I trust that an echo from this festival so indescribably beautiful to me will make its way to all our fellow-citizens. By this I mean all, whatever nation they belong to, who strive for righteousness. All on this side or that side of the Rhine, this side or that side of the ocean, this side or that side of every other boundary of country or class—I could wish that these fellow-citizens of ours might learn how in the circle of the most intellectual men of the capital of the German Empire a simple woman, hitherto unknown to them, has been so brilliantly honored, merely on account of the will which she has manifested in the cause of peace. In giving me your approval for a book bearing the title “Away with Weapons,” in sanctioning my endeavor which took me to the Peace Congress at the Capitol, you coin that title into a watchword and recognize that endeavor as a legitimate ideal of civilization.
Thus understood, ladies and gentlemen, I joyfully accept all that you have said to me; thus understood, no enthusiasm is too impetuous for me, no love too warm, none of those who entertain me too high in rank and repute. With joy I take from your hands the roses and the wreaths, and—merely as an intermediary—lay them at the feet of the genius in whose name you have summoned me here. In this sense I am ready to drain my glass in the heartiest thanks to you who are present, and in brotherly greeting to the absent friends of peace in all nations, in the name of the whole table!
Albert Traeger spoke after me, and then, as a special surprise, the great tragedian Emanuel Reicher was called upon and read to us a translation of Maupassant’s short story La Mère Sauvage.
In the account given in the Berliner Tageblatt, from the pen of the editor in chief, it said:
It cannot be sufficiently reiterated that this festival has powerfully contributed to strengthen all who have at heart the blessings of international peace in their endeavor diligently to cultivate the humanitarian and civilizing might of the peace idea, without reference to the unfavorableness of the times and the tendencies of the day. Thus, then, the festival that was planned in honor of a single person may be considered as a link in the chain of phenomena by means of which the enlightened spirits of the century are seeking to build up the higher (kulturellen) interests of humanity.
Nevertheless, I must note that several Berlin newspapers spoke disparagingly of my appearance there in particular and of my aims in general, for the most part making reference to the so-often-cited saying of Moltke, “Perpetual peace is a dream and not even a beautiful one!” But even the antagonistic voices refrained from abuse and ridicule. That would not have been the case twenty or perhaps even ten years before. Then the whole matter would have been half laughed to death, half scolded to death,—or wholly smothered to death by silence.
We stayed in Berlin for a number of days, and these days were crowded with participation in conferences, talks, and plans for the establishment of a German Peace Society in Berlin. Yet nothing definitive resulted. Dr. M. Hirsch and Baumbach were in favor; Rickert disapproved.
Friedrich Spielhagen gave us a delightful reception at his house one evening before my reading took place. About forty persons were present. At the table I sat between the host and Albert Traeger. There I became acquainted with Ossip Schubin, Wolzogen, Stettenheim, Dahms, Wolff. A Prinz Reuss, an officer, asks for an introduction, and says in a modest way,—of course it was meant ironically,—
“I ought to be ashamed of being in uniform in your presence.”
I could not think of anything to say; later, on the stairs, some very appropriate answers occurred to me.