PREVIOUS WRITINGS OF PAUL S. REINSCH

  The Common Law in the Early American Colonies, 1899.

  World Politics at the End of the Nineteenth Century as
    Influenced by the Oriental Situation, 1900.

  Colonial Government, 1902.

  Colonial Administration, 1905.

  American Legislatures and Legislative Methods, 1907.

  Intellectual Currents in the Far East, 1911.

  International Unions, 1911.

  An American Diplomat in China, 1913–1918, 1922.

  SECRET DIPLOMACY

  HOW FAR CAN IT BE ELIMINATED?

  BY
  PAUL S. REINSCH

  NEW YORK
  HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY

  COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
  HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.

  PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY
  THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
  RAHWAY, N. J.

The principal conclusions based on the material contained in this
book were presented by the Author at a joint meeting of the American
Historical Association and the American Political Science Association,
in his address as President of the latter, on December 28th, 1920.

CONTENTS

                                                     PAGE
        INTRODUCTION                                    3

  CHAPTER
     I. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY DIPLOMACY                   22

    II. OLD DIPLOMATIC CORRESPONDENCE                  36

   III. AFTER THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA                   45

    IV. NAPOLEON III, DISRAELI, BISMARCK               58

     V. TRIPLE ALLIANCE DIPLOMACY AND MOROCCO          70

    VI. ENTENTE DIPLOMACY                              84

   VII. THE CRISIS OF 1914                            102

  VIII. THE SECRET TREATIES OF THE WAR                116

    IX. HOPES FOR IMPROVEMENT DEFERRED                129

     X. THE DESTRUCTION OF PUBLIC CONFIDENCE          136

    XI. PARLIAMENT AND FOREIGN AFFAIRS                149

   XII. THE PUBLIC AND DIPLOMACY                      166

  XIII. A SURVIVAL OF ABSOLUTISM                      181

   XIV. RECENT AMERICAN EXPERIENCE                    194

        CONCLUSION                                    211

        INDEX                                         225

SECRET DIPLOMACY

INTRODUCTION

Is secret diplomacy the evil spirit of modern politics? Is it the
force that keeps nations in a state of potential hostility and does
not allow a feeling of confidence and of wholehearted coöperation to
grow up? Or is it only a trade device, a clever method of surrounding
with an aura of importance the doings of the diplomats, a race of men
of average wisdom and intelligence who traditionally have valued the
prestige of dealing with “secret affairs of state”? Or is it something
less romantic than either of these--merely the survival from a more
barbarous age of instincts of secretiveness and chicane acquired at a
time when self-defense was the necessity of every hour?

It is quite patent that the practice of secret diplomacy is
incompatible with the democratic theory of state. Even in the Liberal
theory of state it finds little favor, although that is disposed
to grant a great deal of discretion to the representatives who are
given the trusteeship of public affairs. Yet the essential idea of
Liberalism, government by discussion, includes foreign affairs
within its scope fully as much as those of purely domestic concern.
In applying to public affairs the experience of private business it
is often argued that as the directorate of a corporation could not
be expected to transact its business in public, even so diplomatic
conversations are not to be heralded from the house tops. How far
this particular analogy between private business and public affairs
will hold, is a point we shall have to examine later. At first sight
the planning of private enterprises and the consideration of benefits
and losses, can hardly furnish completely satisfactory rules for the
conduct of public affairs, particularly those involving the life and
death of the persons concerned. Stockholders would be reluctant to
allow such matters to be determined by a board of trustees in secret
conclave.

Divesting ourselves of all prejudices, even of righteous indignation
against plainly unconscionable practices, we shall try to examine and
analyze the action of great diplomats and to see to what extent really
important results achieved by them have depended upon the use of secret
methods. In the 18th Century, diplomacy was still looked upon as a
sharp game in which wits were matched, with a complete license as to
the means pursued; provided, however, that embarrassing discovery
must be avoided, in other words, that the exact method of deception
must be so closely guarded that only the results will show. The great
diplomats of the beginning of the 19th century--Metternich, Talleyrand,
Pozzo di Borgo--while they talked much about humanitarian principles,
continued to play a barren game of intrigue. Napoleon III, that master
of devious statecraft, will always be cited by excoriators of secret
diplomacy as an abhorrent example--a man undone by the results of his
own plotting. Bismarck indeed prided himself on looking down upon
petty secret manœuvering and cast a certain amount of contempt on the
whole diplomatic business; he often disconcerted his opponents by an
unaccustomed frankness. Yet the orientation of his statesmanship was
based upon the idea of helping history to find a short-cut to her aims
through masterful plotting. He took the reins out of the hands of
Providence.

But let us return to our first question: “Is secret diplomacy the
evil spirit of modern politics?” It is indeed worth inquiring how far
our secretive methods in foreign affairs are to blame for the pitiful
condition in which the world finds itself to-day. No doubt there is a
general belief that secret diplomacy and ever-increasing armaments
led Europe into the terrible destruction of the Great War and that the
continuance of such methods is chiefly to blame for the deplorable
condition since the Armistice. There may be deeper causes, but these
evidences are so obtrusive that they naturally attract most attention
and are given most blame for the evils we endure. It is plain that
secret diplomacy is a potent cause for continued distrust, fear and
hate. There are few statesmen that would not shrink from deliberately
planning and staging a war. Yet they nearly all participate in methods
of handling public business from which it is hardly possible that
anything but suspicion, fear and hatred should arise. Distrust is
planted everywhere. There is no assurance of what is the truth; true
reports are questioned; false reports, believed. All motives are under
suspicion. The public conscience and will are beclouded; nothing stands
out as reliable but stark military force.

It would seem that we have learned very little from the war. The same
dangerous and unhealthy methods continue to be used with inveterate
zeal. The result is that suspicion has now grown up among those who
fought side by side and who shed their blood together. Realizing the
fundamental importance of basing international life on sound opinion
and fair dealing, the framers of the League of Nations tried to secure
the publicity of all international agreements. Yet this moderate
provision of the covenant has not been obeyed by some of the strongest
contracting powers. Some outsiders, indeed, such as Russia, have quite
willingly published their treaties and furnished them to the bureau of
the league.

That the first act of peace-making was to shut the door of the
council chamber in the face of the multitudes who had offered their
lives and shed their blood for the rights of humanity was a tragic
mistake. In the defense of secret procedure, published on January 17,
1919, it was said “To discuss differences in the press would inflame
public opinion and render impossible a compromise.” So all connection
between the great public that was paying the price of the game and the
benevolent elder statesmen who thought they would shoulder the burden
of responsibility alone, was cut off. The men in the council chamber
were not strengthened in this great crisis by a feeling of intimate
touch with a strong and enlightened public opinion. The public itself
was disillusioned; suspicion and contempt were the natural result. The
bald statements given to the press concerning the negotiations did not
satisfy any one. Most of what was going on became known to outsiders.
But its authenticity was so uncertain and it was so commingled with
mere rumor that the public soon gave up in despair. It will be
important to inquire as to what is the proper perspective between
confidential deliberation and publicity of results, in conferences,
which are becoming the usual agency for discussing and settling
international affairs.

When secrecy is confined merely to the methods of carrying on
negotiations, its importance for good and evil is certainly not so
great as when the secrecy of methods includes concealment of aims and
of the agreements arrived at. We could imagine that even a statesman
who seeks the closest relationship with public opinion, even a
Lincoln, could not at all times eliminate all use of confidential
communications. But the temper of the whole system of foreign affairs
is a different matter; and any broad effort to conceal the tendency of
action or its results is certainly productive of evil, no matter how
salutary or beneficial it may seem to the men employing it at the time.

But, it is said, we must trust to experts. International relations are
so intricate and have so many delicate shadings that they elude the
grasp of the ordinary man, and can be held together and seen in their
proper relations only by the comprehensive and experienced mind of the
seasoned statesman. There is, however, a distinction which ought to be
noted. The public relies in most cases unreservedly upon expertship in
matters of engineering, science, accounting, business management, and
even in medicine, though in the latter with a feeling of less complete
security. In all these cases we know that the processes applied and
the methods pursued are demonstrable, and mathematically certain to
produce the results anticipated. But in the affairs of international
politics into which the human equation and other inexactly calculable
factors enter, there is no such mathematical certainty which can be
tested and ascertained by any group of experts. It is all a matter of
wisdom in choosing alternatives, and we may well doubt whether any man
or small group of men, under modern conditions of life and public state
action, can be wiser in such matters by themselves than they would be
if they constantly kept in direct touch with public opinion. Society,
when properly organized, will have at its disposal on every question
of importance, groups of men who have expert knowledge. Expertship
in foreign affairs is not confined to the foreign offices or the
chanceries; many thoughtful men observing and thinking intensely,
traveling widely, seeing foreign affairs from an independent angle,
have opinions and judgments to contribute that the officials cannot
safely ignore. In an inquiry of this kind we shall have to consider
the broader setting of diplomacy as a part of public life within the
nation and throughout the world. The element of secrecy is appropriate
only when we consider diplomacy as a clever game played by a small
inner privileged circle; it appears out of place in a society organized
on a broader basis. As a matter of fact the defense of secrecy, from
the point of view of the inner politics of the state, resolves itself
almost entirely into an opinion that the ignorance and inexperience of
the people does not fit them to judge of foreign relations. That, it
must be confessed, does not seem to be a very sound or convincing basis
for the choice of methods of public action in a modern state.

But the real strength of the argument for secrecy comes when the
external aspects of state action are considered. Then there is, on the
surface at least, an apparent justification for secretiveness, in the
interest of a closely knit society engaged in competitive struggle with
similar societies and obliged to defend itself and to safeguard its
interest by all available means.

Regarded in its broader aspects there are two conceptions of diplomacy
which are quite antagonistic and which have divided thinkers since
the time of Machiavelli and Grotius. These two great minds may indeed
be considered as typifying the two tendencies and expressing them in
themselves and through the sentiments which their thought and writings
have engendered in their successors.

We have the conception of diplomacy as working out a complex system
of state action, balancing and counterbalancing forces and material
resources and giving direction to the innermost purposes of the state.
It is probable that all professional diplomats are more or less
enchanted by this ideal. Up to the great war, Bismarck was generally
considered the ablest master of diplomacy, and his action seemed to
supply short-cuts for historical forces to work out their natural aims.
Nationalism was the word of the day and the creation of the German
national state, foreordained as it seemed by the laws of history, was
accelerated by the masterful action of the great diplomat. But we are
now able to see wherein lay the limitations of this method as applied
by Bismarck. Notwithstanding his grasp of historic principles of
development, he did not, after all, work in unison with broad natural
forces, but relied on his power to dominate other men through forceful
mastery, with dynastic associations. He was a superman rather than a
great representative of a people’s aspirations. So while he proclaimed
the truthfulness of his diplomacy, it was nevertheless kept essentially
as his own and his master’s affair and business, rather than the
people’s. The base of his policy was narrow. He understood nationalism
from a Prussian point of view. He severed Austria from Germany, and
then antagonized France by taking Lorraine; far more important still,
he failed to strengthen German relations with Central Europe and thus
made it later seem necessary for Germany to go on to the sea and thus
to arouse the apprehensions and enmity of England. Thus while he
himself would probably have in the end avoided confronting the entire
world as enemies, the foundations he had laid did not provide a safe
footing for the more ordinary men who followed him. His diplomacy, once
considered so great, had contained no adequate and sound foundation
for permanent national life. Such have been the results of the most
distinguished and successful work of manipulative diplomacy during the
Nineteenth Century.

What then shall we say of the justification of wars brought about
as a part of such a system; under which statesmen consider it quite
natural to contemplate “preventive war” and to assume responsibility
for wholesale slaughter because their plan of action seems to reveal
a necessity for it. The idea of conscious planning, or striving to
subject national and economic facts and all historic development
to the conscious political will,--that conception of diplomacy is
synonymous with the essence of _politics_ and will stand and fall
with the continuance of the purely political state. Manipulative, and
hence secret, diplomacy is in fact the most complete expression of
the purely political factor in human affairs. To many, it will seem
only a survival of a hyper-political era, as human society now tends
to outgrow and transcend politics for more comprehensive, pervasive
and essential principles of action. We need not here rehearse the
fundamental character of _politics_ as a struggle for recognized
authority to determine the action of individuals, with the use of
external compulsion. Politics is a part of the idea of the national
state seen from the point of view of a struggle for existence among
different political organizations, in which one class originally
superimposed its authority upon a subject population and in which,
after authority is firmly established within, political power is
then used to gain advantages from, or over, outside societies. It is
Machiavelli as opposed to Grotius who gives us the philosophy of this
struggle. The narrowness of this basis for human action and the direful
effect of conscious and forceful interference with social and economic
laws, is now beginning to be recognized.

But there is also a broader conception of diplomacy which is
influencing the minds of men although it is not yet fully embodied
in our daily practice. This conception looks upon humanity, not as a
mosaic of little mutually exclusive areas, but as a complex body of
interlocking interests and cultural groups. As this conception gains
in strength, the center of effort in diplomacy will not be to conceal
separatist aims and special plots, but to bring out into the clear
light of day the common interests of men. The common work for them to
do in making the world habitable, in dignifying the life of men and
protecting them against mutual terror and massacre,--that ideal of
coöperation and forbearance, is as yet only partially embodied in our
international practices, although it arouses the fervid hopes of men
throughout the world. Whether a system of local autonomy combined with
full coöperation and free interchange of influences can be brought
about without the exercise of an overpowering influence on the part
of a group of allied nations, is still doubtful. But if it should be
achieved, then plainly the old special functions of diplomacy will fall
away and administrative conferences will take the place of diplomatic
conversations. When Portugal became a republic, the proposal was made
to abolish all diplomatic posts and have the international business of
Portugal administered by consuls. That would eliminate politics from
foreign relations.

Diplomacy in the spirit of Grotius has always had its votaries even
in periods of the darkest intrigue, but there has only recently come
into general use a method of transacting international business which
favors open and full discussion of diplomatic affairs. Such business
will be dealt with less and less in separate negotiation between two
powers; there will generally be more nations involved, and conferences
and standing committees or commissions will be at work, rather than
isolated diplomats. Indeed, international conferences are still largely
influenced by the old spirit of secretive diplomacy. Yet the practice
of meeting together in larger groups is itself inimical to the strict
maintenance of the older methods and we may expect a natural growth of
more simple and direct dealings. It will be interesting to watch the
use of the older methods of diplomacy under these new conditions and to
see how far and how fast they will have to be modified in order to bear
out the underlying principle in human development to which action by
conference responds.

The Washington Conference of 1921 afforded the first notable occasion
for bringing into use open methods in diplomatic discussion. Secretary
Hughes in his introductory speech struck a keynote hitherto not
heard in negotiations on international matters. A new era seemed to
have dawned in which great issues and all-important interests could
be discussed openly and decided on their merits. A great wave of
enthusiasm passed over the public. But it cannot be said that the
temper of this auspicious opening was sustained throughout. As the
conference descended from general declarations to important questions
of detail there was an unmistakable reversion to old methods, which
obstructed the straightforward aims of Secretary Hughes. Even the
generous initial proposal of the American government was made by
one of the powers a trading subject. The result was that some of the
attendant evils of secret diplomacy invaded even this conference,
and that the public soon became somewhat confused as to its object
and purposes, through an abundance of guesses which put a premium
on the sensational imagination. It must be said that the temper of
the press, encouraged by the manner in which the Conference had been
inaugurated, was one of restraint and responsibility. Viewing the
questions which were before this Conference, there can be no doubt that
the very problems about which there was hesitation and exaggerated
secretiveness, were exactly those which could have been best judged of
by the well-informed public opinion. One could not avoid the conclusion
that the fear of publicity is in all cases inspired by motives which
cannot stand the test of a world-wide public opinion.

At the present day, as yet, the fatal circle has not been broken:
secret diplomacy, suspicion, armaments, war. We had thought that we
should escape from it quite easily, after the terrible sacrifices laid
on mankind and the light which had been flashed on us in that darkness.
But the passions which had been stirred up and the fear and terror
which had been aroused in that dire experience may for some time yet
serve to strengthen the reactionary forces in human affairs, and retard
those which tend to liberate humanity from terror and suffering. But it
is lack of leadership toward better things, that is most to blame.

To America, to the government and the people, the elimination of
secret dealings in international affairs is nothing short of a primary
interest. The entire character of our foreign policy is inspired with,
and based upon, the belief in open dealings and fair play. We have a
broad continental position which makes secret plotting and devious
transactions unnatural, inappropriate and unnecessary. Our national
experience of one hundred and fifty years has expressed itself quite
spontaneously in proposals for the peaceful settlement of international
disputes by discussion, for the improvement of international relations
through conferences, and in the great policies of the Open Door, which
means commercial fair play, and the Monroe Doctrine, which means
political fair play to the American sister republics. A policy such as
this has nothing to seek with secret methods and concealed aims.

To tolerate secrecy in international affairs would mean to acquiesce
in a great national danger. For good or ill we can no longer conceive
ourselves as isolated. Our every-day happiness and permanent welfare
are directly affected by what other nations do and plan. Continued
secrecy would mean that we should feel ourselves surrounded by
unknown dangers. We should have to live in an atmosphere of dread and
suspicion. We could find peace of mind only in the security of vast
armaments. In international affairs we would be walking by the edge
of precipices and over volcanoes; our best intentioned proposals for
the betterment of human affairs would be secretly burked, as in the
case of Secretary Knox’ plan of railway neutralization in Manchuria.
Our rights would be secretly invaded and our security threatened, as
at the time when England and France agreed with Japan that she should
have the North Pacific islands, behind our backs, though our vital
interests were involved. In all such matters secrecy will work to the
disadvantage of that power which has the most straightforward aims
and policies. America cannot willingly submit to such a condition. It
is unthinkable that with our traditions of public life and with our
Constitutional arrangements, we should ourselves play the old game of
secret intrigue; it is for us to see, and to the best of our power and
ability to assure, that it will not be played in the future by others.

Nations will respond to the call for absolutely open dealings in
international affairs, with a varying degree of readiness and
enthusiasm. We are perhaps justified in saying that wherever the people
can make their desires felt they will be unanimously for a policy of
openness. The English tradition of public life would also be favorable
to such a principle of action, were it not that such special imperial
interests as the British raj in India frequently inspires British
diplomacy with narrower motives and with a readiness to depart from
open dealings from a conviction that imperial interests so require.
The Russian Soviet government in giving to the public a full knowledge
of international affairs, was at first inspired primarily by a desire
to discredit the old régime. But it is also undoubtedly true that the
hold which this government has on the party which supports it, is in
a measure due to the fact that all foreign policies and relationships
are freely reported to, and discussed in, the party meetings and the
soviets. No matter what the aims of this government may be, it cannot
be denied that it has strengthened itself by the openness of its
foreign policy. The Chinese people have manifested a deep faith in
public opinion and their chief desire in international affairs is that
there shall be open, straightforward dealings so that all the world may
know and judge. Through all their difficulties of the last decade they
have been sustained by this faith in the strength of a good cause in
the forum of world-wide public opinion.

The peoples of the Continent of Europe undoubtedly would welcome a
reign of openness and truth, for they have suffered most from secret
dealings in diplomacy. But those who govern them find it difficult to
extricate themselves from the tangle of intrigue. As President Wilson
expressed it:

  “European diplomacy works always in the dense thicket of ancient
  feuds, rooted, entangled and entwined. It is difficult to see the
  path; it is not always possible to see the light of day. I did
  not realize it all until the peace conference; I did not realize
  how deep the roots are.”

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY DIPLOMACY

During the eighteenth century, diplomatic action was dominated entirely
by the tactics and stratagems of war. Diplomacy was a continuous
struggle for political advantage and power, seeking to accomplish the
purposes of war through keen intriguing; it was war pursued in the
council chamber. The temper of diplomacy was not that of a commercial
transaction, or of coöperation in the works of peace and betterment;
but it was intent upon selfish advantage--power, prestige, preferment,
and all the outward evidences of political success. It did not have
the conscience of peaceful enterprise and coöperation, but on the
contrary emulated the keen, restless, alert, and all-suspecting spirit
of the military commander in action. All the ruses, deceptions,
subterfuges, briberies and strategies which the struggle for existence
in war appears to render justifiable, diplomacy made use of. It was
essentially a political secret service informed with the spirit of
life-and-death competition. As, among individuals in that society, all
action was dominated by the constantly overhanging hazard of private
duel, bringing into life something of the keenness and cruelty of the
tempered blade; so among nations warlike rivalry inspired all political
action. War was either going on or impending and being prepared for;
humanity was living true to the old adage: “Man a wolf to man.”

Diplomacy was personal in that the ambassador was held to be an _alter
ego_ of the monarch. It was surrounded with the glamor of high state
and important enterprise, and inspired with a great pride of office.
The fact that he represented absolute power in its contact with the
absolute power of others, gave the diplomat a sense of high importance.
The monarchs, themselves, were generally governed by personal motives
and considerations. They looked upon politics as a keen game for
personal or family power in which populations of subjects, territory,
and war indemnities were the stakes, and human lives the pawns; the
highest happiness and good fortune of the subject was supposed to be
the right to die for his king. The diplomatic representatives quite
naturally fell into the same way of regarding affairs of state from the
viewpoint of political power to be gained, maintained and constantly
increased. It was a rather narrow game as seen by the rank and file of
the diplomatic world; only a few far-seeing and statesmanlike minds
could at that time appreciate the broad underlying human foundation of
all political action.

Such broader insight would often have been a real obstacle to the
success of the keen and clever player of the game. The mastery of
underlying principles which made Grotius famous for all ages did not
contribute to his success as a diplomat. The wheel of fortune turned
fast, and fleeting advantage had to be caught by quick, clever though
often superficial, machinations. Even as late as 1830, John Quincy
Adams observed that deep insight and unusual ability was something of a
hindrance to a diplomat. Yet the keen edge of the successful diplomats
of the powdered wig period is in itself one of the noteworthy qualities
of that sociable though unsocial age.

Throughout this period Machiavelli’s _Prince_ may be taken as the
fitting commentary on political action. The men of this age had not
yet grown up to the realization which Machiavelli already had of the
nature and importance of the national principle; but Machiavelli’s
thought concerning the means by which, in a period of unrest and sharp
rivalry, political power may be established, built up and preserved,
with total disregard of every feeling and ideal and the single-minded
pursuit of political success,--that thoroughly explains the spring of
action of this period.

In reading the memoirs and letters of this time, one will encounter
a great many protestations of conventional morality, as well as an
understanding of human nature and a comprehensive grasp of the details
of international rivalry. But far-seeing ideals of wisdom, moderation,
and justice, and of human coöperation will not frequently be met with;
there is no searching vision of realities. Nor will one gain from these
memoirs very specific information about the actual methods of doing
diplomatic business. These methods, even the particularly unscrupulous
ones, were probably considered almost as natural processes, to be
passed by without mention. But incidentally, one may receive hints,
even in the correspondence of the most correct and guarded diplomat,
sufficient to reconstitute their current manner of thought and action.

We encounter there all the artifices of a secret service versed
in the stratagems and tricks through which information can be
obtained,--the stealing of documents, bribery of public officials,
general misrepresentation and deceit. Matters are often so inextricably
complicated that it must have required the greatest effort to remember
what each participant in that particular intrigue knew or was supposed
not to know, what he could be told and what must be kept from him.
These are still the more venial methods; but when the welfare of the
state required, it might even be necessary, as in the case of war, to
dispose of inconvenient and obstructive individuals by wrecking their
reputation or even by putting them out of the way altogether.

Even the learned and dignified authorities on international law
could not entirely ignore the methods employed in actual diplomatic
intercourse. Grotius held that “amphibologies”--a term apparently
coined by him to designate statements, which could be understood in
several ways--were admissible, except in certain cases where there
existed a duty to unmask, as in matters involving the “honor of God,”
or charity towards a neighbor, or the making of contracts, or others
of like nature. His successor, Vattel, draws a distinction between
a downright lie, “words of him who speaks contrary to his thoughts
on an occasion when he is under obligation to speak the truth”; and
a “falsiloquy,” which he considers venial, and which is “an untrue
discourse to persons who have no right to insist on knowing the truth
in a particular case.” This distinction gives a rather ample latitude
to the discretion of a diplomat in the matter of truthfulness.
According to the good and learned Vattel, the duty of any one to
tell the truth was binding only towards another who had the right to
demand that the truth be spoken. In his day, very few people indeed
could claim the right of demanding an insight into diplomatic affairs,
so that his rule did not put the diplomat under a very severe moral
constraint. Even to the present day there have been known individual
envoys whose utterances plainly are made in the spirit of Vattel’s
distinction.

Callières, who wrote on the Practice of Diplomacy, in the year 1716, is
full of admiration of all that a shrewd, clever diplomat may accomplish
in stirring up trouble and confounding things generally in the state
to which he is accredited. To the question, “What can be achieved by a
negotiator?” Callières answers, “We see daily around us its definite
effects--sudden revolutions favorable to a great design of state, use
of sedition and fermenting hatreds, causing jealous rivals to arm, so
that the third party may rejoice (_ut tertius gaudeat_), dissolution
by crafty means of the closest unions. A single word or act may do more
than the invasion of whole armies, because the crafty negotiator will
know how to set in motion various forces native to the country in which
he is negotiating and thus may spare his master the vast expense of a
campaign.... It frequently happens that well chosen spies contribute
more than any other agency to the success of great plans. They are not
to be neglected. An ambassador is an honorable spy because it is his
function to discover great secrets. He should have a liberal hand.”
That admiration of successful deceit and mental cleverness in obtaining
results that could only be gained by force through great sacrifice of
life, inspired also the Italian admiration for clever deceit, such
as shown by Machiavelli in his eulogy of Pope Alexander VI for his
unrivaled eminence in prevarication.

It is remarkable that the famous witticism of Sir Henry Wotton that “an
ambassador is a person sent abroad to lie for the good of his country,”
did not occur to some one much earlier; but though the _bon mot_ had
not been coined, the idea itself was quite familiar. Louis XI quite
bluntly instructed his embassies, “If they lie to you, lie still more
to them.” But through all this period the virtue of sincerity and
of truthfulness also had their admirers: Callières, speaking of the
successful diplomat, says, “Deceit is but the measure of smallness of
mind and intelligence. A diplomat should have a reputation for plain
and fair dealing and should observe the promises he has made.” It
may, however, be suspected that the good writer here contemplates the
dangers of unsuccessful deceit and of too transparent ruses, rather
than the positive value of truth itself.

James Harris, Lord Malmesbury, who was certainly conversant with all
the ins and outs of eighteenth century diplomacy, wrote in a letter
of advice (April 11, 1813) addressed to Lord Camden: “It is scarce
necessary to say that no occasion, no provocation, no anxiety to rebut
an unjust accusation, no idea, however tempting, of promoting the
object you have in view, can need, much less justify, a falsehood.
Success obtained by one is a precarious and baseless success. Detection
would ruin, not only your own reputation for ever, but deeply wound
the honor of your Court.” In this sage advice, too, the dominant idea
seems to be that detection is ruinous. The homage which is thus paid to
the ideal of truth and sincerity is compatible with the use of quite
opposite methods provided they are successful and so cleverly guarded
that they are not discovered.

However, at all times there must have existed, among the people at
large and even among those playing the game of politics, men who had
a natural inborn desire for truth and a simplicity of nature which
brought them closer to the true underlying forces than were the common
run of courtiers and politicians. The ever recurring admiration
expressed for the diplomacy of Cardinal d’Orsat, the envoy of Henry IV
to the Pope, indicates a real appreciation, even among the profession,
of high standards of straightforwardness in diplomatic negotiations.
Cardinal d’Orsat seems to have disdained all shallow devices of
deceptive cleverness. He relied upon simple reasonableness and honesty
in proposing an arrangement mutually beneficial, to win after others
had exhausted all possible tricks and stratagems. In discussing
diplomacy, Mably says that such methods alone are calculated to secure
positive and permanent results while the devices of clever deceit can
only serve to delay and confuse.

Several statesmen have discovered that the telling of the actual
truth often exerts a somewhat befuddling effect on diplomats, so that
they may easily be misled by telling them real facts which they will
interpret in a contrary sense. This method has usually been associated
with the name of Bismarck who on one occasion said, “It makes me
smile to see how puzzled all these diplomats are when I tell them the
truth pure and simple. They always seem to suspect me of telling them
fibs.” The discovery had, however, been made by many statesmen before
Bismarck. As early as 1700, de Torcy had arrived at the conclusion that
the best way of deceiving foreign courts is to speak the truth. Lord
Stanhope said quite complacently that he could always impose upon the
foreign diplomats by telling them the naked truth, and that he knew
that in such cases they had often reported to their courts the opposite
to what he had truthfully told them to be the facts. At a later date,
Palmerston also prided himself on being able to mislead by the open
and apparently unguarded manner in which he told the truth. It would,
however, manifestly be difficult to use this method successfully more
than in spots; it would have to be interspersed from time to time with
a judicious amount of prevarication, in order to throw the other party
off the scent.

_To appear_ simple and true has always been greatly desired of
diplomats. Count Du Luc, French Ambassador to Vienna, said in a
letter, “My great desire, if I may be permitted to speak about myself,
is to appear simple and true. I flatter myself that I possess the
latter qualification; but you know my method of manœuvering.” The
appearance of frankness has indeed been most valuable to diplomats
in all ages; though one naturally suspects the man who in and out
of season explicitly declares and protests that virtue. Diplomatic
frankness is a part of that elaborate and complicated system of
self-control and coolness together with a mastery of all the outward
expressions of different affections and passions, which notable
diplomats have sought to achieve. It would not take an expert to advise
against pomposity. Callières counsels, “Be genial. Avoid the sober,
cold air. An air of mystery is not useful.”

In that century in which keenness and cleverness were so intensively
cultivated with the high pitch of the personal duel transferred to
affairs of state, the complete self-control of diplomats, their
quickness and their gift of taking advantage of any favorable turn in
the situation, are certainly worthy of admiration, as we reanimate
in our minds the life portrayed in these old memoirs and letters.
Occasionally a mishap occurs like that of the British Minister,
Mr. Drake, who boasted to Mehée de la Touche of the very careful
precautions he had taken to guard his secret correspondence; which
vainglory resulted quite disastrously to his collection of secrets.
Instances of delightful cleverness and cool-headedness are frequent.
Cardinal Mazarin, who in his methods and principles was quite the
opposite to Cardinal d’Orsat and who was particularly free from any
scruples whatsoever concerning the truth, won his first striking
diplomatic success through a ruse. What a quick mind and daring spirit
his, when on his first mission to the court of the Duke of Feria, as
a very young man, he attained his object so completely. How otherwise
could he have ascertained the true opinion of His Highness on the
matter of great importance to the Court of France which Mazarin was
especially sent to ascertain, as there were great doubts about it
and the duke entirely unwilling to express himself? A keen observer,
Mazarin had soon learned that the duke was irascible and unguarded when
in anger; but few would have followed him in suddenly, out of the clear
sky, deliberately, so stirring the duke to anger that he, entirely
off his guard, blurted out things which unmistakably gave a clue to
his real opinions on the important matter of state in question. What
a vivid satisfaction the young man must have had, which, however, he
needs must carefully conceal to feign grief and despair because he had
been hapless enough to arouse the ill will of His Highness. Mazarin was
throughout his life noted for a perfect command of the expressions of
all the moods, sentiments and passions, used by him at will so that it
was impossible for any one to penetrate his mask. The same achievement
was attained in a notable manner by the great diplomats of the old
school, Talleyrand and Metternich, who held the stage at the beginning
of the nineteenth century; and it has been emulated in greater or less
perfection by successive generations of Ministers, Counselors, and
Secretaries.

When Cromwell had allowed himself to be tangled up in double-faced
negotiations with the Spanish and the French courts of which the
latter had obtained complete knowledge, the French envoy, DeBass, very
cleverly rebuked him for the inconstancy and disingenuousness of his
action. The envoy related to Cromwell in complete detail, but as an
“unauthenticated report,” all the facts of the dubious negotiation, and
then asked the Protector kindly to extricate him from this labyrinth.
Cromwell was entirely taken aback and took his departure abruptly
on urgent business, leaving his secretary to make excuses. The star
performance of Metternich was when Napoleon, returning from a hunt
in a fit of heated excitement, in the presence of the other foreign
representatives, rushed up to him shouting, “What the deuce does your
Emperor expect of me?” Metternich replied with the greatest composure,
“He expects his ambassador to be treated with respect.”

II

OLD DIPLOMATIC CORRESPONDENCE

The correspondence of diplomats of the eighteenth century is full of
interest because of the particular intimacy which characterized social
life at that time. But we receive from it also direct and invaluable
information on the spirit and methods of diplomacy. The correspondence
from St. Petersburg at the time of Catherine the Great gives a complete
picture of the less noble features of diplomatic life and action. At
that Court, presided over by a woman of great ambition whose every
movement and mood the diplomats felt necessary to take into account
and carefully to calculate, at a time when England and France as well
as other nations were involved in almost constant hostilities, the
sharpest characteristics of eighteenth century diplomacy came to the
surface. Politics is seen as a game of forfeits and favors in which
wars were made for personal and dynastic reasons and territories traded
off in the spirit of the gamester without regard to natural or ethnic
facts, or the welfare of the population.

A letter written near the beginning of Catherine’s reign, addressed
by Sir George Macartney to the Earl of Sandwich, most strikingly
illustrates the character of the period. The British Minister first
reports that M. Panin, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, had
signed a treaty of alliance with Denmark, contemplating war with
Turkey. By a most secret article, Denmark promises “to disengage
herself from all French connections, demanding only a limited time to
endeavor to obtain the arrears due to her by the Court of France. At
all events, she is immediately to enter into all the views of Russia
in Sweden, and to act entirely, though not openly, with her in that
kingdom.” The writer then reports that it is the ardent wish of the
Empress “to make a common cause with England and Denmark, for the
total annihilation of the French interest there (in Sweden). This
certainly cannot be done without a considerable expense; but Russia,
at present, does not seem unreasonable enough to expect that we should
pay the whole.” The amount necessary absolutely to prevent the French
from ever getting at Stockholm again is suggested. As the Swedes are
highly sensitive because of their dependent situation in recent years,
the Russian Court desires “that we and they should act upon separate
bottoms, still preserving between our respective Ministers a confidence
without reserve. That our first care should be, not to establish a
faction under the name of a Russian or of an English faction; but,
as even the wisest men are imposed upon by a mere name, to endeavor
to have our friends distinguished as the friends of liberty and
independence.” The Minister then reports that an alliance with Russia
is not to be thought of unless by some secret article England would
agree to pay a subsidy to Russia in case of a Turkish war (Turkey
happened at the time to be in alliance with England). The Minister
relates that a similar proposal which was put up to the King of Prussia
by a Russian official who was his mortal enemy and who hoped greatly to
embarrass him thereby, was unexpectedly and quite blandly accepted by
Frederick II. The letter closes with the earnest entreaty on no account
to mention to M. Gross, the Russian Minister in London, the secret
article of the treaty which his own Government had just concluded with
Denmark.

The correspondence of James Harris, Lord Malmesbury, is a particularly
full and continuous account of court and diplomatic life in the
eighteenth century. In describing his diplomatic struggles in a
Court in which everything turned round the whims and ambitions of an
unscrupulous woman who had come to the throne through putting out of
the way its rightful occupant, the vicious practices of the day are
presented in all their corruption and deceitfulness. Before going
to Russia, Sir James Harris was Minister at Berlin. He paints the
character of Frederick the Great in the following words: “Thus never
losing sight of his object, he lays aside all feelings the moment that
is concerned; and, although as an individual he often appears, and
really is, humane, benevolent, and friendly, yet the instant he acts
in his Royal capacity, these attributes forsake him, and he carries
with him desolation, misery, and persecution, wherever he goes.” A
German scholar of the period, an admirer of the great monarch, used
the following language: “The art, till then unknown in Europe, of
concluding alliances without committing one’s self, of remaining
unfettered while apparently bound, of seceding when the proper
moment is arrived, can be learnt from him and only from him.” These
descriptions of the political character of Frederick II set forth the
essential _political_ factor as it was understood at the time and
as it has been understood by a continuous line of statesmen from
Machiavelli to the present. As in physical science, every factor has to
be disregarded except those essential to the experiment which is being
conducted, so in the intensive politics of the modern state, in the
mind of such men, abstraction is made from all sentiment, virtue and
quality, to the sole pursuit of a closely calculated political effect.
The same German scholar credits Frederick the Great with a superior
straightforwardness. That quality, however, is manifested by such a man
mostly on occasions where he is so sure of himself and of his plans
that he can challenge the worst attempts of his enemies to upset them
and can confound them utterly by flinging his plans in their faces, as
did Bismarck at a later time. A startling and fearless frankness is one
of the characteristics of political genius.

But to return to the correspondence of Lord Malmesbury. All the devices
and foibles of the profession at that period are there mirrored. When
he (still as Sir James Harris) reports the coming of a new French
Minister to St. Petersburg, he expresses the hope that the new envoy
will not be so difficult to deal with as the present chargé d’affairs,
“who, though he has a very moderate capacity, got access to all the
valets de chambre and inferior agents in the Russian houses, who very
often conjured up evil spirits where I least of all expected them.” A
little later he reports to the British Foreign Minister, Lord Stormont,
as follows: “If, on further inquiry, I should find, as I almost
suspect, that my friend’s (Prince Potemkin) fidelity has been shaken,
or his political faith corrupted, in the late conferences, by any
direct offers or indirect promises of reward, I shall think myself, in
such a case, not only authorized but obliged to lure him with a similar
bait.” He reminds His Lordship of the fact that Prince Potemkin is
immensely rich and that, therefore, perhaps as much may be required as
de Torcy offered to the Duke of Marlborough (two million francs).

In a letter of June 25, 1781, Sir James Harris, writing to the same
Minister, speaks of having obtained information of the conclusion
of a secret treaty between Russia and Austria from the confidential
secretary of a Russian minister. He adds: “I trust I shall keep him to
myself, since I have lost almost all my other informers by being outbid
for them by the French and Prussians.” He adds that it is painful to
him that the secret service expenses come so very high but he explains
that the avid corruption of the court is ever increasing and that
his enemies are favored by the fact that they can join in the expense
against him, their courts moreover supplying them most lavishly. He
adds: “They are also much more adroit at this dirty business than I am,
who cannot help despising the person I corrupt.”

The Foreign Minister of Russia at this time, and for many years before
and after, was Count Panin. It was then suspected and is now known
that he was firmly bought by Frederick II. But there has been some
doubt as to whether he entered upon this corrupt relation behind the
back of Empress Catherine or at her bidding. It is known that she
often encouraged her ministers at foreign courts to accept bribes and
apparently to sell themselves to foreign governments, because through
the relationship of confidence thus established they might gather
information useful to their own government. This is one of the many
ways in which the game of corruption tended to defeat itself.

As far as the letters of this period deal with diplomatic policies
they are no more reassuring than when they relate the details of
diplomatic practice. On August 16, 1782, Sir James Harris made a long
confidential report to Lord Grantham. He observes that Count Panin
is powerfully assisting the King of Prussia, the French Minister is
artful and intriguing, working through Prince Potemkin and the whole
tribe of satellites which surrounded the Empress, whom he calls “barber
apprentices of Paris.” He then unfolds his own policy of winning the
favor of the Empress for England by giving her the island of Minorca
as a present. His idea had been adopted by the British Foreign Office
and he writes, “Nothing could be more perfectly calculated to the
meridian of this Court than the judicious instructions I received on
this occasion.” He decided,--hand in hand with the proposed cession
of Minorca,--to designate the Empress as a friendly mediatrix between
England and Holland; he says: “I knew, indeed, she was unequal to the
task but I knew too how greatly her vanity would be flattered by this
distinction.” Farther on he reports how, gradually, after several
British Ministers had incurred the ill humor of Catherine, Fox and
the present Minister of Foreign Affairs have finally found favor and
smoothed the road for Sir James. He hopes that all these great efforts
and sacrifices may result in “lighting the strong glow of friendship
in Her Imperial Majesty in favor of England.” At this distance a slim
result of so much effort. The characterization of Catherine with which
he closes, few historians would now accept.[A]

    [A] “With very bright parts, an elevated mind, an uncommon
        sagacity, she wants judgment, precision of ideas,
        reflection, and l’esprit de combinaison.”

American diplomats had their first taste of European diplomatic methods
in 1797, when Pinckney, Gerry and Marshall were sent to France on their
special mission. Every attempt at delay and mystification was practised
on them. After various secret agents had tried the patience of the
Americans and had finally come out with the plain demand of Talleyrand
for a million francs as the price for peace and good relations, they
resolutely turned their back on Paris. Meanwhile Pitt was seriously
considering buying peace on similar terms.

AFTER THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA

The convulsions of the French revolution and the Napoleonic conquests
did not seem materially to affect the principles and practices of
diplomacy. When the Congress of Vienna met to rearrange the state
of Europe, it was guided by men who still looked upon diplomacy
entirely in the manner of the 18th century, when, in the words of
Horace Walpole, “it was the mode of the times to pay by one favor for
receiving another.” The idea of restoring the balance of Europe or
patching up the rents and cracks in the old system which had been so
severely shaken was the purpose which animated these men. They viewed
everything from the dynastic interests of their respective rulers and
traded off lesser kingdoms and slices of territory with the same spirit
of the gamester that has always characterized the absolutist diplomacy.

Of the three master minds of the Congress of Vienna, Talleyrand,
Metternich and Pozzo di Borgo, it may indeed be said that they
illustrated both the qualities and the vices of the old diplomacy in a
superlative degree. The last named has characterized Talleyrand as “a
man who is unlike any other. He wheedles, he arranges, he intrigues,
he governs in a hundred different manners every day. His interest in
others is proportioned to the need which he has of them at the moment.
Even his civilities are luxurious loans which it is necessary to repay
before the end of the day.” Talleyrand, himself, has said: “Two things
I forbid--too much zeal and too absolute devotion--they compromise
both persons and affairs.” He did not, indeed, betray his great master
Napoleon, he only quitted him in time.

Metternich, who resembled Talleyrand in the complete self-control of
a passionless diplomat, had a long and brilliant, but essentially
sterile, career. His correspondence shows a keen and luminous spirit
with a great mastery of detail, and capacity for manipulating the human
pawns; but there is no deep insight, no real constructive policy.
Indeed, he supported Alexander I in his efforts for a Holy Alliance or
sacred league among nations, but it was conceived in such a form that
it would not have interfered with the traditional game of diplomacy.
Metternich indeed often pays his compliments to the ideal, as when he
praises the league as resting on the same basis as the great Christian
society of man, namely, the precept of the Book of Books, “Do unto
others as you would that they should do unto you.” But the details of
his policy were governed entirely by the barren principles of balance
of power and legitimacy, and showed an utter disregard for the natural
and ethnic facts underlying government. Metternich indeed himself at
times realized the vanity of political intrigue, as when he wrote to
his daughter from Paris in 1815, “This specific weight of the masses
will always be the same, while we, poor creatures, who think ourselves
so important, live only to make a little show by our perpetual motion,
by our dabbling in the mud or in the shifting sand.”

When Alexander himself left the realm of vague ideals and descended to
details, his impulses often took a form somewhat like the proposal made
to Castlereagh at Vienna, “We are going to do a beautiful and grand
thing. We are going to raise up Poland by giving her as king one of my
brothers or the husband of my sister.” The British statesman does not
seem to have been immediately carried away with this generous design.

It was consistent with the character and temper of the Congress
of Vienna that there flowed in it innumerable currents and
counter-currents of intrigue. In January, 1815, the representatives of
England, France and Austria agreed upon a secret treaty of alliance,
directed against Russia and Prussia. When Napoleon returned from Elba
he found this document and showed it to the Russian Minister before
tearing it up.

The first half of the nineteenth century was dominated by the
principles that had prevailed at Vienna. In the details of diplomatic
intercourse, indirection, bribery and deceit continue to prevail
although in a less flamboyant fashion than in the eighteenth century.
As the principle of nationalism comes more clearly to emerge, the
secrecy of diplomatic _methods_ is distinguished from the secrecy of
diplomatic _policy_ with increasing condemnation of the latter; a
greater sense of responsibility to the nation as a whole begins to show
itself, and the traditional resources of diplomacy are no longer quite
adequate.

Nevertheless, the diplomatic literature of the age still looks upon
diplomacy as essentially a tactical pursuit, conditioned by the
continuous enmity of states. The French writer, Garden, in his _Traité
de diplomatie_, gives the following elucidation: “Put on this plane,
diplomacy becomes like a transcendent manœuvering of which the entire
globe is the theater, where states are army corps, where the lines of
combat change unceasingly, and where one never knows who is a friend,
and who is an enemy. It is a political labyrinth in the midst of
which ability alone is capable of moving with ease and without being
smothered by detail.”

The memoirs and anecdotal literature of the period afford numerous
instances of the persistence of that desire for cleverness in dealing
with secrets, which often brings about amusing incidents.

At the time when Frankfort was the capital of the North German
Confederation, the Austrian government provided its representative
there (Count Rechberg) with duplicate instructions; one to the effect
that he must exhaust every energy to maintain the most friendly
and mutually helpful relations with Prussia; the other of quite
the opposite tenor. The former was to be shown to the Prussians.
Unfortunately, at the critical moment the Austrian Minister showed the
wrong letter to Bismarck, who guessed the situation; suppressing his
amusement as best he could, Bismarck tried to console the embarrassed
Austrian by promising not to take any advantage of the slip.

A Prussian Minister for Foreign Affairs (Manteuffel) had hired a
police agent to sneak into the French Embassy in order to secure some
documents there. When he delightedly showed one of the letters secured
to General Von Gerlach, the latter said: “I could have written you ten
such letters for what this cost you.”

Disraeli, in a letter to his sister, spoke of the Danish Minister at
London as his secret agent in the diplomatic corps.

There were also more innocent means of gaining advantages such as are
practised in many other branches of human enterprise. For instance,
Labouchere relates his discovery, when attaché at Washington, that
Secretary Marcy was put in a terrible ill-humor whenever he lost at
whist. Upon a hint from Labouchere, the British Minister managed
thereafter regularly to lose in his games with Marcy who was immensely
pleased at “beating the British at their own game.” Labouchere adds:
“Every morning when the terms of the treaty were being discussed we had
our revenge and scored a few points for Canada.”

There was all this time an increasing tendency to discount the
importance of the traditional arts of diplomacy and to believe that
a great deal of this carefully nurtured secrecy was merely a trick of
the trade. Bismarck expressed himself in the following language on
diplomatic literature: “For the most part it is nothing but paper and
ink. If you wanted to utilize it for historical purposes, you could not
get anything worth having out of it. I believe it is the rule to allow
historians to consult the Foreign Office archives at the expiration of
thirty years (after the date of despatches). They might be permitted
to examine them much sooner, for the despatches and letters, when they
contain any information at all, are quite unintelligible to those
unacquainted with the persons and relations treated of in them.” In
reporting this statement, Labouchere observes: “If all foreign office
telegrams were published they would be curious reading.”[B] He also
relates how his youthful efforts at secret diplomacy were received by
the Foreign Office. He had succeeded at St. Petersburg in being able
quite regularly, through the assistance of a laundress, to get from
the government printing office loose sheets of confidential minutes of
State Council meetings. When Lord John Russell discovered the method in
which this interesting information was obtained, he put a stop to the
simple intrigue; Labouchere concludes his account of this experience
thus: “For what reason, I wonder, did Russell imagine diplomacy was
invented?”

    [B] He writes that when “I was an attaché at Stockholm, the
        present Queen, the Duchess of Ostrogotha, had a baby, and
        a telegram came from the Foreign Office desiring that Her
        Majesty’s congratulations should be offered, and that she
        should be informed how the mother and child were. The
        Minister was away, so off I went to the Palace to convey
        the message and to inquire about the health of the pair. A
        solemn gentleman received me. I informed him of my orders,
        and requested him to say what I was to reply. ‘Her Royal
        Highness,’ he replied, ‘is as well as can be expected, but
        His Royal Highness is suffering a little internally, and
        it is believed that this is due to the fact of the milk
        of his nurse having been slightly sour last evening.’ I
        telegraphed this to the Foreign Office.”

The term “secret diplomacy” is during this period used in a special
sense, referring to a secret intrigue on the part of a monarch
or minister without the knowledge of those who have the public
responsibility in the matter. Earlier monarchs often played their
own game without informing their ministers and attempted to keep the
threads of foreign intrigue in their own hands. Louis XV did great
injury to his country by pursuing this method.

Napoleon III was a great offender in this respect. Not only was his
international policy prone to unscrupulous attempts and proposals,
but he acted in these matters frequently without informing those who
were responsible before the country. Most of his secret advances to
Bismarck were made entirely on his own responsibility; he did not
inform the Foreign Minister, Ollivier, of the fateful instructions to
Benedetti to the effect that he should demand of Prussia assurances
that no German prince should ever again be suggested for the Spanish
throne; his Mexican policy, too, was worked out by himself, in
conjunction with the Duc de Morny and Jecker, the banker, rather than
with his ministers. The disastrous consequences of the secret diplomacy
of Napoleon III will be reverted to later on.

It has also repeatedly happened that envoys have incurred a strong
suspicion of playing a political game of their own without the
authorization or even the knowledge of their Foreign Minister. While
a diplomatic representative in taking such action risks disavowal
and dismissal, yet the temptation felt by a strong-willed man who
is confident that he knows the local situation and the needs of his
country there better than any one else, has often been too powerful
to be resisted. When the unauthorized action has been successful in
gaining some advantage, it has generally been condoned.[C] But though
the home government is at all times able theoretically to disavow
unauthorized actions of its foreign representatives, yet the latter
through their self-willed acts may have set in motion forces which can
no longer be controlled. Very often also doubt and confusion is cast on
the real causes of important events and a general feeling of suspicion
is thus generated.

    [C] Frequently, indeed, ministers have been encouraged to make
        certain démarches “on their own account”; if successful,
        they could be sanctioned after the event. Such is the
        procedure which Palmerston criticized in a letter to Lord
        Clarendon (May 22, 1853):

        “The Russian Government has always had two strings to its
        bow--moderate language and disinterested professions at
        Petersburg and at London; active aggression by its agents
        on the scene of operations. If the aggressions succeed
        locally, the Petersburg Government adopts them as a _fait
        accompli_ which it did not intend, but cannot, in honor,
        recede from. If the local agents fail, they are disavowed
        and recalled, and the language previously held is appealed
        to as a proof that the agents have overstepped their
        instructions.”

One of the most self-willed of British Ministers was Stratford Canning
(Lord Stratford de Redcliffe). It is generally accepted that his
personal diplomacy at Constantinople, where he began his diplomatic
career in 1808 and where he ended it in 1858 after various intervening
missions, was one of the causes which brought on the Crimean war.
After reciting that Lord Stratford constantly held private interviews
with the Sultan and did his utmost to alarm him, urging him to reject
accommodation with Russia, and promising him the armed assistance of
England, John Bright stated that all this was done without instructions
from the home government. Lord Clarendon wrote: “He is bent on war and
on playing the first part in settling the great Eastern question.” When
the war came on, Lord Granville wrote: “We have generals whom we do not
trust, and whom we do not know how to replace. We have an Ambassador at
Constantinople, an able man, a cat whom no one cares to bell, whom some
think a principal cause of the war, others the cause of some of the
calamities which have attended the conduct of the war; and whom we know
to have thwarted or neglected many of the objects of his Government.”

Labouchere, who served under Lord Stratford in 1862, wrote afterwards
that the despatches of Stratford during the Crimean war could not
be recognized as the originals from which Mr. Kinglake drew his
material for a narrative of the ambassador’s career.[D] He thought
that Stratford’s great power at Constantinople was due to his long
stay there which made it necessary for the Turks to remain on good
terms with him. Labouchere also claims that Lord Stratford misled
his own government by getting the Sultan to publish certain reform
decrees which he would send home as evidence of good government, never
explaining that such decrees were entirely dead letters.

    [D] Labouchere wrote: “Lord Stratford was one of the most
        detestable of the human race. He was arrogant, resentful
        and spiteful. He hated the Emperor Nicholas because he had
        declined to accept him as Ambassador to Russia and the
        Crimean war was his revenge. In every way he endeavored to
        envenom the quarrel and to make war certain.”

The danger and disadvantage of having a diplomat or ruler inject his
personal ambitions and dislikes into his diplomacy have, unfortunately,
been frequently exemplified. With respect to the causes of the Crimean
war, it will be remembered that Napoleon III had a personal grudge
against Emperor Nicholas who had addressed him “Sire and Good Friend”
instead of “Brother” as is customary among monarchs. Though Napoleon
answered him, acknowledging the compliment implied from the fact that
one may choose one’s friends but not one’s brothers, yet he never
forgot the slight.

Lord Palmerston as Foreign Minister quite openly regarded himself as a
power independent not only of Parliament but of the Cabinet itself, and
not bound to consult his colleagues provided he could justify himself
later before the House of Commons. But when in December, 1851, he had
entirely on his own responsibility approved the _coup d’état_ by
which Napoleon III made himself emperor, Lord John Russell instantly
dismissed him and thus vindicated the rule that the Foreign Minister
must always pay regard to the joint responsibility of the Cabinet.

In 1861 a select committee of Parliament on the diplomatic service
was appointed. It took evidence, among other things, on the existence
of “secret diplomacy” in the British service. By this term was
understood private correspondence or private action affecting the
conduct of public affairs, which did not become part of the record
in the ministry. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the Earl of Clarendon,
Lord Cowley, and Lord John Russell, all gave evidence with respect to
the conduct of business by private correspondence. They all seemed to
agree that private correspondence between the Foreign Minister and the
individual representatives abroad was useful and even necessary for
supplementing the formal instructions and reports. But they stated
their belief that whenever any such private correspondence should begin
to affect the actual conduct of public affairs it would certainly get
into the record; if, however, it should come to nothing, then it might
not be referred to in public despatches.

IV

NAPOLEON III, DISRAELI, BISMARCK

We have so far been dealing primarily with the methods of diplomacy.
During the old régime both the methods and the general policy of
diplomatic action were controlled by the secret councils of the monarch
and of a few ministers. With the growth of representative government
public opinion began to concern itself more directly with foreign
affairs. There grew up gradually, although with many relapses and
with many breaks of continuity, a consensus that while the methods
of diplomatic action might be secret, the general trend of policy
should regularly be laid before the representatives of the people
who should also be informed of any individual action involving the
responsibilities of the nation. When, therefore, in contemplating the
history of the last one hundred years, secret diplomacy is spoken
of in condemnatory terms, the attempted secrecy of national foreign
_policy_, rather than of methods, is usually thought of. When important
engagements are undertaken which involve the nation in responsibility
to others, particularly for the use of armed forces; when by a series
of specific acts a tendency is given to foreign policy which is not
avowed to the representatives of the people; then there exists secret
diplomacy in a reprehensible sense. A further method of concealment
works through a false statement of motives. Often narrowly selfish
action has been camouflaged with the avowal of noble aims and high
ideals; or there has been fencing for position in order that at the
beginning of a war the opprobrium of being the assailant could be
thrown on the other party. Undoubtedly sometimes statesmen may persuade
themselves of the presence of high motives in matters in which their
specific action or that of their successors, working with the same
materials, takes on a contrary direction.

At the conclusion of the Crimean war, Lord Palmerston wrote to Lord
Clarendon (March 1, 1867) as follows:

  “... the alliance of England and France has derived its strength
  not merely from the military and naval power of the two states,
  but from the force of the moral principle upon which that union
  has been founded. Our union has for its foundation resistance to
  unjust aggression, the defence of the weak against the strong,
  and the maintenance of the existing balance of power. How, then,
  could we combine to become unprovoked aggressors, to imitate
  in Africa the partition of Poland by the conquest of Morocco
  for France, of Tunis and some other state for Sardinia, and of
  Egypt for England? And, more especially, how could England and
  France, who have guaranteed the integrity of the Turkish Empire,
  turn round and wrest Egypt from the Sultan? A coalition for such
  a purpose would revolt the moral feelings of mankind, and would
  certainly be fatal to any English Government that was a party to
  it. Then, as to the balance of power to be maintained by giving
  us Egypt, but we do not want the burden of governing Egypt, and
  its possession would not, as a political, military, and naval
  question, be considered, in this country, as a set-off against
  the possession of Morocco by France. Let us try to improve all
  these countries by the general influence of our commerce, but let
  us all abstain from a crusade of conquest which would call upon
  us the condemnation of all other civilized nations.”

This program of liberal principles applied to foreign affairs, of
high-toned and high-minded diplomacy, one reads with mixed feelings in
view of the things which have come thereafter.

In the period between the Crimean and the Franco-Prussian war, Napoleon
pursued a policy, or a series of policies, which fitly illustrate the
worst features of secret diplomacy. In 1858 Napoleon III obtained
from Cavour a promise that Savoy and Nice should be ceded to France.
These arrangements, made without the knowledge or the desire of the
French people, involved Napoleon in the war of 1859 and led to a
fatal weakening of his position. In 1864 Napoleon secretly suggested
to Prussia that she might take Schleswig-Holstein, thus greatly
encouraging her to undertake the war of 1864. France at this time was
under treaty obligations to Denmark which made such action doubly
dishonest. When the war between Austria and Prussia broke out in
1866, Napoleon concluded a secret treaty with Austria which contained
a bargain that he would assist Austria to recover Silesia in return
for a cession of Venetia to Italy, to compensate the latter for Savoy
and thus to eradicate the evil effects of the arrangement of 1858.
As this treaty became known, it absolutely alienated Prussia from
France. At the same time Napoleon had secretly demanded from Prussia
the cession of the Rhenish Palatinate which belonged to Bavaria; this
would mean of course that Prussia and France together would first have
to take it from Bavaria. Bismarck secretly informed Bavaria of this
demand and thus turned her decisively against Napoleon; so that he was
enabled to make secret treaties of alliance not only with Bavaria but
with Wurtemberg and Baden for their military support in case of war.
Napoleon had thus managed unwittingly to bring about the coalition of
German states which proved disastrous to him in 1870. Had the French
government known of these three German treaties, it would probably have
avoided war; as it was, France did not know that she would have all
Germany against her. In 1866 Napoleon, through Benedetti, submitted to
Bismarck a draft treaty according to which, in case the French Emperor
should decide to send his troops to enter Belgium, the King of Prussia
would grant armed aid to France and support her with all his forces,
military and naval, in the face of and against every other power which
might in this eventuality declare war. Though this draft treaty, which
became known in Great Britain and caused high excitement there, was
not adopted in this form, a secret compact was made between France and
Prussia in 1867, one article of which stated that Prussia would not
object to the annexation of Belgium by France. The fact that both of
these powers had signed the treaty of 1839, guaranteeing the neutrality
of Belgium, aggravates the noxiousness of this conspiracy. Early in
1870 Napoleon was secretly negotiating with Austria with a view to a
joint war against North Germany. The negotiations were in progress when
the war of 1870 broke out. Probably Bismarck was informed of what
was going on and was therefore the more anxious to face at once what
he considered an inevitable war. As already stated, Napoleon did not
communicate to his responsible minister his decision to require of the
King of Prussia the absolute assurance that no German prince should
ever again be nominated for the throne of Spain. In doing so he put
himself in a position where Bismarck could manœuver him into a dilemma
from which there seemed no exit except war.

This was done by the famous editing of the Ems dispatch through which,
taking advantage of King William’s permission to modify and eliminate,
Bismarck gave to the report sent by the king the appearance that
nothing further could be said between the king and the French envoy
and that therefore the only alternative to the French was retreat
or war. This act illustrates one of the most terrible dangers of
secret diplomacy in that just at the time when inflammable material
is at hand in abundance, one word or phrase may give a decisive turn
to developments and force an issue, in a certain direction, without
allowing a chance for calm consideration of all that is involved.

Bismarck considered that the unification of Germany required a war
because only thus could the feeling of unity among the German people,
until then divided into numerous small states, be molded into political
oneness. But in bringing on the Franco-Prussian war, no matter how
inevitable he might consider such a struggle, he was too confident of
his ability to play the part of a Providence and to cut short the slow
processes of historic development. Therefore, though he attempted to
work in the interest of outstanding national factors, his policy was
not of a nature to develop that public confidence in the aims of his
nation on which alone a statesman can permanently build. His was the
diplomacy of authority, often announcing its aims with great frankness,
indeed, but always retaining the old method so that the public mind
remained often in the dark. His politics directed German development
into a dangerous course. He abhorred German disunion, but tried to
cure it with means too forceful and artificial. The solutions brought
about further problems. The taking of Alsace-Lorraine was the cause of
future war. In 1871, Bismarck offered Mulhouse to Switzerland secretly,
but the gift was declined. In the years after 1871, Bismarck always
threatened Parliament with the danger of war whenever he wanted to put
anything through.

The Russo-Turkish war of 1878, being in its nature a conflict about the
merits of which only vague ideas could be current among the Western
nations, produced a whole nest of secret treaties. The treaty of San
Stefano itself was kept secret by Russia and Turkey. The British
Foreign Secretary in a diplomatic note which was much admired at the
time, demanded that the treaty must be submitted to the European powers.

Meanwhile a second secret treaty had been made between Russia and
Austria wherein, as is customary in such transactions, “compensations”
were distributed out of property belonging to neither of the
contracting parties, at the cost of somebody else; it was agreed that
Austria should have Bosnia and Herzegovina. Meanwhile the British
Foreign Office, though it had just declaimed in indignant tones against
the secret terms of San Stefano, made an agreement, equally secret,
with Russia (May 30, 1878), concerning the points on which Great
Britain would insist in the final adjustment. Through the wrongful
action of an employee of the Foreign Office this agreement leaked out
and a summary of it was published on May 31st. When questioned in
the House of Lords, the Marquis of Salisbury, who at all times had a
well-deserved reputation for sincerity, nevertheless qualified the
statement in the _Globe_ as “wholly unauthenticated and not deserving
of any confidence on the part of the House of Lords.” The full text
of the agreement was published by the _Globe_ on June 14th, and when
challenged by Lord Rosebery concerning his _dementi_, Lord Salisbury
calmly stated: “I described it as unauthentic simply because it was so,
and because no other adjective actually described it, and I shall be
able to state why I so described it.” The explanation which followed
was, however, quite lame, and consisted mainly in stating that the
document as published did not give a complete view of the situation.
The impression produced by these tactics was far from favorable. Lord
Granville, with a great deal of justice, wanted to know “where the
House of Lords would have been had it not been for the immoral action
of the man who gave the secret treaty to the newspaper. They would
have had blue books and copies of instructions, protocols and other
documents, but they would have been perfectly duped as to the way in
which the government had actually proceeded.”

But there followed another, a fourth secret treaty, growing out of
the Turkish situation, an agreement between Great Britain and Turkey
concluded on June 4th, at Constantinople. As a result of erroneous
information having been telegraphed from Constantinople by Mr. Layard,
the British envoy, to the effect that in spite of the armistice
the Russians were moving on Constantinople, a large war credit was
voted in the British House, although against the opposition of the
Liberals under Gladstone and Bright. Orders were also given to the
Indian Government to send troops to Cyprus. A secret treaty was then
concluded in which Great Britain received a protectorate over Cyprus in
return for the engagement on her part to protect the Asiatic domains
of Turkey. Never was the blood of a nation without its own knowledge
and consent risked in a more doubtful adventure than in this famous
transaction of Lord Beaconsfield. Gladstone, on July 20th, analyzed the
treaty as providing for three things: the occupation and annexation of
Cyprus, the defense of Turkey in Asia against any attempt Russia may
make (“to go two thousand miles from your own country, alone and single
handed, in order to prevent Russia making war at any time upon Turkey
in Asia”), and responsibility for the government of Turkish territory
in Asia; and all that was undertaken without the consent and knowledge
of the British people, to be done at their expense by the blood of
their children. Mr. Gladstone concluded: “There is but one epithet
which I think fully describes a covenant of this kind. I think it is an
insane covenant.”

Disraeli had formerly said of Palmerston: “With no domestic policy, he
is obliged to divert the attention of the people from the consideration
of their own affairs to the distraction of foreign politics. His scheme
of conduct is so devoid of all political principle that when forced
to appeal to the people, his only claim to their confidence is his
name.” The same language could with equal justice have been applied to
Beaconsfield himself. His speeches in defense of his foreign policy are
usually a superficial appeal to imperialist passion, and deal in such
phrases as “What is our duty at this critical moment?” “To maintain
the empire of England.” (Loud cheers.) “Empire” is taken for granted
as covering everything desirable, but the actual relationship of these
adventurous foreign policies to the welfare and true development of the
English people is never reasoned out.

While Beaconsfield had opposed the first Afghan war, he readily changed
his views when he came into power and began the second war in 1878
on the avowed ground that the Ameer had refused to receive a British
mission. But with a sudden change of tactics, at a dinner at the
Mansion House on November 9, Lord Beaconsfield solemnly announced that
the war had been made because the frontier of India was “a haphazard
and not a scientific one.” Yet a little before, when condemning the
first Afghan war, he had described the frontiers of India as “a perfect
barrier.” He did not give to any organization of public opinion a
chance to influence him in this matter, or even to be heard. On
December 9, Lord Derby said in the House of Lords: “We are discussing,
and we know we are discussing, an issue upon which we have no real or
practical influence.”

V

TRIPLE ALLIANCE DIPLOMACY AND MOROCCO

Toward the end of the nineteenth century the dominating development
in the diplomacy of Europe was the actual formation of the two
great alliances--the Triple Alliance created by Bismarck, and
the Russo-French Alliance which had come into being in 1896 as a
counterpoise to the former. The treaties upon which these alliances
rested were made secretly; they were part of an authoritative policy
based on the theory of balance of power. The texts of the Triple
Alliance Treaty were not published until after the beginning of the
Great War. The so-called Counter-Insurance Treaty with Russia by which
Bismarck attempted to stabilize the situation and isolate France
through a mutual neutrality agreement between Russia, Austria and
Germany, was one of the most characteristic examples of complicated
methods followed by the old diplomacy; it was, of course, also kept
secret. When after Bismarck’s retirement the German Government did
not renew this secret treaty, it made possible a fundamental change in
the grouping of powers with the result that Russia, after a very short
interval, identified herself with France in the Dual Alliance.

While Bismarck had been in control of German diplomacy, the main lines
of German foreign policy were kept quite clear and their general
direction was definite, no matter how complicated and indirect were
the means frequently applied to carry it out. Emperor William II
sought to free himself from the tutelage of the powerful Chancellor,
but from then on the orientation of German diplomacy was far from
definite. No one could be clear where its main objective lay; it seemed
to seek expansion of influence in Asia Minor, the Far East, Morocco,
South Africa, and almost everywhere, even with the inclusion of South
America. Germany appeared to have many irons in the fire, although
meanwhile she did not make much progress in any specific direction.
This uncertainty of her diplomatic aims in an increasing manner aroused
the apprehension of her neighbors; none of them felt any assurance
about what Germany actually wanted. That her actual wants may not have
been unreasonable, that she herself apparently did not know exactly
which of her interests should predominate, did not help matters; all
those who had more possessions than she felt themselves endangered, and
a general suspicion and lack of confidence resulted.

In the years after the Chino-Japanese war the German Government showed
a great desire to play a prominent part in Far Eastern affairs. Thus,
it took the lead in bringing about the joint intervention of Russia,
France and Germany, which obliged Japan to surrender Port Arthur, a
part of the spoils of war just taken from China. The three powers who
had thus come to the rescue, however, forthwith proceeded to exact
from China an enormous commission for their good offices, and forced
her to make to them grants of lease-holds and other concessions, in
which was included the very territory that they had rescued from Japan.
In this keen onset, which amounted to an attempt to divide up the
Chinese Empire, Great Britain in her turn also participated. The Far
Eastern situation was rendered decidedly unstable, and the frantic and
unorganized resistance of the Boxer levies was the result.

After the settlement of these troubles, in 1901, the German Government,
as we now know, tentatively suggested the formation of an alliance
including Great Britain and Japan. This proposal shows how far
German diplomacy at the time had departed from the fundamentals of
policy under Bismarck. Japan proceeded most assiduously to work on
this suggestion, but Germany was left out when the highly important
Anglo-Japanese Alliance was secured by the Japanese Minister in London.
Negotiations between Great Britain and Japan were carried on with the
greatest secrecy. Lord Lansdowne himself seems at one time to have been
very anxious for prompt action; he said to Count Hayashi, as reported
by the latter, that “there was great danger in delay, as the news of
the proposed treaty might leak out and objections might then be raised.”

It is significant that while Lord Lansdowne and Count Hayashi were in
the depth of their negotiations, Marquis Ito, on his return journey
from the United States, proceeded to Russia and, entirely in opposition
to the express judgment of Count Hayashi, “plunged into conversations
on the most delicate of matters” at St. Petersburg. In fact, the
Japanese Government allowed almost identical secret negotiations to
be carried on in London and St. Petersburg at the same time. Count
Hayashi considered this procedure as implying “a lack of faith and a
breach of honor.” When the Anglo-Japanese treaty had been actually
signed it was, through the indiscretion of some official, published in
Japan three days too soon. The Japanese Foreign Office promptly denied
its existence, and Baron Rosen, the Russian Minister at Tokyo, who no
doubt knew of the Ito negotiations at St. Petersburg, very emphatically
denied the very possibility of such a treaty. The effect on Russia of
the truth when it became known there, can be readily imagined. In the
Anglo-Japanese treaty, England, which had recently joined in the solemn
guarantee of the integrity of China and of the independence of Korea,
made engagements scarcely consistent with either.

Lord Rosebery, in a public address, October, 1905, expressed his
sense of the great importance of this treaty. “The treaty,” he
said, “is an engine of tremendous power and tremendous liability.
Whatever else is certain, this at least is sure, that it will lead to
countless animosities, many counter intrigues, and possibly hostile
combinations. But I want to point out to you the enormous importance of
the engagements in which this treaty involves you, the reactions which
it will cause elsewhere, and to bid you to be vigilant and prepared,
and not negligent, as sometimes you are, of the vast bearings of your
foreign policy.”

The German Emperor, having failed to obtain a treaty with England, now
turned to his Russian cousin with the design of inducing him to make
an alliance. The Willy-Nicky correspondence which was published by the
Russian Revolutionary Government in 1917, as well as the memoirs of
Isvolsky, give us a complete insight into the action of William II in
this matter. The correspondence shows that Emperor William neglected no
means of arousing resentment and suspicion of England in the mind of
Nicholas, particularly in attempting to show a complicity of England
with Japan in the war against Russia. In November, 1904, William
proposed the immediate signature by Russia, without the knowledge of
France, of a defensive treaty of alliance, evidently directed against
Great Britain. France was to be invited to join _after_ the signature
by Germany and Russia. The Czar, however, insisted that he could not
entertain this proposal without first submitting it to his ally.
William, in a long telegram, argued insistently upon the danger of
informing France before the signature. He said: “Only the absolute,
undeniable knowledge that we are both bound by the treaty to give
mutual aid to each other, can induce France to exercise pressure upon
England to remain tranquil and in peace, for fear of placing France
in a dangerous situation. Should France know that a German-Russian
agreement is simply in preparation and not yet signed, she would
immediately inform England. England and Japan would then forthwith
attack Germany.” Therefore, William concluded that if the Czar should
persist in refusing to sign the treaty without the previous consent
of France, it would be better not to attempt making an agreement at
all. He stated that he had spoken only to Prince Buelow about it, and
that as undoubtedly the Czar had spoken only to Count Lamsdorff, the
foreign minister, it would be easy to keep it an absolute secret. He
then congratulated the Czar on having concluded a secret agreement of
neutrality with Austria. As a matter of fact, Count Lamsdorff had not
been informed by the Czar of the Emperor’s proposal.

In the summer of 1905, Emperor William returned to the charge, taking
advantage of the discouragement of the Czar due to many external and
internal troubles resulting from the Japanese war. He visited the Czar
at the Island Bjorkoe in July, and used every resource of his personal
influence to prevail on Nicholas. This time he succeeded, and the two
sovereigns signed a secret treaty of alliance, which contained four
articles to the following effect:

(1) If any European state shall attack either of the empires the allied
party engages itself to aid with all its forces on land and sea.

(2) The contracting parties will not conclude a separate peace.

(3) The present agreement comes in force at the moment of conclusion of
peace between Russia and Japan, and may be denounced with one year’s
notice.

(4) When the treaty has come into force Russia will take the necessary
steps to inform France and to propose to her to adhere to it as an ally.

On this occasion the Emperor was accompanied by Von Tschirsky, who
soon after became German Foreign Minister and who countersigned the
agreement. The Russian Foreign Minister was not present but Admiral
Birileff, the Minister of the Navy, was called in to countersign the
Czar’s signature. After his return to St. Petersburg, the Czar allowed
fifteen days to pass before informing Count Lamsdorff. When informed,
the Czar’s advisers took a very strong position against the agreement,
with the result that notwithstanding the insistent arguments of
Emperor William, who in his telegram signed himself “Your friend and
ally,” the treaty was never given full force. William strongly appealed
to the gratefulness of the Czar for having stood by him during the
Japanese war, at a time when, “as afterwards the indiscretions of
Delcassé have shown, although allied to Russia, France had nevertheless
made an agreement with England to attack Germany without warning, in
time of peace.” The latter phrase gives the effect upon William’s mind
of all he knew or believed to know about the arrangements concluded
between France and Great Britain concerning Morocco.

The Moroccan intrigues and secret negotiations, during the first decade
of the twentieth century, contributed in no small measure to rendering
international relations strained and generating a general sense of
insecurity and suspicion. In July, 1901, a protocol was signed between
the Sultan of Morocco and the French Government in which the latter
declared its respect for the integrity of Morocco. At the same time M.
Delcassé began secret negotiations with Spain for a delimitation of
spheres of influence in that country. In September, 1902, the first
Franco-Spanish secret treaty concerning Morocco was given its final
form. It was, however, not ratified because of British opposition at
the time. In 1904, the formation of the Anglo-French Entente agreement,
in which the French Government declared that it had no intention “of
altering the political status of Morocco,” was accompanied by the
conclusion of a secret understanding concerning Morocco which was not
revealed until 1911. According to the terms of that agreement the
British Government was to be informed of any understanding on Morocco
which might be concluded between France and Spain. These two countries,
in fact, on October 3, 1904, consummated a convention for the partition
of Morocco into spheres of influence. A copy of this secret agreement
was given to Lord Lansdowne, the British Foreign Minister, who wrote,
in acknowledging it: “I need not say that the confidential character of
the Convention entered into by the President of the French Republic and
the King of Spain in regard to French and Spanish interests in Morocco
is fully recognized by us, and will be duly respected.”

The German Government, which had been ignored, now suggested the
holding of an international conference. After considerable opposition
the conference met at Algeciras, in February, 1906. The Powers
represented there again solemnly recognized the independence and
integrity of Morocco. Meanwhile, various incidents were brought on
by the actions of French and Spanish commissaries in Morocco. The
French parliament repeatedly reiterated its intention to observe the
act of Algeciras, particularly in the declaration of February, 1909,
regarding Morocco, in which declaration Germany joined. In 1911, events
happened which induced a serious European crisis. The French Government
undertook military operations against Fez, the capital of Morocco, on
the ground that the foreign colony there was in danger. In reply to
questions in the House of Commons, Sir Edward Grey confirmed that such
measures were being undertaken by the French Government “for the succor
of Europeans in Fez.” He added: “The action taken by France is not
intended to alter the political status of Morocco, and His Majesty’s
Government cannot see why any objection should be taken to it.”

The facts of the Fez affair have been thus described by the French
publicist, Francis de Pressensé:

  “At this point the Comité du Maroc and its organs surpassed
  themselves. They organized a campaign of systematic untruth.
  Masters of almost the entire press, they swamped the public with
  false news. Fez was represented as threatened by siege or sack.
  A whole European French Colony was suddenly discovered there,
  living in anguish. The ultimate fate of the women and children
  was described in the most moving terms.... At all costs the
  Europeans--the Sultan, Fez itself must be saved.... As ever from
  the beginning of this enterprise, the Government knew nothing,
  willed nothing of itself.”

While these events were happening, the Foreign Offices both in Paris
and London failed to give any information concerning the aims which
underlay the action taken. On May 23d, Mr. Dillon in the House of
Commons asked to what extent England was committed to this “ill-omened
and cruel expedition.” The Foreign Secretary replied, “We are not
committed at all.” The French Foreign Minister declared at the same
time that he had never heard of any treaty with Spain concerning
Morocco.

When the international crisis came to a head suddenly in July, 1911,
through the disconcerting action of the German Government in sending a
war vessel to Agadir, the public was totally taken by surprise and was
absolutely in the dark as to the issues and interests involved as well
as to the commitments which had been made by the British and French
foreign offices. The text of the secret treaty between France and Spain
had, however, now been secured by the Paris papers _Le Temps_ and
_Le Matin_. This revelation led to party attacks on secret diplomacy
in the British House of Commons and in the French Parliament. Baron
d’Estournelles de Constant, in February, 1912, said:

  ... “Why was the French Parliament told only half the truth
  when it was asked to pass its opinion upon our arrangement with
  England? Why was it allowed to suspect that this arrangement had
  as its complement and corrective some secret clauses and other
  secret treaties? It is this, it is this double game towards
  Parliament and towards the world which becomes morally an abuse
  of trust.... Now the whole effort of the arrangement of 1904
  appears to-day in its truth and in its vanity. It was a treaty of
  friendship with England recognizing the freedom of our political
  action in Morocco and also proclaiming our will to respect the
  integrity of that country; that was what the public knew and
  approved. But the public was ignorant that at the same time, by
  other Treaties and by contradictory clauses hidden from it, the
  partition of Morocco between Spain and France was prepared, of
  that Morocco of which we guaranteed the integrity.”

In the House of Commons, Mr. John Dillon charged that “the Foreign
Office policy has become during the last ten years progressively more
secret every year. For ten years the foreign policy of this country has
been conducted behind an elaborate screen of secrecy.”

VI

ENTENTE DIPLOMACY

As the commitments of the British Government gradually became more and
more known the question arose as to how deeply and extensively Great
Britain had been involved in continental affairs. Lord Rosebery, who
was uninformed, with the rest of Parliament and the public, as to the
actual details, said in a speech at Glasgow in January, 1912:

  “This we do know about our foreign policy, that, for good or for
  evil, we are now embraced in the midst of the Continental system.
  That I regard as perhaps the gravest fact in the later portion of
  my life. We are, for good or for evil, involved in a Continental
  system, the merits of which I do not pretend to judge, because
  I do not know enough about it, but which, at any rate, may at
  any time bring us into conflict with armies numbering millions,
  and our own forces would hardly be counted in such a war as they
  stand at present.”

Lord Rosebery realized perhaps more fully than most of the leaders of
English public life the complications adherent to what had already
become public knowledge at the time.

Meanwhile the government, in Parliament, confined itself to plain
denials whenever the matter of international undertakings and
obligations of a general nature was brought up. The denials could be
justified from the point of view that the situation as stated by the
uninformed questioner in Parliament, in each case did not exactly
correspond to the facts. But the impression created by such denials
that no serious obligations had been incurred was, as the result
showed, entirely misleading.

On March 8, 1911, Mr. Jowett asked in the House of Commons whether any
undertaking, promise or understanding had been given to France that
in certain eventualities British troops would be sent to coöperate
with the French army. The Undersecretary of State for Foreign Affairs
replied: “The answer is in the negative.” On December 6, 1911, the
Prime Minister said:

  “As has been stated, there were no secret engagements with France
  other than those that have now been published, and there are no
  secret engagements with any foreign Government that entail upon
  us any obligation to render military or naval assistance to any
  other Power.”

Upon another occasion Mr. Yerburgh, M.P., inquired:

  “May I ask whether or not we are to understand that the
  Government arrived at no decision upon this particular question?
  Is the right honorable gentleman not aware that this new
  definition of the two-Power standard is a question of supreme
  importance, and that in arriving at our standard of naval
  strength previous Governments had regard to the power of the
  fleets of other countries?”

The Prime Minister replied only:

  “I think this question shows the inconvenience of dealing with
  these matters by way of question and answer.”

In December, 1912, Lord Hugh Cecil made the following inquiry:

  “There is a very general belief that this country is under an
  obligation, not a treaty obligation, but an obligation arising
  out of an assurance given by the Ministry in the course of
  diplomatic negotiations, to send a very large armed force out of
  this country to operate in Europe. That is the general belief. It
  would be very presumptuous of any one who has not access to all
  the facts in possession of the Government--”

The Prime Minister interrupted him with: “I ought to say that it is
not true.” Lord Cecil thereupon expressed his satisfaction for having
elicited this explanation, “because,” he stated, “it was certainly
widely believed that the Government has engaged in a military
policy of an adventurous kind and that if such a policy had actually
been contemplated by the Government it would involve a very serious
consideration of the military resources of the country.” As a matter of
fact, the latter was a just conclusion from the actual situation as it
really existed, notwithstanding the denial by the Prime Minister.

In March, 1913, when during the discussion of the Navy estimates, the
Mediterranean situation came up, Lord Beresford suggested that Mr.
Churchill (First Lord of the Admiralty) must be trusting to France
the duty of guarding the Mediterranean. Mr. Churchill had said in the
course of these discussions: “In conjunction with the Navy of France,
our Mediterranean Fleet would make a combined force superior to all
possible combinations.” Sir C. Kinloch-Cooke referred to this as a
remarkable statement, and one “somewhat difficult to reconcile with the
recent pronouncement of the Prime Minister as to our understanding with
France in the matter of armaments.” He added: “In one case we have the
Prime Minister repudiating an obligation on our side of any kind, and
in the other we have the First Lord of the Admiralty relying for the
safety of our Eastern Empire, our trade and our food supply, upon the
assistance which he presumes will be ready at any moment to be given to
us by France.”

On March 24, 1913, Mr. Asquith, Prime Minister, made a comprehensive
answer to a question of Sir W. Byles in the following terms:

  “As has been repeatedly stated, this country is not under any
  obligation, not public and known to Parliament, which compels
  it to take part in a war. In other words, if war arises between
  European Powers, there are no unpublished agreements which will
  restrict or hamper the freedom of the Government or Parliament to
  decide whether or not Great Britain should participate in a war.”

In August, 1913, Lord Haldane made a statement to the effect that the
very friendly relationships with France rendered the situation in the
Mediterranean most satisfactory. On June 11, 1914, this same general
matter was up again for discussion. Sir Edward Grey, in answering a
question, referred back to the statement made by Mr. Asquith on March
24, 1913, and added: “It remains as true to-day as it was a year ago.”

The nation was meanwhile left entirely in the dark with respect to the
actual matter of the relationships which had developed between Great
Britain and France, and it was only after the Great War had broken
out that Sir Edward Grey, in his speech of August 3, 1914, gave to
Parliament some account of what had actually happened.

The first important step in the new international policy of Great
Britain was taken immediately after the Liberal Government had been
formed on December 12, 1905. It appears that Sir Edward Grey consulted
in this matter particularly Mr. Asquith and Lord Haldane, informing
the Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, but not his other
Cabinet colleagues. The above three men were the leaders of the Liberal
Imperialist faction, and it is not at all certain that in an aggressive
foreign policy they would have been at that moment readily followed by
their whole party.

When in consequence of the attempted division of Morocco, relations
between France and Germany became somewhat strained, Sir Edward Grey,
Foreign Minister, made communications to the French Ambassador to the
effect that, while no promises could be given to any Foreign Power,
yet in Sir Edward Grey’s opinion, if war was then forced upon France
on the question of Morocco, public opinion in England would rally to
the material support of France. Sir Edward Grey, as related in his own
words, said: “I made no promises and I used no threats, but I expressed
that opinion.” The accuracy of that opinion has been questioned, in
view of the temper of the House of Commons elected at a time when
resentment at the imperialist war in South Africa was powerful.

On the basis of the statement made by Sir Edward Grey, the French
Government said to the British Foreign Minister, as reported by him:

  “If you think it possible that the public opinion of Great
  Britain might, should a sudden crisis arise, justify you in
  giving to France the armed support which you cannot promise in
  advance, you will not be able to give that support, even if you
  wish it when the time comes, unless some conversations have
  already taken place between naval and military experts.”

Sir Edward Grey saw merit in this proposal and agreed to it. He
authorized that conversations should take place, but with the distinct
understanding that nothing which would bind either Government should
occur. However, the holding of conversations between two Powers
concerning military coöperation is in itself a sufficiently serious
matter out of which expectations and relationships are apt to arise
that cannot be overlooked in future action. The Cabinet was not
informed of the authorization given by Sir Edward Grey until later. He
did not state how much later.

We know from official sources that Colonel Barnardiston proceeded to
Belgium and had interviews with the Chief of the Belgian General Staff
concerning combined operations in the event of a German attack directed
against Antwerp. Colonel Barnardiston confided to the Belgian Chief
of Staff that his Government intended to move the British base of
supplies from the French coast to Antwerp as soon as the North Sea had
been cleared of all German warships. When the Belgian documents were
published in Germany, it was attempted by the press to represent these
conversations as an actual convention. These consultations occurred
during the first quarter of 1906.

From an official source comes the statement that in July, 1911, the
British Government informed the German, that on certain contingencies,
Great Britain would support France (if Germany should demand the whole
of French-Congo and Agadir as a naval base). What actually happened at
this time has never been fully revealed.

In April, 1912, the British military attaché at Brussels informed the
Belgian General Jungbluth that Great Britain had 160,000 men available
for despatch to the continent, and added that the British Government
in certain contingencies during recent events would have immediately
landed troops on Belgian territory.

About this time the Cabinet had a discussion of the whole situation
and of the special relationship with France; and it was decided that
there should be some definite expression in writing, of the latter.
Accordingly, in November, 1912, an exchange of notes took place between
Sir Edward Grey and the French Ambassador. The British Foreign Minister
wrote the following letter:

                                        Nov. 22nd (1912).

  “MY DEAR AMBASSADOR:

  “From time to time in recent years the French and British Naval
  and Military experts have consulted together. It has always
  been understood that such consultation does not restrict the
  freedom of either Government to decide at any future time
  whether or not to assist the other by armed force. We have
  agreed that consultation between experts is not and ought not to
  be regarded as an engagement that commits either Government to
  action in a contingency that has not yet arisen and may never
  arise. The disposition, for instance, of the French and British
  fleets respectively at the present moment is not based upon
  an engagement to coöperate in war. You have, however, pointed
  out that if either Government had grave reason to expect an
  unprovoked attack by a third Power it might become essential
  to know whether it could in that event depend upon the armed
  assistance of the other. I agree that if either Government had
  grave reason to expect an unprovoked attack by a third Power,
  or something that threatened the general peace, it should
  immediately discuss with the other whether both Governments
  should act together to prevent aggression and to preserve peace,
  and, if so, what measures they would be prepared to take in
  common. If these measures involved action, the plans of the
  General Staffs would at once be taken into consideration and the
  Governments would then decide what effect should be given to
  them.”

A reply from the French Ambassador accepted this understanding.

Side by side with the Anglo-French military and naval collaboration,
there went the making of joint plans by France and Russia which
culminated in the Franco-Russian military convention of August, 1912.
At the same time Russia had pressed upon France the need of increasing
her army by raising the term of service to three years. Concerning the
new disposal of the French fleet, according to the desires of Russia,
President Poincaré stated to Ambassador Isvolsky in November, 1912:

  “This decision has been made in agreement with England, and forms
  the further development and completion of arrangements already
  made previously between the French and English staffs.”

Thus the chain of coöperation was completed, and England was
effectively tied up with the situation in the Balkans, in which only
Russia had a primary interest.

Meanwhile, the repeated denials previously set forth kept the British
Parliament and public from all knowledge of the exceedingly important
relationships which were growing up between the Naval and Military
establishments of Great Britain and France.

How these relationships, though only partially known and suspected,
were looked upon by outsiders is shown from expressions in the reports
of Belgian diplomats. Count de Lalaing wrote from London in 1907:
“England is quietly pursuing a policy opposed to Germany and aimed
at her isolation.” Baron Greindl wrote from Berlin in 1908: “Call it
alliance or what you will, the grouping constitutes, none the less, a
diminution of Germany’s security.” Baron Guillaume wrote, in 1911, from
Paris: “I have less faith in the desire of Great Britain for peace.
She would not be sorry to see the others eat one another up.” These
expressions are not, of course, evidences of British policy, but simply
of the impression which whatever leaked out concerning that policy,
made upon outside diplomats.

In his clear and convincing analysis of the situation created by the
gradual formation in secret, of these relationships, Lord Loreburn
brings out the following points: Through the communications with the
French Ambassador and military and naval conversations concerning
plans for joint action, France was encouraged more and more to expect
that Great Britain would stand by her in arms if she were attacked by
Germany. Such a policy of a defensive understanding with France, no
matter how right in itself, was obviously a new departure of tremendous
importance. Its execution and effectiveness could be assured only if
understood by Parliament as a national policy, with all the risks
involved, so that proper preparations could be made. Parliament was,
however, never warned of the danger England stood of being thrown
suddenly into a European war. Had Germany been told in July, 1914,
that Great Britain would support France and Russia, the war would
undoubtedly have been prevented; but while the ministers had in fact
incurred moral obligations over against France, they had not assured
themselves of the necessary Parliamentary support and could therefore
not make a statement involving such risk as the above declaration to
Germany would have created.

Of Sir Edward Grey’s speech of the 3rd of August, 1914, Lord Loreburn
says:

  “This remarkable speech began with an elaborate effort to prove
  that the House of Commons was perfectly free to determine either
  for peace or war. It ended with a passionate declaration that
  this country would be disgraced if we did not declare war, and
  the reasoning of the speech proved that Sir Edward Grey had
  committed himself irretrievably. It left the House of Commons
  convinced that it had in honor no choice but to join France in
  arms. It is an epitome of the reasoning by which Sir Edward Grey
  had been brought to believe that he could say and do what he said
  and did without limiting his freedom of action. But if this is
  legitimate we ought not to keep up the pretense that we are a
  self-governing nation in foreign affairs.”

Thus a minister, to whom national intrigue and duplicity were
essentially foreign, who was trusted by his country and who wanted
peace, was brought by the methods of secret diplomacy into a position
where he had actually incurred the moral obligation to assist another
country without having the power for peace which the ability to avow
that relationship openly, to take the responsibility, and to confront
Germany therewith, would have given him.

As early as November, 1911, Lord Lansdowne, one of the founders of
the Entente, in speaking of the secret agreement of 1904 concerning
Morocco, which had then just become known to the public, had admitted
that in such a case the promise of purely diplomatic support might
easily bring on the obligation to assist in other ways; that an entente
cordiale creates close relationships between two countries; and that,
should one of them get into difficulties without its guilt, it would
expect to receive support.

The moral responsibilities in which the Foreign Minister had involved
the British Government were not simple, nor did they exist against
France alone. Because of the Franco-Russian alliance the relationship
established between Great Britain and France virtually involved sharing
in the defense of France against the consequences of her alliance with
Russia, as the subsequent events showed; any serious situation arising
in the Balkans and affecting Russian interests would thereafter involve
France, and through her, Great Britain. Accordingly, the effect of
this policy was to make the peace of Great Britain depend upon, and to
involve it with, the complex struggle for influence in the Balkans.

After Sir Edward Grey’s speech of August 3rd, Mr. T. Edmund Harvey,
M.P., said: “I am convinced that this war for the great masses of the
countries of Europe is no peoples’ war. It is a war that has been
made by men in high places, by diplomatists working in secret, by
bureaucrats out of touch with the people, by men who are a remnant of
an older evil civilization.”

Lord Loreburn sums up his indictment of secret diplomacy in the
following language: “Secret diplomacy has undergone its ‘acid test’ in
this country. It had every chance. The voice of party was silent. The
Foreign Minister was an English gentleman whom the country trusted and
admired, who was wholly free from personal enmities of every kind, and
who wanted peace. And secret diplomacy utterly failed. It prevented us
from finding some alternative for war, and it prevented us from being
prepared for war, because secret diplomacy means diplomacy aloof from
Parliament.” The issue is here quite clearly stated. Those who see in
the methods and spirit of the old diplomacy the chief cause of war,
do not hold, on the one hand, that secret diplomacy involves at all
times and in all cases unscrupulous plotting. But they believe that the
method of dealing with foreign affairs as a mysterious matter, fit to
be handled only by the select, and the reliance on a policy of bargains
and compensations, with the aim thus artificially to maintain a balance
of power, may be blamed for this great catastrophe; for they stood
in the way of dealing with great public affairs in a sounder manner,
that is, with more regard of the actual public interest and of the
underlying racial and popular factors.

Those British critics who have attacked this method as practised in
their own country before and during the war, do not thereby mean to
impute to British statesmen a major share in the responsibility for
the war. The high-mindedness and public spirit of the responsible
statesmen is recognized by all fair critics, and most of them imply
that Great Britain has far less to fear from this system than have
nations with less responsible governments and a less sound tradition
of statesmanship. They attack the system as a whole as it exists
throughout European diplomacy, and as it has been used by the British
Government.

From the point of view of historic evidence, and of strict reasoning
from cause to effect, a great deal of doubt still remains as to how
far secret diplomacy in itself,--that is, the failure to publish
to parliament and the people, details of the situation as it
developed,--could properly be considered the specific cause of the
war; no matter how definite may be our judgment and belief that the
secrecy and tortuousness of foreign policy are bound to generate an air
of uncertainty and suspicion which will so greatly favor militarist
intrigues and influence as to render the making of wars far more easy
than they would otherwise be, were time and opportunity given to the
public to consider the details of a critical situation. Yet it might
be difficult to prove by historic evidence, the specific proposition
that the war of 1914 was directly due to the fact that the development
of international affairs was quite generally kept from the knowledge
of the public. Nevertheless, unquestionably the atmosphere of secret
diplomacy is a medium exactly suited to the most baneful influences.

Viscount Haldane has made a strong defense of the policy of Sir Edward
Grey. He asserts that “the failure of those who had to make the effort
to keep the peace, does not show that they would have done better had
they discussed delicate details in public.” He continues: “There are
topics and conjunctures in the almost daily changing relations between
Governments as to which silence is golden. For however proper it may be
in point of broad principle that the people should be fully informed
of what concerns them vitally, the most important thing is that those
to whom they have confided their concerns should be given the best
chance of success in averting danger to their interests. To have said
more in Parliament and on the platform in the years in question, or
to have said it otherwise, would have been to run grave risks of more
than one sort.” This defense, however, also makes certain assumptions,
particularly the underlying one that the war was not to be avoided by
any method. It is based on the traditional concept of foreign affairs
which considers that it is best to leave them at the discretion of a
few initiated and responsible officials. There can be no question that
from the highest plane conceivable under the older ideas and norms of
diplomacy, the conduct of foreign relations by Sir Edward Grey must be
considered as a model of sagacity and caution. But when Lord Cromer
describes the secret arrangements concerning Morocco as “a wise measure
of preventive diplomacy,” it is not easy to follow him.

VII

THE CRISIS OF 1914

If secret diplomacy exhibits its drawbacks even in a country where
parliamentary government is so highly developed as in England and
where political intelligence and independence of judgment exist, we
shall not be surprised at the continuous prevalence of devious methods
in diplomacy in countries where the conduct of foreign affairs is
considered quite frankly a matter only for the initiated, and where
little pretense is made of an appeal to public opinion except in the
sense of holding it in subjection by vague general ideas of national
danger, necessity, and honor. The main faults of German diplomacy
were due to its bureaucratic point of view and its lack of contact
with public opinion, both at home and abroad. It was distinctly
an expression of the authoritative will of the state, guided by a
supposed inner knowledge of its dangers and needs, but without any real
effort to strengthen itself through contact with the public mind. The
Reichstag was indeed occasionally informed of foreign developments,
perhaps as frequently as in England, but there was no real mutual
influence between the nation and the officials conducting foreign
affairs. As has already been pointed out, German diplomacy failed to
reassure either the neighbors or the people of Germany; its lack of
clear objectives was puzzling and disquieting. It was also hurt by
its constant, evident dependence on what should have been only the
very last resort--military force. A further disquieting characteristic
of German politics was that there seemed to be a cynical approval of
certain courses of action which might indeed resemble what some other
nations were doing, but which were treated by the latter rather as
regrettable necessities. Thus there is, for instance, the conception of
_Realpolitik_, of which Frederick the Great’s statement is an extreme
instance: “Before declaring my intentions I consider on the one side
the adverse incidents which I must risk; on the other, the good fortune
which I might hope; and after thorough consideration of pro and con, I
decide for war.”

Coming now to the fateful crisis of 1914, it would appear that at this
time a great danger was allowed to grow up without the men in control
of the government giving themselves a full account as to the fatal
probabilities involved, whereas the parliament and the public remained
entirely uninformed. Germany had always more or less backed her
Austrian ally in the Balkan policy of the latter. Bismarck had indeed
been very cautious in this respect, and had been fully aware of the
danger inherent in such a policy, of committing Germany through giving
Austria too much head. When the Servian question became acute, the
heads of the German Government were indeed so reckless in encouraging
strong Austrian action as to justify the impression that they desired
to push Austria-Hungary into a conflict. It would, however, appear,
from a full study of all the data which is now possible, that the
Kaiser and Bethmann-Hollweg were quite optimistic in believing that
the conflict could be localized and that the solution could be left
to Austria and Servia. When it was beginning to become quite clear
that Russia would in this instance not stand aside and that therefore
France, too, would be thrown into the conflict, the German Chancellor
began to make belated efforts to induce Austria to accept the mediation
of the Powers on the basis that Belgrade should be occupied to assure
compliance with the Servian promises. The Austrian premier, Count
Berchtold, however, was not inclined to reverse his engines. He took
advantage of the encouragement given to Austria in the first place, to
persist in an irreconcilable attitude toward Servia. The documentary
material which has so far been published, shows that Berchtold
insinuated to the Russian and British embassies that he was favorable
to mediation; meanwhile, he did not answer the proposals to that effect
made from Berlin, but in fact stubbornly pursued his stern policy
against Servia. In turning a deaf ear to all proposals of mediation at
this time, Berchtold gave the militarists at Berlin and Petrograd the
control of the situation.

Berchtold had inherited the Balkan policy of Aehrenthal, who had in
1909 carried out the ambition of laying the two Slavic Provinces,
Bosnia and Herzegovina, “at the feet of Emperor Francis Joseph at his
Sixtieth Jubilee.” Count Berchtold himself was not considered a man
of strong initiative; he vacillated and was undecided upon questions
of great moment; he, however, displayed great stubbornness on the
fatal point that the “honor” of Austria-Hungary did not permit of