the leaves of my diary to refresh my memory, I discover that I was not
interested in incidents of my own life, but rather in the events of
contemporary history, and especially in such political phenomena as
appertained to questions of peace and war. Among the complicated doings
of the world, the features which I followed—and still continue to
follow—with passionate interest were the phases of a battle,—the battle
which a new idea, a young movement, had begun to wage with deep-rooted
existing phenomena. After the manifestations and impressions produced by
the powerful “Old,” I listened toward the future and followed with the
keenest attention and hopefulness the growth of the as yet invisible and
feeble “New,” whereof the great mass of people still had no knowledge. I
saw clearly that the tiny plant had started to grow, but I was also well
aware how stony the soil was, how harsh were the winds that opposed the
development of its life.
How different are the contents of my diary and the pictures in my memory
now from those of my youth! Then the center was my own person and all
that concerned it,—plans for an artistic career and for marriage,
worldly pleasures, domestic cares, and such a lack of understanding and
of interest in the events of the day that I scarcely knew what was going
on; and a contemporaneous war was noted only after it had broken out,
and was disposed of with a line in my day’s records. But since I had
become engrossed in the peace question my soul had become a kind of
seismograph, which was affected by the slightest political shocks.
Here are a few extracts from my diary of the year 1893:
January 18. Caprivi’s speech in support of the military bill was pure
_fanfare_. It almost signalized the advance of the hostile troops
through the Brandenburg Gate, and once more brought into circulation the
word “offensive,” which had in a large measure gone out of fashion; for
in the last twenty years pleas for armaments have been made only in the
name of defense. The Danish Peace Society entered a protest against the
insinuation in the Chancellor’s speech in regard to the probable
attitude in the next war. As if, indeed, the next war were thus to be
announced! We talk about the horrors of _a_ possible war of the future
in Europe, but the definite article we do not like to use,—we do not
speak of “the next _auto-da-fé_.”
March 1. The question of peace and arbitration came up yesterday for
open debate in the German Reichstag. Bebel inquires whether the
authorities are going to join with England and the United States in
their endeavors to bring about a solution of international differences
by a court of arbitration. Secretary of State von Marschall replies that
the United States had, in their brief communication, made no tender in
this direction. Nature makes no leaps; still less does official
politics. The question came to debate without result, but it was not
pushed aside with a smile.
March 20. A man named Dowe is said to have invented a bullet-proof
cloth. If the contest between resistance and penetration, as it is
carried on between torpedo and armor plate at sea, is to involve the
land forces also, there will probably ensue the accelerated ruin of
the nations and a _reductio ad absurdum_ of all warfare. Just imagine!
a new military bill for providing the millions of the army with
bullet-proof wadding,—this voted and furnished at the same time in all
countries; and this, if war should break out at this stage of the
game, would afford a lovely campaign of unwoundable opponents! Then
there would have to be a hasty majority demand for new offensive
weapons with bullet-proof-wadding-pierceable bombshells (fired,
wherever possible, from mines and balloons, from the frog’s- and
bird’s-eye view), then the introduction of armored umbrellas and
mine-proof overshoes,—and all this for “the maintenance of Peace.”...
April 4. To-day the arbitrators meet in the building of the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs in Paris, to settle the Bering question. Such an event
ought to give the editorial writers of the whole world subject matter
for extended observations, and ought to be accompanied by magnificent
pageantry.
April 10. Our papers have published the news of the Bering arbitration
without comment. On the other hand, the _Westminster Gazette_ writes:
“If the intrinsic importance of events and the outward demonstrations
were in proportion, the report of the Bering arbitration would ring
throughout the world to-day.” And the _Daily Telegraph_: “The Bering
arbitration, as well as that on the _Alabama_ question, affords mankind
to-day a majestic spectacle.” An estimate of the importance of the
event—typical of the daily press—is afforded by the Paris _Figaro_,
which adds the observation that the seal question, if it is decided by
the arbitration commission in a humanitarian manner, will involve a rise
in the price of sealskins and persuade our fine ladies to have
economical recourse to rabbit skins!
September 8. King Alexander addressed his Servians on his _seventeenth_
birthday; “Heroes! For ten years I have belonged to the army, and as
your general in chief (_oberster Kriegsherr_) I will live for the glory
of the Servian arms!” Ah, how delightful to be still a child....
This entry of my diary makes me especially meditative when I compare it
with later events,—the slaughter of the king in the year 1903 by Servian
“heroes” with Servian weapons.
Beginning of November. Terrible dynamite tragedies have taken place in
Spain. Bombs hurled in the auditorium of the Barcelona theater,
spreading death and terror (the coming revolution, if righteous social
reforms do not obviate it, will be unthinkably terrible through its
explosive weapons); and the catastrophe of Santander,—a harbor, a whole
harbor, in bright flames; ships blown up, thousands of human beings on
the ground, heaps of corpses, a whole railway train shattered, houses
transformed into piles of rubbish; the air rendered pestilential by the
smell of burning powder and petroleum mills; chimneys flying through
space; anchors flung from the bottom of the sea, three hundred meters
into the air; the sea beaten and roaring, not by a storm but by the
explosion of twenty-five cases of dynamite,—all this gives a foretaste
of the deliberate, not accidental, episodes of future naval battles, in
which the explosion of mines and the like is already provided for. With
the era of explosives and electricity an annihilating power is put into
men’s hands which demands that henceforth humanity come to the truth.
The beast and the devil, the savage and the child,—all these must be
overcome in the human race, if, with such means at hand, they are not to
turn the earth into a hell, a madhouse, or a desert waste.
An event of the year 1893 which aroused my liveliest interest was the
visit of the Russian fleet to Toulon and the fraternal festivities that
were associated with it. I followed with close attention the twofold
effect produced by this incident. It gave rise to chauvinistic passions
and at the same time to “pacifistic” sentiments. Demonstrations in the
one or the other direction took place alternately or broke out
simultaneously. On the one hand the _Dreibund_, or Triple Alliance, on
the other the _Zweibund_, or Double Alliance, were celebrated as
guaranties of peace or as organizations for offensive enterprises;
between the two lay the conception that they signified the established
equipoise.
The official Russian utterances were unwearied in declaring that the
visit of the fleet to Toulon was a peaceful demonstration, and in
reiterating that absolutely nothing of an aggressive or provocative
character could be related to the festivities in France. The French
journals were constrained to print these assurances and the _Figaro_
hastened to add: “Of course! _Une manifestation essentiellement et
exclusivement pacifique_”; besides, the French press, and especially the
_Figaro_, would never in the world have upheld any other manifestation!
But a few days later the same _Figaro_ proposed that during the Russian
festivities “Les Danicheffs” should be performed in the Odéon Theater,
“in which piece one passage would be certain to elicit storms of
applause,—‘As long as there are Russians and Frenchmen and wild beasts,
the Russians and French will stand in alliance against those wild
beasts’”!
The whole tone of a large part of the Parisian press during the period
preceding the festivities was calculated to exacerbate hatred of
Germany. After a time, however, the festivities took the form of peace
assurances, and the gala performances in honor of the Russian guests
ended with an apotheosis representing peace.
At that time I received the following letter from Senator Marcoartu:
Madrid (Senate), November 13, 1893
Dear Madam:
While in Paris I witnessed the Franco-Russian demonstrations in favor
of peace. This once more awoke in me the idea which I promulgated in
1876 in my English work, “Internationalism” (or the ten years’ truce
of God). Herewith I send you the letter that I wrote to Jules Simon.
It seems to me that the friends of peace, instead of falling asleep
under the tent of arbitration, should now start an agitation in behalf
of a ten years’ truce. The thing would be feasible and salutary.
Another question of present moment to which I should like to call
public attention is the neutralization of straits, isthmuses, and the
like. On this point read the bulletin of the _Société d’économie
politique_, Paris, 1892, p. 88, and in _Le Matin_ of October 29, 1893,
the interview which an editor of that paper had with me during the
Franco-Russian festivities.
In cordial friendship, your very devoted
Marcoartu
Here is the letter to Jules Simon:
Paris, October 29, 1893
Dear Sir:
The congratulatory telegram from his Majesty the Emperor of Russia to
the President of the French Republic, in which he declares his desire
to coöperate in the confirmation of universal peace, has made such a
vivid impression on me that I am addressing you with the following
question:
Do you not believe that, in view of Gladstone’s speech in the English
House of Commons, on the 16th of June, in which he urges the
establishment of a permanent international court of arbitration, and
in view of the Emperor’s telegram from Gatchina, the moment has now
arrived for a sincere and honorable peace agreement for the whole
civilized world? Since a very strong compact between the great empire
of the North and the great French Republic for the establishment of
universal peace exists; since, further, as you told me, the Emperor of
powerful Germany has been outspoken in favor of peace; since the
sovereigns and public opinion of Austria and Italy favor peace; since
England has no thought of other than commercial conquests; since the
whole world is sensible of the necessity of stable peace in order to
diminish the colossal burdens which the present war footing, even in
time of peace, entails upon the nations; would it not be possible to
bring about a sort of truce of God, to last until after the World’s
Exposition at Paris in 1900, which is going to demonstrate by its
splendor the progress in civilization made by the nineteenth century?
An international agreement would have to bind nations to refrain from
every hostile action during those ten years. Every question of war
would be postponed; an Areopagus would have to settle all differences
not determined diplomatically.
During this new peace era governments would be occupied in developing
the resources of their countries, improving the condition of public
health, furthering education and works of general utility, settling
economic, social, and financial questions, or at least studying how
finally to civilize countries still backward, so that by the year 1900
all nations would have the opportunity to show how far they had
progressed intellectually and materially, and by how much human
prosperity had been increased.
We have lived through twenty years of peace in constant dread of war;
now let an attempt be made for once to bring about a ten years’ peace,
free from the care and cost of war.[4] Many years ago I wrote:
“In the first third of the century Steam said to the earth, ‘There are
no mountains any more’; and the rails have made smooth the surface of
the planet.
“In the second third of the century Electricity spoke to the waters:
‘There is no ocean any more’; and the thought-bearing wires encircle
the globe.
“To-day I hope and beseech God that in the last third of the century
Reason may say to men, ‘There is no war any more.’”[5]
Accept, dear sir, my, etc.
Arturo de Marcoartu
Apropos of the Franco-Russian festivities the Paris _Figaro_ published
an inquiry as to what gift should be sent to the Empress of Russia as a
memento of the Toulon days. I sent in an answer to the question.
Together with many other suggestions, the paper (under date of October
7) printed mine, introducing it with the following words:
We award the prize to the jewel proposed by Baroness Berthe de
Suttner,—an olive branch in diamonds, the significance of which she
thus explains:
“Pacific demonstration,—such is the character which the Russian
government has declared its wish to give to the visit of its squadron
to France; therefore the jewel offered to the Tsaritsa to commemorate
this event should be an emblem of peace.
“And precisely because the ultra patriots (_les chauvins_) of all
countries will take advantage of the Franco-Russian festivities to
attribute to them or see in them a defiant and threatening character,
the partisans of peace must take this occasion to emphasize the
opposite tendency.
“At the bar of history a peculiar situation will be presented by this
year 1893: two groups of allied powers, believing themselves
reciprocally threatened, having exhausted all their forces of
sacrifice and devotion in preparing an efficacious defense, declare
loudly, in the face of Europe, that their dearest desire, their most
sacred mission, is to spare our continent the unimaginable horror of a
future conflagration. Both of them, while making this solemn
proclamation of pacific intentions, are at the same time exhibiting
their formidable military forces, their keen swords, their invincible
armor. Both sides have demonstrated that their alliances and their
friendships are assured, that they are ready to fulfill all their
obligations and kindle with every enthusiasm. Thus they find
themselves face to face, equal in power, equal in dignity, and—with
the exception of a few divergent secondary interests—desirous of the
same thing,—peace.
“Unless one or both lie—and what right would one have to make such an
accusation?—this situation can have logically no other end than a
definitive pacification; consequently overtures might be made from one
side or the other, or simultaneously, without the slightest imputation
of weakness or of fear.
“Peace offered by the stronger may be humiliating for the weaker; and
hitherto, in fact, treaties of peace have been signed only after a war
and under the dictation of the conqueror. But in the present
conditions, the element of the ‘weaker party’ having disappeared, a
new element might make its advent into the history of social
evolution, namely, the treaty of peace before—that is to say, in place
of—war; in other words, the end of the barbarous age.
“If the days which are in preparation are called to facilitate the
greatest triumph which the genius of humanity will have ever won, the
jewel which shall commemorate them will be the most beautiful
adornment which ever a queen wore. The olive branch inaugurated by the
Tsaritsa might in future fêtes be adopted by the wives of all monarchs
or presidents who were gathered together; and as the emblem need not
invariably be in diamonds, the women of the people might likewise
adorn themselves with it, for only the festivals of peace can be at
the same time festivals of liberty.”
Here also let one bit of French correspondence be added from the year
1893. In connection with the annual meeting of my Union I desired to get
from Émile Zola an expression of his sympathy, and I asked him for it.
Here is his reply:
Paris, December 1, 1893
Madame:
Alas! I dream, as do all of you, of disarmament, of universal peace.
But, I confess, I fear that it is simply a dream; for I see in all
directions threats of war arising, and, unfortunately, I do not
believe that the effort of reason and of pity, which humanity ought to
make toward exchanging the great fraternal embrace within a brief time
(_pour échanger à bref délai le grand baiser fraternel_), is within
the range of possibility.
What I can promise you is to work in my little corner (_mon petit
coin_), with all my powers and with all my heart for the
reconciliation of the nations.
Accept, madame, etc.,
Émile Zola
I did not want to leave this letter unanswered. I wrote back:
Château de Harmannsdorf, December 13, 1893
Master:
Accept my sincerest thanks; your letter, containing the precious
promise that you will work with all your heart for the reconciliation
of the nations, has aroused the enthusiasm of our general assembly.
The fraternal embrace? Universal love?... You are right; humanity has
not as yet got to that point. But it does not require mutual love
(_tendresse mutuelle_) to give up killing one another. What exists
to-day, and what the peace leagues are combating, is the system of a
destructive, organized, legitimized hatred, such as does not in the
last analysis exist any longer in human hearts.
There has been talk of late of an international conference, having in
view a coalition against the danger of anarchy. Never will the
foolishness of the present situation have been more glaring than when
these representatives of states which are living together in absolute
anarchy—since they acknowledge no superior power—shall deliberate
around the same table on methods of protecting themselves against five
or six criminal bombs, while at the same time they will go on
threatening one another with a hundred thousand legal bombs!
Perhaps the idea might occur to them of saying: To unite in face of a
common enemy, we must be reconciled; to defend civilization against
barbarism, let us begin by being civilized ourselves; if we desire to
protect society from the danger which the action of a madman may
inflict upon it, let us, first of all, do away with the thousandfold
more terrible danger which the frown of one of the mighty of the earth
would be sufficient to let loose upon it; if we wish to punish the
lawless, let us recognize a law above ourselves; if we wish to parry
the blows of the desperate, let us cease to spend billions in
fomenting despair.
But in order that the official delegates may use this reasonable
language, they must have back of them the universal acclaim (_la
clameur universelle_) to encourage them, or, better still, to compel
them to do so.
The evolution of humanity is not a dream, it is a fact scientifically
proved. Its end cannot be the premature destruction toward which it is
being precipitated by the present system; its end must be the reign of
law in control of force. Arms and ferocity develop in inverse
ratio,—the tooth, the big stick, the sword, the musket, the explosive
bomb, the electric war engine; and, on the other side, the wild beast,
the savage, the warrior, the old soldier, the fighter of to-day
(so-called safeguard of peace), the humane man of the future, who, in
possession of a power of boundless destructiveness, will refuse to use
it.
Whether this future be near or far depends on the work done in _les
petits coins_. Allow me, then, monsieur, not to share in your _hélas!_
but to congratulate myself in the name of all the peace workers to
whom you have promised your powerful aid,—a promise which I note with
a feeling of deep gratitude.
Accept my, etc.,
Berthe de Suttner
XLIV
VARIOUS INTERESTING LETTERS
Increase of correspondence · Countess Hedwig Pötting · Gift from Duke
von Oldenburg · Schloss Erlaa · The duke’s consort · Peace efforts of
Prince Peter von Oldenburg thirty years ago · Letter from this prince to
Bismarck · Letter from Björnstjerne Björnson
My public activity brought numberless voices from all parts of the world
into my house. Signed or anonymous letters; letters from my own country;
letters from other parts of Europe and from beyond the sea; letters with
explosions of admiration or of coarseness; letters requesting
information or making all sorts of propositions for the surest and
speediest attainment of our object,—a farmer proposed a special manure
system, which, through the creation of good harvests and the consequent
enrichment of the people, would unquestionably lead to national peace;
manuscripts of from ten to a hundred pages, containing treatises on the
problem of war; offers of lifelong zeal in the service of the cause, if
only the person might be assured a satisfactory sum in compensation for
giving up his profession,—all this sort of thing came to me by mail in
ever-increasing proportions.
Of course it was not possible for me to answer them all, and this the
more because I had not ceased to carry on my literary labors; at that
time I was writing my novel _Die Tiefinnersten_, and My Own, who
assisted me as much as he could in my correspondence and in editing the
review, was working at a second sequel to his _Kinder des Kaukasus_.
Many of the letters were really so interesting that they could not be
left unanswered. One day, after the evening meeting of the Peace
Society, which had been held under my chairmanship, I got such a
beautiful letter, glowing with such genuine enthusiasm, that the
desire awoke in me to become acquainted with the writer. The signature
was that of one of my own rank, also a canoness, and this very
circumstance astonished me. It is not consonant with the nature of the
aristocratic women of Austria, particularly of the elder canonesses
(_Chorschwestern_) of the nunneries, to be enthusiastic in behalf of
politically revolutionary ideas, and to give spontaneous and frank
utterance to such enthusiasm. So I answered the letter by going myself
to the writer’s residence, and, as I did not find her at home, I left
my card with a few hearty words on it.
The following day she hastened to me, and as a result we formed a
cordial friendship. To-day I have no dearer friend than the Countess
Hedwig Pötting, and Hedwig has no truer friend than I. We absolutely
understood each other. And an equally profound mutual understanding
arose between her and my husband. Her views so absolutely coincided with
his, that they came to the conclusion they must have been brother and
sister in some previous incarnation, and they called each other
_Siriusbruder_ and _Siriusschwester_.
Intimate friendship rarely exists without nicknames, and so I used to be
called, not only by Hedwig but also by My Own, not Bertha but _Löwos_,
and I used to call Hedwig _die Hex_ (the witch). That does not sound
very friendly, but as it was the pet name which her own idolized
mother—a splendid old lady of clear and open mind—called her by, I also
adopted it. Die Hex helped me faithfully in my life work; she became one
of the officers of the Union; she adapted my novel, _Die Waffen nieder_,
for young people under the title _Marthas Tagebuch_ (“Martha’s Diary”);
she gave me much useful counsel; and in many trying hours was a support
and comfort to me.