Monsieur Felix Senn, the distinguished Frenchman who had just acquitted
himself of the special mission which had brought him to London, was a
little loath to depart from the historical chamber in Downing Street.
Diplomatically, the interview was over. The Prime Minister, however, on
this occasion, was courteous, even affable. There seemed no reason for
his visitor to hurry away.
"You will accept, I trust, sir," the latter begged, "this assurance of
my extreme regret at the present unfortunate condition of affairs. I am
one of those who threw his hat into the air on the boulevards in August,
1914, when the news came that your great country had decided to fulfil
her unwritten promises and in the cause of honour had declared war
against Germany. I have never forgotten that moment, sir, even in those
months and years of misunderstandings which followed the signing of the
Treaty of Peace. I was one of those who pointed always to the sacrifices
which Great Britain had made on our behalf, to her glorious deeds on
land and sea. I have always been a friend of your country, Mr. Mervin
Brown. That is why I think I was chosen to bring this dispatch."
"You are very welcome," the Prime Minister assured him. "As for the
purpose of your mission, I assure you that I view it less seriously than
you do. Glance with me at the position for a moment. Notwithstanding the
era of peace which has sprung up all over the world, owing to the happy
influence of the League of Nations, France alone has decided to follow
still the path of militarism. Your last year's army estimates were
staggering. The number of men whom you keep out of your factories in
order that they may learn a useless drill and wear an unnecessary
uniform is, to the economist, simply scandalous. Look at the result.
Compare our imports and exports with yours. See the leaps and strides
with which we have improved our financial position during the last ten
years. We have not only recovered from the after effects of the war, but
we have reached a state of prosperity which we never previously
attained. You, on the other hand, are still groaning with enormous
taxes. You carry a burden which is self-imposed and unnecessary. You, of
all the nations, refuse to recognise the fact that the government of the
great countries of the world has passed into the hands of the democracy,
and that democracies will not tolerate war."
"There I join issue with you, sir," the Frenchman replied. "These are
the obvious and expressed views of other European countries, yet month
by month come rumours of the training of great masses of troops, far in
excess of the numbers permitted by the League of Nations. There is all
the time a haze of secrecy over what is going on in certain parts of
Germany. And as for Russia, ostensibly the freest country in the world,
Tsarism in its worst days never imposed such despotic restrictions
concerning the coming and going of foreigners, in one particular
district, at any rate."
"The Russian Government have certainly given us cause for complaint in
that direction," Mr. Mervin Brown admitted. "Strong representations are
being made to them at the present moment. On the other hand, the reason
for their attitude is easily enough understood. In the days when Russia
lay exhausted, foreigners took too much advantage of her, attained far
too close a grip upon her great natural resources. Russia has determined
that what she has left she will keep to herself. The attitude is
reasonable, although I am free to admit that she is carrying her
legislation against foreigners too far."
"What about the number of men she has under arms every year?" Monsieur
Senn enquired.
"Russia has always a possible danger to fear from China, the new
Colossus of Asia," the Prime Minister pointed out. "Even Russia herself
has not made such strides within the last fifteen years as China. The
secession of the Asiatic countries from the League of Nations demanded
certain precautions which Russia is justified in taking."
The Frenchman had risen to his feet, but he still lingered. A tall man,
of commanding presence, with olive complexion, deep brown eyes, and
black hair lightly streaked with grey, Monsieur Felix Senn had been a
great figure in the war of 1914-1918 and had retained since a commanding
position in French politics. It had often been said that nothing but his
great friendship for England had prevented his gaining the highest
honours. His present mission, therefore, which was practically to end
the alliance between the two countries, was a peculiarly painful one to
him.
"I must tell you before we part, Mr. Mervin Brown," he said gravely,
"that neither I nor many of my fellow countrymen share your optimism.
You seem to have inherited the timeworn theory that the War of 1914 was
entirely provoked by the junker class of Germans. That is not true. It
was a people's war, and the people have never forgotten what they were
pleased to consider the harsh terms of the Treaty of Peace. Then as
regards Russia, have you ever considered that Russia financially and
politically is more than half German? When Germany lost the war, she had
one great consolation--she acquired Russia. You have compared the
economic condition of France to-day with that of your country, sir. I
admit your commercial supremacy, but let me tell you this. I would not,
for the greatest boon the gods could offer me, see France in the same
helpless state as England is in to-day."
The Prime Minister rose also to his feet. He wore an air of offended
dignity.
"Monsieur Senn," he declared, "the spirit of militarism is in the blood
of your country. You cannot rid yourself of it in one generation or two.
But, believe me, no people's government at any time in the future,
whether it be English, Russian, German, or American, will ever dare to
suggest or even to dream of a war of aggression or revenge. If we are
comparatively unprotected, it is because we need no protection. We hear
the footfall of your marching millions, and we thank God that that sound
is represented in our country by the roar of machinery and the blaze of
furnaces."
The Frenchman bowed and accepted the hand which the Prime Minister
offered him.
"I present to you once more, sir," he said, "the compliments and
infinite regrets of Monsieur le Président."
A chapter of English history ended with the quiet passing of Monsieur
Senn into the sunlit street. The latter entered his waiting automobile
and drove at once to the French Embassy. The Ambassador listened in
silence to his report.
"What about the Press?" was his only question.
"Monsieur le Président insists upon the truth being known," the emissary
announced. "France has pledged her word against secret treaties.
Besides, the honour of France must never afterwards be called in
question."
The Ambassador sighed. He was new to his present post, but he had grown
grey in the service of his country.
"It is the end of a one-sided arrangement," he declared. "It is
incredible that these people do not realise that it is against their own
country--against themselves--that this slowly fermenting hatred is being
brewed. The racial enmity between Germany and France is nothing compared
with the hate of antagonistic kinship between Germany and England.
However, France is the gainer by to-day's event. We have only our own
frontiers to watch."
Monsieur Felix Senn wandered on to the St. Philip's Club, where he found
his old friend Prince Karschoff talking in a corner of the smoking room
with Nigel. They were both of them prepared for the news which he
presently communicated to them. Karschoff was bitter, Nigel silent.
"Well said Carlyle that 'History is philosophy teaching by examples',"
the former expounded. "How the historian of the future will revel in
this epoch! What treatises he will write, what parallels he will draw!
See him point to the days when the aristocracy ruled England, and
England fought and flourished; then to the epoch when the _bourgeoisie_
took their place, and with a mighty effort, met a great emergency and
flourished. And finally, in sympathy with the great European upheaval,
in sympathy with the great natural law of change, Labour ousts both,
single-eyed Labour, and down goes England, crumbling into the dust!--Let
us lunch, my friends. The cuisine is still good here."
Nigel excused himself.
"I am engaged," he said. "We may meet afterwards."
"Something tells me, my dear Nigel," Karschoff declared, "that you are
bent on frivolity."
"If to lunch with a woman is frivolous, I plead guilty," Nigel replied.
Karschoff's face was suddenly grave. He seemed on the point of saying
something but checked himself and turned away with a little shrug of the
shoulders.
"Each one to his taste," he murmured. "For my aperitif, a dash of
absinthe in my cocktail; for Dorminster here, the lure of a woman's
smile. Perhaps he gains. Who knows?"