Lay Down Your Arms 66

Lay Down Your Arms 66

We were living in the Grand Hotel on the Boulevard des Capucines. It was

occupied chiefly by English people and Americans. We met few of our own

people--the Austrians are not fond of travel. Besides, we sought for no

acquaintance. I had not put off my mourning, and we cherished no wish

for company. Of course I had my son Rudolf with me. He was now eight

years old, and a wonderfully clever little fellow. We had hired a young

Englishman, who performed the duties partly of tutor, partly of nursery

governess to the boy. In our long visits to the exhibition-palace, as

well as our numerous excursions into the neighbourhood, we could not, of

course, always take Rudi with us; and besides, the time was also now

come for him to begin to learn.

 

New--new--new--to me, was the whole of this world here open to us. All

the men who had come together from the four corners of the earth--the

richest and most distinguished from every quarter--these _fêtes_, this

expenditure, this turmoil. I was literally deafened by it. But,

interesting and full of enjoyment as it was to me to receive into my

mind these surprising and overpowering impressions, yet, when alone, I

wished myself out of all this hubbub again, and in some remote peaceful

spot, where I could live in quiet retirement along with Frederick and my

child--nay, my _children_, for I was looking forward confidently to the

joy of motherhood again. It is wonderful, indeed--and I find it often

noted in the red volumes--how in retirement the longing rises for events

and exploits, for experiences and enjoyments; and again, in the midst of

the latter, for solitude and tranquillity.

 

We kept ourselves apart from the great world. We had merely paid a visit

to the house of our ambassador, Metternich, and had let it be known

there that on account of our domestic afflictions we did not desire any

_entrée_ into Court circles or society. On the other hand, we sought to

make the acquaintance of a few prominent political and literary

personages, partly from self-interest and for our mental improvement,

partly with a view to “the service” into which Frederick had entered. In

spite of the slight hopes he had of any perceptible result from his

efforts, he never allowed it to escape him, and he put himself into

communication with numerous influential persons, from whom he might gain

assistance in his career, or at least information as to its position. We

had at that time commenced a little book of our own--we called it _The

Protocol of Peace_--into which all news, notices, articles, and so

forth, bearing on the subject, were to be sedulously entered. The

history also of the idea of Peace, as far as we could gain a knowledge

of it, was incorporated in the _Protocol_; and along with this the

__EXPRESSION__s of various philosophers, poets, priests, and authors on the

subject of “Peace and War”. It had soon grown into an imposing little

volume; and in course of time--for I have carried on this composition

down to the present day--it has grown into several little volumes. If

one were to compare it with the libraries which are filled with works on

strategical subjects, with the untold thousands of volumes containing

histories of wars, studies on war, and glorification of war, with the

text-books of military science and military tactics, and guides for the

instruction of recruits and artillery, with the chronicles of battles

and annals of _états-majors_, soldiers’ ballads and war songs: well,

then, I allow that the comparison with these one or two poor little

volumes of peace-literature might humiliate one, on the assumption that

one might measure the power and value--especially the future value--of a

thing by its size. But if one reflects that a single grain of seed hides

in itself the virtual power of causing the growth of an entire forest,

which will displace whole masses of weeds, though spread over acres of

country, and further reflects that an idea is in the mental kingdom what

a seed is in the vegetable, then one need not be anxious about the

future of an idea, merely because the history of its development may be

as yet contained in one little manuscript.

 

I will here produce a few extracts taken from our _Protocol of Peace_

for the year 1867. On the first page was placed a compressed historical

survey.

 

Four hundred years before Christ, Aristophanes wrote a

comedy--“Peace”--into which a humanitarian tendency enters.

 

The Greek philosophy--afterwards transplanted to Rome--admitted a

striving after “the unity of humanity” from Socrates, who called

himself a “citizen of the world,” down to Terence, to whom “nothing

human was foreign,” and Cicero, who represents the “love of the

human race” as the highest grade of perfection.

 

In the first century of our era appears Virgil with his famous

fourth eclogue which prophesies universal peace to the world under

the mythological image of the return of the golden age.

 

In the middle ages, the Popes often strove, though in vain, to

interpose as arbitrators between states.

 

In the fifteenth century the idea occurred to a king of forming a

“league of peace”. This was Geo. Podiebrad of Bohemia, who wished

to put an end to the wars of the emperor and the Pope; for this

purpose he betook himself to King Louis XI. of France, who however

did not fall in with the proposal.

 

At the close of the sixteenth century, King Henry IV. of France

conceived the plan of a European confederation of states. After he

had delivered his country from the horrors of the religious war, he

wished to see toleration and peace assured for all future time. He

wished to see the sixteen states of which Europe then consisted

(for Russia and Turkey were reckoned parts of Asia) combined into a

Bund. Each of these sixteen states was to have the right of sending

two members to a “European Council,” and to this council,

consisting thus of thirty-two members, the task was to be entrusted

of maintaining the religious peace, and avoiding all international

conflicts. And then if every state would bind itself to submit to

the decisions of the council, every element of European wars would

be thereby removed. The king communicated this plan to his

Minister, Sully, who heartily accepted it and straightway commenced

negotiations with the other states. Elizabeth of England, the Pope,

Holland, and several others were actually won over; only the House

of Austria would have offered resistance, because territorial

concessions might have been demanded from her, which she would not

have granted. A campaign would have been necessary to overcome this

resistance. France would have contributed the main army, and she

would have renounced beforehand any extension of territory; the

sole aim of the campaign and the sole condition of peace imposed on

the House of Austria would have been their entrance into the league

of states. All the preparations were already completed, and Henry

IV. meant to take the command of the army in person, when on May

13, 1610, he fell under the dagger of an insane monk.

 

None of his successors nor any other sovereign took up again this

glorious plan for procuring happiness for the nations. Rulers and

politicians remained true to the old war-spirit; but the thinkers

of all countries did not allow the idea of peace to fall to the

ground again.

 

In the year 1647 the sect of the Quakers was founded, and the

condemnation of war was its fundamental principle. In the same year

William Penn published his work on the future peace of Europe,

which he founded on the plan of Henry IV.

 

In the early part of the eighteenth century appeared the famous

book of the Abbé de S. Pierre, entitled _La Paix Perpetuelle_. At

the same time a Landgrave of Hesse sketched out the same plan, and

Leibnitz wrote a favourable comment on it.

 

Voltaire gave out the maxim “Every European war is a civil war”.

Mirabeau, in the memorable session of August 25, 1790, spoke the

following words:--

 

“The moment is perhaps not far off now when Freedom, as the

unfettered monarch of both worlds, will fulfil the wish of

philosophers, to free mankind from the sin of war, and proclaim

universal peace. Then will the happiness of the people be the only

aim of the legislator, the only glory of the nations.”

 

In the year 1795 one of the greatest thinkers of all time,

Emmanuel Kant, wrote his treatise “On Eternal Peace”. The English

publicist, Bentham, joins with enthusiasm the ever-increasing

number of the defenders of peace--Fourrier, Saint Simon, etc.

Beranger sang “The Holy Alliance of Peace,” Lamartine “La

Marseillaise de la Paix”. In Geneva Count Cellon founded a “Peace

Club,” in whose name he entered into a propagandist correspondence

with all the rulers of Europe. From Massachusetts in America comes

“the learned blacksmith,” Elihu Burritt, and scatters his _Olive

Leaves_ and _Sparks from an Anvil_ about the world in millions of

copies, and takes the chair in 1849 at an assembly of the English

Friends of Peace. In the Congress of Paris, which wound up the

Crimean War, the idea of peace gained a footing in diplomacy,

inasmuch as a clause was added to the treaty which provided that

the Powers pledged themselves in future conflicts to submit

themselves previously to mediation. This clause contains in itself

a recognition of the principle of a court of arbitration, but it

has not been acted upon.

 

In the year 1863 the French Government proposed to the Powers to

call a congress, before which was to be brought the consideration

of proposals for a general disarmament, and for the avoidance of

future wars.

 

But this proposal found no support whatever from the other Governments.

 

* * * * *

 

And now, my hour of trial was again drawing nigh.

 

But it was so different this time from that other in which Frederick had

to leave me--to fight for the Augustenburger. This time he was at my

side--the husband’s proper post--diminishing through his presence and

through his sympathy the sufferings of his wife. The feeling that I had

him there was to me so calming and so happy that in it I almost forgot

my physical discomfort.

 

A girl! It was the fulfilment of my silent hope. The joys connected with

a son had already been given to us by my little Rudolf: we could now, in

addition to these, taste those joys which such a fine little daughter

promised to her parents. That this little Sylvia of ours would grow into

a paragon of beauty, grace, and comeliness we did not doubt for a single

moment. How childish we both of us became over the cradle of this

child; what sweet fooleries we spoke and acted there, I will not even

try to tell. Others than fond parents would not understand it, and all

of them have no doubt been just as silly themselves.

 

But how selfish happiness makes us! There came now a time for us, in

which we really were far too forgetful of everything which lay outside

of our domestic heaven. The terrors of the cholera week kept taking

always more and more in my memory the shape of a vanished evil dream;

and even Frederick’s energy in the pursuit of his aim gradually abated.

And it was no doubt discouraging, wherever one knocked at any doors with

these ideas, to meet with shrugs of shoulders, compassionate smiles, if

not a regular setting to rights. The world, as it seems, is fond not

only of being cheated, but also of being made miserable. Wherever one

tries to put forward any proposals for removing misery and woe, they are

called “Utopian--a childish dream”--and the world will not listen to

them.

 

Still Frederick did not let his aim fall quite out of sight. He plunged

ever deeper into the study of international law, and got into

correspondence by letter with Bluntschli and other men learned in this

branch. At the same time, and here with my companionship, he diligently

followed other studies, chiefly natural science. He formed a plan for

writing a great work on “War and Peace”. But, before setting to work on

it, he wanted to prepare himself for it and instruct himself by long and

comprehensive researches. “I am, it is true,” he said, “an old royal and

imperial colonel, and it would shame most of my equals in age and rank

to dip into schooling. When one is an elderly man of office and rank one

thinks oneself usually clever enough to act independently. I myself a

few years since had that respect for my own individuality. But when I

had suddenly attained to a new point of view, in which I got an insight

into the modern spirit, then the consciousness of my want of knowledge

came over me. Ah yes! Of all the gains that have now been made in the

matter of new discoveries in all provinces of knowledge, there was

nothing at all taught in my youth--or rather the reverse was taught--so

I must now, in spite of the streaks of grey on my temples, begin again at the beginning.”