necessary on account of the Triple Alliance, and especially of
Germany; thus every one talks of his merely defensive designs, and
attributes to his neighbor the most threatening plans. Surely a
melancholy sign of the times!

In view of this, all friends of peace are called upon to act on public
opinion, and through it on the governments, as much as possible; and
certainly the chief part in this noble effort belongs to women, for
they are most able to influence education and morals.

I am yours, etc.
Graf L. Kamarowsky

XXXVII
THE BERN SESSIONS
Journey to Switzerland · Poem by Count Hoyos · Letter from Prince
Camillo Starhemberg · Opening of the Congress · First impulse to
arbitration treaties, from America · League of European states · Social
life of the Congressists · Arturo de Marcoartu · Alfred Nobel complies
with my invitation · On the Lake of Lucerne · A parable by Ruchonnet ·
Protest against distorted reports · A lively debate · Arrival of the
Interparliamentarians · The Conference · A prophetic toast

In August, 1892, we proceeded to Bern, where the fourth World’s Peace Congress and the fourth Interparliamentary Conference were invited to meet. It was our first journey to Switzerland—for us both an intense delight. The name Switzerland awakens in the mind a whole mass of mountain poetry and ideals of freedom: glaciers and Rütli oath, cow bells and Tell’s arrow. To go with this, a highly modern international hotel life. The plainest and most democratic country in Europe, and withal the meeting-place of the traveling aristocrats and plutocrats of the Old and New Worlds.

The way to Bern took us to the Lake of Zurich. My Own reveled in the spectacle of this magnificence of nature. Curious—when my mind reverts to the journeys which I took with my husband, it is only through the medium of the pleasure which _he_ found in them that I recall all the beauties of art and nature which we enjoyed. Now I myself am also susceptible to such enjoyments; but when I was with him I felt only the reflex of his feelings.

We put up at the Berner Hof. On our first arrival, although it was late in the evening, we met many of our friends of the Rome Congress,—Frédéric Passy, Ducommun, the Moscheles pair, Hodgson Pratt, Pandolfi, Émile Arnaud, and many others. The next morning a new, joyous surprise: the glass door of our room opened out on a great terrace, and from here the gaze swept over the hotel garden, over the city, and over the horizon of snow-glittering peaks of the surrounding mountains.

“It is beautiful here, my Löwos!”

“Yes, My Own, beautiful; and we will have our breakfast here on the terrace.”

So the luminous pictures flash, so fresh breezes of happiness blow over from the past into my gray, lonely present, as I look back upon the journeys which we two took together, when we carried with us everywhere, into the most serious days filled with work and political problems and into the different imposing surroundings, our modest, sunshiny bit of home. On that first morning in the capital of the Swiss Confederation the mail brought me various letters,—from Count Hoyos a poem dedicated “to the Peace Council at Bern,” and entitled

NEVER THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS

_Wenn blinder Haft die Krallen regt_

When blindfold Hatred’s claws are shown
And Falsehood’s wings come dark behind,
Stand to your arms, and lay not down
The weapons of the Mind!

The war of nations, demon strange,
Before the truth shall shrieking flee;
Man’s genius good shall fearless range
After the victory.

Pour from your sword-blade floods of light,
Be love the sign upon your shield;
These arms by their o’erwhelming might
Shall make the tempter yield.

From the Liberal member of the Herrenhaus, Fürst Camillo Starhemberg, whom I had requested and half persuaded to come to the Interparliamentary Conference at Bern, I received the following communication, interesting from many points of view:

Schloss Hubertendorf, Nied.-Oest.
August 21, 1892

Honored Baroness:

The quite abnormal heat that has been prevalent for some time has so
affected my nerves and made me so unwell that I shall hardly be able
to carry out my intention of taking part in the Conference at Bern.

I will not yet definitively decline, but I hardly believe that I can
get to Bern. I have no desire to act as a dumb listener and looker-on,
and for taking a part in word and deed I do not, to speak frankly,
feel myself either in the mood or well enough.

At the request of Baron Pirquet I have, during the recent sessions,
put questions to various members of the Herrenhaus, and sounded them
as to whether they would not be pleased to take part in the
deliberations of the Conference, and, anyhow, to express their
sympathy with our endeavors by letting their names appear on the list
of those who are working for peace in the world.

Unfortunately, the least that I got was a courteous declination; in
most cases it was an ironical answer, of course always in such polite
terms as admitted of no decided protest. I had also the opportunity of
speaking with a personage of exalted position about the idea of peace
in general, but everywhere I found expressed more or less the idea
that the German lady betrothed to a German officer, on page nine of
the Festival Number of _Die Waffen nieder_, develops:[41] Sooner
sacrifice millions, sooner bring upon men limitless misery, sooner
ruin states financially, decimate the population, plunge families in
want, mourning, and the deepest distress, than be unfaithful to
traditional ideas; every thought of a peace movement of that kind is
actually interpreted as if there must be cowardice back of it.

I cannot say that these utterances which I have recently heard enhance
my hopes of _a speedy success_, but none the less I harbor the
conviction that sometime the idea will make its way, and that at least
the civilized nations of Europe will acknowledge allegiance to the
principle of arbitration and will bring their controversies to a
decision in that way.

I had not very long ago an extremely interesting letter from a Pole
who is very warm on the peace question and sends me all sorts of peace
journals and bits of news, but will not agree to peace, to the idea of
a _permanent_ peace anyway, till Poland is an independent kingdom and
free both from Russia and from Austria—and he himself admits that of
course this could not be attained until after a bloody war and strife.
And this is the way with a good many adherents of the peace idea:
first they want to see their own object attained, they shrink from no
difficulties, no deluge of blood, and only when they have gained their
own ends are they willing to make peace. The fact is, to accept
subordination, to submit, is what individual men cannot do, much less
peoples and nations; and just as we stand for the idea of peace and
are carrying on a propaganda for it—of course only with very slight
progress against the existing hostility to it—so others are fanning
the hatred and discord of the nations, are egging on the nations to
senseless national hatred, and use this to serve their own foul
purposes, to attain their own despicable ends.

Most heartily wishing the best success to you at Bern, highly honored
Baroness, and promising that in thought and feeling I shall be one at
this so honorable assemblage which is striving for the ennobling of
humanity, I sign myself with the assurance of my fullest respect and
devotion,

Your sincerely admiring and appreciative
Starhemberg

I had also written to Alfred Nobel asking him to come to Bern and attend the deliberations of the Congress, but had received no answer to this.

—So after the festive breakfast on our terrace we went with tense anticipation to the opening of the Congress. The great hall of the Bundesrat was filled to the last seat. The galleries were crowded as densely as on days when an especially interesting parliamentary session is expected.

Louis Ruchonnet, who the year before had been President of the Swiss Republic, was to be chairman. In the hall we met several more friends. Professor Wilhelm Löwenthal of Paris was among them. After Ruchonnet’s inaugural address a representative from each of the different nations made remarks; and that brought the first formal session to a close. The deliberations did not begin till the second session, which took place in the afternoon in the hall of the Museum.

In the course of years I have attended more than a dozen peace congresses and conferences, the protocols of which I possess in as many volumes. I cannot propose to insert in these recollections of my life the speeches, resolutions, and festivities which this small library chronicles. I shall reproduce only what especially impressed itself on my mind, what was a part of my experience so to speak, and thereby afford to such of my readers as here seek a historical sketch of the movement with which my name and activities are associated a glance at its development. It is always interesting to follow the line along which certain phenomena of contemporary history move—now swiftly, now slowly, now standing still or even backing, to go forward again with all the greater rapidity; it is noteworthy, too, how many an after-phase is prophetically adumbrated, how projects come up and are dropped and afterward come up again as something entirely new; how that which is at first a matter of contention gradually becomes a matter of course, and how apparently insurmountable obstacles, which one does not even try to remove, are later found to have simply vanished away.

In Berlin no peace society had as yet been formed, so Germany was not represented by any one from its capital, but by Dr. Adolf Richter from Württemberg. From the United States Dr. Trueblood, president of the Boston Peace Society (founded in 1816), was there. Ducommun was in the chair at the second session, and made a report on the establishment of the permanent International Bureau, the honorary secretary of which this splendid man continued to be until his death in 1906.

Hodgson Pratt brought an interesting piece of information: the President of the United States had sent to all governments a letter announcing the resolution of the United States Senate and House of Representatives expressing the wish to have permanent arbitration treaties concluded with all other nations. Hodgson Pratt added to this communication the proposal that we should work in every country to have this letter answered by the respective governments. So that was the beginning—suggested by America, supported by England—of “permanent arbitration treaties.”

There was debated, and adopted, a motion proposed by E. T. Moneta, S. J. Capper, and the Baroness Suttner, with the title, “A Confederation of European States.”

Oh, that Capper! What a half comical but wholly pleasing figure of a congressman! The white beard of a prophet and a tall white hat. A vibrant voice that uttered itself by preference in French but with the most exaggerated English accent; enthusiasm and fire, and at the same time solid common sense.

But to return to the motion, “A Confederation of European States.” At that time the idea had not yet begun to be understood at all; it was generally confounded with “United States,” after the pattern of North America, and proscribed for Europe. So thoroughly proscribed that a Swiss paper called _Les États-Unis d’Europe_ was forbidden to be brought into Austria.

The Capper-Moneta-Suttner motion read:

Whereas both the injury caused by armed peace and the danger that is
ever threatening the whole of Europe from a possible great war have
their basis in the condition of lawlessness in which the different
states of Europe stand toward one another;

Whereas a confederation of European states, which would be desirable
also in the interest of the commercial relations of all countries,
would do away with this condition of lawlessness and create permanent
legal relations in Europe;

And finally, whereas such a confederation would in no wise impair the
independence of the individual nations as regards their internal
affairs, and therefore as regards their forms of government:

The Congress invites the European peace societies and their adherents
to exert themselves, as the highest aim of their propaganda, for the
formation of a confederation of states on the basis of the solidarity
of their interests. It moreover invites all the societies in the
world, especially at the time of political elections, to draw
attention to the necessity of a permanent congress of nations, to
which every international question should be submitted, so that every
conflict may be settled by law and not by force.

The members of the Congress—at least the greater part—were together the whole day long, for most of them lodged in the same hotel and took their meals there at a great common table between the sessions. There they went on conferring during luncheon and dinner. Especially at the after-dinner coffee, which was taken in a covered veranda adjoining the dining-room, groups of friends were formed and indulged in unconstrained conversation.

One afternoon a large circle of us was gathered in this veranda to hold a mock trial. At table a little controversy had arisen between the Marchese Pandolfi of Rome and Senator Arturo de Marcoartu of Madrid. Now, in jest, a court of justice was appointed; the two contending parties had to submit their cases, each of them chose an advocate, and the judge was to give his decision. I no longer remember what it was all about; I only know that it was very amusing. One of the advocates—it was Gaston Moch, a former French artillery officer—proved to be very witty, and the two opponents likewise put the whole tribunal in the merriest of moods by their repartee.

Arturo de Marcoartu was the only Spaniard who attended the Peace Congress; I believe the Spanish Interparliamentary Group and the Spanish Peace Society consisted of himself and no one else,—at least he was the only active member. He spoke a good deal and was very long-winded, and he was not a popular speaker because he had a very indistinct enunciation and he was all the time repeating himself; but when his speeches were read they were found to contain notable ideas. He had been working for years with the greatest zeal to help spread the idea of universal peace. Even before the first London Conference he had tried in Vienna to win to the cause a number of prominent politicians and aristocrats, and had found appreciation and assistance in Fürst Joseph Colloredo, a very liberal-minded man. The beginning of an activity had ensued, but this first stream was soon lost in the sand. I shall by and by introduce a letter from Marcoartu, containing many interesting discussions and observations which have been justified by events. As long as he lived Marcoartu never was missing at a Peace Congress or an Interparliamentary Conference; since his death, Spain has been unrepresented at the Congresses.

To return to that afternoon in the veranda: my husband, who was employed as Pandolfi’s advocate, was in the act of delivering a humorous plea, when a waiter came to me where I sat at one side, said that a gentleman in the drawing-room wished to speak to me, and handed me the man’s card,—Alfred Nobel. Joyfully surprised, I hastened to the drawing-room, where my friend came to meet me.

“You called me,” he said; “here I am. But incognito, so to speak. I do not want to take part in the Congress or make any acquaintances, only to hear something specific about the matter. Tell me what has been done so far.”

We remained absorbed in a long conversation. Alfred Nobel displayed much skepticism, yet he seemed anxious to see his doubts dispelled. He left Bern that same evening, but he made my husband and me promise to come and visit him for two days at Zurich after the Congress was adjourned.

Among the festivities which were arranged for the benefit of the Congressists was an excursion to the Lake of Lucerne. It was a grand trip. We had a collation at Lucerne. Of course toasts were made; but all after dinner eloquence evaporates with the froth of the champagne. Nevertheless, something that Ruchonnet said—not in a speech but in conversation with his vis-à-vis—made a great impression on me, and I copied it into my diary. Some one had spoken of the objection that is often heard made by the opposing party that it would be an impossibility, a misfortune, to reduce the armies—it would be simply unthinkable from the standpoint of civilization and political economy. Then Ruchonnet made this comparison: If to-day, by some misfortune, the sun should be darkened, then men would use every effort to provide artificial light and artificial heat; new industries and new professions would come into existence; and then, if after a few generations people should come along with the proposition to abolish the sun’s eclipse, there would be a general outcry, “That would be a calamity, an impossibility—what would become of the heat factories, of the numberless light-makers?”

On the day after the excursion to Lucerne the deliberations were resumed. First of all, A. G. von Suttner took the floor to protest against the false, distorted reports of a certain correspondent. The person inculpated had done nothing less than to send the newspapers a telegram in which the opening assembly was pictured as a turbulent scene among people who were stirring up war in their own camp. The speaker read aloud the distorted reports in question, which had furthermore given the foreign press material for sarcastic comments, and called on the chair to send an official denial to the newspapers; and this was done. It proved later that the correspondent was an avowed opponent, who had declared to a colleague that he was not willing that the movement should take root in Switzerland.

There did come a somewhat lively scene in the course of the Congress, however, when the Polish member of the Austrian Parliament made a speech in which he demanded the restoration of Poland as an independent kingdom. Ducommun, who was in the chair at that session, as well as several other speakers, notably Frédéric Passy, laid down the law to the Polish patriot, who would not accept the partition of his fatherland, declaring that the Congress could not possibly occupy itself with the revision of Polish history. The justice of the future is to be made ready for; the individual injustices of history cannot now be rectified, for all the divisions of the land as at present constituted are based on the ground of force; new laws, new ordinances—and they must be worked for—have no retroactive power.

Now the Parliamentarians too took their turn in Bern. Their Conference was to be opened after the close of our Congress, on the twenty-ninth of August. There we again met many old acquaintances: Dr. Baumbach and Dr. Hirsch from Berlin; Frédéric Bajer from Denmark; Philip Stanhope, brother of the Minister of War, Cremer, Dr. Clark, from England; and many others. We also learned to know many new faces: from Norway the president of the Storthing, Ullman, was present, and Honduras and San Salvador were this time represented by Minister Plenipotentiary Marquis de Castello Foglia. Altogether thirteen nations were represented. The sessions were held in the Federal Palace. The rest of us—non-parliamentarians—were allowed to be present in the galleries. The Conference was received by the director of the Department of the Exterior, Bundesrat Droz. Of the transactions I note the following:

The French Senator Trarieux and the Englishman Stanhope took up the American overture in regard to arbitration treaties and proposed the establishment of an international tribunal. Pandolfi pleaded for “a permanent International Conference.” Marcoartu demanded the neutralization of isthmuses and straits. Baumbach, vice president of the German Reichstag,—even then the German politicians were showing themselves very reserved toward the idea of peace,—spoke in behalf of the protection of private property at sea in times of war. The debate on this topic became rather excited. The Frenchman Pourquery de Boisserin explained in fiery words that a Peace Conference could not, on principle, take under advisement any eventualities of war—and there he was right, a hundred times right!

The other standpoints, however,—“that we cannot be satisfied with pious wishes; we cannot as yet proclaim permanent peace, so we must content ourselves with what is attainable, and every factor that works toward the humanizing of war, the diminution of its horrors, is itself a mighty step toward better things,”—these standpoints won the day, and the Baumbach motion was passed.

Even at luncheon—I sat between Baumbach and Pourquery—the controversy was kept up. And it has lasted till to-day. There are still those who want to guide the work of peace along the course of mitigating and regulating the phenomena of war, in order to demonstrate thereby that they are too practical to strive for the “impossible,” and in order to postpone to misty future times the attack on the real enemy, “war,” for which they show especial regard and respect; and in contradistinction to these there are those who assert that if the goal lies in the south one ought not to pave the way toward the north.

During the session of the Conference the Parliamentarians were given a festival at Interlaken. On that occasion Schenk, who afterward became President of the Confederation, offered a toast containing a prophecy for which even the speaker himself probably did not foresee so speedy a fulfillment.

“I am glad,” said he, “to see the representatives of parliaments here assembled to deliberate about peace and arbitration; still more glad should I be on the day when the official commissioners of the governments should assemble for the like purpose—and that day will come.”

That day arrived only seven years later, when twenty-seven governments sent their official representatives to The Hague for that same purpose.

XXXVIII
VISIT TO ALFRED NOBEL
Arrival at Zurich · Nobel begins to take an interest in the peace
movement, and joins us · Trips on the lake · A glimpse into his views of
life · His first project for an act in furtherance of the cause of peace

We left Bern a few days before the close of the Conference in order to accept the invitation of Alfred Nobel, who was staying at Zurich. Our host had put at our disposal in the Hotel Bauer _au lac_, where he himself lodged, a suite of rooms that the Empress Elisabeth had vacated the day before after a short visit. I found still lying on the toilet table a pale faded rose....

Alfred Nobel came to meet us at the railway station and conducted us to the drawing-room prepared for us, and there, a half hour later, he joined us at dinner. He had us tell him all about the meetings of the Bern Congress. He also gave us his name as a member of the Austrian Peace Society, with a contribution of two thousand francs. He had sent a like sum through me to the Congress committee at Rome the year before.

“What you are handing me,—and I thank you for it,”—I said, “comes from amiability rather than from conviction. A few days ago in Bern you expressed your doubts regarding the cause....”

“Regarding the cause and its justice—no, I have no doubts about that, but only as regards the question whether it can be realized; nor do I yet know how your Unions and Congresses propose to take hold of the work....”

“Then if you knew that the work was being well taken hold of would you take a hand and help?”

“Yes, I would. Inform me, convince me,—and then I will do something great for the movement.”

I replied that I could not then, _entre la poire et le fromage_, explain the whole matter, expel deeply-rooted doubts, and evoke firm conviction; but I would from that time forth keep him posted, send him regularly my review and other publications appertaining to the matter, and would endeavor to give him not only “information” but enthusiasm.

“All right, try for that—I like nothing so much as to be able to feel enthusiasm, a capacity which my experiences in life, and my fellow-men, have greatly weakened.”

Nobel owned a tiny aluminium motor boat, in which we took delightful trips around the lake in his company; the silvery craft darted swiftly over the waters without rocking. We sat leaning back in comfortable deck chairs covered with soft plaids, let the magic panorama of the lake shores pass before our eyes, and talked about a thousand things between heaven and earth. Nobel and I even agreed that we would write a book together, a polemic against everything that keeps the world in wretchedness and stupidity. Nobel was very strongly inclined to Socialism in his views: thus, he said it was improper for rich men to leave their property to their relatives; he regarded great inheritances as a misfortune, for they have a paralyzing effect. Great accumulations of property should go back to the community and common purposes; the children of the rich should inherit only so much that they could be well educated and kept from want, but little enough so that they should be stimulated to work, and through this to renewed enrichment of the world.

The days in Zurich went swiftly. Trips on the lake, excursions to places within and without the city, during which I admired the opulence of the villas that fringe the city, which all look more like castles.

“Yes, the silkworms have spun all that,” said Nobel.

“Perhaps dynamite factories are even more profitable than silk mills,” I remarked, “and less innocent.”

“Perhaps my factories will put an end to war even sooner than your Congresses; on the day when two army corps may mutually annihilate each other in a second, probably all civilized nations will recoil with horror and disband their troops.”

It was his belief that scientific progress and technical discoveries are destined to regenerate mankind. “Every new discovery,” he wrote me once, “modifies the human brain and makes the new generation capable of receiving new ideas.” From a letter of Alfred Nobel’s which was not addressed to me, but came under my eyes, I copied the following passage; it gives a glimpse into his philosophy of life:

To spread the light is to spread prosperity (I mean general
prosperity, not individual wealth), and with prosperity will disappear
the greatest part of the evils that are the inheritance of dark ages.

The conquests of scientific investigation, and its ever-widening
field, awaken in us the hope that the microbes—the soul’s as well as
the body’s—will gradually disappear, and the only war which mankind
will wage will be the war against these microbes. Then Bacon’s
splendid phrase that there are deserts in time will be applicable only
to times that lie far back in the past.

On our departure I had to reiterate my promise to keep Alfred Nobel regularly informed about the progress of the peace movement; and from that time forth, though (alas!) I never saw him again, I corresponded with him indefatigably in regard to the cause of peace. As a testimony of how quickly and eagerly he became interested in its behalf I include here a letter which he wrote me a few months after our meeting in Switzerland:

Paris, January 7, 1893

Dear Friend:

May the new year prove prosperous to you and to the noble campaign
which you are carrying on with so much power against human ignorance
and ferocity.

I should like to dispose of a part of my fortune by founding a prize
to be granted every five years—say six times, for if in thirty years
they have not succeeded in reforming the present system they will
infallibly relapse into barbarism.

The prize would be awarded to him or her who had caused Europe to make
the longest strides toward ideas of general pacification.

I am not speaking to you of disarmament, which can be achieved only
very slowly; I am not even speaking to you of obligatory arbitration
between nations. But this result ought to be reached soon—and it can
be attained—to wit, that all states shall with solidarity agree to
turn against the first aggressor. Then wars will become impossible.
And the result would be to force even the most quarrelsome state to
have recourse to a tribunal or else remain tranquil. If the Triple
Alliance, instead of comprising only three states, should enlist all
states, the peace of the centuries would be assured.

XXXIX
ESTABLISHMENT OF THE GERMAN PEACE SOCIETY IN BERLIN

When we came home from Bern much work was waiting for us. The editing of the review, the duties of the presidency in our two Unions, and at the same time uninterrupted literary activity,—all this gave us much to do. My correspondence had greatly increased. It was my ardent wish that a peace society should be established also in Berlin. During my visit there the matter had indeed been broached, but had not come to anything. Now once more I began correspondence with prominent persons in Berlin in order to take further steps in this matter. Even at the beginning of the year I had written letters with this object in view, and now I resumed these connections with redoubled zeal.

Passages from my own letters give some precise basal facts about the course of events connected with the founding of that society. I will put down these passages. The material lying before me consists of the letters that I wrote in those years to my publisher, A. H. Fried, who zealously coöperated with me in this matter—who indeed had really given the first impulse to it. He preserved all my letters, and has, at my request, put at my service the package containing those of 1892, from which there clearly appear, authentically and in chronological sequence, certain data which I should otherwise have forgotten long since, relating to that enterprise which lay so close to my heart.

January 2, 1892

There is really as yet no German peace society. Virchow was persuaded
originally, but has since then relapsed into silence. Max Hirsch,
member of the Reichstag, now wants to found one. Dr. Barth, the editor
of the _Nation_, is also on our side. In Frankfurt there is also a
Union, I believe.

January 14, 1892

Your question about Dalberg is justified too, for such a party
politician as Hirsch would not be the right man at the head of the
movement. I am just at work getting into communication with others in
Berlin.

January 29, 1892

It is almost certain that there is now going to be a peace society in
Germany. Hirsch wrote me to-day that the sixty deputies of the peace
bureau of the Reichsrat[42] will doubtless effect the formation of a
society, and that I shall find it already in existence when I reach
Berlin. That would doubtless mean a growth for our paper.

March 1, 1892

Laying of the corner stone during my visit—that would be splendid! I
would see to communicating a great declaration of sympathy from the
French Parliament on that occasion. If only a revolution does not
break out in your beautiful Berlin between now and then, and the Lord
God of Dannewitz throw in a bomb[43]....

March 9, 1892

Gustav Freytag would doubtless be the right man as to his standing,
but, I believe, not as to his opinions.

April 4, 1892

Dr. Hirsch has written me that the question [as to the establishment
of a society] cannot come to discussion in the assembly mentioned; but
that I must not be troubled. Well, for a time I will not be troubled,
and then I shall go to writing letters and articles until a German
peace society is formed. We _must_ have it. Karpeles ought to talk
with Hirsch. To get signatures, a provisory committee must first be
made up, which then signs under the reservation that they will _not_
have to be active afterwards. That is the way I did in Vienna. Then
the big fish remain only as honorary presidents. That suffices
perfectly.

April 9, 1892

To-day I wrote a long letter to Karpeles to push the Berlin peace
society; if you have the opportunity, look up Karpeles and talk with
him about the matter. If only Du Bois-Reymond would lend us his name!
A German society must be called into existence before Bern.

Bern, August 31, 1892

Because of the society forming here you need not discontinue your
labors there. Just go ahead gathering names, please. It will
ultimately centralize itself in Berlin all the same.

September 5, 1892

Yes, the Berlin movement will halt—that I understand [because of the
worthless partisan reports about the Bern Congress]; but between now
and the next Congress societies must be formed and they will be.

September 10, 1892

The Grelling news is very good. I can now see that the society in
Berlin will be formed. I will write to Grelling.

Karpeles is quite right in his unwillingness to serve; the thing to do
is for him to coöperate, to get people into the committee, but not to
sign. As things stand, the initiative must not have too many Jews back
of it, else it will be immediately classified; no more than it could
afford to be, say, too strongly Social Democrat. The Austrian comic
papers are caricaturing me as the leader of a troop of Polish Jews as
it is.

I will name several other people who will be helpful to the German
society. The time for founding the society is the most propitious
conceivable on account of the impending military bills. In order that
the mammoth petition which our Bureau has drafted may get signatures
in Germany as well as elsewhere, societies must also exist there. The
manifestation may become just as imposing as that against the school
laws,—even more imposing! since it is to spring up simultaneously all
over Europe.

September 1, 1892

Here are two more letters of adhesion to the Berlin peace society.
Hirsch’s is indeed good news.

October 24, 1892

—No, nothing can be done with the party men who will not do anything
but go with Rickert and the opponents of the Peace Union there;
especially if they take the view that the military bill—that splendid
occasion for a mammoth protest—is a _hindrance_. Nor do we need the
Radicals; they constitute the Peace-Conference group anyhow—others
will surely join. Only there must be one to appear as chairman.

October 27, 1892

I will try to induce Hoyos, Starhemberg, or the Duke of Oldenburg to
come to the Berlin assembly, or at least to write. Wrede will write—he
cannot take the journey. Am looking forward to a bulletin with keen
anticipation. Südekum must write me fully and frequently.

October 28, 1892

Dr. Förster will not be willing, I think. Also too much worried.
Bothmer, perhaps—I am writing to him and others. I do not know whether
his means will permit. So you need titles, you Democrats?—Don’t see
the need of it. He who was born in Bethlehem had no title either, and
his Union is still flourishing.

November 1, 1892

It seems things have got into a scrape. Well, it will go through; it
cannot get wholly to sleep again now.... The notice of an incipient
society—how am I to do that? Without names, without details.... I have
often announced that one was going to be formed,—before my Berlin trip
and before Bern,—and nothing ever came of it. People will not believe
my word any longer. Possibly the inclosed? If you agree, send it to
the printer. Anyhow, such a notice can be made at the last moment, and
you who are on the spot will know best what there is that can be said.

November 1, 1892