sonably pacific purpose. Only when the masses of the people are
inflamed with a passionate desire for war, and in a time of popular
hysteria responsible statesmen are helplessly borne along the turgid
flow of events as bubbles are carried by the swift current of a
swollen river, is peace a visionary dream.
It is the peculiarity of the present crisis that no such popular
hysteria existed. No popular demand for war developed until after it
was virtually precipitated. Even then large classes of workingmen,
both in Germany and France, protested.
The peoples of the various countries had scant knowledge of the issues
which had been raised by their diplomats and had little, if any,
interest in the Servian trouble. The chief exception to this was in
Austria, where unquestionably popular feeling had been powerfully
excited by the murder of the Archduke and where there had been,
especially in Vienna, popular manifestations in favor of war. In
Russia also there was not unnaturally a strong undercurrent of popular
sympathy for Servia.
The writer was in the Engadine at the time referred to, and
cosmopolitan St. Moritz, although a little place, was, in its
heterogeneous population, Europe in microcosmic form. There the
average man continued to enjoy his mid-summer holiday and refused to
believe that so great a catastrophe was imminent until the last two
fateful days in July. The citizens of all nations continued to
fraternize, and were one in amazement that a war could be precipitated
on causes in which the average man took so slight an interest.
Unembarrassed by any popular clamor, this war could have been
prevented, and the important question presents itself to the Supreme
Court of Civilization as to the moral responsibility for the failure
of the negotiations.
Which of the two groups of powers sincerely worked for peace and which
obstructed those efforts?
In reaching its conclusion our imaginary Court would pay little
attention to mere professions of a desire for peace. A nation, like an
individual, can covertly stab the peace of another while saying, "Art
thou in health, my brother?" and even the peace of civilization can be
betrayed by a Judas-kiss. Professions of peace belong to the cant of
diplomacy and have always characterized the most bellicose of nations.
No war in modern times has been begun without the aggressor pretending
that his nation wished nothing but peace, and invoking divine aid for
its murderous
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