XXXVII
THE BERN SESSIONS
Journey to Switzerland · Poem by Count Hoyos · Letter from Prince Camillo Starhemberg · Opening of the Congress · First impulse to arbitration treaties, from America · League of European states · Social life of the Congressists · Arturo de Marcoartu · Alfred Nobel complies with my invitation · On the Lake of Lucerne · A parable by Ruchonnet · Protest against distorted reports · A lively debate · Arrival of the Interparliamentarians · The Conference · A prophetic toast
In August, 1892, we proceeded to Bern, where the fourth World’s Peace Congress and the fourth Interparliamentary Conference were invited to meet. It was our first journey to Switzerland—for us both an intense delight. The name Switzerland awakens in the mind a whole mass of mountain poetry and ideals of freedom: glaciers and Rütli oath, cow bells and Tell’s arrow. To go with this, a highly modern international hotel life. The plainest and most democratic country in Europe, and withal the meeting-place of the traveling aristocrats and plutocrats of the Old and New Worlds.
The way to Bern took us to the Lake of Zurich. My Own reveled in the spectacle of this magnificence of nature. Curious—when my mind reverts to the journeys which I took with my husband, it is only through the medium of the pleasure which he found in them that I recall all the beauties of art and nature which we enjoyed. Now I myself am also susceptible to such enjoyments; but when I was with him I felt only the reflex of his feelings.
We put up at the Berner Hof. On our first arrival, although it was late in the evening, we met many of our friends of the Rome Congress,—Frédéric Passy, Ducommun, the Moscheles pair, Hodgson Pratt, Pandolfi, Émile Arnaud, and many others. The next morning a new, joyous surprise: the glass door of our room opened out on a great terrace, and from here the gaze swept over the hotel garden, over the city, and over the horizon of snow-glittering peaks of the surrounding mountains.
“It is beautiful here, my Löwos!”
“Yes, My Own, beautiful; and we will have our breakfast here on the terrace.”
So the luminous pictures flash, so fresh breezes of happiness blow over from the past into my gray, lonely present, as I look back upon the journeys which we two took together, when we carried with us everywhere, into the most serious days filled with work and political problems and into the different imposing surroundings, our modest, sunshiny bit of home. On that first morning in the capital of the Swiss Confederation the mail brought me various letters,—from Count Hoyos a poem dedicated “to the Peace Council at Bern,” and entitled
Wenn blinder Haft die Krallen regt
When blindfold Hatred’s claws are shown
And Falsehood’s wings come dark behind,
Stand to your arms, and lay not down
The weapons of the Mind!
The war of nations, demon strange,
Before the truth shall shrieking flee;
Man’s genius good shall fearless range
After the victory.
Pour from your sword-blade floods of light,
Be love the sign upon your shield;
These arms by their o’erwhelming might
Shall make the tempter yield.
From the Liberal member of the Herrenhaus, Fürst Camillo Starhemberg, whom I had requested and half persuaded to come to the Interparliamentary Conference at Bern, I received the following communication, interesting from many points of view:
Schloss Hubertendorf, Nied.-Oest.
August 21, 1892
Honored Baroness:
The quite abnormal heat that has been prevalent for some time has so affected my nerves and made me so unwell that I shall hardly be able to carry out my intention of taking part in the Conference at Bern.
I will not yet definitively decline, but I hardly believe that I can get to Bern. I have no desire to act as a dumb listener and looker-on, and for taking a part in word and deed I do not, to speak frankly, feel myself either in the mood or well enough.
At the request of Baron Pirquet I have, during the recent sessions, put questions to various members of the Herrenhaus, and sounded them as to whether they would not be pleased to take part in the deliberations of the Conference, and, anyhow, to express their sympathy with our endeavors by letting their names appear on the list of those who are working for peace in the world.
Unfortunately, the least that I got was a courteous declination; in most cases it was an ironical answer, of course always in such polite terms as admitted of no decided protest. I had also the opportunity of speaking with a personage of exalted position about the idea of peace in general, but everywhere I found expressed more or less the idea that the German lady betrothed to a German officer, on page nine of the Festival Number of Die Waffen nieder, develops:[41] Sooner sacrifice millions, sooner bring upon men limitless misery, sooner ruin states financially, decimate the population, plunge families in want, mourning, and the deepest distress, than be unfaithful to traditional ideas; every thought of a peace movement of that kind is actually interpreted as if there must be cowardice back of it.
I cannot say that these utterances which I have recently heard enhance my hopes of a speedy success, but none the less I harbor the conviction that sometime the idea will make its way, and that at least the civilized nations of Europe will acknowledge allegiance to the principle of arbitration and will bring their controversies to a decision in that way.
I had not very long ago an extremely interesting letter from a Pole who is very warm on the peace question and sends me all sorts of peace journals and bits of news, but will not agree to peace, to the idea of a permanent peace anyway, till Poland is an independent kingdom and free both from Russia and from Austria—and he himself admits that of course this could not be attained until after a bloody war and strife. And this is the way with a good many adherents of the peace idea: first they want to see their own object attained, they shrink from no difficulties, no deluge of blood, and only when they have gained their own ends are they willing to make peace. The fact is, to accept subordination, to submit, is what individual men cannot do, much less peoples and nations; and just as we stand for the idea of peace and are carrying on a propaganda for it—of course only with very slight progress against the existing hostility to it—so others are fanning the hatred and discord of the nations, are egging on the nations to senseless national hatred, and use this to serve their own foul purposes, to attain their own despicable ends.
Most heartily wishing the best success to you at Bern, highly honored Baroness, and promising that in thought and feeling I shall be one at this so honorable assemblage which is striving for the ennobling of humanity, I sign myself with the assurance of my fullest respect and devotion,
Your sincerely admiring and appreciative
Starhemberg
I had also written to Alfred Nobel asking him to come to Bern and attend the deliberations of the Congress, but had received no answer to this.
—So after the festive breakfast on our terrace we went with tense anticipation to the opening of the Congress. The great hall of the Bundesrat was filled to the last seat. The galleries were crowded as densely as on days when an especially interesting parliamentary session is expected.
Louis Ruchonnet, who the year before had been President of the Swiss Republic, was to be chairman. In the hall we met several more friends. Professor Wilhelm Löwenthal of Paris was among them. After Ruchonnet’s inaugural address a representative from each of the different nations made remarks; and that brought the first formal session to a close. The deliberations did not begin till the second session, which took place in the afternoon in the hall of the Museum.
In the course of years I have attended more than a dozen peace congresses and conferences, the protocols of which I possess in as many volumes. I cannot propose to insert in these recollections of my life the speeches, resolutions, and festivities which this small library chronicles. I shall reproduce only what especially impressed itself on my mind, what was a part of my experience so to speak, and thereby afford to such of my readers as here seek a historical sketch of the movement with which my name and activities are associated a glance at its development. It is always interesting to follow the line along which certain phenomena of contemporary history move—now swiftly, now slowly, now standing still or even backing, to go forward again with all the greater rapidity; it is noteworthy, too, how many an after-phase is prophetically adumbrated, how projects come up and are dropped and afterward come up again as something entirely new; how that which is at first a matter of contention gradually becomes a matter of course, and how apparently insurmountable obstacles, which one does not even try to remove, are later found to have simply vanished away.
In Berlin no peace society had as yet been formed, so Germany was not represented by any one from its capital, but by Dr. Adolf Richter from Württemberg. From the United States Dr. Trueblood, president of the Boston Peace Society (founded in 1816), was there. Ducommun was in the chair at the second session, and made a report on the establishment of the permanent International Bureau, the honorary secretary of which this splendid man continued to be until his death in 1906.
Hodgson Pratt brought an interesting piece of information: the President of the United States had sent to all governments a letter announcing the resolution of the United States Senate and House of Representatives expressing the wish to have permanent arbitration treaties concluded with all other nations. Hodgson Pratt added to this communication the proposal that we should work in every country to have this letter answered by the respective governments. So that was the beginning—suggested by America, supported by England—of “permanent arbitration treaties.”
There was debated, and adopted, a motion proposed by E. T. Moneta, S. J. Capper, and the Baroness Suttner, with the title, “A Confederation of European States.”
Oh, that Capper! What a half comical but wholly pleasing figure of a congressman! The white beard of a prophet and a tall white hat. A vibrant voice that uttered itself by preference in French but with the most exaggerated English accent; enthusiasm and fire, and at the same time solid common sense.
But to return to the motion, “A Confederation of European States.” At that time the idea had not yet begun to be understood at all; it was generally confounded with “United States,” after the pattern of North America, and proscribed for Europe. So thoroughly proscribed that a Swiss paper called Les États-Unis d’Europe was forbidden to be brought into Austria.
The Capper-Moneta-Suttner motion read:
Whereas both the injury caused by armed peace and the danger that is ever threatening the whole of Europe from a possible great war have their basis in the condition of lawlessness in which the different states of Europe stand toward one another;
Whereas a confederation of European states, which would be desirable also in the interest of the commercial relations of all countries, would do away with this condition of lawlessness and create permanent legal relations in Europe;
And finally, whereas such a confederation would in no wise impair the independence of the individual nations as regards their internal affairs, and therefore as regards their forms of government:
The Congress invites the European peace societies and their adherents to exert themselves, as the highest aim of their propaganda, for the formation of a confederation of states on the basis of the solidarity of their interests. It moreover invites all the societies in the world, especially at the time of political elections, to draw attention to the necessity of a permanent congress of nations, to which every international question should be submitted, so that every conflict may be settled by law and not by force.
The members of the Congress—at least the greater part—were together the whole day long, for most of them lodged in the same hotel and took their meals there at a great common table between the sessions. There they went on conferring during luncheon and dinner. Especially at the after-dinner coffee, which was taken in a covered veranda adjoining the dining-room, groups of friends were formed and indulged in unconstrained conversation.
One afternoon a large circle of us was gathered in this veranda to hold a mock trial. At table a little controversy had arisen between the Marchese Pandolfi of Rome and Senator Arturo de Marcoartu of Madrid. Now, in jest, a court of justice was appointed; the two contending parties had to submit their cases, each of them chose an advocate, and the judge was to give his decision. I no longer remember what it was all about; I only know that it was very amusing. One of the advocates—it was Gaston Moch, a former French artillery officer—proved to be very witty, and the two opponents likewise put the whole tribunal in the merriest of moods by their repartee.
Arturo de Marcoartu was the only Spaniard who attended the Peace Congress; I believe the Spanish Interparliamentary Group and the Spanish Peace Society consisted of himself and no one else,—at least he was the only active member. He spoke a good deal and was very long-winded, and he was not a popular speaker because he had a very indistinct enunciation and he was all the time repeating himself; but when his speeches were read they were found to contain notable ideas. He had been working for years with the greatest zeal to help spread the idea of universal peace. Even before the first London Conference he had tried in Vienna to win to the cause a number of prominent politicians and aristocrats, and had found appreciation and assistance in Fürst Joseph Colloredo, a very liberal-minded man. The beginning of an activity had ensued, but this first stream was soon lost in the sand. I shall by and by introduce a letter from Marcoartu, containing many interesting discussions and observations which have been justified by events. As long as he lived Marcoartu never was missing at a Peace Congress or an Interparliamentary Conference; since his death, Spain has been unrepresented at the Congresses.
To return to that afternoon in the veranda: my husband, who was employed as Pandolfi’s advocate, was in the act of delivering a humorous plea, when a waiter came to me where I sat at one side, said that a gentleman in the drawing-room wished to speak to me, and handed me the man’s card,—Alfred Nobel. Joyfully surprised, I hastened to the drawing-room, where my friend came to meet me.
“You called me,” he said; “here I am. But incognito, so to speak. I do not want to take part in the Congress or make any acquaintances, only to hear something specific about the matter. Tell me what has been done so far.”
We remained absorbed in a long conversation. Alfred Nobel displayed much skepticism, yet he seemed anxious to see his doubts dispelled. He left Bern that same evening, but he made my husband and me promise to come and visit him for two days at Zurich after the Congress was adjourned.
Among the festivities which were arranged for the benefit of the Congressists was an excursion to the Lake of Lucerne. It was a grand trip. We had a collation at Lucerne. Of course toasts were made; but all after dinner eloquence evaporates with the froth of the champagne. Nevertheless, something that Ruchonnet said—not in a speech but in conversation with his vis-à-vis—made a great impression on me, and I copied it into my diary. Some one had spoken of the objection that is often heard made by the opposing party that it would be an impossibility, a misfortune, to reduce the armies—it would be simply unthinkable from the standpoint of civilization and political economy. Then Ruchonnet made this comparison: If to-day, by some misfortune, the sun should be darkened, then men would use every effort to provide artificial light and artificial heat; new industries and new professions would come into existence; and then, if after a few generations people should come along with the proposition to abolish the sun’s eclipse, there would be a general outcry, “That would be a calamity, an impossibility—what would become of the heat factories, of the numberless light-makers?”
On the day after the excursion to Lucerne the deliberations were resumed. First of all, A. G. von Suttner took the floor to protest against the false, distorted reports of a certain correspondent. The person inculpated had done nothing less than to send the newspapers a telegram in which the opening assembly was pictured as a turbulent scene among people who were stirring up war in their own camp. The speaker read aloud the distorted reports in question, which had furthermore given the foreign press material for sarcastic comments, and called on the chair to send an official denial to the newspapers; and this was done. It proved later that the correspondent was an avowed opponent, who had declared to a colleague that he was not willing that the movement should take root in Switzerland.
There did come a somewhat lively scene in the course of the Congress, however, when the Polish member of the Austrian Parliament made a speech in which he demanded the restoration of Poland as an independent kingdom. Ducommun, who was in the chair at that session, as well as several other speakers, notably Frédéric Passy, laid down the law to the Polish patriot, who would not accept the partition of his fatherland, declaring that the Congress could not possibly occupy itself with the revision of Polish history. The justice of the future is to be made ready for; the individual injustices of history cannot now be rectified, for all the divisions of the land as at present constituted are based on the ground of force; new laws, new ordinances—and they must be worked for—have no retroactive power.
Now the Parliamentarians too took their turn in Bern. Their Conference was to be opened after the close of our Congress, on the twenty-ninth of August. There we again met many old acquaintances: Dr. Baumbach and Dr. Hirsch from Berlin; Frédéric Bajer from Denmark; Philip Stanhope, brother of the Minister of War, Cremer, Dr. Clark, from England; and many others. We also learned to know many new faces: from Norway the president of the Storthing, Ullman, was present, and Honduras and San Salvador were this time represented by Minister Plenipotentiary Marquis de Castello Foglia. Altogether thirteen nations were represented. The sessions were held in the Federal Palace. The rest of us—non-parliamentarians—were allowed to be present in the galleries. The Conference was received by the director of the Department of the Exterior, Bundesrat Droz. Of the transactions I note the following:
The French Senator Trarieux and the Englishman Stanhope took up the American overture in regard to arbitration treaties and proposed the establishment of an international tribunal. Pandolfi pleaded for “a permanent International Conference.” Marcoartu demanded the neutralization of isthmuses and straits. Baumbach, vice president of the German Reichstag,—even then the German politicians were showing themselves very reserved toward the idea of peace,—spoke in behalf of the protection of private property at sea in times of war. The debate on this topic became rather excited. The Frenchman Pourquery de Boisserin explained in fiery words that a Peace Conference could not, on principle, take under advisement any eventualities of war—and there he was right, a hundred times right!
The other standpoints, however,—“that we cannot be satisfied with pious wishes; we cannot as yet proclaim permanent peace, so we must content ourselves with what is attainable, and every factor that works toward the humanizing of war, the diminution of its horrors, is itself a mighty step toward better things,”—these standpoints won the day, and the Baumbach motion was passed.
Even at luncheon—I sat between Baumbach and Pourquery—the controversy was kept up. And it has lasted till to-day. There are still those who want to guide the work of peace along the course of mitigating and regulating the phenomena of war, in order to demonstrate thereby that they are too practical to strive for the “impossible,” and in order to postpone to misty future times the attack on the real enemy, “war,” for which they show especial regard and respect; and in contradistinction to these there are those who assert that if the goal lies in the south one ought not to pave the way toward the north.
During the session of the Conference the Parliamentarians were given a festival at Interlaken. On that occasion Schenk, who afterward became President of the Confederation, offered a toast containing a prophecy for which even the speaker himself probably did not foresee so speedy a fulfillment.
“I am glad,” said he, “to see the representatives of parliaments here assembled to deliberate about peace and arbitration; still more glad should I be on the day when the official commissioners of the governments should assemble for the like purpose—and that day will come.”
That day arrived only seven years later, when twenty-seven governments sent their official representatives to The Hague for that same purpose.