“I was on the point of devoting myself to a military career,” the young Swede told me in the course of our conversation. “And do you know, gracious lady, what kept me from it? The reading of your book. And to-day, in this company, I am doubly glad that I chose another profession. Perhaps later it will be permitted me to labor for the great cause that brought my father to The Hague.”
“I see; a new ambition is awaking, in a new field! Remain faithful to this impulse, and may you sometime by means of it become a judge in the International Arbitration Court or Swedish Minister of Peace!”
“Oh, how glad I should be!”
Andrew D. White urges me, in case I have the opportunity, to oppose those pessimistic prejudices which have gone abroad regarding the Conference, and which render more difficult the possibility of further work and the assembling of new conferences. He expresses the opinion that the Emperor of Russia has one good means at his command,—simply to introduce into his country the shipwrecked “limitation” or even the reduction of the military effective. He is the autocrat—his will decides. And the policy of such an example would be most effective.
Well, indeed, the manifesto, the summoning of the Conference, the motions laid before it, which implied the pledge that he would do what he proposed,—all these things were indeed examples. But those who are eagerly bent on the preservation of the entire military system have not been constrained to follow in the same track. How can any one venture, after all, in a matter requiring common agreement, to take the lead alone?
A Russian tells me that in his own country there is also a strong military party which holds the Tsar’s plans in deep disfavor, so that, even in his immediate proximity, opposition and differences of opinion are strongly felt. It would require iron energy to hold out against them. Alas, the cruel are apt to be iron....
We give an afternoon reception. Among those present are Herr and Frau Berends and their daughter; Dr. White and his wife, who has just arrived; Monsieur and Madame Descamps; our countrymen, Count Welsersheimb, Lieutenant Colonel von Khuepach, and Professor Lammasch; my young Russian officer whom I met at yesterday’s ball, and young Bildt; Dr. Holls; Bourgeois; the Persian ambassador; Bonnefon; Vasily and his son; Pompili; Schmidt auf Altenstadt, editor of the Dagblad; Herr von Raffaelovitch and his daughter; and Minister Beernaert.
Beernaert goes to-morrow to Brussels. They have had a ministerial crisis there too.
“I am going to play the rôle of Bourgeois at Brussels,” he said with a laugh.
“Then,” rejoined the other, “play it to the end and come back.”