my diary of May, 1894. Erlaa is the name of a castle in the vicinity of
Vienna, occupied by Duke Elimar von Oldenburg and his family. There we
were often invited to dinner. The castle is surrounded by a splendid
park, and I remember how, during that May time, the intoxicating perfume
of elder blossoms poured in at the open terrace doors, and what a sweet
tumult thousands of songsters made in the shrubbery. The duke’s
consort—she was called duchess from courtesy, but, inasmuch as she was
morganatically married, she had only the baronial title—was a striking
personage of tall, overslender, willowy figure. Being very musical, she
delighted in attracting artists into her house, and she herself, as well
as the duke, used to spend many evenings at the piano and melodeon, or
with the violin and cello. The duchess—since every one gave her that
title, I will call her so too—was not particularly well disposed to me.
I discovered that afterwards. Coming from a sternly puritanic family,
she found my free religious views rather repugnant to her. I have
letters from her in which she attempted to convert me to stricter
articles of faith; but I learned through remarks that she made to others
that she accused me of “materialism,” that my novel _Die Tiefinnersten_
had particularly displeased her, because in it—according to her idea—I
ridiculed everything ideal, profound, or sacred. Now the novel ridicules
only the stilted and mystical style of those who are always making use
of the words “profound” and “inmost,” when they cannot find anything
clear to say.
The circumstances connected with the gift mentioned in my diary were
these: in the course of a conversation at table, when the subject of
peace was mooted, the duke said to me: “I am not the first one of my
family, baroness, to be interested in your cause. My father’s brother,
Prince Peter von Oldenburg, worked in his day for the abolition of war.
Although on his mother’s side he was grandson of the Emperor Paul, and
although he held the rank of a general in the Russian infantry and was
at the head of the Stavodub regiment of dragoons, he was a militant
friend of peace. He did not regard the matter simply as an ideal and as
a dream to be realized in centuries to come, but worked strenuously to
bring it about; he traveled from court to court, laid his ideas before
the Queen of England and the King of Prussia; yet at that time, thirty
years ago, his efforts remained fruitless....”
“What!” I exclaimed; “and nobody heard anything about it!”
“My uncle kept on resolutely with his efforts,” continued the duke. “I
possess the draft of a letter addressed to Bismarck in 1873, in which he
set forth his ideas,—also without result.”
“Oh, if I might see that letter!”
“It has never been published, but you shall have a copy of it.”
With the heartiest thanks I accepted the gift. Here is the letter
written to the aged Chancellor:
Your Serene Highness:
Fearing that I may have no opportunity for a serious conversation with
you during your busy sojourn in St. Petersburg, I am bold enough to
present in writing what, by word of mouth, would probably be less
explicit and evident.
My letters to your gracious sovereign, as well as my application to M.
Thiers and the steps that I have taken in trying to induce my imperial
master to assure the peace of Europe forever, are well known to your
Highness. With the same object in view I applied to the ex-Emperor
Napoleon in the year 1863, and I have reason to believe that during
and after Sedan he must have regretted having acted in opposition to
my views and those of so many other right-thinking men.
Who knows better than your Serene Highness the situation of Europe and
Germany? Is it satisfactory or not? The answer to this question I
leave to the great statesman whose name will be immortal in the
history of the world.
Surely every right-thinking person was rejoiced at the meeting of the
three emperors in Berlin. The visit of your Emperor at St. Petersburg
strengthens the opinion that a guaranty for peace is to be found in
the friendship of two powerful imperial states existing side by side.
But how contradictory to the peace idea are the enormous military
establishments of all states! Even Russia is now introducing the
Prussian system of universal conscription, and, although the Prussians
regard this as a guaranty of peace, yet that increase of the army and
of the military budget is a heavy burden for Russia, diminishing its
resources for prosperity.
During my visit with M. Thiers in Versailles last year he said to me:
“Que voulez-vous que nous fassions? Nous sommes les faibles, les
vaincus, mais du moment qu’il y aura des propositions de désarmement
de la part des vainqueurs, nous sommes prêts à entrer en
négociations.”[6]
I reported this conversation to my emperor and wrote as follows to
yours:
“A solemnly serious, fateful moment has come. In the scales of Destiny
the mighty word of the German Emperor is of heavy weight. The history
of the world is the tribunal of the world (_Die Weltgeschichte ist das
Weltgericht_). William the Victorious is chosen by the God of battles
to bear the immortal name of the Blessed, as founder of peace.”
This historical mission he shall and must fulfill: God has aided him
to make the volcanic center of revolutions harmless for a long time to
come, and, we hope, forever. Now it must be his task to extirpate _en
principe_ the root of evil, the highest potency of sin,—war; for never
will a permanent prosperity obtain on earth as long as governments (1)
act contrary to Christianity; (2) stand in the way of true
civilization.
What, according to the notions of the law, is the essential
characteristic of the _civis_? Obedience to the laws. But war is a
disorganization of legal conditions; therefore it is the renunciation
of civilization. In the present circumstances civilization is only an
illusion, consisting purely of intelligence for material objects, such
as railways, telegraphs, and the invention of instruments of
annihilation.
After the tremendous successes of the German arms in the last war the
question arises, with whom and for what object shall any other war be
waged? Prussia’s position in Germany and vis-à-vis to Austria and
Denmark is clear; Italy united; France harmless and on good terms with
Russia,—all this is a guaranty of peace.
What problem, then, is before us now? That of combating revolutionary,
communistic, democratic ideas, that are opposed to religion, the
monarchical principle, and the social foundation of the State.[7]
Subversive ideas, however, are not overcome by bayonets, but by means
of wise ideas and regulations, which must proceed only from those who
reign by the grace of God and are chosen by Providence to establish
the happiness of nations.
The peace idea would be the very best means of meeting the French idea
of revenge. Although the French are not to be relied on as a nation, I
am persuaded that the notion of a perpetual peace would nevertheless
appear plausible to the propertied and intelligent mass of the
population, even if the government conducted by M. Thiers should be
supplanted by another; for the motto of the French is _gagner pour
jouir_, and I believe that the mass of the population would prefer
_jouissance_ rather than _gloire_.
Even in Prussia the multitudinous lawsuits against persons who try to
get rid of compulsory service show how many feel that it is a burden;
and God forbid that the alleviation should ever proceed from below
instead of from above.
The latest history of Russia is an edifying example of what the will
of a noble, humane, and magnanimous monarch can do to benefit his
people. So when two monarchs, related by race and friendship, clasp
hands, may God aid them to make their union a blessing for their
countries and for suffering mankind.
In my memorial to your emperor I said, “Only a fool or a knave can
think of a state without an armed force”; and in my letter to M.
Thiers I wrote, _abolir la force armée serait une idée criminelle et
insensée_.
One cannot express one’s self more energetically on this point. In
Prussia, to abolish a system to which it owes its historical position
would be as imbecile as for Russia to think of holding the Poles in
control and of protecting the tremendous frontier from the Black Sea
to the Pacific Ocean against savage tribes, without an army. The
question, therefore, is simply this: What numerical extension should
one give to the principle of universal compulsory service, and in what
proportion should the military budget stand to the other expenditures
of the State?
In my humble opinion it should be thus regulated:
1. _En principe_ abolish war between civilized nations and let the
governments guarantee to each other the possession of their respective
territories.
2. Settle questions at issue by an international commission of
arbitration, after the example of England and America.
3. Determine the strength of armaments (_die Stärke der bewaffneten
Macht_) by an international convention.
Even should the abolition of war be relegated by many to the domain of
fairy tales, I nevertheless have the courage to believe that therein
lies the only means of saving the Church, the monarchical principle,
and society, and of curing the State of the cancerous evil which at
the present time is preventing its perfection; and, on the other hand,
through the reduction of the war budget, of procuring for the State
the following means for its internal development and prosperity: (1)
reduction of taxes; (2) improvement in education and promotion of
science and art; (3) increase in salaries, especially of teachers and
the clergy; (4) improvement in the condition of the laboring classes;
(5) provision for beneficent objects.
The accomplishment of such lofty, purely Christian, and humane ideas,
proceeding directly from two such mighty monarchs, would be the most
glorious victory over the principle of evil; a new era of blessing
would begin; one cry of jubilation would ring through the universe and
find a response among the angels of heaven. If God is on my side, who
can be against me, and what worldly power could resist those who would
act in the name of the Lord?
This is the humble opinion of a man growing old, heavily tried by
fate, one who, not fearing the opinions of the world or its criticism,
looking to God and eternity, merely following the voice of his
conscience, seeks nothing else on this earth than a quiet grave beside
his dear ones who have gone before.
_Dixi et salvavi animam meam._
With the highest consideration, I have the honor of being
Your Serene Highness’s most devoted servant
Peter, Prinz von Oldenburg
St. Petersburg, April 15 (27), 1873
What answer Bismarck gave, or whether he replied at all, Duke Elimar did
not know.
There is surely nothing more interesting than such old authentic
letters. They show how ideas later become facts, and how events which
afterwards develop were, long before, thoughts in men’s minds. Here I
find also among my correspondence the following letter from Björnson. In
view of the disunion of the Scandinavian countries, which eventuated ten
years later, it assumes a quite especial significance:
Schwaz, Tirol, July 20, 1894
My dear Comrade:
—But be consoled; when Norway becomes mistress of her external affairs
(this is the object of the struggle) we shall go immediately to Russia
and demand a permanent court of arbitration for all disagreements. If
that succeeds,—and why should it not?—we will proceed to all other
matters. As soon as our relationship to Sweden permits of it, we shall
transform our army into an internal police force.
One example is stronger than a thousand apostles! The great majority
of the Norwegians have wholly lost belief in the beneficence of
armaments and are ready to set the example.
At the same time Sweden is arming on a scale quite extraordinary for a
people not rich. The general feeling in Sweden—so I am told—threatens
Norway with war, merely because Norway desires to have charge of its
own affairs.
Sweden might educate us by means of war to be good comrades in arms!
It would be the first time in history that the two great opposites had
stood in such blunt opposition,—on the one side a permanent court of
arbitration for all eventual quarrels, and no army any more; on the
other side, war to compel us to keep a larger army and to enter a
firmer military alliance.
But I trust that the struggle will end peaceably; I trust that the
general feeling in Norway in favor of the principle of “arbitration
instead of war” is also making progress in Sweden. In fact, already
the spirit of freedom in Norway—to the great annoyance of the highly
conservative court of the Swedish nobility and other great lords who
are powerful there—has spread widely in Sweden.
Accept my heartiest congratulations and gratitude, my dear Baroness;
were it not so far, I would come and make you a visit!
Your most devoted
Björnstjerne Björnson
XLV
PEACE CONGRESS IN ANTWERP AND INTERPARLIAMENTARY CONFERENCE AT THE HAGUE
Preparation for the Congress by the Belgian government · Houzeau de
Lehaye · A reminiscence of the battlefield of Sedan · Concerning free
trade · Audience with King Leopold · Invitation to the
Interparliamentary Conference · Reception the evening before · Pithy
sentences from Rahusen’s address · Opening · “No other cause in the
whole world....” · Second day of deliberation · Stanhope · Gladstone’s
proposal · Debate over the tribunal plan · Dr. Hirsch puts on the brake
· Rejoinder by Frédéric Passy and Houzeau · Randal Cremer · Concluding
festivities in Scheveningen
My memory retains as the most important events of the year 1894 our
participation in the Sixth Peace Congress at Antwerp and in the
Interparliamentary Conference which followed immediately at The Hague.
Another festal journey into unfamiliar countries, and another stage of
progress in the triumphant march of an Idea!
Before the assembling of the Congress the Belgian Minister of State, Le
Bruyn, laid before King Leopold a report setting forth the remarkable
growth of the movement and adducing as a proof of it the fact that in
countries like Austria and Germany, which hitherto had held aloof from
the cause, great peace societies had sprung into existence and found
fruitful soil. The king’s reply to this report was the establishment of
a committee whose duty it should be to forward the labors of the Peace
Congress that was to meet at Antwerp. The committee, composed of thirty
members, included the most distinguished names in Belgium, in large part
officials connected with the government.
The opening session took place on the twentieth of August, in the great
hall of the Athenæum. We had arrived the day before, and had looked
about a little in the commercial metropolis of Belgium, and had spent
the evening in pleasant intercourse with several of our friends who had
journeyed thither from all parts of the world.
Our new president, Houzeau de Lehaye, was in the number,—a lively little
man, full of wit and possessing the gift of fascinating eloquence. As
chairman he conducted the proceedings with tact and firmness, and
whenever in succeeding Congresses he took part in the debates, as he was
particularly apt to do if any obstacles had to be avoided, one could
always depend on his tact.
“Twenty-four years ago,” Houzeau told us that first day, “I visited the
battlefield of Sedan. I have the impression of it still before me,—those
corpses, those temporary graves, those flocks of ravens, the troops of
maddened horses tearing over the plain, the wounded and dying lying in
their gore, the teeth clinched in the agony of tetanus, the columns of
prisoners of war, the heaps of discarded weapons, and in the midst of a
grass plat the brass instruments of a military band surprised by the
enemy in the climax of the saber song from ‘The Grand Duchess of
Gerolstein.’ And I saw white sheets of letter paper, covered with the
simple messages of love of mothers and sweethearts, flying round in the
autumn wind until they fell into lakes of blood; and the horrible vision
of countless bones and bleeding flesh all trodden down into the mire....
The peasants had fled from their villages across the neighboring
boundary, and were then returning slowly to find misery and ruin, to
which they would later have to succumb; and this,” he added, as he
concluded his reminiscences with restrained passion, “is this to be the
sum of civilization?”
Houzeau de Lehaye is a decided advocate of free trade. In his opening
address, in which he depicted the errors and prejudices lying at the
foundation of any defense of the institution of war, he said:
There is still another error which does not indeed involve a brutal
battle of saber and cannon, but nevertheless is not much less
calamitous. In spite of all the counter-evidence of the political
economists, in spite of repeated results based on experience, yet how
widespread is the prejudice that a nation becomes poor when the
prosperity of neighboring peoples makes too rapid advances. And in
order to preserve an imaginary equilibrium they hasten to have
recourse to a protective tariff. And this war of the tariffs is not
less destructive than the other. By a righteous retribution this
weapon chiefly wounds those that wield it. And all these errors have
their foundation in the false notion of the source of wealth and
prosperity. It is worth while to note that there is only one
source,—labor!
One would think that such simple truths would not require to be stated
at this late day, for it is clear enough that wealth can be increased
only from the creation of material things and not through mere change of
place,—from Peter’s pocket into Paul’s; a transaction which, in
addition, often means the destruction of the values shuffled this way
and that. But the simpler, the more self-evident a truth is, the more it
is wrapped up in the veils and fogs of old prejudices and current
phraseology, and therefore it does much good to hear it once again
spoken out so frankly and clearly.
This time there was a Portuguese at the Congress,—Magelhaes Lima, the
publisher of the radical-liberal newspaper _O Seculo_. From America came
Dr. Trueblood, who has never missed any of the European Peace
Congresses.
I remember a lovely trip on the Schelde in a steamship put at our
service by the government. Then a trip was made to Brussels between two
sessions. A deputation of five members of the Congress, conducted by
Houzeau, was received in audience by King Leopold. Frédéric Passy, Count
Bothmer from Wiesbaden, my husband, and I made up the deputation. We
drove from the railway station to the palace. In the audience chamber
the king came to meet us,—recognizable instantly even at a distance by
his long, square white beard,—and Houzeau presented the rest of us. I no
longer recollect anything that was said; probably it was of small
consequence. I only know that the king seemed to be on very jovial terms
with Houzeau de Lehaye, for he slapped him several times laughingly on
the shoulder. I remember one sentence that King Leopold said to us:
“The sovereign of a perpetually neutral state, like Belgium, must
naturally feel interested in the question of international pacification.
But of course,” he added,—and thereby all that he had said before was
“of course” taken back,—“to protect this neutrality we must be armed.”
“What we are working for in our circles, your Majesty,” one of us
replied, “is that the security of treaties should rest on law and honor
and not on the power of arms.”
Houzeau did not wait to be dismissed, but himself gave the signal for
departure. “The train does not wait—it knows no etiquette,” said he.
There was another little _tape d’amitié_ on our president’s shoulder:
“You care mighty little for etiquette yourself, my dear Houzeau....”
Immediately after the Antwerp Congress the Interparliamentary Conference
was opened. This year, having been invited by the Netherlands
government, it met at The Hague. As we were not Parliamentarians we had
no title to be present, but Minister van Houzeau had sent me the
following letter under date of May 23:
Dear Baroness:
On account of my appointment as Minister I have left the committee on
organization of the Interparliamentary Conference; yet I hope, as
representative of the government, to give to the Conference the
address of welcome in September. The limited space in the hall where
the meetings are to be held will permit only a small number of guests
and representatives of the press to be present; nevertheless the
committee will doubtless assure so prominent an advocate of the peace
cause a place among the very first. It will delight me to greet you as
well as your husband here in September, and also our friend Pirquet
and, if possible, others from your country.
Our hospitable city, with its splendid beach, will permit visitors to
combine the useful with the agreeable; and the assured visit of many
prominent men will, it is to be hoped, permit the Conference, in which
the presidents of both our chambers will take part, to accomplish
something beneficial in regard to the practical promotion of
international arbitration.
With friendly greeting, your devoted
S. van Houzeau
Thus the opportunity was afforded us of being present during the notable
debates of that national representative Conference which was the
precursor—and, one may say the cause—of the later Conference of nations
at The Hague.
On the day of the opening session, the third of September, there was a
reception in the rotunda of the Zoölogical Garden. Here the participants
and the guests met together. The president of the Conference, Rahusen,
made an address to the foreign Parliamentarians, from which I took down
in my notebook the following sentences:
If we pass beyond the boundaries of our country, do we imagine
ourselves in a hostile land? Have you had any such experience in
coming here? I believe that I am justified in saying No.
... It is a phenomenon of our time that we find a solidarity among the
nations such as did not formerly exist.
... I know well that there are still men who ridicule such ideas;
meantime let us rejoice that no one condemns them.
... The morning glow of international righteousness indicates the
setting of the old war sun. If the last rays of this sun—which,
decrepit with age, has already lost its blaze and its warmth—shall
once be wholly extinguished,[8] then we, or those who come after us,
shall be filled with jubilant joy, and shall be astonished that the
civilized world could ever have called in brute force as an arbiter
between nations no longer inimical to each other but bound together by
so many common interests.
After this official part of the evening the company sauntered out into
the open air, where the friends, some promenading, some taking places at
tables about the rotunda, met and remained chatting till midnight.
At ten o’clock the next morning the formal opening took place in the
assembly hall of the First Chamber of the States-General, a hall not
very large but as high as a house and having its ceiling decorated with
splendid paintings. I had a place in the gallery and enjoyed the
magnificent spectacle, as the representatives of fourteen different
parliaments took their seats one after another at the green-covered
tables, while the members of the government who were to greet the
Conference took places on the president’s dais. Minister van Houten, of
the Interior Department, made the first address:
“No other cause in the whole world,” said he, “equals in magnitude that
which is to be advocated here.”
I must delay a moment over this statement. It expresses what at that
time formed (and forms equally to-day) the substratum of my feelings,
thoughts, and endeavors, and likewise explains why in this second
portion of my memoirs the phases of the peace movement take up so much
space.
“No other cause in the whole world equals this in magnitude,”—I am not
expressing a personal opinion, I am quoting; this is a conviction so
deeply and religiously instilled into my mind (this is usually called a
vocation!) that I cannot confess it often and loudly enough. Even if I
knew that nine tenths of the cultured world still disregarded and
ignored the movement, and one of these nine tenths went so far as to be
hostile to it,—that is of no consequence; I appeal to the future. The
twentieth century will not end without having seen human society shake
off, as a legal institution, the greatest of all scourges,—war.
In writing my diary I am accustomed, when I am making note of situations
which are threatening or promising, to mark them with an asterisk, then
to turn over twenty or thirty blank pages and write, “Well, how has it
resulted? See p. —.” Then when, in the course of my entries, I come
quite unexpectedly on this question, I can answer it. And so here I ask
some much, much later reader, who perchance has fished this book out
from some second-hand dealer’s dust-covered bookshelf, “Well, how has it
resulted? Was I right?” Then he may write on the margin the answer,—I
see the gloss already before me,—“Yes, thank God!” (19??).