Baron von Humboldt, brother of the great traveller, paid me the following
compliment at Rome:--"I confess, Mr. Coleridge, I had my suspicions that
you were here in a political capacity of some sort or other; but upon
reflection I acquit you. For in Germany and, I believe, elsewhere on the
Continent, it is generally understood that the English government, in order
to divert the envy and jealousy of the world at the power, wealth, and
ingenuity of your nation, makes a point, as a _ruse de guerre_, of sending
out none but fools of gentlemanly birth and connections as diplomatists to
the courts abroad. An exception is, perhaps, sometimes made for a clever
fellow, if sufficiently libertine and unprincipled." Is the case much
altered now, do you know?
* * * * *
What dull coxcombs your diplomatists at home generally are. I remember
dining at Mr. Frere's once in company with Canning and a few other
interesting men. Just before dinner Lord ---- called on Frere, and asked
himself to dinner. From the moment of his entry he began to talk to the
whole party, and in French--all of us being genuine English--and I was told
his French was execrable. He had followed the Russian army into France, and
seen a good deal of the great men concerned in the war: of none of those
things did he say a word, but went on, sometimes in English and sometimes
in French, gabbling about cookery and dress and the like. At last he paused
for a little--and I said a few words remarking how a great image may be
reduced to the ridiculous and contemptible by bringing the constituent
parts into prominent detail, and mentioned the grandeur of the deluge and
the preservation of life in Genesis and the Paradise Lost [1], and the
ludicrous effect produced by Drayton's description in his Noah's Flood:--
"And now the beasts are walking from the wood,
As well of ravine, as that chew the cud.
The king of beasts his fury doth suppress,
And to the Ark leads down the lioness;
The bull for his beloved mate doth low,
And to the Ark brings on the fair-eyed cow," &c.
Hereupon Lord ---- resumed, and spoke in raptures of a picture which he
had lately seen of Noah's Ark, and said the animals were all marching two
and two, the little ones first, and that the elephants came last in great
majesty and filled up the fore-ground. "Ah! no doubt, my Lord," said
Canning; "your elephants, wise fellows! staid behind to pack up their
trunks!" This floored the ambassador for half an hour.
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries almost all our ambassadors were
distinguished men. [2] Read Lloyd's State Worthies. The third-rate men of
those days possessed an infinity of knowledge, and were intimately versed
not only in the history, but even in the heraldry, of the countries in
which they were resident. Men were almost always, except for mere
compliments, chosen for their dexterity and experience--not, as now, by
parliamentary interest.
[Footnote 1: Genesis, c. vi. vii. Par. Lost, book xi. v. 728, &c.]
[Footnote 2:
Yet Diego de Mendoza, the author of Lazarillo de Tormes, himself a veteran
diplomatist, describes his brethren of the craft, and their duties, in the
reigns of Charles the Emperor and Philip the Second, in the following
terms:--
O embajadores, puros majaderos,
Que si los reyes quieren engañar,
Comienzan por nosotros los primeros.
_Nuestro mayor negocio es, no dañar,
Y jamas hacer cosa, ni dezilla,
Que no corramos riesgo de enseñar._
What a pity it is that modern diplomatists, who, for the most part, very
carefully observe the precept contained in the last two lines of this
passage, should not equally bear in mind the importance of the preceding
remark--_that their principal business is just to do no mischief_.--ED.]
* * * * *
The sure way to make a foolish ambassador is to bring him up to it. What
can an English minister abroad really want but an honest and bold heart, a
love for his country and the ten commandments? Your art diplomatic is
stuff:--no truly greatly man now would negotiate upon any such shallow
principles.
August 30. 1833.