The King, the first war lord, with a military education, grown up in soldierly traditions, sees only the possibility of continuing the war, of winning a victory, of brilliantly bestowing the honor of his arms,—would sooner abdicate than conclude peace _now_!... He would be glad to retain Crispi, but a storm is arising against him throughout the land and—Crispi falls. A new ministry is formed. Rudini—that name stands on the list of the Interparliamentary Union—becomes Prime Minister. What will he demand in the name of the government at the opening of Parliament? The Crispi journals and the papers representing the war party are fierce against any idea of peace: “Revenge for Adowa!” _Guerra a fondo!_ (“War to the bitter end!”) And had it been a lustrum earlier, this cry alone would have come to the surface. Yet louder and more impetuously now arise the voices in protestation against the continuance of the unrighteous war. The movement of protest was organized; hence it was effective. Through Teodoro Moneta I learned all that was going on in this direction. It was a victory; for the new minister, Rudini, did not demand the continuance of the war.... It might be urged that what I am relating is really a political-historical chronicle, and not a biography. But it _is_ my life’s history; for the very life of my soul was closely bound up with these events. My thoughts, my labors, my correspondence, were all filled with those performances on the world’s stage. And that I am repeating what is for the most part a matter of common knowledge, what was printed in the newspapers everywhere, and therefore is treasured in the memory of all,—this I do not believe. The forgetfulness of the public is great. What one day brings, the next swallows up again. I know from my own experience how, before I had begun to live for the peace cause, political events, even though they were important, disappeared from my memory without leaving a trace, if indeed they had attracted my attention at all. But now I noted in my diary everything that related to the struggle that was taking place between the new idea and the old institutions; this was the red thread which I followed in weaving the history of the day,—a thread which assuredly has quite escaped those who have not kept their eyes expressly fixed upon it. A letter from my friend Carneri, written during the Italo-African war, shows that I had vigorously complained to him of the pain which that tragedy was causing me. The letter ran: Marburg, March 5, 1896 My dear Friend, Do not be vexed if I fail to attain my object, which is none other than to give you permanent comfort in your suffering over the present condition of the civilized world.