XL
FROM HARMANNSDORF AND FROM CHICAGO
Slow increase · Far-reaching endeavors from our quiet corner · Childlessness · With Aunt Lotti · My brother · The World’s Fair at Chicago, and the Peace Congress · Olga Wisinger-Florian · I am represented by Olga Wisinger · Congress of Religions · Petition of the various ecclesiastical bodies to the governments in favor of a court of arbitration
So now there existed in the capital of Germany a Peace Society, about which as a center branch societies would presumably group themselves in all the larger German cities. The proposed task of forming a widespread public opinion was, therefore, well underway. I saw with delight, in my imagination, an undeviating development of the movement. I clearly recognized, however, that the beginnings were comparatively insignificant. What were our two or three thousand organized members compared to the thousand five hundred millions that populate the earth? And how puny, not only in numbers but also in power and reputation, compared to the representatives and supporters of the old system! But what is the significance of the first violet-dotted patch of grass compared to the fields, stretching miles and miles, still covered with the snows of March? It signifies that the spring is at hand. What signifies the first gleam of dawn penetrating the mantle of night? It signifies that the sunrise is coming. Thus I accepted the modest results achieved up to that time by the peace idea, and harbored no doubt that the element of spring, the element of light that abides in it, must come to fulfillment in gradual but uninterrupted and ever swifter progression.
I have no doubt of it either, even at the present day; but I have learned from experience that such movements do not take place in so straight a line and in such a regular tempo as I then supposed. It is a zigzag line, now attaining great height and speed, then sinking down again; it apparently vanishes, and then with a new start reaches quite unexpected points. And all direct, methodical (zielbewusste) work—to use the tiresome, hackneyed word—is on the one hand hampered, on the other helped, by unanticipated, invisible secondary influences; more often helped than hampered, for, where any innovation is to be introduced, its forces converge from all directions.
Our life was now richly filled. We enjoyed two special blessings which one can hardly think of in combination,—impetuous reaching out into the wide world, and peace in our quiet corner. Full of hopes, expectations, struggles, in flaming enthusiasm or in overwhelming indignation, we set sail into the future; and a sheltered, safe little nest, beautifully pillowed with love and gayety, was ours at that time.
Many expressed their pity for us because we were childless. The blessing of children is, indeed, regarded as the highest happiness; but I have never expressed in these memoirs one single word of regret for this lack, nor have we, either of us, ever complained of it. Possibly, if we had known that good fortune, we should not have been able to comprehend how such a deprivation can be borne without pain; but it is a fact, our childlessness never cost us a sigh. I explain this in this way: not only did we find perfect satisfaction in each other, but that need of living for the future which lies at the basis of the desire to have offspring and to work and provide for them was satisfied in our case by our vocation, which also was striving for the future, and which delighted in something still in its infancy, but growing and flourishing. Besides, we had our literary activity, and it is well known and recognized in popular language that authorship is a kind of paternity (Autorschaft ist eine Art Vaterschaft).
And yet how absolutely different my life had shaped itself from what had been anticipated in my childhood and youth! I often had at this time occasion to turn my thoughts back to those days of youth and childhood, and to refresh my recollections of them. My old Aunt Lotti, Elvira’s mother, who was now quite alone in the world and had nothing to love except me, had moved into our neighborhood. She lived about an hour’s walk from Harmannsdorf, and I used to drive over to see her at least once a week, and chat with her for an hour or two, on old reminiscences for the most part. She took the liveliest interest in my domestic happiness and my labors, and yet we liked best to talk together of times gone by, of the days when Elvira and I played “puff” together.
Aunt Lotti was really the only link that connected me with my early life. My brother was still alive, to be sure, but, except for an exchange of letters once in a great while, we were quite out of touch with each other. So in these recollections I have had nothing to say of him. He was an odd fish, living perfectly aloof from mankind and isolated in a small Dalmatian city, occupying himself with floriculture and chess. His company consisted of a number of cats. Solitary walks along the seashore, the reading of botanical and mineralogical works, were his only passions. I had not seen him since 1872, and up to the time of his death, which occurred a few years ago, we never met again.
In the year of 1893 we did not attend any Peace Congress. Ever since I was carried away by this movement, I have counted the stations of my recollections for the most part by journeys to Peace Congresses, for these always brought visible tokens of the progress of the cause that was so dear to my heart and the possibility of taking an active part in helping it along. They brought me into touch, too, with the old friends, and led to the formation of new friendships; finally, they took us to new places in environments hitherto unknown, and they procured for us that enjoyment which My Own drank in with the greatest avidity,—travel itself. To get into a carriage together, and then to be off and away—it was an indescribable joy!
The Congress this year was held at Chicago, in connection with the exposition which was called the “World’s Fair.” Our means were not sufficient for such a long journey and we gave it up. I intrusted the duty of representing me at this Congress to my friend Malaria, the celebrated painter Frau Olga Wisinger. She had been with us in the Austrian delegation at Rome, and was an enthusiastic adherent of the cause; so the mission was in good hands. The name “Malaria” is only a nickname and does not refer in any way to the great artist’s feverish propensities. This was its origin: at Rome all the participants had to register their names and occupations, that a list of those present might be printed and distributed; so in the Austrian group we read, “Signora Olga Wisinger, Malaria,” for that was the way the Italians had deciphered the word malerin, “painter.”
During the World’s Fair, countless congresses were held in Chicago, and one of them was the Congress of Religions. All the great sects of the world had sent their dignitaries to represent them. This was certainly the first time that the promulgators of different creeds had come together, not to proselyte or to battle with one another, but to bring out the principles that are common to them all. And Christian bishops, Mosaic rabbis, Buddhist and Mohammedan priests, found themselves at one in the principle: God is the father of all; therefore all are brethren. So there was also a peace principle resulting from this Congress of Religions.
The actual Peace Congress which met August 14–19, in the Art Institute, under the Administrative Department of the Columbian Exposition, was presided over by Josiah Quincy, Assistant Secretary of State. Among the participants and speakers was William Jennings Bryan, who in the year 1904 ran as Roosevelt’s opponent for the presidency of the United States, and who may perhaps at some future election win the victory.
In this Congress delegates from Africa and China participated. Europeans were only slimly represented. The journey across the great pond, which means for Americans only “a trip,” still frightens the inhabitants of our continent. Dr. Adolf Richter went from Germany, Dr. Darby from England, Moneta from Italy, and from Austria—“Malaria.” The Americans of course were well represented and by distinguished men,—scholars, judges, statesmen. A soldier even, General Charles H. Howard, gave an address on the International Tribunal. A special church convention joined the movement by referring to the projected petition of the various Christian bodies of the world to the governments in behalf of the Court of Arbitration. This plan was carried out, and the petition, which was signed by about a hundred ecclesiastical dignitaries of all countries, was subsequently laid before all the heads of governments. I was intrusted with the duty of presenting the copy destined for the Emperor of Austria.