Echoes of the Peace Congress
So, then, the beautiful days at Rome and Naples have now rushed past us like the rest!...
But this does not mean that all that filled those days has vanished—that is to say, that the words are stilled, the thoughts dispelled, the pictures obliterated.... We know that every slight motion of the hand, by disturbing the surrounding air, operates to immeasurable distances, and in the same way we know also how through unreckonable time the movement of spirits sets the surrounding and succeeding world of spirit in vibration.
“Never-to-be-forgotten” is the word ordinarily employed for days so richly filled. But it is not the correct word, for ultimately everything is forgotten; even should all those who shared the experience preserve to the end of life their recollections of what they experienced, yet there comes the time in which they themselves are forgotten, in which their ashes are scattered to the winds, their archives buried in ruins. So we will not call the contents of these days of the Congress never-to-be-forgotten, but rather ineradicable.
And be it said that this event cannot be compared with a slight motion. The echo which the Congress and Conference this time awakened in the public could hardly have been wished louder. When it is realized how the Peace Congresses of 1889 and 1890 passed almost unnoticed, and what general attention was attracted to the one this year, it is fair to hope that in like progression one of the next will become an event that stirs the world. And to bring this to pass would take nothing more than either an avalanche-like spread of the announced will of the nations for peace, or the resolve of the governments themselves to come together in a High Council of Peace to plan the bases of arbitration treaties.
Such confidence in the simple and probable realization (most likely within our lifetime) of the ideal set before us should fill the hearts of those that are fighting for this. Let the skepticism that wisely balances difficulties be left to those that stand aside. “Let us keep ever before our eyes the sacred purpose which we have set before us,” said Bonghi in his concluding address; “let us work with such fiery zeal as if the attainment of this depended wholly on us and as if we could attain it even to-morrow. If others hinder us, then it is not our fault. Let us scorn those that jeer at us and pity those that do not understand us. What we desire is the noble, the just, the beneficent; and if there be any one who believes that these things are forever denied to men, then for God’s sake and for man’s let him hold his tongue, for life would be altogether too sad if we all had to think as he does.”
“Words, words!” say our opponents in derisive tones. This objection also Bonghi meets with that genial humor which frequently flashes through his style. “You reproach us for putting forth nothing but words; did we ever claim to be cannon?” And in saying this he gave that short chuckle of his which stimulated his hearers to irresistible laughter.
Truly it would be nothing to deplore if the purpose of these congresses and conferences—the international reign of law—received valid realization by their pronouncements; rather, it is to be deplored that doubters and scoffers exert themselves to retard such realizations, and that those who have the power of decision are not already coming together for united work, but are contenting themselves—each in isolation—with avowing their own peace purposes in words—words—meanwhile augmenting the preparation for war by their uninterrupted action.
It is only mutual mistrust that keeps up this inner contradiction. But fair dealing will put this mistrust to rout; the lust for war perpetually attributed to “the others” will prove itself to be a phantom; the suspicion that the governments are not willing to renounce war, that the peoples are not willing, will disappear, and thereby the renunciation will have become a reality, the word an act.
What accelerative effect the congresses are producing in this respect, cannot be determined by any measurement. The opponents of the movement, indeed,—the indifferent or the so-called “practical,”—stick at the lack of immediate validity in the resolutions, at the difficulties, misunderstandings, and blunders which must inevitably come up in the deliberations of a multitudinous (and also polyglot) body of men.