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.
My guests also listen with lively interest to Bloch’s remarks and elucidations. Of course all know about his great book, have read criticisms of it, and have had a chance to turn the leaves of the six volumes as they lie on my drawing-room table; and so they give the most eager attention to what the author himself relates regarding the establishment of his work and its results. In this exposition Bloch speaks so calmly, modestly, and to the point! It is felt that his conviction rests on scrupulously investigated facts; he is conscious in his own mind that he has gathered the simple truth and given it out in its full scope.
D’Estournelles announces a visitor. To-morrow Charles Richet is coming to The Hague as D’Estournelles’s guest. This very day Richet’s latest book had reached me,—a succinct history of the peace movement. The French savant, editor of the Revue scientifique, is with us heart and soul; he and Frédéric Passy are members of the board of directors of the French Peace Society. It is therefore a twofold pleasure to hear that the representative of France here at The Hague is a friend of his; more than a friend, an admirer. C’est un grand cœur, une belle intelligence; such is D’Estournelles’s judgment on Charles Richet.
May 22. Another “meeting again” (Wiedersehen) with an old acquaintance whom I had never seen; Charles Richet calls on us and brings us greetings from our poor Passy. He has hopes that he will get well, but none that he will come to The Hague. Richet proves to be a great enthusiast in our cause. I wanted to keep him for luncheon, but he and D’Estournelles are invited to the French ambassador’s.
In the meantime we had an invitation to a luncheon given by Frau Grete Moscheles to Andrew D. White, head of the American delegation and ambassador to Berlin.
The information which Dr. White gave us filled us all with the keenest satisfaction: “I am guilty of no indiscretion,” he said at dessert, “if I tell you that at the first session of the arbitration committee we shall bring forward a complete plan for an international tribunal,—and this at the command of the United States government. I cannot as yet give the details, but the fact itself will, and should, be no secret.”
May 23. In spite of closed doors, Staal’s opening address is already known. An English paper has printed it. I extract the specially significant passages:
The name “Peace Conference,” which has been conferred on our meeting by the instinct of the nations, anticipating the decisions of the governments, designates correctly the object of our endeavors; the “Peace Conference” cannot be unfaithful to the mission intrusted to it; it must bring forth a tangible result such as the whole world confidently expects from it.
... Let me be permitted to say that diplomacy, following a general process of development, is no longer what it formerly was,—an art in which personal cleverness plays the chief rôle,—but is on the point of becoming a science with definite rules for the settlement of international difficulties. This is to-day the ideal aim which it must keep before its eyes, and it will unquestionably be a great advance if there is a successful attempt made here to settle some of those rules.
Therefore we must take special pains to generalize and to codify the application of the principles of arbitration as well as of mediation and friendly offices. These ideas, so to speak, form the very kernel of our task, the common aim of our endeavors, that is to say the solution of international controversies by peaceful means.
... The nations cherish a burning desire for peace, and we are responsible to mankind and to the governments that have empowered us with their authority, we are responsible to ourselves, to do a profitable work in establishing methods of employing some of the means for securing peace. In the front rank of these means stand arbitration and mediation.
Charles Richet and his son breakfast with us. One thing Richet said makes a deep impression on me: “On all sides we are compelled to hear it said that the time has not yet come to carry out our ideals. This may be so, but certainly the present is the time to prepare for it.”
In the afternoon a call on Frau von Okoliczany. This lady—born Princess Lobanof—has the reputation of having been a dazzling beauty. She is still beautiful. Figure, shoulders, arms of statuesque harmony of lines. The white cashmere tea gown in which she received us has loose sleeves which leave her fair, round arms free. Hands have their individual physiognomies, as is well known; Frau von Okoliczany’s beautiful hands accompany her vivacious conversation with what might be called vivacious pantomime, and the motions of her arms are eloquent.
A caller comes in,—Count Costantino Nigra. Can it be possible that this slender, tall man, with his thick, wavy hair still blond, with his regular features showing scarcely any marks of age, is already seventy years old? Of course the conversation turns on the Conference and its objects. Count Nigra gives the impression of being thoroughly imbued with the solemnity of the task, and of being hopeful of its results.
Of course it is his duty, not only from a diplomatic point of view but almost from that of propriety, to speak in this way. One would hardly dare to take part in official, nay more, secret, deliberations, and then make light of them in a drawing-room conversation. Only to Baron von Stengel did it happen to be sent to a Conference the object of which he had shortly before characterized as “a daydream.”... But apart from diplomatic punctiliousness, you are instinctively aware when any one speaks frankly and from conviction, and I get the impression that Count Nigra is going to work earnestly and zealously for the cause.
Sa Majesté la Reine
Le Maréchal de la Cour a l’honneur d’inviter
Monsieur le Baron, Madame la Baronne Berthe Suttner
née Comtesse Kinsky, et Mademoiselle de Suttner[32]
à une Soirée au Palais
Mercredi le 24 Mai à 9½ heures
en Gala
One court function is like another: the long line of carriages which drive in à la file through the palace gates; the broad, covered steps adorned with flowers, where the liveried lackeys stand on either side and with dumb show indicate the way; the lofty, gilded drawing-rooms with polished parqueted floors; the numberless uniforms and gala court costumes of the men, the trailing light robes of the ladies, who are adorned with diamonds, flowers, and heron plumes; the atmosphere full of excitement and expectation.
The first halls through which we pass are rather empty; we are shown by the master of ceremonies through a vast, half-filled room, and farther still into a salon which is quite densely crowded. Here people are standing almost tête-à-tête. Nods of recognition and greetings are exchanged; there is lively conversation. Some one remarks that it is different at the English court. There the appearance of the Queen is awaited in religious silence.
A half hour elapses. In the adjoining drawing-room the guests take their places round the center, which is left vacant. These are the diplomats and their wives, for whom their majesties will hold court. The Chinaman and his wife again make the most striking appearance in this circle. They are in silken robes with rich embroidery of flowers, but Mrs. Yang wears for the adornment of her head only the usual paper flowers hanging down over her temples.
“Leurs Majestés les Reines!”
A lane is made in the circle and in come Queen Wilhelmina and Queen Emma surrounded by their courtiers. Both are in white. A white veil flows down from the Queen mother’s diadem. The girl Queen wears the broad band of the Order of Catherine, which this day was conferred upon her by Herr von Staal in the name of the Tsar.
The circle is completed. The Queen stands for a moment before each lady and gentleman, bows, speaks a few words, bows again, and passes on.
After this diplomatic court is over, the other presentations are made. Frau von Okoliczany leads me up to her Majesty and calls me by name.
A brief conversation in French ensues. The young Queen, graciously smiling, asks me, just as she probably asks most of the others, if this is the first time I have ever visited The Hague and how I like it. I include in my reply the observation that my sojourn in Holland is made particularly happy by the greatness of the cause that brought me there. The gracious little sovereign nods at that but says nothing.
I was presented also to Queen Emma by our ambassador’s wife.
After the two royal women have spoken with all present, the whole company withdraws into a third salon, an enormous room, probably the ballroom, where a long table, covered with flowers, fruits, cold dishes, tea, and other liquid refreshments, stands along one side, while near the other are little round tables at which the guests may sit. An orchestra in the gallery plays various concert pieces. As I listened I was surprised to hear the intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana.
But not much attention is given to the music. Ear and eye and mind are occupied with other things. Did I begin by saying that this court function was like all others? That was wrong. This is a court function such as has never been seen before since courts began,—a court function which only a year ago, if prophesied, would have been laughed to scorn as the wildest freak of the imagination.
“Baroness, the Minister of War desires to be presented to you.”
Then again,—“Gracious lady, permit me to introduce myself; my name is Kramer, Secretary in the Ministry of War, and I am eager to tell you that the ideal for which you stand in your novel I have been cherishing in silence for two and thirty years, and now I am heartily rejoiced to see its accomplishment drawing nearer.”
I had a long conversation with Lu Tseng-Tsiang, Secretary of the Chinese Embassy in St. Petersburg.
“For us Chinese especially,” he remarked, “the attainment of the object set by the Conference would be most highly desirable, for we are particularly threatened by the most serious dangers of the European policy of force.”
Herr von Staal talks with me and Herr von Descamps about Johann von Bloch and his book. “C’est un homme remarquable,” he observes. “He wants to prove that peace is no longer a Utopia, but that, in the present state of arms and armies, it is Utopia for civilized nations to wage war. And,” adds the Russian diplomat, “he may be right.”
May 25. A card is brought me, announcing the Earl of Aberdeen. I have been for some time in correspondence with Lady Isabel Aberdeen, who is to preside at the forthcoming Congress of Women in London.
The earl, formerly Governor of Canada,—still a young man of tall, slender figure, with a short, black beard,—brings me greetings from his wife. He tells me that he has been taking an active part in the great campaign of meetings organized by Stead, and has spoken at the gatherings. Charles Richet joins us, also a few German newspaper correspondents, who hitherto have heard and written only things derogatory to the cause of peace; they lay stress especially on the principle that the only guaranty for peace lies in the thorough armament of Germany, since all the other nations are hungry for war. It was a great satisfaction to me that they could hear the Frenchman and the Englishman defend the cause in perfect unanimity and with the most powerful arguments. At the same time, these two men are no “obscure cranks,” but one of them is among the highest dignitaries of the British Empire and the other is one of the most distinguished savants of the University of Paris.
In the afternoon, at the reception at the Russian Embassy, we meet Sir Julia