different objects filled my soul, each with different moods. There was
my great life interest, my “one thing essential,” which just now through
the Hague Conference had arrived at such a mighty stage of development.
It was almost as if the goal, which only a few years before was so far
away, had now come so near and was so distinct that soon all would
perforce take note of it and therefore hasten to it. I saw clearly what
I myself had to do: it was to give as many of my fellow-countrymen as
possible a knowledge of the results of the Conference, and I devoted
myself diligently to this task, writing numerous newspaper articles and
my book on the Hague Conference.
I must confess I could not take an unqualified joy in doing this, for I
had been a witness to the opposition, open and secret, which had been
directed at The Hague against the realization of the “warless age.” But
all the more strenuous was the obligation to put to the service of the
cause all the new facts and supports which the present state of the
movement afforded its defenders.
Something else was rising full of threat on the horizon. The war party
in England seemed to be getting the upper hand; the Outlander crisis in
the Transvaal was growing more and more acute. What if it broke into
war? That would discredit the peace work that had been begun and would
decidedly put it back. Can it be that between the two forces of Might
and Right, Might is again to carry the day?
Another object of my thought and anxiety was found in our domestic
circumstances. The losses in the quarries, in the failure of crops, and
in unfortunate speculations had increased to such an extent that it was
now almost impossible to keep our beloved Harmannsdorf above water much
longer. And what then? What a grief for the poor old mother, for the
sisters, and also for My Own, if the home nest were to be sacrificed!
The third field of my feelings and moods lay within our married
happiness. In this was my peculiar inalienable home, my refuge for all
possible conditions of life,—something beyond Harmannsdorf and the
Transvaal, beyond everything, come what might,—and so the leaves of my
diary are full not only of political and domestic records of all kinds,
but also of memoranda of our gay little jokes, our confidential,
enjoyable walks, our uplifting reading, our hours of music together, and
our evening games of chess. To us personally nothing could happen. We
had each other,—that was everything.
The thought that we might be torn apart by the all-destroyer Death we
put out of our minds. And yet at that time I was not very strong and I
believe My Own felt some alarm about my condition. I had suddenly become
so languid; it was hard for me to walk; after a few steps I became so
dizzy that I could scarcely stand. My Own dragged me off to a physician;
I say “dragged,” because all my life long I have been strenuously
opposed to medical treatment. This physician gave me an examination and
asked me all manner of questions and ordered—what do you suppose?
I will give the details because it is an interesting case. In the first
place I followed his directions, which also was contrary to my custom;
up to that time the only use I had made of medicine was to throw it out
of the window. What is more, the treatment helped me. In a short time I
became as healthy as a fish in water. Well then, what was the doctor’s
prescription? Bicycling! I, a heavy woman of fifty-six, who had never
mounted a wheel, was now to attempt this schoolgirl’s sport! It was
comical, but I did it. The prescription was tremendously tempting to me.
It had always been my keen desire to enjoy this skimming away on the
thin-legged iron steed, and I had regretted that I was born too early to
experience this delight. Now it was imposed upon me as a duty to my
health! I immediately bought a wheel, and one of the castle servants was
appointed my instructor. He helped me to mount the thing and down I
went. Up again, down again—twenty times in succession. That was my first
lesson.
“Would it not be better to try a tricycle?” asked My Own solicitously,
for he gained no confidence at all from this début. But I would not hear
to it. “The doctor has prescribed bicycling and bicycling it shall be.”
With a persistence at which I myself am amazed I kept up my lessons;
more and more infrequently the wheel wobbled, ever more and more rare
were the trees against which I obstinately steered, and after a long
course of instruction—I certainly am not going to confess how long—I
attained such skill that I wheeled in great style through the avenues of
the park and really made a very elegantly executed figure eight!
In doing this I felt perfectly well; the blood circulated with
reinvigorated energy; dashing away on the wheel became to me a perfect
delight; I had no more attacks of lassitude; I grew slenderer, and at
the same time I had a feeling as if youth, youth were streaming through
my veins!
Things in the Transvaal were going from bad to worse. People in England,
worked upon through their passion, were demanding war. The London
pacifists were putting forth their utmost endeavors to ward off the
misfortune; they instituted meetings, they wrote to the papers; W. T.
Stead established a new weekly, _War against War_,—all in vain. Any one
who pleaded for peace was repudiated, scouted as a “Little Englishman,”
if not even held up to scorn and derision as a traitor. Managers of
halls would no longer permit the use of them for peace meetings, and if
such gatherings were held they were broken up by turbulent mobs.
Assaults even were committed. At a public meeting held by the Peace
Association in Trafalgar Square, the orators were not only overwhelmed
with insults but were attacked with projectiles. An open jackknife was
hurled at Felix Moscheles, narrowly escaping his head.
In the meantime the second Dreyfus trial was held at Rennes, and with
the same military fanaticism and partisanship as in the days when
Esterhazy was glorified and Zola was persecuted with shouts of _à l’eau!
à l’eau!_ Now a furious anti-Dreyfusard even makes an attempt upon the
life of the defendant’s lawyer, Labori. The court-martial condemns
Dreyfus to death—but he is pardoned.
In Vienna a meeting is held at which Dr. Lueger declares, “Dreyfus
belongs to the Devil’s Island and all the Jews as well.” This impelled
my husband to call a counter meeting of his Union. The combat with
popular frenzy and against national hatred is a hard, apparently quite
hopeless, task, only just begun. Pain and indignation and a bitter sense
of feebleness take possession of the combatant; but still there is
nothing else for him to do—he must take up the fight. And since
absolutely nothing in this world is lost, such protests certainly have
their effect ultimately in their own way, even if they seem for the
moment to be wasted.
In the German empire plans for a tremendous fleet are adopted. “Our
future lies on the water,”—therefore enormous increase of armament on
the sea. Exactly the opposite of what was at the foundation of the Hague
Conference. Bloch writes me that Emperor William is said to have
persuaded the Tsar that the peace cause—that is, in the form of an
arbitration tribunal and the limitation of armaments (the German Emperor
is surely in favor of preserving peace by the protection of the
bayonet)—is directly contrary to dynastic interests.
The South African war breaks out. Our opponents cry scornfully, “So this
is the result of the Hague Conference, is it?”
I had desired to publish in my monthly an expression of opinion
regarding this misfortune from an English peace champion so highly
regarded as Philip Stanhope, who I knew would be deeply grieved by it.
He replied that it would not be in good taste to express his views in
foreign periodicals while his country was involved in war. Now that the
war is long finished there is no indiscretion in my reproducing his
letter:
Padworth House, Reading, November 19, 1899
Dear Baroness von Suttner:
I have to thank you most sincerely for your letter. In times like
these, when one finds one’s self in a small minority, the
encouragement of friends is of great service, and no one is more
authorized than yourself to speak upon such an issue, having for many
years given your life to the service of the cause of peace.
Just now it is impossible to write anything for publication in a
foreign journal. While we are in the throes of a great war it would be
unseemly to do so, and I will therefore ask you to kindly excuse me in
this regard for the present. I may, however, say to yourself as a
friend what I could not publicly say about the situation.
I think the jingo feeling is subsiding in England. Now that the people
are at last realizing what war means, there is less shouting and
enthusiasm. I am told that even in the music halls this tendency is
very marked. Of course patriotic songs will always command a large
audience and excite natural patriotic emotions, but people are
beginning to think and to ask themselves what the war is about, and
whether warfare is the best way of really pacifying South Africa. I
have great confidence in the ultimate good sense of my countrymen when
the fever has passed away.
All the same, the path of idealists like ourselves is not made more
easy by what has happened.
I hope Baron von Suttner is well. Kindly remember me to him and allow
me to subscribe myself as
Very sincerely yours
Philip Stanhope
I asked an expression of opinion from Count Nigra for the annual meeting
of my Union. The ambassador replied with the following letter:
Rome, Grand Hotel, November 29, 1899
My dear Baroness:
You are quite right in seizing the occasion of the meeting of the
Austrian peace society to ask a word of approbation and encouragement
from those who worked for peace at the Conference at The Hague. That
Conference has had to meet with two untoward accidents,—the Dreyfus
affair and the conflict in the Transvaal. The first distracted public
attention from our work; the other seems to contradict it. The
coincidence is certainly very regrettable. But these are only passing
incidents, while our work is destined to last as long as time lasts.
The Conference is accused of not having produced immediate results. To
tell the truth we enjoyed no illusion in this respect. We knew
perfectly well that we had not been working to secure the peace of the
world from one day to another. On the contrary, we had the
consciousness of working for the future of humanity.
Moreover, is it true that the Conference had no immediate effect? I
think that the mere fact that such a Conference was convoked by a
powerful monarch, like the Emperor of Russia, that it was accepted by
all the powers, and that it could meet and work for months with the
purpose of making wars less frequent and less cruel for the
nations,—that fact alone is already a great result. It proves at least
that the ideas of peace and arbitration have entered into the
consciousness of governments and of peoples.
Besides, as I have just said, we had in view not the fleeting moment
but the future history of the world. The tree, the seed of which we
have planted, is likely to grow but slowly, like everything else that
is destined to increase and throw down deep roots. We shall not be
able to repose in the shade of its branches, but those who follow us
will gather its fruits. I have faith in our work for the future. The
ideas that we have aroused in the minds of the governments and of the
peoples cannot vanish like deceptive mirages. They have their _raisons
d’être_ in the universal consciousness. Like every human conception,
they meet, in their application, with periods of arrested development
and even, if one may thus express one’s self, with passing eclipses.
But nothing shall prevent their onward course. The end which we have
set before ourselves is that of a forward march in constant progress.
It is the law of history. Blind is he who does not see it.
So then, _sursum corda_, and let us remember that Christ blamed men of
little faith. You can remind your assembly of this in order that it
may be taken in elsewhere.
Accept, madam, my very sincere regards
Nigra
LXII
THE TURN OF THE CENTURY
1900 or 1901 · Address to the powers · Letters from Henryk Sienkiewicz ·
Letter from the Prince of Mingrelia · Count Apponyi’s press scheme · The
Interparliamentary Conference at Paris · Count Apponyi on the Conference
· Dr. Clark’s action regarding Chamberlain and President Kruger ·
_Altera pars_ · The troubles in China · Letters from Yang-Yü to my
husband · The Peace Congress at Paris · The Bloch family · Madame
Séverine · The Exposition · Dinner at Professor Charles Richet’s · Miss
Alice Williams · Literary work · Nomination of the Hague judges ·
Letters from Martens and Schönborn · D’Estournelles’s lecture in Vienna
· Dr. Holls’s mission · Our silver wedding · Letter from Tolstoi · First
assignment of the Nobel prizes · Dunant’s thanks · Decennial celebration
of the Union · Letters of congratulation from Passy, Szell, Schönborn,
D’Estournelles, Chlumecky, Rosegger and Björnson
Now we began to write 1900. A new century. To be sure the ancient
controversy raged a good deal as to whether the century began with the
cipher or with the figure one; but I think that the number 1901
signifies that the first year of the twentieth century is finished, so
that it begins with 1900, therefore it already is.[44] To be sure, time
runs without figures into the Ocean of Eternity, but such turning points
are always impressive.
Even the Tsar’s rescript said, “This Conference should be, by the help
of God, a happy presage for a century which is about to open.” Our age,
however, allowed this significant epoch to pass by without “turning over
a new leaf,” without saying, “Now we will dedicate the twentieth century
by breaking with the old barbarism.”
Barbarism was happily rescued by its admirers, and an immeasurably
horrible and pitiful war, with lurid-glaring jingoism in its train,
raged as a portentous presage marking the transition from the old
century to the new.
All the pacifists were troubled and indignant over this turn of affairs;
but none was disheartened. It is well known that the line of progress
often runs back a little in order later to advance with accelerated
rapidity; and the results already achieved, the unexpected new victories
in the domain of the peace cause, were already in our hands. That
certainly was not going backwards. In the work of the pioneers also
there was no moment of inaction; the protests against the continuation
of the South African war, the reminder to the powers that mediation was
open to them, the articles, the petitions,—all these things were
zealously attended to by our Bern Bureau, by Stead in his _Weekly_, by
the Unions in their meetings. Even though no direct result was attained,
still the principle was unviolated, the standpoint was held, the banner
was kept aloft.
Our friends had organized an international demonstration in the form of
an address to the powers, signed by public societies and distinguished
individuals of all nations. The names of those who were included were
both numerous and imposing; but I will here call attention only to the
answer of one great man who refused to join with us. I had sent out a
great many invitations, among others one to Henryk Sienkiewicz. He sent
me a long reply, in which he declined to sign the petition because he
held the opinion that there were much worse and more pressing sufferings
to be relieved than those of the Boers; for instance, the sufferings of
the Poles persecuted by “Hakatism.” He believed that the English would
never be able—even though they might be victorious in the Transvaal—to
attempt to denationalize the people there and deprive them of all
freedom. So we might much better work for people nearer at home; such
was the conclusion of Sienkiewicz’s letter:
Ah, madam, before taking up with Africa, interest yourself in Europe.
A gigantic humanitarian work is within your reach. Endeavor to make
the spirit of the German nation ennoble the present _régime_, and see
to it that it does not become debased by false statesmanship.
England gave birth to a great minister who spent his life in defending
the rights of oppressed Ireland; can you show me another in all
Europe? Leave the English spirit in peace, for it will of itself
attain the end that you propose, and work for causes nearer home.
Elevate political morality, ennoble the consciences of the mighty; may
the clouds of injustice and of treason against human right vanish
away! May a breath of humanity freshen the air poisoned by Hakatist
currents! Carry the good tidings to your neighbors, bring them words
of love, endeavor to instill the Kingdom of Christ into their souls.
You have a noble heart, a good and unshaken will!
I replied in a few lines in which I informed him that I desired to reply
to him in an open letter. Thereupon Sienkiewicz wrote back:
Warsaw, March 7, 1900
My dear Baroness:
I allowed a Cracow newspaper to publish the letter which I sent in
reply to yours, for in circumstances so important the greatest
publicity cannot fail to be advantageous to the ideas which you,
madam, defend with such commendable warmth.
The news that you wish to reply in an open letter causes me real joy.
I believe that the more light we carry into these gloomy vaults the
more we drive out of them the creatures that exist only in the
darkness.
With assurances of my highest regard
Henryk Sienkiewicz
Our correspondence was accordingly published in French and Polish
newspapers. The text of my reply is not within my reach; I only know
that I pointed out that one should never say to any one who is
undertaking something useful and helpful, “Better do this than that.” If
“this” as well as “that” is directed to the same end—freedom, and
suppression of injustice and suffering—then do both; but better than
that which is nearer in space is the universal; for if the general
principle is saved, it can be applied to other and local cases.
All this political correspondence did not prevent me from exchanging
letters with my own intimate friends. Even with our friends in the
Caucasus, in spite of years of separation, intercourse was not broken
off.
The following letter from the Prince of Mingrelia, which I find in my
letter-file for 1900, is a witness of that fact:
St. Petersburg, March 24 (April 6), 1900
My dear Baroness:
How much I should like to see you and chat with you! At St. Petersburg
all your writings are translated and your individuality interests the
public.
It is clear that the sympathies of all are aroused by your beautiful
ideas. Nevertheless a strange thing is happening: every one is in
favor of peace, and along with that all the powers are arming.
International laws are easily read, but the application of them is
pretty difficult. One must be resigned and confess that the system of
Brennus is always the order of the day.[45] The English are doing in
the Transvaal what others are doing elsewhere. Did not these very
Boers who are pillaged now, first pillage the native Africans? In this
world each has his turn. ’Tis the great immutable law. “He who takes
the sword shall perish by the sword.” When one is a philosopher,
injustice seems the rule, justice the exception.
Salomé will be in Paris in May, I think. I expect to take a trip in
August. At all events I will keep you informed of my deeds and
actions. I am going to send you my photograph very soon.
Please give my love to your husband, and think of me always as
Your very devoted
Niko
Count Apponyi was still at work on his press project. He wrote me
regarding it:
Budapest, March 27, 1900
Dear Madam:
Yesterday something took place here which, with God’s help, may prove
of incalculable importance for the peace movement. That is, we have
taken the first step toward the establishment of an international
peace union of the press, and the Hungarian group, made up of almost
all the newspapers of the capital, is already formed. The proposed
press union, for which we have elaborated a provisional charter, is to
be organized in every degree parallel with the Interparliamentary
Union, and is to be in constant touch with it. The idea originated
with the Hungarian Interparliamentary Group, which, as a _Conseil
interparlementaire_ will make the motion at the Paris Conference, as
indeed it has already done at the Brussels meeting, that all the
national groups shall endeavor to help form the press groups, and that
our Interparliamentary Bureau shall serve these groups as a center
until there shall be so many of them that the independent
international organization of the press can come into existence.
I have got the matter under way through correspondence; have written
Descamps, Labiche, Rahusen, Dr. Hirsch, Stanhope, Pierantoni, and
Pirquet. Pirquet is already at work on it; I have not yet had any
answer from the others.
The importance of the plan scarcely requires argument. But I am taking
the liberty of inclosing an extract from the address which I gave
before the press club here and which clearly outlines my idea. It is
hardly to be expected that the scheme will be everywhere so
enthusiastically and unanimously adopted as it has been here, where an
exceptional intimacy exists between parliament and press. But
influential newspapers will everywhere be enlisted, and what we need
is the systematic labors of these unpartisan journals.
What advantage is it if, for example, the _Neue Freie Presse_
publishes to-day an article from your pen, Baroness, or one by
Councilor Bloch, but on the other six days of the week speaks of the
peace movement—if at all—in a scornful tone? Such sporadic articles of
individual persons, no matter how distinguished, are put down as
special labors, and any possible influence that they might have on the
reader is immediately rendered nugatory. Only the constant logical
attitude of the editorial boards renders the action of the press
effectual. Now then, imagine the press organized and conducted for one
purpose throughout the whole civilized world and brought into tactical
partnership with the parliamentary activity; then that steam power
which the Hague peace machinery needs to put it into action would be
supplied. This seems to us practically much more important than to
discover new articles which might be added to the Hague Convention.
After all this I hardly need to ask your benevolent furtherance of our
scheme, for I do not believe that anything could impart more power to
the peace movement than the success of this plan.
With greatest respect, I am
Your wholly devoted
Albert Apponyi
Undeterred by the South African war, the Interparliamentary Union held
its Conference, and the Peace Unions likewise assembled for their annual
Congress. Both organizations met in Paris, where the World’s Exposition
was being held. I got a letter from the French Senate inviting us to
attend the Conference as guests. Various circumstances prevented us from
accepting this invitation.
The Conference was opened with impressive words by the president of the
Senate, M. Fallières, now President of the Republic. The sensation of
the Conference was the bearing and eloquence of Count Apponyi. He
outlined his plan for a press union to be allied with the
Interparliamentary Bureau, and in fact the foundation for such a union
was actually laid. Unfortunately the matter did not materialize and was
not generally adopted. Success will come with the next attempt.
The political bitterness which at that time divided the French into two
camps, under the still convulsing excitement of the “Affair,” was a very
unfavorable circumstance for the holding of an Interparliamentary
Conference. The following letter from Count Apponyi refers to this:
Weidlingau, August 8, 1900
My dear Baroness:
I should like to add to the accompanying text of my speech just a few
remarks on the Paris Interparliamentary Conference.
We were very sorry indeed that you were not there, but you may well
congratulate yourself that you were not. It was the gloomiest meeting,
the most disappointing of all our hopes, of any that I ever attended.
The French were for the most part absent: _Si M. un tel en est, je
n’en suis pas_; so the word goes. It was an unfortunate idea to lay
the scene of our endeavors in the France of to-day, where everything
is regarded from the visual angle of a party quarrel so accentuated
that it has almost reached the point of civil war.