In each of the nations now engaged in the European conflict, a large
number of people of all classes—the vast majority of people of all
classes—did not want war, and would have done all in their power to
avert it: for they knew, more or less completely, the price of war;
and they knew also, more or less completely, in spite of the
inadequacy of all the churches through all the centuries, that war
cannot possibly be reconciled with Christianity, with civilization,
with humanity, decency, and the most rudimentary common sense. But
when hostilities had actually been commenced, each of the nations was
practically a unit with regard to the prosecution of the war to its
final and terrible conclusion. With the exception of a few
professional agitators or eccentric fanatics, who have gleaned scant
sympathy for their antics, every citizen or subject of each country
has placed implicit faith in the justice of the nation’s cause and has
been prepared to give, ungrudgingly, the last full measure of
devotion. Canada, Australia, South Africa, India, and all the great
and small oversea commonwealths, colonies and dominions of Great
Britain have come forward in the time of stress to offer new strength
to the United Kingdom and new pledges of a United Empire. In the
Fatherland, every man and woman has accepted the issue as inevitable,
has held the cause of Kaiser and country as sacred and supreme, and
has shrunk from no sacrifice to ensure the fulfilment of the
long-cherished dream of victory, security and expansion. In France,
where the ghosts of the dead that von Moltke required have not yet
ceased to walk o’ nights, (they will have new companionship now), there
is no doubt in the mind of man, woman or child that _la Patrie_ is
waging a holy war for liberty and honor against the ruthless
aggression of an arrogant and pitiless foe. In Russia, Austria,
Servia, and whatever countries may have been dragged into the vortex
week by week, there is a similar spirit, a similar belief in the
justice of the national cause and the calculated injustice of the
enemy’s plans. And in Belgium, always the victim of her unneighborly
neighbors’ feuds, a people dedicated to peace has been flung into the
hell of butchery and flames. Verily, Macbeth hath murther’d sleep!
In these United States, there has been little attempt to transcend
race-limitations, so far as concerns the aliens within our borders,
and those hyphenated-Americans who have rushed with virulence into a
wordy warfare, intent, not on establishing the truth, but on giving
publicity, _ad nauseam_, to their own special, and specially
obnoxious, prejudices. The American nation, and every individual in
it, has a clear right to hold and express a definite opinion: but it
must be an opinion formed in conformity with the American character
and the American freedom from entanglements of inherited and
unreasoned bias. No other opinion is worth, here and now, a moment’s
consideration; and no other opinion should dare to voice itself in
this country, which has ties with almost all the peoples of the
world—ties of blood and friendship, but not of bloodshed and
hysteria.
America alone, of the great Powers of the world, is in a position to
exercise free and calm reflection and to form a free and just
judgment. The value of her decision has already been made manifest,
through the efforts of every country involved in the war to influence
American sentiment and gain American good will. A peculiar
responsibility therefore rests upon us to avoid the banalities of the
various special pleaders, and to form our judgment soberly and in good
faith, nothing extenuating, and setting down naught in malice. And one
of the first thoughts that should occur to us, one of the most
significant and pregnant thoughts, is that which I have expressed in
my first paragraph. Europe is a house divided against itself: but each
nation in Europe has proclaimed the sanctity of its cause; each nation
conceives that it has, or is entitled to have, the special protection
of Providence; each nation is sending its men to death and claiming
patient sacrifice from its women.
What does this mean? Is there such little sense of logic in the world
that it is impossible to distinguish right from wrong, so that nation
may rise against nation, each convinced of its own probity, and each
unable to attribute anything but evil motives to its adversaries? Can
self-delusion be carried so far that black and white exchange values
according to the chances of birth and environment? Have Christianity
and civilization achieved this remarkable result, that the peoples of
the world are like quarrelsome children in a disorderly nursery?
It is very clear that the world’s sense of logic must rank with the
world’s sense of humor, when presumably learned professors, unchecked
and unridiculed, take nationalism and egoism as the premises of their
argument and from them deduce, with great skill, obvious nonsense. The
lesson of incompetence and shallowness is driven home when baseless
rumors from one half of Europe are countered with fantastic inventions
fabricated by our alien patriots for the purpose of influencing public
opinion. It is the old appeal of ignorance and stupidity to ignorance
and stupidity, and the American public will not greatly appreciate the
poor compliment that has been paid to it.
As an aid to impartiality and quiet thinking, let us first retrace the
immediate and superficial causes of the war. Austria, dismayed and
incensed by the murder of the heir to the throne at Serajevo on June
28, and considering the murder as the culmination of long-continued
Servian scheming and enmity, delivered to Servia an ultimatum so
framed that no nation, however small in territory or in courage, could
possibly have accepted it without reservations. The Servian reply went
to the extreme limits of concession, and an understanding should
easily have been reached on that basis. Austria, however, was
apparently resolved upon Servia’s abject submission, or upon war. She
refused to accept the reply as in any way satisfactory, and opened
hostilities.
It is clear, then, that Austria was primarily responsible for the
actual commencement of the conflagration. Undoubtedly she had
provocation, of the kind that stirs tremendously the sentiment of the
nation involved, but is less easily understood in its full intensity
by those at a distance. But the point that should be particularly
noticed is that a country which was temporarily excited beyond all
self-control should have been able to take the initiative and plunge
Europe into war. And it should be remembered that Austria’s resentment
toward Servia was scarcely greater than the resentment of the Serbs
toward the nation that had violated the Treaty of Berlin and
permanently appropriated Bosnia-Herzegovina. Yet, in rebuttal, Austria
might well assert that she had a vested interest in the provinces to
which, in a score or so of years, she had given prosperity unsurpassed
in southeastern Europe, in place of the anarchy and ruin entailed by
four centuries of misrule, and civil and religious faction-conflicts.
The first step taken, the next was assured. Austria knew perfectly
well that Russia, the protagonist in that drama of Pan-Slavism of
which several scenes have already been presented, would take immediate
steps in accordance with her rôle, and repeat her lines so sonorously
that they would echo throughout the continent. But the Dual Monarchy,
wounded and embittered, did not care: she could see before her, at the
worst, no harsher fate than she would have to face, without external
war, in a few years, or perhaps months. Only war, it seemed, could
save the dynasty from destruction and the aggregation of races from
dissolution. Relying upon the immediate help of Germany, and the
ultimate assistance of Italy (her traditional foe, but technical
ally), she refused to draw back or to temporise.
In discussing the attitude of Germany, and the action of the Kaiser,
it is necessary to make full allowance for the strength and sincerity
of the German foreboding, for many a year, that the clash between Slav
and Teuton was bound to come sooner or later. The Russian forces were
being massed ostensibly to prevent Austria from coercing Servia. As
Austria had provoked the outbreak of hostilities, should she have been
left to take the consequences? Would Russia, after eliminating Franz
Josef’s heterogeneous empire, have resisted the temptation to claim
France’s help in the congenial task of humbling Germany? The situation
was not without its subtleties, after Austria had made the first
decisive move. But under what circumstances did Austria make that
move? Was she encouraged by the assurance of German coöperation?
The point to be particularly noted is that Germany, as the ally of
Austria, was entitled to full warning of any step that would make war
inevitable. Did Austria give that warning? If not, why not? Is the
Kaiser a weakling, to be ordered hither and thither at the whim of
Franz Josef? The assumption will find few supporters. Yet it is quite
clear that the Kaiser either knew and approved of the substance and
purpose of Austria’s ultimatum, or—_mirabile dictu_—was willing to
forgive the incredible slight of being totally ignored, and commit his
country and his army to the support of an act of aggression with
regard to which he had not even been consulted.
Carefully leaving the horns of this dilemma for the self-impalement of
any too-ardent enthusiast who may wish to run without reading, we pass
on to France, compelled, by the terms of her understanding with
Russia, to take her place in the firing line. Without entering into
the ultra-refinements of politics and discussing the question whether
France, or any other country, would have paid for present neutrality
and the violation of solemn engagements by subsequently being devoured
in detail, or reduced to vassalage, by a victory-swollen Germany, we
may point out that an alliance entered into primarily to safeguard the
peace of Europe and the balance of power has been the means of
dragging France into a war with which she had no direct concern. Such
is the irony of protective diplomacy!
Great Britain has rested her case on the publication, without comment,
of the whole of the diplomatic exchanges that preceded her own
intervention after the violation of the neutrality of Belgium. Her
claim that she exerted her influence until the final moment in the
interests of peace is sustained beyond cavil: but the point to be
remembered particularly is whether a more decisive and uncompromising
attitude at an earlier stage would not have been preferable. Germany
would then have had no doubt as to Great Britain’s final alignment,
and with a kindly word from Italy that neutrality was the best that
could be expected from her, a reconsideration of the whole position
might have been forced before the final, fatal moments had passed, and
were irrevocable.
It is unnecessary to prolong this cursory review of immediate causes
and conditions, nor does it greatly matter how the positions of the
different countries have been stated. The mood of a moment may add or
subtract a little coloring, without changing the fundamental facts.
But is it possible for any man, however impartial he may desire to be,
to state those facts now, accurately, clearly, and in such relation
and sequence that only one inevitable conclusion can be drawn?
It may be possible, though it would be difficult: but it would not be
worth while. For the war has not been due to, and does not depend
upon, recent events; and however those events may be viewed or
summarized, the only fact of importance is the one already emphasized:
that every nation which has been drawn into the conflict counts its
cause just and its conscience clear.
In the face of such unanimity of national feeling, it is absurd to
discuss superficial conditions only, or to assume that they are of any
real importance. For, apart from neutral America, and the few hundreds
of really educated and intelligent men and women in each country who
constitute the brains and conserve the manners of their nation, it is
impossible to find any just basis for criticism and judgment. The
average national is concerned with presenting an _ex parte_ statement
(in which, perhaps, he believes implicitly) rather than with
discovering the actual truth, whosoever may be vindicated or
discredited. The average national may therefore be disregarded, and
the supreme appeal be made, not to the common folly of the nations,
but to the common sense of those who have risen beyond national
limitations and national littlenesses.
In the first place, that much-quoted and entirely despicable
confession of faith, “My country, right or wrong, first, last and all
the time,” may well be relegated,—first, last and for whatever time
may remain before a kindly Providence blots out this incredible little
world of seething passions and ceaseless pain and cruelty,—to the
limbo of antique curiosities. Nothing can be sillier, and more
contemptible, than such pseudo-patriotism, based on utter selfishness,
utter ignorance, and abysmal stupidity. The country which commits a
crime, or makes a grave mistake, is in the position of an individual
who commits a crime or makes a grave mistake; and no fanfare of
trumpets or hypnotism of marching automata, helmeted and plumed,
should confuse the issue and vitiate judgment. Mere nationalism,
unregulated by intelligence, is simply one of the most irritating and
blatant forms of egoism. Nationality itself depends upon so many
complex conditions that the ordinary semi-intelligent man can scarcely
unravel the niceties of history and discover to whom his heartfelt
allegiance is really due. He therefore accepts the untutored sentiment
of his immediate environment. He is essentially provincial, not
patriotic. Alsace and Lorraine, with their various vicissitudes, may
profitably be studied by the curious, in this connection.
Until provincialism, of the type which has been so prominent in recent
controversies, can be eliminated or controlled, the settlement of the
more tragic issues of the time must be undertaken boldly by those who
have indubitably grown up, forsaking leading strings and the nursery,
the toys of childhood and the irresponsibility of childhood. All the
Governments of Europe, in which a few brilliant men are undoubtedly
enrolled, have failed now, as they have failed repeatedly before, to
perform their elementary duties and save their countries from the
horrors of unnecessary war. Generation after generation, the peoples
of Europe have been carefully led by their Governments into successive
orgies of slaughter, in which the allies of one campaign have been the
enemies of the next. The whole course of European history during the
last hundred years (we need not go further back: we are not
responsible for the dead centuries) has been indeed a subject for
Olympian laughter. What has been achieved by the unending succession
of wars, with all their attendant miseries and deadly consequences?
Merely the necessity for increased armaments, constant watchfulness,
perpetual strain—and more war. Could there be a clearer proof of the
futility of war?
The Governments of Europe have failed because each, in greater or less
degree, has embodied the provincialism of its own section of the armed
and suspicious world. There have been a few notable exceptions to the
general rule of conventional mediocrity: but where have we found the
statesman who could break away altogether from the old stupid methods,
and by the sheer force of character and principle inaugurate a new era
of civilized diplomacy, as Bismarck inaugurated a new era of veneered
barbarism? In America, we are beginning to see the value and the
fruits of government based on fairness to all nations and justice to
all individuals: but neither here, nor in Europe, has the significance
of the new statesmanship yet been fully recognized. Europe, indeed,
still regards us with more than a little suspicion, contempt, and
imperfectly concealed condescension: it has heard and seen Roosevelt,
unfortunately, and the lingering impressions of crudity have not been
weakened. Will it listen to us now, and realize that the New World has
in verity something to offer to the Old in its time of special
tribulation? For Wilson, not Roosevelt, stands for the spirit of
America, the voice of America, and her chosen contribution to the
civilization of the Twentieth Century.
It seems strange, perhaps, to talk of civilization in these dark days,
when primitive passions and primitive methods have flung an
ineradicable stain of blood across a whole continent. Yet only the
coward will bend to temporary defeat, or ridicule, or pessimism. It is
the task of the strong to turn disaster into triumph, and to frame a
new international polity built on sure foundations. The diplomacy
based on national antipathies must be made impossible by the new
understanding of the criminal folly of provincialism, the new
comprehension of nation by nation. For the true causes of the present
war cannot be discovered in mere incidents of July and August. They go
further back, and are rooted in ignorance, misconception, prejudice,
selfishness.
I do not wish to accuse or exonerate any of the countries that have
turned Europe into a stage for the rehearsal of Christianity’s
masterpiece, the rollicking farce _Hell on Earth_. There have
been enough already to inflame racial resentments and flood the press
with taunts and recriminations. Ours is a bigger and worthier task: to
assuage, not to incense; to re-create order from chaos; to prepare the
way for peace, and for what must follow peace.
Recrimination is so useless now. We have to face the future: we cannot
undo the past. We have learnt our lesson, surely, once for all: shall
the spectre of militarism again loom devilishly through such a
nightmare as Europe has endured for the last decade? Animosities and
jealousies may die out: France has forgotten Fashoda, England has
forgiven Russia for the blunder of the Dogger Bank. But the
expectation of war, the preparation for war, the whole habit and
incidence of militarism, must lead sooner or later to the clash. If
the guns were not ready, if the nations had to be drilled and armed
before they could be hurled at each others’ throats, there would be
time for reflection, for the subsidence of passions, for the revival
of dignity and decency. Militarism damns both the menacer and the
menaced. All the nations have suffered from that curse, Germany,
perhaps, the worst of all. The world has not yet forgotten Bismarck’s
gospel of blood and iron, so relentlessly preached and practised. The
inevitable results of the blood-and-iron doctrine, modernized as the
dogma of the “mailed fist,” can be seen to-day in the cataclysm that
has swept Europe. The pity of it, and the shame of it, that all the
skill of all the statesmen of the great Powers could produce no better
result than a continent divided into two armed camps, waiting for the
slaughter that was bound to come!
As for Russia, and the assumed Slavonic menace, one must tread
somewhat diffidently where George Bernard Shaw has rushed in with
characteristic Shavian impetuosity. The world owes to Mr. Shaw the
discovery of a new nationality—himself; and it is impossible for any
citizen of the world to ignore the obligation. But even if Russia
achieves her never-forgotten dream of Constantinople and a purified
St. Sophia, Europe and civilization will not necessarily stand aghast,
trembling at each rumor of Cossack brutalities. Tennyson, who foresaw
the aërial navies “grappling in the central blue,” indeed proclaimed,
in one of the most execrable of his sonnets, that—
“… The heart of Poland hath not ceased
To quiver, though her sacred blood doth drown
The fields, and out of every smouldering town
Cries to Thee, lest brute power be increased
Till that o’ergrown barbarian in the East
Transgress his ample bounds to some new crown:
Cries to Thee, ‘Lord, how long shall these things be,
How long this icy-hearted Muscovite
Oppress the region?’…”
(I quote from memory, deprecating caustic correction). But, in spite
of anti-Semitic atrocities (are the hands of other nations so clean
now? They were foul once), and in spite of the blunders of a rigid
bureaucracy, the Russian nation is not necessarily a menace to
civilization: it has within it the elements of a wonderful idealism,
and whether autocracy may remain, or may not remain, as the outward
and visible form of government, the spirit of democracy is leavening
the people, and “Holy Russia” has in truth already been sanctified by
the blood of her innumerable martyrs—sometimes, perhaps, misguided
and mistaken; but offering to the world an example of idealism and
self-sacrifice that should surely dispel the nightmare of Russian
brutishness.
I may record here, quite irrelevantly, my own fervent wish
(irrevocably established at the immature age of twelve years) that
Poland, with few of her limbs amputated, should be replaced upon the
map as an independent, and again powerful, nation. It was one of my
earliest dreams that I should be awakened at the dawn of a wintry day,
and urged by a delegation of Polish magnates to accept the one throne
of Europe that had been, and still should be, open to conspicuous (and
electoral) merit. That wish has not yet been gratified, and candor
compels me to attribute it to the delightful influence of the elder
Dumas, from whom I derived also my most enduring impressions of St.
Bartholomew, Catherine de Medici, Mazarin, Louis XIII, Richelieu,
Buckingham, Louis XIV, Louise de la Vallière, d’Artagnan, Athos,
Aramis, Porthos, and other immortals. India, I confess, held me
equally spellbound: for many months I hesitated between the succession
to Aurungzebe (why should I now spell the name differently?) and the
crown of Stanislaus. That hesitation has been fatal: I am still
throneless.
Others may be throneless (the Mills of God grind steadily) before
final peace comes to the different warring nations. They have sowed in
their various ways, and will reap the ripened harvests. But how long
shall the childish quarrel of country with country be permitted and
encouraged by those who should have learnt a little wisdom, in this
twentieth century of perpetual miracles? Let us have done, once for
all, with petty jealousies and absurd misunderstandings. Let us blot
out, without regret and without the least compassion, the evil records
and results of insincerity and manufactured hatred. Let us extinguish,
finally and irresuscitably, those fires of malice and flagrant
nonsense that have been fed assiduously by the fools and knaves of the
world.
Nowhere will you find a decent man, emancipated from the
leading-strings of prejudice and unafraid of the bludgeonings of
militarist authority, who does not condemn the present war, and all
wars, as useless, damnable, anachronistic and inexcusable. We have
learnt so much, in these later years; we have adventured in strange
ways, and silently borne strange reproaches. We have come very near to
God, and talked with Him by wireless, remedying the inconsistencies of
the prophets and filling in the gaps left blank by the poets. And
shall we still be bound by the gibes and gyves of the mediævalists?
The Middle Ages served their purpose: but why extend them to the
confusion of modern chronology? We have seen God, as no generation
before has seen Him. Let us then live, and not die, until the grave be
digged, and the night overshadow us at last.