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PAGE INTRODUCTION 3

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 co?peration 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.

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.

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 co?peration 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 co?peration 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 r?gime. 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."

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 co?peration 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 co?peration, 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."

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.

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 co?peration 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.

Calli?res, 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?" Calli?res 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 , 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.

James Harris, Lord Malmesbury, who was certainly conversant with all the ins and outs of eighteenth century diplomacy, wrote in a letter of advice 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.

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.

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 Meh?e 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."

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.

But to return to the correspondence of Lord Malmesbury. All the devices and foibles of the profession at that period are there mirrored. When he reports the coming of a new French Minister to St. Petersburg, he expresses the hope that the new envoy will not be so difficult to deal with as the present charg? d'affairs, "who, though he has a very moderate capacity, got access to all the valets de chambre and inferior agents in the Russian houses, who very often conjured up evil spirits where I least of all expected them." A little later he reports to the British Foreign Minister, Lord Stormont, as follows: "If, on further inquiry, I should find, as I almost suspect, that my friend's fidelity has been shaken, or his political faith corrupted, in the late conferences, by any direct offers or indirect promises of reward, I shall think myself, in such a case, not only authorized but obliged to lure him with a similar bait." He reminds His Lordship of the fact that Prince Potemkin is immensely rich and that, therefore, perhaps as much may be required as de Torcy offered to the Duke of Marlborough .

In a letter of June 25, 1781, Sir James Harris, writing to the same Minister, speaks of having obtained information of the conclusion of a secret treaty between Russia and Austria from the confidential secretary of a Russian minister. He adds: "I trust I shall keep him to myself, since I have lost almost all my other informers by being outbid for them by the French and Prussians." He adds that it is painful to him that the secret service expenses come so very high but he explains that the avid corruption of the court is ever increasing and that his enemies are favored by the fact that they can join in the expense against him, their courts moreover supplying them most lavishly. He adds: "They are also much more adroit at this dirty business than I am, who cannot help despising the person I corrupt."

As far as the letters of this period deal with diplomatic policies they are no more reassuring than when they relate the details of diplomatic practice. On August 16, 1782, Sir James Harris made a long confidential report to Lord Grantham. He observes that Count Panin is powerfully assisting the King of Prussia, the French Minister is artful and intriguing, working through Prince Potemkin and the whole tribe of satellites which surrounded the Empress, whom he calls "barber apprentices of Paris." He then unfolds his own policy of winning the favor of the Empress for England by giving her the island of Minorca as a present. His idea had been adopted by the British Foreign Office and he writes, "Nothing could be more perfectly calculated to the meridian of this Court than the judicious instructions I received on this occasion." He decided,--hand in hand with the proposed cession of Minorca,--to designate the Empress as a friendly mediatrix between England and Holland; he says: "I knew, indeed, she was unequal to the task but I knew too how greatly her vanity would be flattered by this distinction." Farther on he reports how, gradually, after several British Ministers had incurred the ill humor of Catherine, Fox and the present Minister of Foreign Affairs have finally found favor and smoothed the road for Sir James. He hopes that all these great efforts and sacrifices may result in "lighting the strong glow of friendship in Her Imperial Majesty in favor of England." At this distance a slim result of so much effort. The characterization of Catherine with which he closes, few historians would now accept.

"With very bright parts, an elevated mind, an uncommon sagacity, she wants judgment, precision of ideas, reflection, and l'esprit de combinaison."

American diplomats had their first taste of European diplomatic methods in 1797, when Pinckney, Gerry and Marshall were sent to France on their special mission. Every attempt at delay and mystification was practised on them. After various secret agents had tried the patience of the Americans and had finally come out with the plain demand of Talleyrand for a million francs as the price for peace and good relations, they resolutely turned their back on Paris. Meanwhile Pitt was seriously considering buying peace on similar terms.

AFTER THE CONGRESS OF VIENNA

The convulsions of the French revolution and the Napoleonic conquests did not seem materially to affect the principles and practices of diplomacy. When the Congress of Vienna met to rearrange the state of Europe, it was guided by men who still looked upon diplomacy entirely in the manner of the 18th century, when, in the words of Horace Walpole, "it was the mode of the times to pay by one favor for receiving another." The idea of restoring the balance of Europe or patching up the rents and cracks in the old system which had been so severely shaken was the purpose which animated these men. They viewed everything from the dynastic interests of their respective rulers and traded off lesser kingdoms and slices of territory with the same spirit of the gamester that has always characterized the absolutist diplomacy.

Of the three master minds of the Congress of Vienna, Talleyrand, Metternich and Pozzo di Borgo, it may indeed be said that they illustrated both the qualities and the vices of the old diplomacy in a superlative degree. The last named has characterized Talleyrand as "a man who is unlike any other. He wheedles, he arranges, he intrigues, he governs in a hundred different manners every day. His interest in others is proportioned to the need which he has of them at the moment. Even his civilities are luxurious loans which it is necessary to repay before the end of the day." Talleyrand, himself, has said: "Two things I forbid--too much zeal and too absolute devotion--they compromise both persons and affairs." He did not, indeed, betray his great master Napoleon, he only quitted him in time.

Metternich, who resembled Talleyrand in the complete self-control of a passionless diplomat, had a long and brilliant, but essentially sterile, career. His correspondence shows a keen and luminous spirit with a great mastery of detail, and capacity for manipulating the human pawns; but there is no deep insight, no real constructive policy. Indeed, he supported Alexander I in his efforts for a Holy Alliance or sacred league among nations, but it was conceived in such a form that it would not have interfered with the traditional game of diplomacy. Metternich indeed often pays his compliments to the ideal, as when he praises the league as resting on the same basis as the great Christian society of man, namely, the precept of the Book of Books, "Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you." But the details of his policy were governed entirely by the barren principles of balance of power and legitimacy, and showed an utter disregard for the natural and ethnic facts underlying government. Metternich indeed himself at times realized the vanity of political intrigue, as when he wrote to his daughter from Paris in 1815, "This specific weight of the masses will always be the same, while we, poor creatures, who think ourselves so important, live only to make a little show by our perpetual motion, by our dabbling in the mud or in the shifting sand."

When Alexander himself left the realm of vague ideals and descended to details, his impulses often took a form somewhat like the proposal made to Castlereagh at Vienna, "We are going to do a beautiful and grand thing. We are going to raise up Poland by giving her as king one of my brothers or the husband of my sister." The British statesman does not seem to have been immediately carried away with this generous design.

It was consistent with the character and temper of the Congress of Vienna that there flowed in it innumerable currents and counter-currents of intrigue. In January, 1815, the representatives of England, France and Austria agreed upon a secret treaty of alliance, directed against Russia and Prussia. When Napoleon returned from Elba he found this document and showed it to the Russian Minister before tearing it up.

The memoirs and anecdotal literature of the period afford numerous instances of the persistence of that desire for cleverness in dealing with secrets, which often brings about amusing incidents.

At the time when Frankfort was the capital of the North German Confederation, the Austrian government provided its representative there with duplicate instructions; one to the effect that he must exhaust every energy to maintain the most friendly and mutually helpful relations with Prussia; the other of quite the opposite tenor. The former was to be shown to the Prussians. Unfortunately, at the critical moment the Austrian Minister showed the wrong letter to Bismarck, who guessed the situation; suppressing his amusement as best he could, Bismarck tried to console the embarrassed Austrian by promising not to take any advantage of the slip.

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