Of the ministers plenipotentiary the Dutch representative, Van Stoetwegen, was the best counselor I found. He was shrewd, keen, and kindly; but his tongue was sharp--so much so that it finally brought about his recall. He made a remark one day which especially impressed me. I had said to him, "I have just sent a despatch to my government declaring my skepticism as to the probability of any war in Europe for a considerable time to come. When I arrived in Berlin eleven years ago all the knowing people said that a general European war must break out within a few months: in the spring they said it must come in the autumn; and in the autumn they said it must come in the spring. All these years have passed and there is still no sign of war. We hear the same prophecies daily, but I learned long since not to believe in them. War may come, but it seems to me more and more unlikely." He answered, "I think you are right. I advise my own government in the same sense. The fact is that war in these days is not what it once was; it is infinitely more dangerous from every point of view, and it becomes more and more so every day. Formerly a crowned head, when he thought himself aggrieved, or felt that he would enjoy a campaign, plunged into war gaily. If he succeeded, all was well; if not, he hauled off to repair damages,--very much as a pugilist would do after receiving a black eye in a fist fight,--and in a short time the losses were repaired and all went on as before. In these days the case is different: it is no longer a simple contest in the open, with the possibility of a black eye or, at most, of a severe bruise; it has become a matter of life and death to whole nations. Instead of being like a fist fight, it is like a combat between a lot of champions armed with poisoned daggers, and in a dark room; if once the struggle begins, no one knows how many will be drawn into it or who will be alive at the end of it; the probabilities are that all will be injured terribly and several fatally. War in these days means the cropping up of a multitude of questions dangerous not only to statesmen but to monarchs, and even to society itself. Monarchs and statesmen know this well; and, no matter how truculent they may at times appear, they really dread war above all things." One of my colleagues at St. Petersburg was interesting in a very different way from any of the others. This was Pasitch, the Servian minister. He was a man of fine presence and, judging from his conversation, of acute mind. He had some years before been sentenced to death for treason, but since that had been prime minister. Later he was again put on trial for his life at Belgrade, charged with being a partner in the conspiracy which resulted in the second attempt against the life of King Milan. His speech before his judges, recently published, was an effort worthy of a statesman, and carried the conviction to my mind that he was not guilty.[3]