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
[Illustration]
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.”
I
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.