You had the kindness to invite me to call last Sunday. Unfortunately, I was unable to respond to your desire, because the letter did not tell me where you were, and I was unable to learn until it was too late.

Permit me herewith to add a few words regarding my position on the question of the Russian Emperor’s peace manifesto, since I may take it for granted that I have to attribute to this matter the honor of your letter.

The Social-Democratic party is sympathetically disposed toward the thought that underlies the manifesto. Up to the present time it has been the only party that has opposed the development of militarism in almost the same words as the Russian Emperor’s; it has been alone and consistent in upholding the idea of national brotherhood for the purpose of promoting the common interests of mankind.

The fact that now the sovereign of an empire like Russia, whose policy hitherto has demanded militarism first of all and made it necessary, should at this time appear as its opponent, is highly noteworthy, but cannot prevent us from looking upon the action with a certain distrust until it is proved by corresponding deeds that this is unjustified. The calling of the Conference, with the familiar programme lately published, is not as yet sufficient.

Moreover, there are at all events very important internal political reasons that have incited the Russian government to undertake the advocacy of the imperial plan, which otherwise would scarcely have happened. Even an absolute autocrat is not supremely powerful.

For the reason here briefly summarized, the Social-Democratic party is somewhat cool toward an agitation in behalf of the Emperor’s manifesto; it cannot by a heart-and-soul participation in this agitation undertake the responsibility for what will be said and done towards the acceptance and glorification of the Emperor’s manifesto. If representatives of the party should then wish to protest, this would only cause discord, which would be detrimental to the cause itself.

I believe, therefore, that it is in the interest of both sides to march in separate columns in this campaign, and to allow each tendency to advocate its special standpoint independently.

While we were in Berlin a great service in honor of Egidy was held (January 29). It was inspiring and elevating.

The next day there was a public meeting called by the Berlin Peace Society, at which Dr. Hirsch, Schmidt-Cabanis the writer, and I made addresses.

In response to an invitation from the Countess Gurowska we went from Berlin for a fortnight’s visit at Château Montboron in Nice. I was to speak both at Cannes and at Nice about the approaching conference. We were met at the railway station at Nice by our hostess’s husband and General Türr. It was just at the time of the great carnival, and the two gentlemen took us to the city hall, where we had a fine view of the battle of flowers. The following day we were again invited to the city hall to witness the burning of Prince Carnival, a figure constructed of straw.

The reception rooms of the hall were crowded with distinguished guests, and among others I met Madame Juliette Adam. “You must come to-morrow to the Baroness’s lecture,” said a gentleman of our group to her. “To a lecture on peace? I?” cried the editor of La Nouvelle Revue. “Certainly not, I am for war.” I was drawn into a discussion with her, in which I defended my side in a low voice, she hers in a wrathful tone well suited to the subject discussed.

The same evening I made the acquaintance of a very sympathetic Frenchman, M. Catusse, who had just been appointed consul general for France in Sweden. He proved to be a warm fellow-champion. Our conversation—as was the case with almost all conversations at that time—turned upon the Affaire. And then he told me the following: His wife kept a diary. On one page in it, during the year 1894, it was noted that an officer who had been sitting next her at a banquet, and who had followed the trial and had the day before been present at the degradation of Alfred Dreyfus, said to her after dinner, Hier nous avons condamné un innocent (“Yesterday we punished an innocent man”).

My lecture, which I delivered under the chairmanship of General Türr, won me enthusiastic applause from a very large cosmopolitan audience. Many of the Russians who were present asked to be presented to me in order to express their appreciation; among others an elderly lady clad in deep mourning, who announced that she was the mother of Marie Bashkirtseff, that young genius who died so prematurely.

The next day I saw her in her own home, and found that it was a sort of memorial temple to the departed; on all the walls there was nothing but pictures painted by Marie Bashkirtseff, or representing Marie herself at all periods of her life and in the most varying phases, always full of beauty and charm. Neither could the sorrowful mother speak of anything else than of her famous daughter.

A few days later I gave a lecture in Cannes. Luncheon on the Arche de Noé; Italian singers on board; magnificent weather; guests Count Rochechouart, the mayor, the president of the Nautical Club, Türr, and another gentleman—I do not remember his name—with a brutal face. The table talk turns on Dreyfus.

“I do not admit,” says Count Rochechouart, “that seven officers condemned a comrade without being certain of their position.”

The Mayor: “Other people, not knowing the circumstances, have no right to express an opinion.”

The Nautical President: “A dozen bullets ought to have been sent through his body.”

Rochechouart: “I belong to only one league—it is impossible to be of another—Déroulède’s.”

The Brutal Man: “Obviously; I should like to see you being anything else.”

So these are my fellow-banqueters before a lecture on peace!

The lecture fell very flat. The hall was pretty empty. No enthusiasm. I have not often made such a miserable speech. After the lecture, which ended about four o’clock in the afternoon, we took a walk through the wonderful city of gardens.

In Nice we were rejoiced by a call which brought back sweet recollections of the beautiful days in the Caucasus. I read in the local newspaper that Prince Lucien Murat and his wife, born Princesse de Rohan, had come to make a visit to the Empress Eugénie in neighboring Cimièz. I immediately wrote a note to my former little German pupil to tell him that we were near at hand. The next day the young couple came to see us. One cloud only darkened the delight of the reunion, namely, the tragic death of Prince Achille Murat, Lucien’s father. The incident was not mentioned.

On our return to Harmannsdorf our days were filled with preparations for the journey to The Hague; I wrote numerous articles and sent letters to all points of the compass. I had buried myself in Bloch’s great work and had written him about it. In reply I received the following letter:

Heartiest thanks for your kind lines. The service ascribed to me is, however, only the result of the movement against war which has been going on, and in which you personally, gracious Baroness, have taken such an important part; and I must bear witness that your personal talent, in my opinion, has accomplished more than all technical arguments can possibly accomplish.

Unfortunately I could not write you sooner because I had an unusual task to finish. Unfortunately, also, I am still so very busy that I can only send a sketch in place of the desired programme.

In my opinion it would be best for an agitation to be made, to the end that the Conference in pleno, or that single states, should inaugurate an investigation as to the possibility of carrying through a great war.

At this moment the governments are not humble enough, public opinion is not as yet ripe enough, to be able to obtain results from the Conference. It would be much more practical if the sessions could be postponed until autumn, so as to let the separate states have time for arranging investigations and preparing public opinion.

I will at all events endeavor to meet you so as to talk the matter over more in detail. I shall be in London about the fourteenth, at Hotel Cecil, and shall be at the Grand Hôtel in Paris toward the eighteenth, and there I expect to remain about a fortnight.

I will do my best to promote matters in the direction indicated.

It is impossible for me to predict to-day whether I shall be able to get to Scheveningen. At any rate I shall take the liberty of writing you in regard to this, and one of the principal motives of my desire to be there would be to have the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with you.

I also asked Prince Scipione Borghese to come to The Hague, as I had just been informed that he had come out in favor of the peace cause. He wrote back:

Your pleasant letter, which I am very late in answering, has excited our desires more than you would believe possible. To spend some time with you and un groupe du high-life pacifique, closely following the work of this Conference, which is without contradiction one of the culminating facts of the history of our century, seems to us a delicious dream.

Unhappily your interesting invitation will preserve all the beauty of a dream, which is always somewhat melancholy because of its unreality. The marriage of my youngest sister to Count Hoyos, which is to be celebrated toward the end of May in the depths of Hungary, calls us in that direction, and up to that time I am kept here by the carrying out of a social and agrarian transformation in which I am enormously interested and which keeps me at its beck and call.

As for the Conference, the idea of which is in itself so beautiful and its convocation such a great victory, I hope that the good will of certain governments may compensate for the ill will of so many others, and that the whole thing will not remain in the realm of ideas but will give us some practical fruits....

You will find in our two Italian delegates, Count Nigra and Count Zanini, two charming men who are personally very well disposed.

I received from Paris the subjoined letter, from one who was quite unknown to me. It was the first step of an animated intercourse both epistolary and personal,—I may say of a faithful friendship and collaboration which has not yet ceased to ally me with the author, the most successful peace worker in France.

Since I have abandoned diplomacy to enter Parliament, I have begun to publish in the Revue des deux mondes a series of studies on the precarious state of Europe and on the necessity imposed on all civilized states of uniting in behalf of progress and of war on evil. These studies, the first dated April 1, 1896, the second July 19, 1897, will shortly be brought to a close by a third part, in which international arbitration and relative disarmament are brought forward as the conclusion.

My nomination as one of the French delegates to The Hague will prevent me from finishing this long work, though at the same time permitting me to make it more united. I perceive, in fact, that I still require many indispensable data not found in books. Perhaps I might obtain them by addressing myself to your kindness of heart, since you allow none of the manifestations of public opinion regarding universal peace to escape you.

This is the question that preoccupies me: Is popular sentiment in Austria-Hungary generally and personally hostile to war? No one can know that, but still one may have an impression. What is yours?

If in each country in the world a like opinion, not in the clouds but well thought out, could be obtained, with what force it could and should weigh on the governments and consequently on their delegates at the Conference.

Please accept, madam, the very respectful admiration of a Frenchman who, without knowing you, is devoted to you.

In my reply to this letter I brought up the hindrances which, through the apathetic and sometimes hostile opinions of influential persons and of the masses, were blocking the work of the Conference. From this point of view I pleaded for a continuity of the international conferences; for, while I expected everything from the development of the movement as already started, certainly not much was to be expected from this first session, made up as it was of at least as many doubters and opponents as adherents. Thereupon Baron d’Estournelles wrote me a long letter, from which I translate the following passage:

I am completely in accord with you, gracious lady, only I am somewhat more optimistic than you are with regard to the results of the Conference. I believe, and the more I think it over the more I believe, that the Conference cannot help doing some good—more than is expected of it. The members will feel the revelation of the living world, the wishes of humanity, and the nearness of the terrible dangers that threaten Europe.

None of the governments represented at The Hague will be willing to expose themselves to the unpopularity, the dissatisfaction, the ridicule, of the people, which would be evoked by a failure or a wretched, disappointing result.

Therefore, voluntarily or involuntarily, some good will be accomplished, and, once on this path, it must be pursued to the end. It will be impossible, it will be dangerous, to hold back.

The pamphlet entitled “Perpetual Peace,” by the Munich professor Von Stengel, came out. In this all the arguments of the opponents, all the glorification of war and of armaments, that have ever been brought against the notion of peace are summed up, and there is added out-and-out derision of the approaching conference daydream. And the author of this pamphlet had been nominated by the German government as its representative at the Hague Conference! This aroused great consternation in our circles, and the German peace associations protested publicly.

From Austria, Lammasch, professor of international law, and Count Welsersheimb, attached to the diplomatic service, were appointed as delegates. The latter, hitherto a stranger to me, made me a call in order to secure facts relating to the peace movement.

On the eleventh of May I received a telegram from Bloch. The desire to form a committee, consisting of political economists, military men, and politicians, which should institute and publish investigations concerning the presumable results of a future war between the great powers, characterized the aim of Bloch’s plans and action. He telegraphed:

Shall reach The Hague the sixteenth. Hope to find room at your hotel. In case Conference at the beginning fails to institute serious investigation, plan to form a committee which shall undertake this work. I have letters from Prussian generals which show that the idea is already ripe. I am ready to guarantee the expenses. It would be very desirable, using Vienna as a rendezvous, to secure a number of names of political economists and statisticians, and, if possible, of military men. I think that, for execution of the plan, reporters on special divisions of my work, or independent workers, should be nominated, who subsequently should be coördinated through a central committee. Any other method, however, equally acceptable.

The two grand masters of the movement, Hodgson Pratt and Élie Ducommun, sent me the following letters before my departure for The Hague:

I see from the newspapers that you are, as is most fitting, at The Hague. You are a witness of one of the greatest events of modern times, and I venture to write a few lines to congratulate you on the fact that you have been able to contribute to the bringing about of this great event. All changes in human affairs are in these days due to the all-powerful influence of public opinion; and you have possessed special gifts and opportunities of contributing to the formation of that great power of opinion. The very fact of your being a woman, and of your being a member of the aristocracy in an essentially aristocratic and military nation, has powerfully attracted attention in Continental Europe by your writings and speeches. You have been able to speak and write with a special and personal experience not possessed by the majority of the advocates of international unity and concord. To this work you have brought the great gifts of eloquence and sincere enthusiasm. God has blessed your efforts in enabling you to see at least some of the results of your devoted and unselfish work.

In such a moment it is alike a pleasure and a duty to give expression to the feelings which, as a humble brother during many years, I entertained in regard to your great services with all my heart.

I hoped to have said this to you viva voce at Bern a few weeks ago, and was much disappointed at not seeing you there. I regretted that the members of the commission did not see their way to the appointment of two or three experts in the question of arbitration tribunals, and so forth, such as Mr. La Fontaine, and others.

But doubtless there are delegates who will do all that is necessary, and influence their colleagues by their knowledge and earnestness. It is a profound source of satisfaction to know that Sir Julian Pauncefote is taking part in the proceedings; no better man in our cause could have been sent.

I desire to be heartily remembered to the Baron von Suttner; and remain with profound esteem,

You have caused me great joy in addressing to me your two letters, 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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.