That time, as we now know, never came, but a still more fatal time did
come--the cruel, ironical, and sinister time of July 28, 1914, when one
of the oldest, feeblest, and least capable of living men, the Emperor
of Austria, under the pretence of avenging the death of the
heir-presumptive to his throne, signed with his trembling hand, which
could scarcely hold the pen, the first of his many proclamations of
war, and so touched the button of the monstrous engine that set Europe
aflame.
The Archduke Ferdinand was foully done to death in discharging a
patriotic duty, but to think that the penalty imposed on the world for
the assassination of a man of his calibre and capacity for usefulness
(or yet for the violation of the principles of public safety,
thereby involved) has been the murdering of millions of men of many
nationalities, the destruction of an entire kingdom, the burning of
historic cities, the impoverishment of the rich and the starvation of
the poor, the outraging of women and the slaughter of children, is also
to think that for the past 365 days the destinies of humanity have
been controlled by demons, who must be shrieking with laughter at the
stupidities of mankind.
Thank God, we are not required to think anything quite so foolish,
although we can not escape from a conclusion almost equally degrading.
Victor Hugo used to say that only kings desired war, and that with the
celebration of the United States of Europe we should see the beginning
of the golden age of Peace. But the events of the tremendous days from
July 28 to August 4,1914, show us with humiliating distinctness that
though Kaisers, Emperors, Crown Princes, and Archdukes may be the
accidental instruments of invisible powers in plunging humanity into
seas of blood, a war is no sooner declared by any of them, however
feeble or fatuous, than all the nations concerned make it their own.
That was what happened in Central Europe the moment Austria declared
war on Serbia, and the history of man on this planet has no record of
anything more pitiful than the spectacle of Germany--“sincere, calm,
deep-thinking Germany,” as Carlyle called her, whose triumph in 1870 was
“the hopefullest fact” of his time--stifling her conscience in order to
justify her participation in the conflict.
“GOOD GOD, MAN, DO YOU MEAN TO SAY...”
“We have tried in vain to localize the just vengeance of our Austrian
neighbour for an abominable royal murder,” said the Germans, knowing
well that the royal murder was nothing but a shameless pretext for an
opportunity to test their strength against the French, and give law to
the rest of Europe.
“Let us pass over your territory in order to attack our enemy in the
West, and we promise to respect your independence and to recompense you
for any loss you may possibly sustain,” said Germany to Belgium, without
a thought of the monstrous crime of treachery which she was asking
Belgium to commit against France.
“Stand aside in a benevolent neutrality, and we undertake not to take
any of the possessions of France in Europe,” said Germany to Great
Britain, without allowing herself to be troubled by so much as a
qualm about the iniquity of asking us to trade with her in the French
colonies. And when we rejected Germany’s infamous proposals, and called
on her to say if she meant to respect the independence of Belgium, whose
integrity we had mutually pledged ourselves to protect, her Chancellor
stamped and fumed at our representative, and said, “Good God, man, do
you mean to say that your country will go to war for a scrap of paper?”