And so the responsive song of the two voices goes on without pause:—
My preparations are defensive.
Your preparations are offensive.
I must prepare because you are preparing.
I am preparing because you prepare.
Then let us prepare,
Yes, let us go on preparing.
The newspapers give the orchestral accompaniments to this duet. The leading articles revel in what is called conjectural politics. It was all poking up, baiting, bragging, slandering. Historical works on the Seven Years’ War were published with the avowed intention of renewing the old enmity.
Meanwhile the exchange of notes went on. In that of April 7 Austria again officially denied her preparations, but laid stress on an oral expression said to have been used by Bismarck to Count Carolyi that “it would be easy to disregard the Gastein treaty.” Must, then, the destiny of nations depend on anything that two noble diplomatists may have said to one another, in a more or less good humour, about treaties? And what kind of treaties can those be after all, whose contents remain dependent on the goodwill of the contracting parties, and are not assured by any higher Court of Arbitration?
Prussia answered this note on April 15, that the charge was untrue; but she was obliged to persist in asserting that Austria had really made preparations on the frontier; and on this she founded the justification of her own preparations. If Austria were in earnest about not attacking she would first disarm.
To this the Vienna Cabinet replied: “We will disarm on the 25th of this month, if Prussia promises to do the same on the following day.”
Prussia declared herself ready.
What a breathing again! So then, in spite of all threatening signs, peace will be preserved! I noted this change joyfully in the red book.
But prematurely. New complications arose. Austria declared that she could only disarm in the north, but not in the south at the same time, since she was threatened in that quarter by Italy.
To which Prussia replied: “If Austria does not disarm altogether, we shall also remain in a state of preparation.”
Now Italy expressed herself to the effect that it had never, in the faintest way, entered into her mind to attack Austria, but that after this last declaration she was under the necessity of at least making counter preparations.
And so this charming song of defence was now sung by three voices.
I allowed myself to be again in a measure lulled to sleep by this melody. After such loud and repeated protestations, neither surely can attack, and unless one of them attack, there can be no war. The principle that it is only defensive wars that can be justified has now taken such firm possession of the public conscience that surely no Government can any more undertake an invasion of a neighbouring country; and if none but mere defensive troops are ranged opposite each other, however threatening their armies are, however determined they may be to defend themselves to the knife, still they cannot actually break the peace.
What a delusion! Beside “the offensive” there are, I find, many other ways of commencing hostilities. There are demands and interventions regarding some small third country, and which have to be resisted as unfair; there are old treaties which are declared to be violated, and for the upholding of which recourse must be had to arms; and, finally, there is “the European equilibrium,” which would be endangered by the acquisition of power by one state or the other. And so energetic steps are demanded to prevent such acquisition. It is not avowed; but one of the most violent impulses to fight is the hate which has long been stirred up, and which at last presses on to the death-dealing combat, as ardently and with the same natural force as long-cherished love to the life-giving embrace.
Events now began to tread on each other’s heels. Austria declared for the Augustenburg so decisively that Prussia characterised it as a breach of the Gastein treaty, and discovered in that a plainly hostile intention; the consequence of which was that the preparations on both sides were carried to their highest point. And now Saxony also began to do the same. The excitement was universal, and became more violent every day. “War in sight, war in sight,” was the announcement of every newspaper and every speech. I felt as if I were at sea and a storm approaching.
The most hated and most reviled man in Europe then was called Bismarck. On May 7 an attempt was made to assassinate him. Did Blind, the perpetrator of the deed, wish to avert this storm? And would he have averted it?
I received letters from Prussia from Aunt Cornelia, from which it seemed that in that country the war was anything but desired. While with us there prevailed universal enthusiasm for the idea of a war with Prussia, and we looked with pride on our “million of picked soldiers,” inward contention reigned there. Bismarck was no less reviled and slandered in his own country than in ours; the report went that the Landwehr would refuse to go out to the “fraternal war,” and it was said that Queen Augusta threw herself at her husband’s feet to pray for peace. Oh! how glad should I have been to kneel at her side, and how gladly would I have hurried off all my sister-women—yes, all—to do the same. It is this, and this alone, that should be the effort of all women: “Peace, peace. Lay down your arms.”
If our beautiful empress had also thrown herself at her husband’s feet, and with tears and lifted hands had begged for disarmament—who knows? Perhaps she did—perhaps the emperor himself also wished to preserve peace, but the pressure proceeding from the councils, and the speakers, and the shouting and the writing was such as no one
