lay down your arms 69

lay down your arms 69

Now the talk turned upon politics. A candidate had been sought for the

crown of Spain. A prince of Hohenzollern was to receive the crown. I had

scarcely been listening, for what could the throne of Spain or he who

was to sit upon it have to do with me or all these nonchalant folks

here? But then some one said:--

 

“A Hohenzollern? France would not permit that!”

 

The words cut me to the heart, for what did that “not permit” imply?

When such an utterance comes from any country one sees with one’s mind’s

eye the statue personifying that country as a gigantic virgin, her head

thrown back in defiance, her hand on her sword.

 

The conversation, however, soon turned to another subject. How full of

tremendous results this question of the Spanish throne would be none of

us yet suspected. I, of course, did not either. Only, that arrogant

“France would not permit that” stuck in my memory like a discord, and

along with it the whole scenery did so in which it was spoken.

 

From that time the question of the Spanish throne became constantly more

loud and more pressing. Every day the space became larger which it

occupied in the newspapers and in conversations in the _salons_, and I

know that it bored me in the highest degree, this Hohenzollern

candidature: soon there was nothing else spoken of. And it was spoken of

in an offended tone, as if nothing more insulting to France could take

place. Most people saw behind it a provocation to war on the part of

Prussia. But it was clear, so it was said, that “France could not permit

such a thing, so, if the Hohenzollerns persist in it, that is a simple

challenge”. I could not understand that; but in other respects I was

free from anxiety. We received letters from Berlin, telling us from a

well-instructed quarter that not the slightest importance was attached

at court to the succession of a Hohenzollern to the Spanish crown. And,

therefore, we were much more occupied with the work at our house than

with politics.

 

But gradually we became more attentive to the subject for all that. As,

before the storm, a certain rustling of leaves goes through the forest,

so, before war, a rustle of certain voices goes through the world. “Nous

aurons la guerre--nous aurons la guerre,” was what resounded in the air

of Paris. Then an unspeakable anxiety possessed me. Not for my own

people--for we, as Austrians, were at first out of the game. On the

contrary, we might possibly have some “satisfaction” offered to us--the

well-known “revenge for Sadowa”. But we had untaught ourselves the habit

of looking at war from a national point of view; and what war is from

the point of view of humanity--of the highest humanity--is surely

notorious. That is expressed in the following words which I heard spoken

by Guy de Maupassant:--

 

“Quand je songe seulement à ce mot ‘la guerre’ il me vient un

effarement, comme si l’on me parlait de sorcellerie, d’inquisition,

d’une chose lontaine, finie, abominable, contre nature”.

 

When the news arrived that the crown had been offered by Prim to Prince

Leopold, the Duke of Grammont made a speech in Parliament, which was

received with great approbation, to the following effect:--

 

“We do not meddle with the affairs of foreign nations, but we do not

believe that respect for the rights of a neighbouring state binds us to

permit a foreign power, by seating one of its own princes on the throne

of Charles V., to destroy, to our detriment, the equilibrium which

exists between the states of Europe (Oh that equilibrium! What

war-loving hypocrite invented that hollow phrase?), and so bring into

danger the interests, the honour of France”.

 

I know a tale of George Sand named _Gribouille_. This Gribouille has the

peculiarity, when rain is threatened, of plunging into the river, for

fear of getting wet. Whenever I hear that war is contemplated in order

to avert threatened dangers, I can never help thinking of Gribouille. A

whole branch of Hohenzollerns might very well have seated themselves on

Charles V.’s throne, and many other thrones as well, without exposing

the interests or the honour of France to one thousandth part of the

damage that resulted to them from this bold “We cannot permit it”.

 

“The case,” the speaker continued, “will, as we most confidently

believe, not occur. We reckon, in this regard, on the wisdom of the

German and the friendship of the Spanish people. But if it should turn

out otherwise, _then_, gentlemen, we, strong in your support and that of

the nation, shall know how to do our duty, without vacillation and

without weakness.” (Loud applause.)

 

From that time began in the press the cry for war. It was Girardin in

particular, who could not inflame his countrymen sufficiently to punish

the unheard-of audacity contained in this candidature for the throne. It

would be unworthy of the dignity of France not to interpose her veto

upon it. Prussia, it is true, would not give in, for she is bent, mad as

she is, on conjuring up war. Intoxicated by her success of 1866, she

believes that she may extend her march of victory and robbery on the

Rhine also; but, thank God, we are ready to baulk all these appetites of

the Pickelhaubers. And so it went on, in the same key. Napoleon III., it

is true, as we found out through persons who were about him, still

wished, as before, for the preservation of peace; but most of the people

of his _entourage_ now thought that a war was inevitable--that, since

apart from all this there was discontent among the people with the

Government, the best thing that could be done to secure the respect of

the country, anxious as it was for glory, would be to carry out a

successful war. “Il faut faire grand.”

 

And now inquiries were made of all the European Cabinets about the

situation. Each declared that they wished for peace. In Germany a

manifesto was published, originating in popular articles signed by

Liebknecht amongst others, wherein it was said “the mere thought of a

war between Germany and France is a crime”.

 

Benedetti was sent with the charge of demanding from the King of Prussia

that he would forbid Prince Leopold to assume the crown. King William

was at that moment taking the waters at Ems. Benedetti went there, and

got an audience on July 9.

 

What would the result be? I waited for the news with trembling.

 

The answer of the king simply said that he could not forbid anything to

a prince who had attained adult years.

 

This answer sent the war party into triumphant joy. “There--will you

suffer that? Do they want to provoke us to the utmost? That the head of

the house cannot command or forbid anything to one of its members!

Ridiculous! It is clearly a made-up plot--the Hohenzollerns want to get

a footing in Spain, and then fall upon our country from the east and

south at once. And are we to wait for that? Are we to be content to take

with humility the utter disregard of our protest? Surely not. We know

what honour, what patriotism, commands us to do.”

 

Ever louder and louder, ever more and more threatening sounded the

storm-warnings. Then on July 12 came a piece of news which filled me

with delight. Don Salusto Olozaga announced officially to the French

Government that Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, in order not to give

any pretext for war, refused to assume the crown offered to him.

 

Now, thank God, the entire “question” is thus simply put aside. The news

was communicated to the Chamber at 12 at noon, and Ollivier declared

that this put an end to the dispute. Yet, on the same day, troops and

war material were forwarded to Metz (publicly said to be in pursuance of

previous orders), and in the same sitting Clement Duvernois put the

following question:--

 

“What securities have we that Prussia will not originate fresh

complications, like this Spanish candidature? That should be provided

against.”

 

There Gribouille comes up again. It may happen, perhaps, at some time,

that a trifling rain may threaten to wet us; so let us jump into the

river at once!

 

And so Benedetti was despatched again to Ems; this time to demand of the

King of Prussia that he would forbid Prince Leopold once for all, and

for all future time, to revive his candidature. What could follow such

an attempt at dictating a course of action, which the party on whom the

demand is made is not competent to carry out, except an impatient shrug

of the shoulders? Those who made the demand must have known as much.

 

There was another memorable sitting on July 15. Ollivier demanded a

credit of 500,000,000 frs. for the war. _Thiers opposed it._ Ollivier

replied. He took on himself to justify before the bar of history what

had been done. The King of Prussia had refused to receive the French

envoy, and had notified this to the Government in a letter. The Left

wanted to see this letter. The majority forbade, by clamour and by a

counter-vote, the production of the document, which probably had no

existence. This majority supported any demand made by the Government in

favour of the war. This patriotic readiness for sacrifice, which would

accept even _ruin_ without hesitation, was of course again applauded

becomingly with the usual ready-made turns of sentence.

 

July 16. England made attempts to prevent the war. In vain. Ah! if there

had been an arbitration court established how easily and simply might

such a trivial dispute have been decided.

 

July 19. The French _chargé d’affaires_ in Berlin handed the Prussian

Government the declaration of war.

 

Declaration of war! Three words, which can be pronounced quite calmly.

But what is connected with them? The beginning of an extra-political

action, and thus, along with it, half-a-million sentences of death.

 

This document also I entered in the red volumes. It runs thus:--

 

The Government of His Majesty the Emperor of the French could not

regard the design of raising a Prussian prince to the throne of

Spain otherwise than as an attack on the territorial security of

France, and has therefore found itself compelled to request from

His Majesty the King of Prussia the assurance that such a

combination should never again occur with his consent. As His

Majesty refuses any such assurance, and has, on the contrary,

declared to our ambassador that he must reserve to himself the

possibility of such an event, and inquire into the circumstances,

the Imperial Government cannot help recognising in this declaration

of the king an _arrière-pensée_, which, for France and for the

European equilibrium ... (There it comes again--this famous