The useful zeal and the self-sacrificing and profitable labors which you have undertaken in the interest and service of universal peace make it a pleasant duty for us to invite you, as well as your husband, and your niece the Baroness von Suttner, to the Interparliamentary Conference which is to open at Budapest on the twenty-second of September.
As you are aware, only members of legislatures can take part in the Conference; yet it may interest you to follow the sessions from the gallery and to participate in the festivities and excursions.
I return to my Budapest diary.
September 23. Yesterday, as on the eve of the Congress, a great soirée in the Parkklub, cards of invitation for which were sent out by Koloman von Szell. This clubhouse is really beautiful—massive, splendid, with English comfort. All the members of the Conference are present; we have a joyous meeting with old acquaintances,—Stanhope, Beernaert, Cremer, Descamps, and others. Many ladies of Hungarian society and the wives of the members of the Conference are there. Almost all the Hungarian ministers, Baron Banffy at their head; Counts Eugen Zichy, Albert Apponyi, Szapary, Esterhazy, and many journalists and artists. Our old Passy is closely surrounded. Maria Louise looks wondrously pretty and, it seems to me, is turning the heads of several of the Magyars! Also that northern maiden, Ranghild Lund, the beauty of the conference days at Rome, is here and arousing much admiration. John Lund comes up to me and brings me a message from Björnson. I make the acquaintance of a young Countess Kalnoky (unmarried and very independent), and her free and broad-minded views greatly appeal to me. Then we are joined by a Countess Forgac; she has much to tell us of Empress Elisabeth, among other things the following: Some spirit communications had been made (presumably at a spiritualistic séance) to the effect that the place where the Crown Prince Rudolf is staying is worse than hell and no prayers are of any avail; the Empress is full of despair about it. Melinda Karolyi and I exchange glances equivalent to many exclamation marks.
Servants bring round delicious edibles and drinkables. A journalist remarks, “One need not be a member of a peace league to find this sort of international meeting decidedly pleasanter than those where bombs and grenades are served.”
To-day the opening session takes place in the House of Magnates. Before the building, on the edge of the street, fastened together with garlands of flowers, stand masts, from which float the flags of all the nations that participate in the Conference,—an object lesson for the passers-by. That conception of a “European Confederation,” still so strange, is here expressed in the language of emblems.
We reach our places in the gallery before the members of the Conference make their appearance in the hall, so we watch them as they come in deliberately and take their places. In the ministerial chairs, where of late the King’s Hungarian councilors sat, now the foreign parliamentarians are taking their seats. Frédéric Passy is between Cardinal Schlauch and Minister Darany. Gobat mounts the platform and proposes that the president of the Hungarian House of Deputies, Desider Szilagyi, be chairman of the Conference. He accepts and delivers the welcoming address. Now follow the speeches of old acquaintances,—Pirquet, Descamps, Beernaert, Von Bar, Bajer, and others. Apponyi is new and surprising to me. What a speaker! He has a tall, elegant figure, a powerful barytone voice, and an easy mastery of foreign tongues.
At the second session at four o’clock begin the actual transactions. Point I: “Permanent International Arbitration Tribunal.” Descamps reports that he has sent to all the sovereigns and governments the memorandum in regard to this question, drawn up in accordance with the motion of the previous year. Most of the governments had replied favorably to the principles, but the most decisive answer came from St. Petersburg, from the recently departed Prince Lobanof.
In the evening a great soirée at the Prime Minister’s.
I see that my diary has not kept a very strict account of the various phases of the transactions of the Conference. But the official protocol lies before me and I will here dwell upon something that seems to me important in the historical development of the peace cause. In that session of September 22, 1896, the following resolution was offered by Pierantoni:
The Seventh Interparliamentary Conference requests all civilized states to call a diplomatic conference in order that the question of an international court of arbitration may be laid before it; at this conference the labors of the Interparliamentary Union shall serve as a basis for further resolves.
A Conference of Diplomatists. In this term does there not already ring—how shall I express it?—a note suggestive of the conferences at The Hague, in which, indeed, the labors of Descamps and La Fontaine served as the foundation of the establishment of the Hague Tribunal.
And still another debate of historical interest. During the session of the twenty-fourth of September the order of the day contains the question whether those nations that have no parliament may be able to participate in the Interparliamentary Conferences, and what their status shall be. Count Albert Apponyi, who has composed a memorial on this subject, which is distributed through the hall, makes the report. He refers to the memorial, and confines himself to a brief exposition. He reserves the privilege of again expressing his views at the conclusion of the debate; now he will only state the motion:
That an amendment be added to the statutes to the effect that the Conferences shall admit to their deliberations also the delegates of sovereigns, rulers, and governments, as well as of the Russian Imperial Council or any similar institution in nonconstitutional countries, in so far as such delegates are accredited by their governments. The Management (Bureau) shall be authorized to inform the rulers and governments of nonconstitutional countries that the Conference would be pleased to welcome their delegates to its deliberations.
Lewakowski, member of the Austrian Parliament, opposes Apponyi’s motion; its aim is wholly and solely the admission of Russia.
“We are here,” he declares, “as the representatives of the people, and we are working here in the spirit of our commissions. The Russian nation cannot send any representative that can have the same authority as we have.” Norton, Snape, Pirquet, Rahusen, and Passy speak in favor of the motion.
M. G. Conrad[13] opposes the motion in the most violent terms: “Either we are a parliamentary conference or we are not. We do not need to know what the governments say; we want to hear the views of the people themselves. And the views of the Russian people you surely will not be likely to hear from the mouths of the delegates of the Russian government.”
Stanhope favors the adoption of the motion. The magnificent object of the Conference, he declares, would only be furthered by it. There actually exists in Russia something that corresponds to a parliamentary body, and, who knows? some day, directly through the influence of our Conference, something may develop that will lead to constitutionalism.
Then Count Apponyi brings the debate to a conclusion. He takes strong issue with his opponents. In reply to Lewakowski he declares that numerous gentlemen are sitting here who have not received their credentials from their nation and indeed are members of the upper houses appointed by their sovereigns. In the one scale are placed the objections that have been adduced, in the other the immense importance of the fact that such a great empire as Russia, occupying a third of all Europe, ought to share in our deliberations. This question came up for the first time in the Hungarian Group, and was agitated in the interest of those countries that have, to be sure, no parliaments, and yet desire to participate in our labors and to battle for the peace of the world. These also have the right to collaborate with us in the great work of civilization. We are all pursuing the one aim of helping a righteous cause to victory, and any kind of assistance can be welcomed by us. The honored president of the former Conference has sent to all the governments his memorandum regarding the Court of Arbitration, and the most sympathetic reply was that received from the late Prince Lobanof.
Descamps: “That is correct.”
Apponyi: “In Russia, as may be seen by many indications, the tendency to take part in European affairs is strong; for some time Russia has been represented at most Congresses. We must give her the opportunity to share also in our labors; it is indeed not beyond the bounds of possibility that the development of affairs in Russia will be in this way favorably influenced. At all events the sympathy of such a powerful state could only strengthen our endeavors.”
It is interesting to connect with this debate of September 24, 1896, the fact that on the 24th of August, 1898, the manifesto calling the Peace Conference at The Hague emanated from Russia.
One other circumstance must also be mentioned here. The then Russian consul, Vasily, was present at the sessions and exercises of the Conference at Budapest, and communicated to his government accurate and sympathetic reports. He was an unhesitating friend of peace. His report was, as I afterwards learned, cast in the form of an impassioned plea for cessation of war preparations. The suggestion did not receive the approval of his superiors, and remained for some time forgotten. A year later, however, when Lord Salisbury in his Guildhall address animadverted on the endless increase in armament among the nations, and declared that the only hope of escaping general ruin lay in the union of the powers in some kind of an international constitution, then M. Vasily presented anew his idea in behalf of an attempt to bring about an international understanding on this point. Vasily was attached to the ministry of foreign affairs; he naturally communicated his ideas to his chief, Count Lamsdorff, who, in turn, laid them before the Emperor.
When, in 1906, the Interparliamentary Conference met in London, a parliament was sitting in St. Petersburg which sent its representatives to England, not in the name of a group, but of the whole Duma. To be sure, on the very day when, at the opening session in Westminster Hall, the Russian delegate was to deliver his salutatory, the news arrived that the Duma was prorogued. The Russians were obliged, therefore, to quit London with their business unaccomplished, and Campbell-Bannerman, who opened the Interparliamentary Conference, was given the opportunity of perpetrating his mot, which afterwards became so famous: La douma est morte, vive la douma!
After this brief excursion into the future I return to the Budapest notes in my diary.
September 24. After the morning session, when the Russian debate was on, in which Apponyi distinguished himself and which Vasily and Novikof followed with great interest, we make a call on Maurus Jókai. An attack of indisposition prevented him from taking part in the Conference, but he is well enough to receive us. He lives in a villa of his own, not large but very beautiful, and surrounded by a garden. He shows us all his treasures,—his worktable, his books, and the gifts which he received at his Jubilee; among them the splendid offering from the Hungarian nation, the de luxe edition of his complete works, for the publication of which subscriptions of a hundred thousand gulden were paid in advance,—a gift of honor presented to the poet by his fellow-countrymen. Two very interesting hours. Jókai tells us much about his life. He gives me his photograph inscribed with his name.
In the evening a gala performance of the opera Bank-Ban, by Erkel[14]; Bianca Bianchi trills like a nightingale.
September 25. Final session. Closing banquet in the festival hall of the Exposition. Eight hundred participants. On both sides of the vestibule stand Haiduks in gala uniform. At the table of honor, with the leaders of the various foreign groups, are Beernaert, Passy, Stanhope, Descamps, and others; and the Hungarians, Szilagyi, Szell, Apponyi, Szapary, Berzeviczy, Franz Kossuth, and Mayor Ráth as host. My neighbors are the English General Havelock and Count Koloman Esterhazy. After the toast to the King, offered by the mayor, Koloman Szell toasts the members of the Conference, “the masters and banner bearers in the greatest question in the progress of civilization.”
The exercises were not at an end even on the last day of the Conference. The participants were invited to help celebrate the opening of the “Iron Gate,” which was to take place in the presence of the Emperor. On the twenty-sixth of September, in the evening, two special trains took us to Orsova, where comfortable quarters were assigned to each and every guest. On the morning of the twenty-seventh, radiant with unclouded sunshine, we all went aboard the special steamboat Zriny, which, occupying the fourth place in the column, accompanied the imperial ship down the Danube; the second boat carried the generals, the third the diplomats. After the flotilla reached the Kazan pass, the imperial ship cut through a cable of flowers stretched across the Danube canal—the “Iron Gate” was opened.
“This festal occasion,” said Emperor Franz Joseph, “which brings us together to celebrate a great work of public utility, fills me with happiness, and in the conviction that this work will give a powerful and healthy impulse to the peaceful and advantageous development of international relations, I drink to the happiness and prosperity of the nations.”
The four steamboats now moved slowly past and sailed back to Orsova.
Again at Harmannsdorf. The days at Budapest had left a joyous feeling of exultation. The meeting had given conspicuous testimony to the growth of the movement and to the impression that it was making in powerful political circles. Perfectly amusing and indeed comical in its malicious perversion of facts, its absolutely bottomless ignorance, was an article in the jingo press that I found in a mountain of press notices which had collected at home during our absence. The St. James Gazette of September 18 wrote:
There are more important transactions in progress at this moment in Europe than the Seventh Peace Congress, which has just met in the Grand Hall of the Municipal Palace in Budapest. None are more odd, or, in a way, better worth looking at. The good men who have met on the initiative of a most excellent lady, the Baroness Bertha von Suttner, author of “Down with Arms,” and creator of the Peace Congress, represent the fine flower of all that vaguely well-meaning, emotional, and unpractical class of persons which is to be found in most countries, and nowhere in finer feather than among ourselves. To see that there is something wrong in the world, and to propose a remedy which, on inquiry, turns out to be a radical change in human nature, is the same thing with them. They are active in many fields, or, to speak with more accuracy, they talk at large on many subjects; but they are nowhere seen in more complete beauty than when in congress assembled for the purpose of speaking of peace.... Carlyle wanted to know the meaning of the moralist who, in the conflict between Gods and Giants, put out his hand armed “with a pair of tweezers.” At this moment, when it is really not too much to say that all Europe is “a town of war, the people’s hearts yet wild, brimful of fear,” the good Baroness Bertha and like-minded persons come forward at Budapest with their pair of tweezers.... The value of the Baroness von Suttner’s picnic becomes fully conspicuous when we turn, etc., etc.
I sent Alfred Nobel a careful account of the events at Budapest, and corresponded also with Egidy about them. I worked steadily on my book, Schach der Qual, an imaginative story. A chapter in it is called Frohbotschaft (“Good Tidings”). It describes an “international conference for securing peace.” In his opening address the chairman speaks these words:
This meeting is called together at the initiative of one of the most powerful sovereigns of Europe, and after the assent to its principal object has been obtained from all the other governments; and almost all countries, great and small, with very few exceptions, have declared their agreement and are here represented.
The book was begun in 1895 and was published by Pierson at the beginning of 1897, so that the words here cited cannot be a reminiscence of the Hague Peace Conference, which was first summoned in 1898 by “one of the most powerful sovereigns of Europe”; but they are a prophetic announcement of it. This was a coincidence rare enough to make it worthy of remark.
Other incidents that interested me during the year 1896 I find jotted down in my diary:
October 2. No letter from Hoyos in a long time. He must be ill. I hope he will soon be well again, the splendid man! There are not many in our aristocracy who are so free and grand and magnanimous in their thoughts, and who are so entirely opposite to reactionary—almost socialistic. Note this example of it: Lately a collection was taken for the unemployed. Hoyos added the following verses to his contribution:
October 10. The Emperor of Russia has been in Vienna. From there he went to Breslau, Balmoral, Paris. The result of it is Pax et Robur. So at least some remark; others say the result is Revanche; still a third think that everything remains as it was before. But this last is not correct. It has brought about something new, to wit,—that in divided and split-up and hostile Europe the sovereign of one country travels to another and goes everywhere as a friend and is everywhere received as a friend. Indeed, if Europe were a civilized complex of states, that would be as natural and as much a matter of course as it is for a landed proprietor to make a series of visits among all the neighboring families. Not in half a century, perhaps, has the word “peace” been so frequently, so emphatically, so solemnly, so universally repeated in speeches and newspapers as it has been in consequence of this journey. That shows the tendency of the Zeitgeist; but it is still far from the peace that we mean. For the whole affair abounds in contradictions, especially the contradiction that exists between the new tendency and the old institutions, views, and political constellations still intrenched in power. Here is a monster of contradiction, such as the history of the world has never before displayed: two mutually opposed shields loaded with explosives; two hostile guardians of the peace, or two peaceable guardians of enmity,—Dreibund and Zweibund. Why not equally well Fünfbund?
October 15. Already 165,000 men in all have been sent to Cuba. The Spanish Ministry of War intend to dispatch 40,000 more, because yellow fever and other diseases have already greatly reduced the number of the effective. A loan of a milliard is planned.
October 18. Rear Admiral Tirpitz has elaborated a naval budget of 150,000,000 marks. The Post writes: “Tirpitz has made use of a long leave of absence, under orders from the supreme authority, to formulate from the strategic-technical standpoint a plan for organizing our fleet so that from the military standpoint it shall correspond to the demands of the present time.” When shall we ever plan from the ethical-humane standpoint how circumstances may be shaped so that from the standpoint of the philosopher they may correspond to the demands of a better future?
November 9. Yesterday our beloved Rudolf Hoyos departed this life at his Castle Leuterburg in Silesia. Ever more and more numerous the graves!
November 10. Telegram from Washington: “The English ambassador Pauncefote lays before Secretary of State Olney the proposals for the Anglo-American treaty pertaining to the settlement of all future controversies through arbitration.”
This news may announce the dawn of a new epoch of civilization. Yet our “serious” politicians do not touch upon it in their leading articles.
The following letters were exchanged between the Austrian Peace Society and the Department of Foreign Affairs at London on this occasion:
The Committee of the Austrian Peace Society venture to express to your Lordship their deep gratification in the treaty passed at Washington, November 9th. This is the greatest triumph which the cause of civilization has hitherto attained, and posterity will never forget the part which, in this happy achievement, is due to your Lordship’s wisdom and energy.
I am directed by the Marquis of Salisbury to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 17th inst., expressing the gratification of the Austrian Peace Association in regard to the negotiation between Great Britain and the United States on the question of arbitration, and I am to express his Lordship’s thanks for your communication.
November 20. The papers are full of the Bismarck disclosure.[16] The explanations given right and left in the Reichstag by Prince Hohenlohe and Herr von Marschall set a limit to further extension. Yes, much was certainly disclosed in this affair, and particularly the rascally face not of this or that politician but of that folk-cheating intrigante called “high politics.”
November 25. Good news. Italy and Menelik have concluded peace. Only a few days ago the Trieste Picolo learned from a diplomat of high rank that the chances for a treaty of peace with Menelik were small; he was unwilling to submit to the condition that he should not put himself under the protection of any European power. “Let the Roman government circles take into account the probabilities that the prisoners must be left to their fate(!) and hostilities resumed.” But the diplomat of high rank was fortunately mistaken. The treaty of peace is signed. In a letter which Menelik on this occasion addressed to the King of Italy he said that it was a pleasure for him, on the twentieth of November, the Queen’s birthday, to be able to restore their sons to the Italian mothers; and thus he showed a tenderer feeling for the prisoners than the above-mentioned Roman government circles.
According to the tenor of the treaty Italy renounces the (falsely interpreted) treaty of Utshili, and the two belligerents resume their former boundaries. Consequently the status quo ante—why, therefore, the great sorrow, the gigantic expenditures, the heaps of corpses mutilated and putrefying in the torrid sun? Why? why?
December 12. Alfred Nobel is dead.
I recorded this loss in my diary with this single line. The news—I found it in the newspapers—was a bitter blow to me. The tie of a twenty years’ friendship was snapped. The last letter which I received from Nobel was from Paris, dated the twenty-first of November, and ran as follows:
“Feeling well”—no, unhappily for me, I am not, and I am even consulting doctors, which is contrary not only to my custom, but also to my principles. I, who have no heart, figuratively speaking, have one organically, and I am conscious of it.
But that will suffice for me and my petty miseries. I am enchanted to see that the peace movement is gaining ground. That is due to the civilizing of the masses, and especially to the prejudice hunters and darkness hunters, among whom you hold an exalted rank. Those are your titles of nobility.
The ailing heart on which he touches playfully brought him to his death. On the tenth of December—he was then at his villa in San Remo—he was suddenly snatched away by angina pectoris. No one was with him when he died; he was found in his workroom—dead!
Some time after the report of Alfred Nobel’s death the newspapers announced that he had left his millions for benevolent purposes, a part to go towards promoting the peace movement. But the details were lacking. I received, however, from the Austrian ambassador in Stockholm a copy of the will; and the executor of it, Engineer Sohlmann, entered into correspondence with me. So I became accurately informed as to the provisions of this remarkable last will and testament:
After payment of legacies to relatives, amounting to about a million crowns, the residue of the property—thirty-five millions—was set aside for the formation of a fund, from the interest of which five yearly prizes should be assigned to such as had contributed some notable service to the benefit of mankind. These were specifically:
1. For the most important discovery and invention in the realm of physics;
2. For the most important discovery and invention in the realm of chemistry;
3. For the most important discoveries in the domain of physiology or medicine;
4. For the most distinguished productions of an idealistic tendency in the realm of literature;
5. To that man or woman who shall have worked most effectively for the fraternization of mankind, the diminution of armies, and the promotion of Peace Congresses.
The Stockholm Academy is intrusted with the assignment of the first four prizes, the Norwegian Storthing with that of the fifth.
After the publication of the provisions of the will I received the following letter from the faithful collaborator on my Review, Moritz Adler, the author of the valuable essays Zur Philosophie des Krieges (“The Philosophy of War”).
Allow me to congratulate you with all my heart on the New Year’s delight which the splendid Nobel foundation must have given you, of course modified by the drop of wormwood which the death of such a spirit and heart mixed with the nectar. Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit can be truthfully said of this great man now passed away. He left behind no sanitary train for future gladiatorial baiting of the nations, for it was far from his idea to wish to put to sleep the consciences of the mighty and to make them believe that he thought it possible for the disgrace to be repeated. He has not founded a hospital, either, for the other sick, who are not innocently condemned by society to wounds and death. But millions in days to come will rejoice in brighter life and health, and perhaps not one in a thousand will ever suspect that he owes it to Nobel alone that he is not a cripple or a candidate for an infirmary. Could we have believed it possible that Mammon, Mammon sprung from dynamite, should be so ennobled? I am happy to have lived until this day; it has been the richest joy of my life.
Indeed, yes; this foundation was a deep gratification to me; again something new had come into the world: not the donors of alms, nor the lawgivers, least of all the conquerors, have been held up as the benefactors of mankind, but the discoverers and explorers, and the poets inspired by high ideals, and, in the same category, the workers in the service of international peace. Already the news of this last will and testament has aroused general attention; and every year, at the time when the prizes are awarded, this sensation will be repeated. It has been openly declared to the world, not by an overexcited dreamer, but by an inventor of genius (an inventor of war material into the bargain), that the brotherhood of nations, the diminution of armies, the promotion of Peace Congresses, belong to the things that signify most for the well-being of mankind.
Thus a guiding star is fixed in the sky, and the clouds that have hitherto obscured it are breaking away more and more; the name of this star is Human Happiness. But as long as men legally threaten one another’s lives, as long as they are at feud instead of being helpful one to another, there will be no universal happiness. Yet it must and will come. The increasing spirit of research puts into man’s hand a nature-controlling power which can make of him a god or a devil.
“Here you have a material,” said the living Nobel to his own generation, “with which you can annihilate everything and yourself as well....” But the dead Nobel compels us to look at yonder star and says to future generations, “Grow nobler, and you will attain happiness.”
It was five years before the distribution of the prizes began. It took this length of time because a lawsuit which was brought by certain members of the Nobel family against the validity of the will had to be decided, and then the estate had to be liquidated. If the then head of the family, Emanuel Nobel, had joined the rest in the protest, the will would have been broken, to his own great advantage; but Emanuel Nobel refused his consent to this step. He declared that his uncle’s will was sacred to him, and he took the ground that it must be faithfully carried out in all respects, even in regard to the fifth clause, which was especially endangered.
A letter dated April 13, 1898, from the executor of the will, brought me interesting particulars regarding the whole matter. Mr. Ragnar Sohlmann wrote:
... As you will have learned from the papers, certain members of the Nobel family have been attempting to break Herr Nobel’s will in the Swedish courts, and especially on the ground that no residuary legatee is constituted. The Nobel fund as created by the will itself lacks the necessary elements—so they claim—for performing its functions,—that is to say, administrators.
To this we shall reply that all necessary elements have been provided by the will, namely, the capital, the scope of action, and the institutions designated to perform the action,—the Swedish Academy and the Norwegian Storthing. The mere organization—so we shall urge—belongs evidently to the task conferred upon the executors and the Academy.
Originally the complainants conceived the plan of bringing the suit before a French court by endeavoring to prove that Herr Nobel’s legal residence was not in Sweden but in Paris. They regarded the French laws as more favorable to their claims than the Swedish, and this undoubtedly would have been the case. We have so far succeeded in preventing the execution of this plan, and only a few days ago the highest court of Sweden rendered the decision that Bofors was Herr Alfred Nobel’s legal residence.
The fact that Herr Emanuel Nobel, of St. Petersburg, and the whole Russian branch of the family decline to take part in the suit forms a very important factor in the coming trial. This circumstance assures the fulfillment of the will in so far as it concerns the corresponding portion of the property. In consequence, the will may be regarded as established regarding eight twentieths of the whole estate. That diminishes also the chances for a judicial declaration of the invalidity of the remaining twelve twentieths.
The chief danger for the will lies in the actual animosity which at the present time obtains between Sweden and Norway, and in the fear here entertained—even among the members of the government—that the whole thing might give rise to further irritation between the two countries. The conservatives especially believe—or pretend to believe—that the Norwegian Storthing might use the prize to “bribe” other countries to oppose Sweden. And they have certainly been given some ground for their fears by the appointment of Björnson, who is regarded as Sweden’s worst enemy and is on the committee which is to award the prizes. The truth of the matter is that the members of the Nobel family who are trying to break the will are supported by the conservatives here, even by some members of the government.[17]
So far my correspondent, who indicated that these communications were confidential, not designed for publication. Of course, as long as the matter was undecided I did not give out the above information; but now, since the lawsuit was long ago decided in favor of the validity of the will, and the accompanying circumstances have become an open secret, I may be permitted to regard the injunction of privacy as removed. But it is a matter of universal interest to see how picayune politics everywhere harbors suspicions and enmities, and how, in general, the “conservatives” are distrustful of the peace movement and kindred matters. Now the Swedish-Norwegian controversy has been settled; Björnson is no longer counted as an enemy of Sweden. He received from the hand of the King himself the Nobel prize for literature, and, in company with Emanuel Nobel, dined at the royal table, on which occasion Oscar II conversed in the most friendly spirit with the Norwegian bard.
The first distribution of the prizes took place on the tenth of October, 1901, the anniversary of Nobel’s death. At commemorative exercises in Stockholm the King himself delivered to the laureates the four prizes assigned by the Swedish Academy. The peace prize was awarded by the Nobel committee of the Storthing.
In the eight years that have passed since then the peace prize has been awarded as follows: 1901, Frédéric Passy and Henri Dunant;[18] 1902, Élie Ducommun and Albert Gobat; 1903, William Randal Cremer; 1904, Institut du droit international; 1905, Bertha von Suttner; 1906, President Theodore Roosevelt; 1907, Ernesto Teodoro Moneta and Louis Renault; 1908, K. P. Arnoldson and M. F. Bajer.
Here let a few specimens from my collections of letters be reproduced. Some weeks before the annual meeting of my Union, which took place early in January, 1897, I applied to various personages, asking for communications to be read; and I received numerous replies, among them the following:
Your letter of the fifth instant was duly received, and I thank you most sincerely for the congratulations therein conveyed from the Austrian Society of the Friends of Peace to the Swiss government.
The Parliament indeed follows with genuine interest the philanthropic endeavors to spare the civilized world the horrors of war, and it joins with great sympathy in the demonstrations that aim to make nations comprehend the priceless advantage of peace.
In expressing to you the best wishes for the complete success of your general assembly, permit me, my dear Madam, once more to thank you heartily and to assure you of my distinguished consideration.
Every isolated effort of the friends of peace resembles those tiny globules of mist, the condensation of which will afterwards form the rain for which the caravan is yearning. These particles are not noticeable; no one heeds them, and when the cooling rain is falling the atoms that so patiently worked to constitute it are no longer remembered.
“Who cares for that,” say our faithful prophets, “if only it rains?”
For more than five years the Austrian Society of the Friends of Peace has been resolutely pushing forward, and its efficacy has been gaining in breadth without losing anything in depth. It will have a significant share in the final success of our united effort, and it desires, just as we all do, nothing else than that the law of international peace may some day appear as much a matter of course and as self-originated as the law of gravity and the light of the sun.
In those happy days the peace unions and peace bureaus will exist only as mere traces in the recollection of a few archivists, who will have made the discovery that there were, in that strange epoch of cannons, anti-cannon endeavors also.
Accept for yourself, honored colleague, and for your worthy fellow-workers, the assurance of my perfect consideration and high attachment.