Give heed, ye contemporaries! If ye fail to take seriously such a serious work of beneficence, and to remind those who are engaged in it—even though there be among them men of contrary opinion—of the seriousness of their task, to hold them responsible for its accomplishment, to take them at their word,—take care, I say, lest ye yourselves have to repent not amid the laughter but amid the tears of the world!
May 30. Excursion to Scheveningen. From the city, which lies in the midst of a garden, you drive a couple of miles through avenues lined all the way with trees, like a park, down to the seashore. Along the way, to right and left, are multitudes of villas behind flowering gardens. In Scheveningen itself, along the shore, multitudes of hotels. Everything as yet is deserted. A cold, salty wind blows from the North Sea, which under a gray sky rolls in gray billows. The wicker chairs are not yet brought down on the beach and the bathing machines are not in their accustomed places. On the broad terrace of the Kurhaus, around the silent music pavilion, already stand countless rows of tables and chairs, but all unoccupied. On the sea no ships or boats are to be seen; the bathing season does not seem to be open yet even for the sea gulls.
Only a few carriages and pedestrians enliven the beach and the streets. Scheveningen is indeed for all the residents of The Hague, and now specially for the members of the Conference, a general goal for promenading. We exchange greetings with many acquaintances. Our fellow-countryman, Count Welsersheimb, has come down on his bicycle, and chats with us as he wheels for some distance beside our carriage. Herr von Okoliczany, accompanied by his slender daughter, rides by. The Chinese flag is seen waving over the Hotel Oranje; Yang-Yü, with his family, is the only delegate who has already left The Hague and taken up his residence at Scheveningen.
All those dikes, those structures! How painstaking and courageous the Dutch people have been in rescuing their land from the waters! Those are battles worthy of men—against the weight and the wrath of the elements. Should the dike-building against the wrath of our fellow-men be alone unaccomplishable?
We gave a small dinner, the party consisting of Rahusen, president of the Chamber; Von Khuepach, the Austrian military delegate; the second Russian delegate, Vasily[[36]]; Novikof, Bloch, and we three,—a small circle at a round table, the most advantageous arrangement for general and animated conversation. When the coffee was brought, we were joined by the correspondent of the Neue Freie Presse, Dr. Frischauer, whom I had invited, but who was prevented from coming sooner.
After dinner a soirée at the Karnebeeks’. Frau von Staal tells me, in the course of a conversation, how her husband is besieged every day with addresses, memoranda, pamphlets, and deputations from all parts of the world.
“And I suppose with numberless letters also, many of them right crazy ones?”
“Oh, yes, even with threatening letters! Anonymous warnings that there is a plan on foot to assassinate him.”
“Why! that is horrible! How does Herr von Staal take that?”
“He smiles at it!”