Lay Down Your Arms: The Autobiography of Martha von Tilling

by Bertha von Suttner

In May we betook ourselves to Paris to visit the exhibition.

I had not yet seen the World’s Capital, and was quite dazzled by its splendour and its life. At that time especially, the empire was standing at its highest pitch of splendour, and all the crowned heads of Europe had collected there; and at that time above all others, Paris presented a picture of splendour the most joyful and the most secure of peace. The city appeared to me at that time not like the capital of a single country, but like the capital of Internationality; that city which three years afterwards was to be bombarded by its eastern neighbour. All the nations of the earth had assembled in the great palace in the Champ de Mars for the peaceful—nay profitable, because productive not destructive—strife of business competition. Riches, works of art, marvels of manufactory were brought together here, so that it must have excited pride in every beholder to have lived in a time so progressive and so full of promise of further progress; and along with this pride must naturally have arisen the purpose never more to hamper the march of that development of civilisation which was spreading enjoyment all round, by the brutal rage of destruction. All these kings, princes, and diplomatists who were assembled here as guests of the emperor and empress could not surely be thinking amidst all the civilities that were interchanged, the courtesies and the good wishes, of exchanging next time shots with their hosts or one another? No. I breathed again. This really splendid exhibition fête seemed to me the pledge that now an era of long, long years of peace had begun. At most against an incursion of Tartar hordes, or something of that sort, these civilised people might draw the sword; but against each other!—we were never more to see that it was hoped. What strengthened me in this opinion was a communication that reached me from a well-informed trustworthy source about a favourite plan of the emperor for a general disarmament. Yes. Napoleon III. was strong on that point. I have it from the mouth of his nearest relations and most trusted friends, and on the next convenient opportunity he was going to communicate to all the European governments a proposal for reducing their military establishments to a minimum. That was good to hear; it was at any rate a more reasonable idea than that of a general increase of forces. In this way the well-known demand of Kant would be granted, which is thus formulated in par. 3 of the “Preliminary Article to an Everlasting Peace”:—

Standing armies (miles perpetuus) are in time to cease absolutely. They are a constant menace of war to other states, in consequence of the readiness to appear always prepared for war; they provoke them to overpass each other in the mass of preparations which know no limit (oh, prophetic glance of wisdom!); and inasmuch as the costs of maintaining peace become at last more burdensome than a short war, they are themselves causes of offensive war, in order to get rid of this burden.

What government could decline a proposition such as that which France was meditating without unmasking its lust of conquest? What nation would not revolt against such a refusal? The plan must succeed.

Frederick did not share my confidence.

“In the first place,” he said, “I doubt whether Napoleon will make the proposal. The pressure of the war party will hinder him. As a general rule the occupants of thrones are prevented by those who surround them from the exercise of those great efforts of individual will, which fall quite outside of the usual pattern. In the second place, one cannot give to a living being the command to cease to exist in this sort of way. It straightway sets itself on its defence——”

“Of what living being are you speaking?”

“Of the army. That is an organism, and as such has powers of life development and of self-maintenance. At the present time this organism is just in its prime, and, as you see—for the system of universal defence will surely be introduced into other countries—is just on the point of being powerfully extended.”

“And yet you want to fight against it?”

“Yes; but not by stepping up to it and saying ‘Die, thou monster!’ for the organism in question would hardly do me the kindness to stretch itself dead at my feet on that summons. But I am fighting against it in appearing on behalf of another living form, which is still only in its fragile bud, but which, as it gains in power and extent, will crush the other out. It is your fault to begin with, Martha, that I talk in these scientific metaphors. It was you who first led me to study the works of the modern students of nature. From this there has arisen in me the view that the phenomena of social life also can not be understood in their origin, or foreseen in their future course till one conceives of them as existing under the influence of eternal laws. Of this most politicians and people in positions of high dignity have no notion—not the faintest; the worthy soldier certainly not. A few years ago it had not entered my head either.”