The third of the great isolated powers of which I speak is personified to-day 67 by the grand old man whom an heroic pertinacity, henceforward to be traditional, keeps a prisoner at the Vatican. No one can have any idea of the life and movement which reigns in this voluntary prison which lies over against the Quirinal. Thither flow innumerable missives from every corner of the world, and could I only tell some of them, it would be seen how long still is the arm extending from the shadow of St. Peter’s; how dreadful still are the lips that speak in the shade of the Vatican. I should show the Holy Father and his cardinals writing to the Emperor of Austria, directing him by counsel and advice, and sometimes almost by their orders. I should show Prince Bismarck continuing, since his fall, to hold before the eyes of the pope, glimpses of the more or less partial restoration of the temporal power. I should show Leo XIII. now trying to unite, now to alienate, France and Russia, according as at the moment this or that policy seems to him most propitious for his own cause or the cause of peace; and I should show, at the same time, the Vatican divided within itself, and Cardinal Vauncelli working, in secret letters addressed to powerful sovereigns, against the policy of Cardinal Rampolla, and acting on the mind of Leo XIII. to detach him from his secretary of state, and wean him from the democratic policy on which he is now launched. I should show, also, all the leading politicians of France, whether in power or out, soliciting the support, the protection, the favor of Leo XIII., and the latter working with astounding insight for the fusion, more and more complete, of the liberal monarchical party with the Republic. I should show again how, owing to mysterious action, instability has become the normal state of France; and how the action of Russia, driven by the double current from the north and the south, not only has been not a source of strength for M. Ribot, but even forced him to his fall. Not only did the czar refuse to send the Russian fleet to France, and to let the czarevitch pass through Paris under pretext of going from Berlin to London, but he has just of late imposed on the French prime minister exigencies of such a nature that the latter has preferred to lay down the power rather than to submit. When M. Ribot, minister of foreign affairs, committed the political stupidity of carrying to the tribune the name of Baron Mohrenheim in connection with the Panama scandal, the Emperor of Russia showed that he was much irritated and wounded. M. Develle, minister of foreign affairs, hurried to the baron with excuses. But the czar declared these excuses unsatisfactory. M. Ribot then went himself to see the ambassador and give him certain explanations and excuses. Still the czar was not satisfied. He demanded a letter written by the prime minister and addressed to the Russian minister of foreign affairs, M. de Giers, who was then stopping at the gates of France. M. Ribot could not accept this demand. He had already endured the insult of M. Stambouloff during the affair of the Chadourne expulsion. He did not wish to leave behind him a letter of excuse addressed to M. de Giers. He preferred to fall, and he fell.
This is a fair instance of the hidden forces which sweep through the side-scenes of international European politics. In the preceding rapid summary of the present state of politics in the Old World, the conclusion must come irrefutably, and that is the ground of these remarks, that no war is in sight, nor will be for yet a long time. The Triple Alliance wishes, and necessarily wishes, peace. The young German emperor, from whom people have affected to anticipate some mad and irresponsible conduct, has no doubt uttered some imprudent words, but he has never committed any dangerous action. Really, his mouth seems a sort of safety-valve for the boiling steam within. So far he is satisfied with the conquests already secured. He is trying to bring back to him the Emperor of Russia. The meeting which he is now having with the pope is intended to bring about a formal rapprochement between the Quirinal and Vatican. Leo XIII., in turning his face towards the democracy, disquiets all thrones; but he disquiets especially the throne of Italy, since he 68 is showing the Italians that the Papacy is not only not an enemy of republics, but that it might be the protector of future republics in Italy, if the Italian fatherland, dreaming of the former brilliant prosperity, tried to found a democratic federation, with the pope as the centre and beneficent father. But at the same time Leo XIII. will whisper peace in the ear of William II. The young emperor wishes for a long era of peace. The new military law, with its far-reaching bearings, proves this. Even to-day he would never think of undertaking a war which left Prince Bismarck out of account, and he will never undertake a war which might cause his return.
So, too, the Emperor of Austria, King of Hungary; he too is inclined to peace. He cannot risk a war. The bonds which link the different portions of the empire are too fragile to be exposed to the rude strain of armed strife. Italy, perhaps, by a fortunate war might be a gainer; but it is not strong enough to provoke one, or even to carry one on. It would regard the Papacy at the Vatican as too great a danger at its back; and, with little hope of conquering anything without its borders, it might legitimately fear to find Rome no longer intact on its return.
As for the Emperor of Russia, he is moderate at once in his love for France and his hatred of Germany. So far, a man of genius has been wanting to cement the bonds of alliance between France and Germany. There is already an understanding, vague, platonic, and with no morrow assured to it. The French Republic will recoil before the thought of war, so long as Russian action does not precipitate an explosion. The Republic knows that war would be at its peril; that vanquished it is submerged under floods of anarchy, that victorious it brings forth a Cæsar, and it wishes peace.
England, rich, industrial, devoted to its own internal problems, preserves an attitude which is an earnest of peace. So that, when one casts a steady glance over the Europe of the present hour, one is minded to say to the world about to repair to the great centre of industry, of letters, and of art, which Chicago is so soon to be: “Go in peace. War is distant. Gather in peace the fruit of your peaceful victories.”
Blowitz.
THE COMEDY OF WAR.
by Joel Chandler Harris
Author of “Uncle Remus,” “Plantation Fables,” etc.
