AT THE FOREIGN OFFICE
I began by telling him of the situation in France, comparing its actual
condition with that of the days before the 4th of September. I tried to
show him what had been done since the disaster of Sedan, from the fall
of the Empire and the coming of the Republic till the present moment.
I pointed out--and he agreed--that after Sedan France was face to
face with despair. She was in chaos, in the void; nothing remained;
everything had to be recreated.
Paris was without arms and soldiers. The provinces were discouraged and
denuded of everything that might allow of a single day’s resistance.
The enemy’s armies were advancing without obstacle, invading France
town by town, province by province, devastating the country and
trampling it underfoot....
After this distressing but truthful picture, this miasma of exhaustion
and desolation, I drew for him a picture of the awakening of the great
nation on the day after the 4th of September. I described its hope
when there was no more hope, its courage when courage was madness, its
resistance when all means of resistance were at an end.
I described the whole nation erect, from Paris down to the smallest
hamlet lost in the mountains, unconquered and unconquerable, strong
and proud and with arms in its hands. A force had been created out of
nothing, and arms out of the Void.
Lord Granville listened.
He listened long, without making the slightest movement.
My words became more and more animated. He followed them, if I may
describe it so, with his eyes....
“You see, M. le Comte,” I said at last, “you see what we have done, and
from that you can judge what we are still capable of doing and what we
will certainly do. Paris is determined to undergo the greatest rigours
of war rather than surrender.
“The provinces, who for a moment hesitated, plunged as they were in
that evil habit of waiting for everything to come from above and never
undertaking anything themselves, the provinces also have awakened
to the inspiration of a powerful genius and have risen as one man.
They also are up and resolute. They are animated by the same spirit,
penetrated by the same conviction, and inflamed with the same courage.
All France is in arms. She has lifted high her flag, on which she has
written: “Victory or death!”
He still listened without a movement.
Had I spoken into space? Was silence to fall before the conversation
had well commenced?
Was this silence to be interpreted as approval, or, on the contrary,
was the eminent statesman’s mouth closed by the painful impression of
complete disapprobation?
I looked into his eyes and said: “I have spoken frankly and sincerely
to you, from the very bottom of my heart; have you no answer to give
me?”
His profound blue eyes rested on mine for a moment, then he said
slowly, almost stumblingly:
“M. Thiers, who came to see me, has already spoken to me as eloquently
as you have to-day.
“All that you have done is admirable, and France has shown an
elasticity which has astonished everyone. I have already said so to M.
Thiers. I repeat it gladly, and I can add with the utmost sincerity
that our admiration has only augmented and increased since that time.
We have attempted to intervene in your favour as much as the situation
permitted. We have done all we could to stop this war, which we
deplore. But we are not listened to. We have neither the right nor the
power to interfere in an affair which does not concern us. We desire
greatly that the war should be finished. We have made many efforts
to arrive at least at an armistice, but the Government in Paris has
refused the armistice which we have tried to negotiate....”
He again fixed his blue eyes on me as if to ask me: “Why has this
armistice been refused?”
It seemed to me to be an unfair question, and I said with a certain
amount of spirit: “Pardon me, M. le Comte, one cannot accuse the
Government of Paris of rejecting an armistice and means of coming to
terms. On the contrary, they have done everything humanly possible
to bring it about, but an armistice without re-victualling--that is
to say, an armistice with the prospect of starving Paris out, while
Prussia is recruiting her strength, was not acceptable, and Prussia
refused any other kind of armistice.”
“This refusal,” said he, mechanically lowering his eyes, “was not
reasonable. An armistice would have prevented many inconveniences to
Prussia and considerable difficulties to France, and the Government
could, at any rate, have profited by it to form a legal representation
of the country.” I was astonished at these words which appeared to me
absolutely unfair.
“What?” said I. “You consider it a reasonable thing to offer a
twenty-five days’ armistice, without re-victualling, to a town of two
millions which has been besieged for three months?
“Why, that would be taking away exactly so many days from the
resistance of this courageous town, which has shown in its days
of misfortune that it was something more than a city of pleasure.
Prussia’s acceptance of negotiations for an armistice could have had
no meaning without at least the re-victualling of the city. By her
refusal she has made the armistice impossible, and on her must fall
the responsibility of breaking off the negotiations. It is she who has
refused an armistice desired by the whole world.”
“No, it was not unreasonable,” he again answered me. “Prussia would
have lost much too much during a twenty-five days’ armistice.” And he
went on to give the most detailed reasons why the refusal was not an
“unreasonable” one.
This was his principal argument:--
If the armistice had not been successful in producing peace, Prussia
would have lost precious time which she would have been obliged to
pass in inaction. She would thus herself have prolonged the term of
sacrifices and of sufferings which the war necessarily imposed on
her, and she would have lost this precious time without any kind of
compensation.
“Your Government,” added the noble lord, “formally instructed M. Thiers
to reject the armistice, so it is not Prussia that has to be considered
responsible.”
It is difficult for two persons to come to an understanding if they
start from such different points of view that one says to the other
“This is just” where the other only sees a manifest injustice.
It was easy for me to see that Lord Granville would depart from none of
his views, and would answer all my arguments by contrary ones. So it
seemed useless to discuss the point any longer. I contented myself with
saying that the actual Government of France would have been glad to
convoke a National Assembly to share its heavy burdens, had they been
allowed to do so.
“The devoted men,” I said, “at the head of our nation have picked
up the fallen reins of power solely to arm the nation and organise
national defence against the invasion. They are not ambitious of
honours. They have arrogated to themselves only the duties of power,
and they have done so with the sole idea of national defence.
“They would have been glad to convoke the delegates of the nation and
place their power in the hands of a freely elected National Assembly,
and it is solely and entirely for this end that they have demanded
an armistice. Perhaps they would have been content with less than
twenty-five days,” I added, in order to sound Lord Granville on this
question.
This remark was to his liking. He interrupted me briskly and asked me:
“How many days do you think would be enough for the elections?”
I answered that, at the narrowest computation of what was strictly
necessary, I thought that it would take perhaps twelve to fifteen days
to carry out the elections, but that I was in no sense qualified nor
competent to say so, and this was merely my personal opinion. “But
then,” said he, “the Government would do well to proceed to election in
this delay and to ask for a twelve days’ armistice. It would be a great
advantage for you if the country had a legal representation.”
“Would Prussia accept?”
“Yes,” said he, “she would have accepted any armistice without
re-victualling....” Then, as if he had gone too far, and, as it were,
to correct himself, he immediately added that of course he had no means
of knowing what were the dispositions at this moment of the Prussian
General Staff. He did not know whether they were still inclined to
grant an armistice, and he did not like to promise us anything with
regard to this....
Such was the dominant note I encountered in all my official
conversations: an unmeasured fear of being exposed and compromised.
To reassure him I answered: “Do not think, M. le Comte, that I will
take you at your word. I do not think the National Defence Government
is willing to accept the responsibility of an armistice with the
prospect of starving Paris out, even though it be only for twelve days.”
“But,” he answered, “since Paris could hold out a long time yet, as
you have just told me, twelve days cannot hurt her much and twelve
days will give you the immense advantage of having the country
constitutionally represented.”
He developed the idea that up to the present the National Defence
Government was only a _de facto_ Government, and that it would be in
its highest interests to have a National Representative at its side on
which to lean.
I replied that his observation was subject to correction; that the
National Defence Government was not only a _de facto_ Government, but
was approved within the country and recognised without as a legal and
regular government. However, there was nothing it more ardently desired
than the chance of convoking a National Assembly. “I will,” I said,
“faithfully transmit your excellent suggestions to my Government.”
“How can you communicate with the Government in Paris?” he asked.
I was very glad that he put this question, for it was my intention
to ask him to intervene so that I might be able to return to Paris
in order to report directly and personally to my Government all the
information I had gathered since the time I left.
But as I did not wish to interrupt the trend of our conversation, I
answered that I should like to speak on this subject later, before
taking my leave, and I asked him to have the kindness to continue
developing his ideas regarding the question of the “Representation of
the Country.”
Lord Granville then discussed two other methods of creating what he
called the “legal representation of the country.” In asking for a
“legal” representation he was above all guided by the following idea,
which seemed to preoccupy him considerably, for he often came back to
it; there was actually no longer a “legal” authority in France; there
was a _de facto_ Government, but it had not received legal sanction.
“There is no one,” he repeated, “under existing conditions, who has the
right of treating in the name of France, and Prussia would not even
know with whom to come to an understanding when the moment arrives for
discussing conditions of peace.”
It was with this event in view that he so desired the meeting of a
national assembly. It was no use telling him he was mistaken--for I
considered it essential to show him the true situation; he persisted
in his opinion; and these were the two means which appealed to him for
arriving at the creation of a National Representation:--
First of all, he thought, the Conseils Généraux might furnish a
Constitutional Assembly.
After developing the details of his point of view and the advantages
which were to be gained from such an Assembly, he finished his remarks
by this question: “Why will you not have recourse to the Conseils
Généraux?”
I told him that the Conseils Généraux had no constitutional right to
represent the nation. He seemed to admit my argument, and reverted to
his first idea:--
“But why not have the Elections without an armistice?”
His previous remarks, when we were speaking about M. Thiers, had
sufficiently shown me the gist of his thoughts. He wanted to see
Elections held in France by any means whatever, even without an
armistice.
I could not accept such a proposition and I refused to understand
how a statesman, anxious for the dignity as well as for the material
interests of his country could give such advice. Elections in a
country invaded by the enemy! Elections under the enemy’s gun-fire!
Elections at a time when every citizen was under arms against the
invader, elections, in a word, while Prussia was bombarding Paris and
advancing her armies! That was an idea which I simply could not grasp.
I tried, but in vain, to make him share my perplexity. Moreover, I had
encountered the same idea with M. de Beust.
At the time I could not understand it and it revolted me. To-day I can
see how the idea arose and held its own simultaneously in the minds of
these two eminent statesmen, who held the reins of Government in two
countries so different in origin, constitution and tendencies.
The National Defence Government was only, when all was said and done, a
_de facto_ Government.
The men who composed it had picked up the Executive when it fell
from the Empire’s hands, only for the purpose of not letting it fall
into the gutter, and for using it to defend the country against the
invaders. These men certainly had the confidence of Europe, and their
Government was immediately and gladly recognised by all the Powers; it
had been recognised and respected even by the enemy.
But side by side with this _de facto_ Executive there also remained the
débris of the fallen Government, which had by no means renounced its
past, and still lived in the hope of coming back and again laying hands
on the Crown, which though fallen they still thought unbroken.
On the other side there were demagogues, orators and low-class
politicians, all that unhealthy ferment which had burst out on the 31st
of October and nearly overthrown the National Defence Government.
The latter, it is true, had conquered this first revolt, but the
pretensions and aspirations of the party which had caused the rising
were not conquered. They were only pushed out of the way and reduced
to silence, but they still smouldered in the ashes and no one knew
when they might not break out afresh, or whether the Government would
again be as fortunate in reducing them to impotence and maintaining its
authority.
This is what seriously preoccupied foreign statesmen and inspired them
with the idea of creating a “legal representative,” in any manner
whatever, by any means and at any price. Above all they wanted to
guard against unexpected surprises. Before all and above all they
wanted to have an authority to deal with, which was not only a
Government _de facto_ but a Government that had been consecrated--even
if only apparently--by the votes of the French people, and that could
by that token be accepted by all parties and be safe from sudden
attacks and ambushes. This is why Lord Granville first asked me to have
recourse to the Conseils Généraux of the Empire, and when I showed him
the impossibility of such a solution, this is why he suggested that we
should simply hold the Elections without any armistice, by carrying
them through as quickly as possible.
I should have liked to show him again how unfair and impossible I
considered his proposition, but it would have been preaching in the
wilderness, and so all I said was: “What would you do in the provinces
that are invaded and occupied by the enemy?”
The noble lord’s answer showed me, more than anything I have said up
till now, what were the thoughts which exclusively obsessed him.
Lord Granville was not embarrassed by my question. He thought one
could simply get the votes of the yet unoccupied provinces, and that
that would be enough to obtain a “Representation of the Nation.” I
began to have less and less understanding of the Minister’s arguments,
and carried away by feelings which I had difficulty in controlling,
I answered with spirit: “No, M. le Comte, France will never hold
Elections in such a manner.”
Did Lord Granville feel the bitterness of his proposal, or did he
understand the uselessness of insisting on it? Whichever it may be,
he answered me in roughly these words: “I understand. But let me
see if I cannot convince you. As you do not want to have Elections
without an armistice, and as the Conseils Généraux cannot serve for
the composition of a Constitutional Assembly--you have explained the
reasons and I quite understand them--then why have you not accepted
an armistice? You say that you think twelve days might at a pinch
be enough for the Elections. Then why do you not ask for a twelve
days’ armistice?” Without waiting for my answer he went on to say:
“Think well and look the facts in the face. Prussia could push her
troops even further into France. She could occupy the whole country
and would always be in the situation which is troubling us, that of
not knowing with whom to treat for peace.” I think that at this point
Lord Granville touched as it were on the possibility of restoring the
Empire. To be more exact, he allowed me glimpses of a theory, timidly
and in terms that were so vague that they have escaped my memory, that
Prussia might very well come to the idea, failing a better one, of
treating with the last Government which France had had.
And without waiting for my reply he continued: “France has given an
exhibition of military courage which has aroused the admiration of
the world, but there is also a _civil courage_ which a great people
must not neglect, and which is even greater and more admirable than
military courage. You have done great things, but you must now have
the civil courage which consists in recognising your true situation and
in ceasing to sacrifice the precious blood of your children when such a
sacrifice can no longer be of use.”
“M. le Comte,” said I, “I thank you sincerely for the expressions of
admiration you have just uttered. Coming from you they have great
value, but I believe that though you admire our military courage you
take too black a view of the situation. We have not reached that point
yet.
“Paris, wonderful Paris, the heart and the hope of France, has held
out. She is on her feet and inflamed with the desire to defend herself,
and she will defend herself for a long time yet. The great city is
not yet ready for surrender, and the provinces are only beginning to
awaken. In but a little while they will bring against Prussia, who is
accustomed to the idea that there are no more soldiers in France, a
young but enthusiastic army, and it will not be the first time that
young French recruits have beaten the seasoned armies of Prussia.
There is the truth. Military courage, therefore, is not yet useless. It
is not yet beaten and need not yet hand over the fate of the country to
that elder brother whom you have well called “civil courage.”
Lord Granville answered: “If you think your resistance can bring about
a better result for you, you are right in continuing the struggle,
however unequal it may be. But if this only serves to weaken the
country even more, the men who have the fate of the nation in their
hands are _in duty bound_ to stop and not to ask for useless sacrifices
from this courageous people. The resources of France are immense;
we know it well. She will very quickly lift herself up from these
temporary disasters.”...
M. de Beust, it will be remembered, had already expressed the same
idea....
“Yes,” continued Lord Granville, “she will recover very quickly. Her
elasticity is wonderful, but one must not put it to too severe a test.
One must not break the springs.”
I found pleasure in hearing him speak in this manner, and I began
to like his slow and well-weighed words, which so far had not given
me much encouragement. Lord Granville had shown a certain warmth in
admiring the resources and the “wonderful elasticity” of France.
He finished by laying weight on his words: “Your Government’s
responsibility in continuing the conflict is great, for the nation
itself has not yet pronounced on the serious question: Does it want war
to continue _ad infinitum_?
“Your Government is full of confidence in the vitality of the country
and refuses to surrender to Prussian demands, but you do not know what
are the feelings of the nation. And if the nation is not of your way of
thinking, or if your Government is mistaken, if instead of pushing back
the enemy you were to see him advance still further? His demands would
only be increased and you would have imposed sacrifices on your country
that are as fruitless as they are painful.”
It was difficult not to admit the justice of this reasoning, and I
did not hesitate to tell him so. But I again and insistently asked him
to reflect and to admit that it was impossible to go to the country to
sound its feelings while the enemy refused us the physical means of
doing so. I assured him that the Government would have been happy to be
able to consult the country, and that even now there was no greater nor
more pressing desire; but how was it to be effected?
“Can one make Electors come together with rifles on their shoulders in
order to vote, while the Prussians are advancing to occupy our towns?
Is it not evident that to have Elections we must have an armistice?
“Just now,” I said, “I think I gathered that if you had a counsel to
give us it would be to try and have the Elections in the shortest
possible time, and to ask for a shorter armistice than in the previous
negotiations, which fell through over the question of re-victualling.
Would you in such a case offer your good services, and would you charge
yourself with reopening the negotiations on this matter?” He answered:
“I have already told M. Thiers that the best form of negotiation would
be for you to address the General Staff at Versailles direct and
without intermediary.”
I pointed out to Lord Granville that he himself knew the situation
sufficiently well to foresee that the result of direct negotiations
with the General Staff at Versailles could only be negative. “Besides,”
I said, “the question which I have taken the liberty of putting to you
had its sole _raison d’être_ in our conversation. The question was born
of the moment and is part of a purely personal reflection. It was only
suggested to me by my desire to show you how much I have at heart the
understanding of the remarks which I have the honour of hearing from
your lips.”
After Lord Granville’s advice to address ourselves direct to the
General Staff at Versailles, it was clear to me that the only wish
of the English Government was not to expose itself, to keep strictly
and prudently out of the way and to interfere in the negotiations as
little as possible--that is to say, to have nothing to do with them.
For all this there was a peremptory reason. It was not entirely lack of
goodwill, but the fear of compromising themselves.
Everywhere I observed this exaggerated fear of being dragged into a
conflict with Prussia. At that time I regarded this feeling as one of
weakness, but on reflection it seems to me that it must be judged less
severely. One cannot arm from one day to another. Moreover, a great
Power cannot raise its voice without giving its words the support of
arms should it not be listened to. And Prussia, as I have already said,
would have listened to nothing, unless it were a general at the head
of a strong army. Now England at that time had no army either. She was
in a complete state of peace. Besides, had she not been warned by her
rebuff from the Prussian General Staff that she had only one thing to
do: _keep quiet!_
In fact if Lord Granville thus sent me back to Versailles to re-open
negotiations for an armistice it was because “Odo”--that is the
Christian name by which he called the Under-Secretary of State, Mr. Odo
Russell, who was with the General Staff--had written him that M. de
Bismarck would no longer listen to him. “M. Odo,” said he, “wrote to me
only yesterday that France had now better approach the General Staff
direct and that M. de Bismarck has nothing further to say to me.”
It was an irrefutable argument, and the least I could do to repay such
frankness was not to insist any more, unless it were openly to ask the
Secretary of State that England should go to war.
But yet I did not wish to retire. Seeing that Lord Granville still
listened to me with interest and appeared in no hurry to terminate our
interview, I moved the armchair, on which I was seated and which I had
pushed back a little during the last part of our conversation, a little
nearer to him. His knees nearly touched mine. I looked at him, trying
to read into his blue eyes, and I said:--
“You have received me so kindly that I would like to speak as frankly
as you will allow me. I am young, M. le Comte, and I am still younger
in diplomacy....”
“And I am old in diplomacy,” he answered, laughing and showing a line
of very white teeth which seemed formally to belie his words.
“You must therefore be indulgent to me and my inexperience....”
“I have not noticed it,” said he, laughing again, in order to encourage
me.
“And if you find that I am perhaps too persistent you will lay the
blame on my inexperience and the youthfulness of my heart. I cannot
remain calm and master my emotion, when I think of Europe to-day and of
the actual situation in France. It is a situation that you know well.
“Now you have given us advice, a good and excellent piece of advice,
and the advice of a friend. You have told us: Hold your Elections. I
have pointed out the impossibility of doing so without an armistice....
And you send me back to the General Staff at Versailles to get it!
“I assure you, M. le Comte, _that_ means war, the continuation of war
to the point of exhaustion. France will not yield; she will continue to
defend herself to the last man; she will let her territory be invaded
down to the last village rather than accept unacceptable conditions.
“Will Europe continue as an impassive spectator of this terrible
conflict?
“Will England continue to fold her arms without intervening to stop the
carnage between two peoples?”
“We can do nothing to stop it,” he objected.
“But,” I said, “what a great and wonderful part you could play! You
would stop a barbarous war of destruction between two civilised
peoples, give back to Europe the peace she so ardently desires, and
of which she has as much need as France herself after these terrible
conflicts, after the entire upsetting of all political, economic
and financial relationships. You would thus create for yourselves a
striking claim to the gratitude not only of France, your ancient friend
and ally, but also of the whole of Europe. With your great experience
you can yourself clearly see that if we remain alone to deal with our
enemy, his demands will be such that peace cannot be concluded in a
lasting fashion.
“Therefore your intervention would be a service to all Europe.
“And all this would cost you no great sacrifice. There would be no
need for you to go to war against Germany. It would be enough for you
to take up a firm and resolute attitude such as reason, humanity and
forethought for the future all dictate to you.”
“And if they do not listen to us? We cannot make war on Prussia!
We have done all we could; we have made many representations at
Versailles, but they will no longer listen to us.”
“Because you have not dared to speak as one must speak in order to
be listened to. Because you have not dared or wished to speak the
strong words which alone carry weight with Prussia and because you
have confined yourselves to timid observations and discreet counsels,
hesitatingly offered ... and which you scarcely dared to offer.
“Prussia will certainly not yield to these! But if you were to change
your tone, you would very quickly see Prussia change her attitude.”
“But what attitude do you want us to take up, and what do you mean by
“_strong_” words?”
“I will tell you, M. le Comte; say this to Prussia:--
“You have attained unprecedented successes and you have completely
and entirely gained all your desires. A new conflict will add nothing
to the advantages you have gained. Therefore stop now, for the war is
now beginning to become a war of racial destruction. Stop, and give
the French Government a chance of consulting with the people, and then
conclude peace with it. Do not refuse Europe the peace which she has
need of.”
--“But if Prussia pays no attention to these words?”
--“You must support your words by arms, I admit. But that will not
be war, because you do not want to make war. No, it will not be war,
because Prussia does not want it any more than you do. But Prussia will
yield before the possibility of seeing England entering the fight at a
time when she has need of all her strength to finish off with France
alone.”
“How should you know that?” he answered. “What guarantee can you give
me? Allow me to tell you,” and he smiled very graciously in order
to sweeten his words, “you are not in the counsels of the King at
Versailles and you cannot know anything about it any more than I can.”
“I do not know, it is true; but may one not make calculations?
“You know even better than I how immensely the whole of Germany desires
to see the war ended. Prussia thinks that with France alone she will
soon reach her goal. Will she be willing to prolong the war and in a
sense renew it with a great Power like England? And I am entitled to
tell you that England would not be alone with France in such a war.
“I have just come from Vienna. I was told at Vienna, and authorised
to repeat it to you, that Austria is disposed to go hand-in-hand with
England in everything that concerns France. Austria would follow
England if the latter would decide to intervene effectively in favour
of France.”
“... Who told you that?” Lord Granville quickly interrupted me. “Was it
M. de Beust?”
As I saw that Lord Granville was in no way inclined to do what I asked
him, it did not seem necessary to answer him and perhaps to compromise
a sincere and devoted friend by publishing the secret of his friendly
disposition towards ourselves. So I answered this question by saying
that, if Lord Granville would be kind enough to wait a moment, I
would later on tell him who was the person in question. The promise,
however, had been made me in Vienna, it had been made in full view of
its provoking action on the part of England, and I had been expressly
authorised to speak of it here.
“But that would be war--and we do not want war!” he answered
energetically.
“No, it will not be war. On the contrary, it will be the end of war,” I
said with spirit. “It is certainly very bold of me to want to foresee
events better than you and contradict a view which appears to you
sound. But I say it with conviction, it will not be war. No, it will be
peace, and a peace worthy of two nations, a durable peace.
“And this is the reason why. In the face of European intervention,
brought about by the initiative of England, Prussia would be obliged to
diminish her exorbitant pretensions, and France would, on her side, be
reasonable and listen to the counsels of Europe.
“You know from his action at Ferrières what M. Jules Favre’s policy is.
“That policy has not been changed.
“We are decided to continue the fight to the last limits of human
strength, as against demands which we cannot accept. But we are ready,
France is ready, to accept any conditions which are not incompatible
with her honour.
“Effective intervention on the part of England would therefore mean
peace, and a durable peace, because it would be consented to without
humiliation for the conquered side, for valiant France who will always,
in spite of her actual defects, remain a great and chivalrous nation.”
My persistence did not appear to satisfy Lord Granville. He followed
me willingly on every question and infused much spirit and cordiality
into the conversation, but every time I came back to the noble rôle
that England might play by using her authority and power for effective
intervention, he seemed painfully impressed and impatient to terminate
the discussion. Perhaps he himself felt, without caring to confess
it, that I was right when I showed him the splendid part his country
might play in the sanguinary drama that was being enacted in France,
and perhaps his were the painful feelings of a man who is obliged to
fight against his own convictions. In any case, the subject seemed to
importune him and try his patience.
On this occasion he answered me that France must not forget that it
was definitely she who had commenced the war. Our conversation turned
at length round this point, the declaration of war by the Empire,
the military consequences of the Empire’s fall and the change in the
very nature of the war. But these questions are no longer of interest
to-day, and I pass them by. Our conversation had already lasted more
than an hour, and I was getting ready to say good-bye to Lord Granville.
“If I have understood you aright,” I said, “you will do absolutely
nothing for us?”
“Personally I should like to do all that is in my power. For you see,”
he added, with a sincere and almost paternal air, “I am fond of France
and the French, and I would be happy to contribute to your success. But
as a statesman I must tell you that we cannot make war for France. War,
you see, is a terrible thing, and one must think well before going to
war. You are a more warlike people than we are; the French fight for
an idea, and that would be impossible for us. When we closed the last
Session of Parliament, we undertook not to deviate from the strictest
neutrality, and we were applauded by Parliament. We cannot go before
Parliament now and proclaim war. We have not the right and we cannot do
it.”
“But, if I am well informed,” I objected, “a war with Prussia would not
actually meet with much opposition from public opinion. It seems to
me that such a war would, on the contrary, be popular in England.” I
also said that the situation had altered considerably since the English
Cabinet had given its parting message to Parliament.
“France is to-day fighting for a just cause. She is defending hearth
and home and the integrity of her soil. She has given proof of
extraordinary strength and vigour in this unequal and terrible combat
and she has regained that which she had lost by the declaration of
war--I mean the sympathies of the entire world. That is why public
opinion has changed also in England, and that is why I believe that
effective intervention would in England to-day be a popular action.”
Lord Granville answered me: “Let me explain the true situation of our
country in this matter. The military, particularly the officers, are
in favour of France. They want war. Then there is a numerous enough
party among the working-class population who share this sentiment.
But all the rest of the population have ideas which differ according
to the political opinions which they profess. We have Republicans,
Imperialists, Orleanists, Legitimists, etc. You see we have seriously
considered the question,” he went on to say, “we don’t want to speak
without being able to give our words the support that is necessary to
make them heard. If Prussia did not listen to us, we could not let it
remain at that, and we are quite decided to keep the undertaking we
have made to Parliament. That is why we cannot do more than we have
done up till now.”
“Which means,” I said, “that you can do nothing?”
“Not so,” he answered. “But _for the moment_ we can do nothing. Later
on, when peace conditions are discussed, we will be able to intervene
in the negotiations more successfully.”
“Later on!” I exclaimed. “Do you know what will happen later on, M.
le Comte. Later on one of two things will happen; either we shall be
victorious and we will push the Prussians back; that is what I hope,
and then we will have need of no one; or we shall be conquered, and
then you will dare to speak even less than now; at any rate, Prussia
will then pay no more attention to your words than she does now. If you
do not want to be condemned never to act, you must act now.”
Lord Granville answered: “I don’t want you to leave me under the
slightest illusion on this matter. I have already said so to M.
Thiers--we cannot deviate from the strict neutrality which we have
observed till to-day.” He added that Prussia had long been complaining
about England’s interpretation of neutrality in delivering arms to
France and so prolonging her resistance. But he, Lord Granville, had
answered that such had been England’s conduct since the beginning
of the war, that her conduct was perfectly compatible with strict
neutrality, and that she was not going to change it now, etc.
I answered: “Your reply, M. le Comte, is distinct and categorical, and
I thank you for it. Only let me present one last consideration. It
concerns the Eastern question. Have you nothing to fear on that side?
Do you not think that France’s word will one day be useful and her help
precious?
“You do not want to make war now, but perhaps you may be forced to
make it later, and then you will be isolated and alone because you
have abandoned France, your old friend and natural ally, in the hour
of danger. Think of the future, M. le Comte! France has a future; she
will recover from this war and she will be stronger, greater, and more
powerful, because she has given proof of her wonderful vitality and
energy in adversity. Our fleet will then be able to play a great rôle.
If you abandon us now you may be alone in your turn when you are forced
to take up arms and have need of an ally.”
“When we are forced to it,” said he, “well, we will take up arms and
we will go to war....” But he said that England was not for the moment
in this situation and consequently he did not see the necessity for
changing her policy. His Government would never take the formidable
decision of dragging the country into war without being absolutely
obliged to do so.
He once more recalled the terms with which the last Session of
Parliament had closed, and the terrible responsibility for a Government
to precipitate a nation into the sufferings and miseries of war. Then,
after some protestations of friendship towards France, he finished with
these words:--
“I do not want to leave the slightest misapprehension in your mind, and
would like to continue elaborating my ideas.” He then definitely laid
down as it were into an unchangeable proposition, the reasons which he
had indicated why it was impossible to change anything in the policy
that England had observed up till now.
Our Interview was at an end. Only I did not want to leave Lord
Granville without saying a word on the impossibility of restoring the
Empire.
He had done no more than hint at the idea that the Empire might
possibly be restored to France by the enemy, and his allusions were
so slight and, I might almost say, so intangible, that when an hour
afterwards I returned to my lodging and made notes of the principal
passages in our conversation, I found it impossible exactly to remember
the terms he had employed in speaking of it.
However, he often came back to this point. Even when he insisted that
the National Defence Government would do well to call a National
Assembly under any conditions whatsoever, even without an armistice,
one of his arguments consisted in pointing out the possibility of an
Imperial Restoration. “At the worst,” he insinuated, “Prussia might
well negotiate with what remains of the Empire.”
I therefore thought it would be useful not to let this idea take root
in his mind, and to make him understand that it was a pure delusion,
which it would even be dangerous to entertain. I told him that I did
not know up to what point competent men in England were capable of
seriously regarding such an event as being possible in France, but
if they believed in it for a single moment they would be strangely
deceived. The restoration of the Empire was henceforward absolutely
impossible. The supporters of the fallen régime had absolutely no
illusions on this point.
“They themselves are perfectly aware,” I continued, “at least, those
who have remained in France, that the country is no longer with them,
and that the prisoner of Wilhelmshohe will never remount the throne
of France, neither he nor those that are his. Sedan has for ever
demolished the Napoleonic Idea, and the bloodstained and terrible
ending of the Second Empire has for ever cured the nation of all
dangerous legends. To-day we know too well what it costs a great
country to give itself a master whose only merit is an illustrious
name, and there is no temptation to again give way to that sort of
madness! He who is to-day the enemy’s willing prisoner has fallen too
low for a proud nation like France ever to forget the disgrace. Has
the unhappy Emperor even to-day no fear of accusing, against all sense
of justice, the brave country which was formerly his Empire, of having
wanted and provoked the war? His return to France would be the signal
for a general rising, and if Prussia wanted to attempt it she would
be obliged to protect him with her armies and so perpetuate the war
instead of definitely terminating it.”
Our conversation had lasted more than an hour and a half, and it was
at Lord Granville’s own wish that it had done so, for he had been
interrupted several times. On each occasion I rose to retire, but he
had held me back every time, graciously and with the serious insistence
of a man who does not wish to interrupt a subject which he does not
yet consider exhausted. When at last I took my leave of him, he wrung
my hand cordially and said he would be happy to obtain me a safe
conduct which would allow me to go back to Paris, and that he would ask
for it to-morrow morning.
In our conversation, as has been seen, I did not conceal my desire to
find a means of returning to Paris. I would thus be able to describe to
the National Defence Government the general situation in Europe, and
the attitude of the Cabinets and the sentiments of the Courts of Vienna
and London.
Lord Granville heard my wishes very affably, and was at great pains to
help them. So I did not hesitate to profit from his disposition, and
begged him to ask for a safe conduct for me.
Unfortunately my desire and his were not realised. Next day Lord
Granville informed me that the démarche had not succeeded and that he
had been refused the safe conduct which he had asked for me.