war can regard the keeping of faith with its enemy as an obligation.
You tell me that the nations have already entered into agreements as to the way in which they will carry on war. This is quite true, though the so-called rules for the humanizing of war are never kept. But no nation has ever entered into an agreement with another to limit its ability to carry on war. And governments cannot in any case limit their armaments for another reason, because each rules by force over countries whose inhabitants desire their independence. The governments distrust not only one another, but also their own subjects. But as this is a necessary function of a government, no government can bring about peace. If all men were guided by their consciences, and trusted one another, there would be no governments and no wars.
But you tell me that if governments cannot stop wars they may make them less terrible. This is a delusion in most people's minds, and a hypocritical pretense on the part of those who are interested in maintaining war. It is hypocritical pretense, because it is used with the intention of making men believe that war is less cruel than it is. Thus governments prohibit the use of explosive bullets because of the injuries they inflict, and do not prohibit ordinary bullets, which in many cases inflict just as painful injuries. They prohibit explosive bullets for the same reasons as those which prevent them killing women and children—that is to say, because it does not serve their ends, and not because it is cruel.
Therefore, I do not wish that the Czar's conference may succeed any more than I believe in its success. Even if it did what it proposed to do, it would only divert men's minds from the true solution which is possible for every one. That is, for each man to be guided by his conscience, which tells him that all war is murder. When every man is convinced of this, there will be no more wars, and no more governments to make them.
"But suppose," I said, "that a whole nation, or group of nations, were to be converted to this belief, and were to live together in ideal peace, it is still not to be expected that the world will be simultaneously converted. And suppose that an unconverted nation which maintained the old system were to threaten the lives and happiness of the converted nation. Would not the converted nation be forced into war again?"
"No; because if they were converted, they would be led by their consciences and by Christianity, and they would know that war is murder. They would know that Christianity did not prohibit them laying down their own lives, but that it prohibited them from taking the lives of others."
From the question of war and peace Tolstoy turned suddenly to an American book on theology which he was reading, and which he expressed great admiration for. But ten minutes later the question arose again under quite a different form. I had been reading a book just published by a well-known Russian writer, the object of which was to prove that war was an unprofitable speculation, and would no longer compensate any country for the sacrifices it involved. It was reported that this book had considerable effect upon the Czar in inducing him to call together the conference which Tolstoy condemned. On every page there was an insistence that moral and sentimental considerations had nothing to do with the abolition of war. War was a speculation, said the writer, and owing to changes in its nature and in the social composition of Europe, it could no longer pay. Therefore, no sensible power was likely to enter upon it. To support this view there was a great mass of material adduced as to military, financial, and social conditions of Europe. Upon this book I asked Count Tolstoy's opinion, although I was quite assured that he would answer that the author's point of view was immoral, that war was murder, and that those who did-not murder merely because it was unprofitable were as blood-guilty as those who did. But to my surprise he answered: "It is a very interesting book. It is of great value. It will serve a great purpose if every one reads it."
It was my first revelation of Count Tolstoy's dualism as a theorist and a practical man. My subsequent talks with Count Tolstoy convinced me that while he judged all general questions from the point of view of literal Christianity, his method of dealing with individual problems was intensely practical. He was always ready to
