Perhaps the most sensational event in recent history was the
publication by the young and newly crowned Tsar of All the Russias
of a rescript calling upon the great military Powers of the world to
disband their armies and dismantle their fleets, and inaugurate an
era of universal peace.
This extraordinary invitation produced a flutter in all the
diplomatic dovecotes, for European statesmen have learned by this
time that Russia does nothing in vain. Everywhere the same question
was asked: ‘What is behind this rescript?’
It is scarcely necessary to add that, with the exception of a few
sentimental fanatics in England and the United States, no one was
inclined to put faith in a demonstration which was actually the
prelude to a raid on the ancient liberties of Finland, in order to
swell the armies of the Imperial peacemaker, and to a combined attack
by all the great Christian Powers upon the only unarmed Empire in the
world.
Nobody was deceived, but every one was disconcerted for the moment,
and I was disconcerted like the rest. I was more. I was irresistibly
drawn on to attempt the solution of a mystery which fascinated me
like a difficult chess problem set before an expert in the game.
I could not afford, of course, to set about such an investigation
merely for my own amusement. After waiting a decent time on the
chance that I might be sent for by one of the Governments most
interested in unravelling the schemes of the great Eurasian Power, I
took the unusual step of going unasked to proffer my assistance to
the Ambassador of a Power to which I have rendered important services.
To my surprise and chagrin I found myself repelled on the threshold,
the Ambassador in question, a diplomatist of great experience,
declaring that there was nothing to discover.
‘I share your disbelief in the peaceful intentions of the Russian
Council of State,’ his Excellency was good enough to say to me. ‘But
this is a matter with which they have really had nothing to do. This
rescript is the outcome of the Tsar’s own individuality. He is a
philanthropic young man, carried away by the enthusiasm natural to
his age, and his advisers have had to give way to him. That is all;
and it only remains to see whether his idea is practicable.’
The explanation was a plausible one, and all the more so because by
this time the character of the new ruler of Russia was fairly well
known to those whose business it is to reckon up the personalities of
sovereigns and statesmen. Still I was not convinced.
‘That is exactly the explanation which I should offer to the Foreign
Offices of Europe, if I were M. Witte,’ I ventured to observe.
The Ambassador smiled with good humour.
‘The explanation does not rest on the word of M. Witte, I assure
you,’ he answered. ‘Every one who knows anything about Nicholas II.
knows that he is a simple-minded, honest young man, quite incapable
of playing a part in a comedy. As a matter of fact there is nothing
in this rescript which he has not been saying in private conversation
with his family and friends any time this last two or three years.
The German Emperor heard all about it long ago. Now at last he has
put his views formally before the world in a state paper. These
proposals may not be practicable, but there can be no doubt that they
are perfectly sincere.’
‘I do not doubt the Tsar’s sincerity,’ I returned. ‘But knowing what
I know of Russia, I want to understand why the Council of State have
allowed the Tsar to have his own way.’
This time the Ambassador’s smile was less indulgent.
‘Really, M. V----, I think you are pushing your suspicions too far.
Your profession has biassed your mind, and caused you to see mystery
where it does not exist. You remind me of those politicians whom
Bismarck used to say that he could always deceive by being perfectly
frank.’