which I consider as the private diary of an apostle of peace, and
which we shall preserve with particular care because there will be
found in them, in time to come, precious information. Many of our
friends to whom I have communicated your impressions have got from
reading them a confidence and a courage which they to some degree
lacked. Continue, I beg of you, to keep me informed in this way.
The editing of the bimonthly correspondence will naturally demand the
greatest prudence, and I shall find it difficult to make selections
from the reports of the press; your _renseignements intimes_ will help
me out of this difficult pass.
You cannot believe how many inquiries for information I receive to
which I am obliged to reply immediately, carefully guarding my
replies. It is a good sign, for it means that everywhere people are
beginning to interest themselves in the questions that figure in the
programme of The Hague; but the bad side of the medal is that, as I am
obliged to remain at my post, ready at any given moment to radiate
from the center to the extremities whatever it may become necessary to
communicate to the groups of peace at a given moment, I cannot bring
to you at The Hague the support of my presence and my efforts. Each to
his place! You fit admirably in yours, and that is the main thing.
_Bon courage!_
Every good wish to M. de Suttner, I beg of you, and to the other
devoted peace workers who may inquire for me occasionally.
Your devoted and affectionate colleague
Élie Ducommun
The founder of the Red Cross, Henri Dunant, gave me the following
directions for the way we are traveling. Proof is shown therein that
Henri Dunant desired from the Conference not the promotion of the work
which he had established, but rather the establishment of a great new
work, international justice. No longer was “Red Cross” his rallying cry,
but “White Banners.”
May 16, 1899
My dear Baroness:
Permit me, madam, to insist very strongly on what I consider a capital
point, namely, the extreme importance of seeing the Congress pass an
official, diplomatic resolution on the subject of a _Permanent
Diplomatic Commission on Mediation_. In my letter of the twelfth I
called it a “Permanent Bureau on Mediation”; now the word “Commission”
is more suitable, and, too, it must not be confounded with the
permanent International Bureau of Peace at Bern, which is a voluntary
work and has no diplomatic mission—that is to say, in the eyes of
diplomacy it does not count.
All our efforts ought to be concentrated on this special point,
without concerning ourselves with the rest. And for this, personal
dealings on your part with the delegates are necessary. But in my
opinion it is important to go no farther. Let them discuss the first
seven articles of the official Russian programme as much as they
please, and let us not meddle with it; do not dispute with them on
this subject, for it would weaken the authority of your words. But, as
to Article 8 of the said programme, stand firm on the necessity, the
urgency, the opportuneness, and even the courtesy toward his Majesty
the Tsar, of a formal diplomatic decision of the Hague Conference, in
a “resolution” to be made obligatory by the subsequent official
ratification of all civilized governments. Hint to the delegates that
it would be desirable that this resolution relative to Article 8
should be distinct from all the others relative to the first seven
articles.
Whatever be the instructions of their respective governments, the
delegates can always telegraph or write their governments on this
special point, either before or at the moment of the discussion of
Article 8, to ask for special instructions relative to it. This was
done during the Geneva Congress of 1864, and many governments wired
their delegates authorization to sign the protocol of the convention.
With much more reason they could authorize the signature of a “special
resolution relative to Article 8.”
To attain these ends, it is important to talk the delegates over, to
win them one by one, to astonish them by the moderation of our desires
and the definiteness of what we wish. You alone, madam, are capable of
doing this. The opportunity is unique; but let us keep within bounds.
If this resolution is passed, everything is won. The future will
develop all that we can desire; but let us not lose ourselves in
details.
I was at Brussels in 1874, when Prince Gortchakoff cheated me out of
my congress in favor of prisoners of war (under preparation for two
years) by supplanting it with a congress on the “usages of war,”
swallowing up the prisoners and even the Geneva Convention! I suffered
terribly at that time, for there was no result, and here for
twenty-five years those deliberations taken in secret congress have
remained a dead letter!
You know that Article 8 runs thus:
The acceptance, in principle, of the use of good offices, mediation,
and voluntary arbitration, in cases adapted to such means, with the
object of preventing armed conflicts between nations; an agreement as
to the mode of applying these means; and the adoption of a uniform
practice in using them.
I am, my dear Baroness, most respectfully yours
H. Dunant
P.S. At some moment during the Congress—which will last a long
time—could you not see the young Queen in order to explain all this to
her?
1. Article 8 must be made the subject of a special “resolution” by the
Hague Congress (a separate protocol).
2. And on the subject of this special resolution the Congress should
try to find a diplomatic method of acting which shall permit Holland
to play the part which the Swiss Federal Council plays for the Geneva
Convention. It is a fine rôle.
Affairs do not proceed promptly in diplomacy. The Swiss Federal
Council convoked the governments by a diplomatic invitation dated June
6, 1864. But the recommendation signed by France went to the same
states a few days later in June.
Mr. Drouyn de Lhuys, Minister of Foreign Affairs in Paris, and I had
arranged that on April 22, 1864; and from that time the Swiss Federal
Council at Bern has had all the protocols in its possession. Only last
year it received notices of assent to the Geneva Convention from the
Transvaal, the Republic of Uruguay, Nicaragua, and Honduras; and that
has been pending since 1864. Holland should play for the “resolution”
resulting from Article 8 of the programme of the Congress the same
rôle as the Swiss Federal Council does for the Convention. For this
purpose the delegates taken individually must be persuaded to separate
the protocols; one protocol for the first seven articles of the
programme (or any other way, as they please) and an entirely separate
and independent protocol for the “resolution” proceeding from Article
8.
And now, with minds keyed high, and with joyous hearts, we got ready to
go to The Hague.
LVIII
THE FIRST PEACE CONFERENCE AT THE HAGUE
My Hague diary · Arrival · First interview · Stead’s interviews with the
Tsar and with Bülow · Our call on the Austrian delegation · Divine
service in the Russian chapel · Opening session · Johann von Bloch ·
Party at Beaufort’s · Yang-Yü and his wife · Baron d’Estournelles · Léon
Bourgeois · We give a dinner · Richet’s call · Luncheon with Frau
Moscheles · Andrew D. White · Extract from Staal’s opening speech · Call
on our ambassador’s wife · Count Costantino Nigra · Reception at court ·
Lord Aberdeen · Sir Julian Pauncefote · Bloch plans a series of lectures
· Plenary assembly of May 25 · The Russian, English, and American
motions
In 1900 I published a comprehensive book[30] in which I gathered
together all the events of my sojourn at The Hague, all the reports
regarding the proceedings, the text of the most important speeches, and
the accurate statement of the various conventions. Those who may wish to
have a detailed account of the character, the course of events, and the
direct results of that historic assemblage I would refer to that
publication. Here I shall merely introduce my personal recollections; I
shall copy in their original form extracts from my private journal which
I used and elaborated for that book, of course excluding everything that
was too confidential and therefore uninteresting.
At the same time I shall introduce minutes of the proceedings and
observations on world politics, for, if I am to give the history of my
life conscientiously, these things require much space. They were not
applied as accidental embroidery, but have been woven into the very
fabric of my existence. Whatever has taken place either in behalf of the
cause of peace or in opposition to it, anywhere in the world,—and
especially what occurred in those days at The Hague, where the
Conference was called together in the name of that cause,—was not a mere
experience from without, it was an essential part of my life.
May 16. Arrival at The Hague. The city steeped in the magic of spring.
Radiant sunshine. Lilac perfumes in the cool air. Our rooms in the hotel
all ready. Nine o’clock in the evening. We are still sitting in the
dining-room. The correspondent of the _Neues Wiener Tagblatt_ is
announced. Receive him and he takes his place at our table. He begins
the interview with great liveliness:
“Have just been having a talk with the representative of a first-class
power. There seems to be no great doubt as to the prospective
outcome,—amplification of the Geneva Convention—”
“If nothing more than that should be accomplished, it would be an
outrageous trick played on the hopes of the nations, and also a
disappointment for the Tsar, whose wishes for an arbitral tribunal—”
The correspondent laughingly interrupted me:
“We spoke about this also. Now that is simply childish. The states would
not comply with a decision which did not please them.”
“Such a case has never once occurred.”
“For the reason that, up to the present time, arbitration has settled
only trivialities; but when vital questions are concerned—”
Forever and ever the time-worn arguments. I heard it come in its regular
sequence, “the vital question,” although no one knows exactly what he
means by it. What, indeed, can these “vital” concerns be that are best
promoted by killing off men by the hundred thousand?
May 17. Stead arrived. Directly from St. Petersburg, where he had an
audience with Nicholas II, lasting an hour and a half, and spoke quite
candidly about Finland. The Tsar also empowered him to speak on the same
theme—in favor of Finnish liberties—the next day in a public assembly.
Stead also stopped over in Berlin on his way hither, and had a
conversation with Bülow, bringing up among other things the case of
Professor Stengel and his antipeace pamphlet. Herr von Bülow at first
denied that the professor had written the brochure, and was quite hot
about it.
“It is not true,” he declared, “it is pure invention.”
“That cannot well be said, for the pamphlet is in its third edition....”
“It was a simple lecture,” the minister now opined, “delivered in a
gathering of friends, and issued by the publisher behind the author’s
back.”
That is scarcely thinkable either; but this much is clear,—the pamphlet,
if not its author, is disavowed. The appointment had been made, it was
claimed, without any knowledge of the lecture. And if that were the
case, Herr von Stengel should have declined the appointment. Any one who
has publicly called an endeavor a daydream does not proceed to take part
in the dreaming. Suppose then the intention or the orders were to oppose
it! But even if these orders were not directly given, still it is
melancholy that an opponent of the cause should be sent as a delegate.
The Grelixes have arrived too. Felix Moscheles tells of the campaign of
agitation which he and Stead have undertaken all through the English
cities. He was one of the deputation that communicated the results of
the crusade to the Russian ambassador, who had already been appointed to
head the Russian delegation. Herr von Staal said to Moscheles: “The
Conference is admirably prepared for by these public demonstrations of
the people’s desire for peace. If I may be pardoned for using the vulgar
phrase, _Vous avez mis du foin dans nos bottes_.”[31]
In the afternoon a round of calls. When our carriage draws up before the
Hotel Paulez, Count Welsersheimb comes out and invites us up to his
drawing-room, saying that the whole Austrian delegation is assembled
there. In fact, the little room is filled with our fellow-countrymen,
among them Herr von Merey, head of a division in the Ministry of Foreign
Affairs,—slender, aristocratic, agreeable; Viktor von Khuepach zu Ried,
lieutenant colonel on the general staff; Count Soltys, commander;
Professor Lammasch, abrupt but at the same time polite; Count Zichy, not
a delegate but Austrian ambassador at Munich. The conversation turns
naturally on the Conference. I have the impression that those present
are filled with lively interest regarding this phenomenon “Conference,”
but an interest mingled with astonishment and skepticism, with an amazed
and curious excitement, such as the marvels of nature seen for the first
time are wont to arouse.
May 18. The eighteenth of May, 1899! This is an epoch-making date in the
history of the world. As I write it down I am deeply impressed with this
conviction. It is the first time, since history began to be written,
that the representatives of the governments come together to find a
means for “securing a permanent, genuine peace” for the world. Whether
or not this means will be found in the Conference that is to be opened
to-day has nothing to do with the magnitude of the event. In the
endeavor lies the new direction!
May 19. This is the way yesterday went: In the morning, divine service
in the Russian chapel in celebration of the Tsar’s birthday. My Own and
I were invited. The place is small and scarcely a hundred people were
present, the men in gala uniform, the ladies in semi-informal dress. The
high mass begins. The congregation, all standing, reverent and devout,
follow it. It seemed to me as if it were my part not to pray _for_
Nicholas II, but to address _to_ him the petition: “O thou brave of
heart, remain firm! Let not the ingratitude and the spite and the
imbecility of the world penetrate to thee to disturb and paralyze; even
if an attempt is made to belittle and misinterpret and even block thy
work, remain firm!”
The priest holds out the cross to be kissed: the mass is over. Now
greetings and introductions are exchanged. I make the acquaintance of
Minister Beaufort’s wife.
Drive to the opening session of the Conference. Brilliant sunshine.
Numerous carriages proceed through the shaded avenues to the “House in
the Wood,” as if in a festive parade in the Prater or the Bois. At the
grated gate a military guard of honor makes the customary salutes. I am
the only woman permitted to be present.
What I experienced here was like the fulfillment of a lofty ambitious
dream. “Peace Conference!” For ten long years the words and the idea
have been laughed to scorn; its advocates, feeble private persons, are
regarded as “Utopians” (the favorite polite circumlocution for “crazy
fellows”); and now, at the summons of the most powerful of the war
lords, the representatives of all the sovereigns are gathering, and
their assembly bears that very name, “Peace Conference.”
From the opening address of Minister Beaufort:
By his initiative the Emperor of Russia has desired to fulfill the
wish expressed by his predecessor, Alexander I, that all the rulers of
Europe should come to an understanding together, so as to live like
brethren and to support one another mutually in their necessities.
It seems to me that Nicholas II desired more than that; the question
does not affect so much the necessities of all rulers as those of all
nations. The armaments are burdensome to the nations, not to the rulers.
The so-called dynastic interest lies more in military pomp and the
prestige of warlike power.
And Beaufort again:
The object of the Conference is to seek for means to put a limit to
incessant armaments and alleviate the heavy distress that weighs on
the nations. The day of the assembling of this Conference will be one
of the most notable in the history of the closing century.
After Beaufort’s speech Ambassador Staal is chosen president of the
Conference. Then follow the other nominations; the whole piece of
business lasts only half an hour,—it was intended to be merely a formal
opening ceremony. The first session is appointed for the twentieth, and
at the same time it is announced that journalists will not be admitted
to the deliberations. (Alas!)
May 19. Bloch arrived. We greet each other like old friends. A man of
sixty, with short-cropped, grizzly beard, a bright, kindly expression,
unconstrained, elegant manners, a thoroughly natural, simple mode of
speech. I inquire of him as to the reception of his book by the Tsar.
Bloch tells us the story, and the delegates and journalists in the
drawing-room listen with interest:
Yes, the Tsar has studied the work thoroughly. When he received me in
audience, the maps and tables from the book lay spread out on the
tables, and he had me carefully explain all the figures and diagrams.
I explained until I was tired out, but Nicholas II did not grow weary.
He kept asking new questions or throwing in observations which
testified to his deep appreciation and interest. “So _this_ is the way
the next war would develop,” he said; “_those_ would be the results,
would they?”
The Ministry of War, to which a copy had to be submitted, furnished
the Emperor with a report and voted to authorize its publication. In
justifying its report it said: “Such a comprehensive and technical
book will not be much read; it is therefore far less dangerous than
the Suttner novel, _Die Waffen nieder_. Inasmuch as the censor passed
the latter, Bloch’s ‘War of the Future’ may _a fortiori_ be admitted.”
In the evening a party at Beaufort’s. Like all parties in court or
diplomatic circles, and yet so entirely different. Something new has
come into the world, namely, the official treatment of the theme
“Universal Peace,” and that necessarily—being indeed the _raison d’être_
of this reception—introduces the topic for general discussion.
A question which very commonly serves to start the conversation is this:
What do you expect from the Conference? This question was quite
frequently put to me, or else this: Are you not happy to see your hopes
so realized?
“Yes, very happy,” I could answer truthfully enough; “I had not once
hoped to see so much and that so speedily done.” To the first question I
had to reply that I expected from this Conference only that it would be
a beginning, a first step, a foundation stone laid.
I am becoming acquainted with the majority of the participants, even
with the delegate from China and his wife. He is at the same time
ambassador to the court of Russia.
“In St. Petersburg I heard you much talked about,” said Yang-Yü to me,
through his interpreter, Lu Tseng-Tsiang; “Count Muravieff told me about
his talk with you.”
The Chinese delegate’s young wife wears her native costume, including an
embroidered silk robe, a tiny cap on her head, and paper flowers on each
side of her temples. She is a pretty young woman, yet quite of the type
which you see on Chinese porcelain; at the same time she is so heavily
rouged that her face resembles a changeless enameled mask. She is very
friendly and shakes hands vigorously with all who are presented to her.
She is accompanied by her son, a lad of twelve or thirteen, who speaks
English and French and interprets for her.
Meet many of the old friends, Descamps, Beernaert, Rahusen, and others.
A stranger approaches me: “Baroness, I am happy to meet you again.” It
is Baron d’Estournelles. We have not met before, but our preceding
correspondence justifies the word “revoir.” He is a genial man, with
fine head, dark mustache, and diplomatic manners; we have a
heart-to-heart conversation. His speech sparkles with witty
observations, but a profound earnestness inspires him for the Cause.
At my request he introduces to me his chief, Léon Bourgeois. The former
French Prime Minister is the youngest head of a delegation, and when
seen among all the white-haired ambassadors, veterans in diplomacy, such
as Staal, Münster, Nigra, and Pauncefote, he with his black head
resembles (as Stead says) a starling among sea gulls.
M. Bourgeois tells me about Frédéric Passy, whom he has lately seen and
talked with. Our _doyen_ would gladly have come to The Hague, but he had
to give it up on account of an eye trouble. He submitted to an operation
in the hope that he might be able to come to the city of the Conference
with restored eyesight; but Bourgeois says that the operation, although
it was successful, has not been attended by so prompt a recovery as had
been expected.
May 20. Again a round of calls. The drive through the streets of The
Hague is exactly like going through a park. Not only in the _bosch_,
where the _huis_ put at the service of the Conference stands, but
everywhere are gigantic old trees; everywhere are green grassplots; and
everywhere, in this May time so rich in flowers, are heard the lovely
carols of the birds. Almost every house has a garden, and houses for
rent are not to be seen; every house, built in the style of a villa or a
small château, is the home of only one family. Of course this is true
only of the aristocratic quarter, which surrounds the royal palace and
leads from the squares where the best hotels, like Vieux Doelen and
others, are situated, down to Scheveningen.
Our drawing-room is always full of callers, and from early in the
morning with interviewers; to-day, among others, the editors of the
_Frankfurter Zeitung_, the _Écho de Paris_, and _Black and White_.
From Paris comes the news that the operation on Frédéric Passy has had
such unfavorable consequences that not only is he suffering intolerable
pain but even his life is in danger. Great consternation in our whole
circle. Of all the living champions of peace Frédéric Passy is without
question the most loved and honored by all who know him and his work.
At the first plenary session to-day Herr von Staal is to define in his
address the goal and direction which his imperial master wishes the
Conference to take. How regrettable that the press is excluded! The
president’s speech would be telegraphed this very day to all the
newspapers in the world.
May 21. Whitsunday. Dr. Trueblood from Boston arrived. He tells us that
he knows for a certainty that the United States government has committed
to its delegates a thoroughly formulated plan for a court of
arbitration.
A sculptor from Berlin, Löher is his name, shows us the model of a peace
memorial which he would like to exhibit at the Paris Exposition of 1900.
Thus in new regions, in forms more and more varied, the new ideal is
cherished.
At the same time, to be sure, how deeply rooted, how mighty is the old
ideal still, that of war,—everywhere prevalent, even among those
attending this Conference; just read Professor Stengel’s pamphlet!...
And the fearful thing is, ideas progress slowly, while events march
swiftly. If a case like that at Fashoda, if the controversy in the
Transvaal, suddenly precipitates a conflict while the Conference is
still in session, how it would disturb its theoretical labors!
We give a small dinner. Our guests are Okoliczany, the Austrian
ambassador at The Hague, Count Welsersheimb, Baron d’Estournelles, Count
Gurko, and Councilor von Bloch. It was a satisfaction to me to hear
Baron d’Estournelles talk with my countrymen about the hopes and views
with which the members of the French delegation are inspired. A
satisfaction for this reason, that I had been compelled to hear many
Austrians, not here but in Vienna, ask, “How can the Conference succeed?
Even though we are sincere lovers of peace, the French, who know no
other thought than revenge, and who are represented at the Conference
only out of politeness to the Tsar, will assuredly make every endeavor
to prevent any results, even if they do not purposely conjure up a
conflict!”
If by chance Herr von Okoliczany and Count Welsersheimb had this notion
of their French colleagues in the Conference, they have certainly this
evening been set right.