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.
To appear simple and true has always been greatly desired of diplomats. Count Du Luc, French Ambassador to Vienna, said in a letter, “My great desire, if I may be permitted to speak about myself, is to appear simple and true. I flatter myself that I possess the latter qualification; but you know my method of manœuvering.” The appearance of frankness has indeed been most valuable to diplomats in all ages; though one naturally suspects the man who in and out of season explicitly declares and protests that virtue. Diplomatic frankness is a part of that elaborate and complicated system of self-control and coolness together with a mastery of all the outward expressions of different affections and passions, which notable diplomats have sought to achieve. It would not take an expert to advise against pomposity. Callières counsels, “Be genial. Avoid the sober, cold air. An air of mystery is not useful.”
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 Mehée 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.”
II
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.
A letter written near the beginning of Catherine’s reign, addressed by Sir George Macartney to the Earl of Sandwich, most strikingly illustrates the character of the period. The British Minister first reports that M. Panin, the Russian Minister for Foreign Affairs, had signed a treaty of alliance with Denmark, contemplating war with Turkey. By a most secret article, Denmark promises “to disengage herself from all French connections, demanding only a limited time to endeavor to obtain the arrears due to her by the Court of France. At all events, she is immediately to enter into all the views of Russia in Sweden, and to act entirely, though not openly, with her in that kingdom.” The writer then reports that it is the ardent wish of the Empress “to make a common cause with England and Denmark, for the total annihilation of the French interest there (in Sweden). This certainly cannot be done without a considerable expense; but Russia, at present, does not seem unreasonable enough to expect that we should pay the whole.” The amount necessary absolutely to prevent the French from ever getting at Stockholm again is suggested. As the Swedes are highly sensitive because of their dependent situation in recent years, the Russian Court desires “that we and they should act upon separate bottoms, still preserving between our respective Ministers a confidence without reserve. That our first care should be, not to establish a faction under the name of a Russian or of an English faction; but, as even the wisest men are imposed upon by a mere name, to endeavor to have our friends distinguished as the friends of liberty and independence.” The Minister then reports that an alliance with Russia is not to be thought of unless by some secret article England would agree to pay a subsidy to Russia in case of a Turkish war (Turkey happened at the time to be in alliance with England). The Minister relates that a similar proposal which was put up to the King of Prussia by a Russian official who was his mortal enemy and who hoped greatly to embarrass him thereby, was unexpectedly and quite blandly accepted by Frederick II. The letter closes with the earnest entreaty on no account to mention to M. Gross, the Russian Minister in London, the secret article of the treaty which his own Government had just concluded with Denmark.
The correspondence of James Harris, Lord Malmesbury, is a particularly full and continuous account of court and diplomatic life in the eighteenth century. In describing his diplomatic struggles in a Court in which everything turned round the whims and ambitions of an unscrupulous woman who had come to the throne through putting out of the way its rightful occupant, the vicious practices of the day are presented in all their corruption and deceitfulness. Before going to Russia, Sir James Harris was Minister at Berlin. He paints the character of Frederick the Great in the following words: “Thus never losing sight of his object, he lays aside all feelings the moment that is concerned; and, although as an individual he often appears, and really is, humane, benevolent, and friendly, yet the instant he acts in his Royal capacity, these attributes forsake him, and he carries with him desolation, misery, and persecution, wherever he goes.” A German scholar of the period, an admirer of the great monarch, used the following language: “The art, till then unknown in Europe, of concluding alliances without committing one’s self, of remaining unfettered while apparently bound, of seceding when the proper moment is arrived, can be learnt from him and only from him.” These descriptions of the political character of Frederick II set forth the essential political factor as it was understood at the time and as it has been understood by a continuous line of statesmen from Machiavelli to the present. As in physical science, every factor has to be disregarded except those essential to the experiment which is being conducted, so in the intensive politics of the modern state, in the mind of such men, abstraction is made from all sentiment, virtue and quality, to the sole pursuit of a closely calculated political effect. The same German scholar credits Frederick the Great with a superior straightforwardness. That quality, however, is manifested by such a man mostly on occasions where he is so sure of himself and of his plans that he can challenge the worst attempts of his enemies to upset them and can confound them utterly by flinging his plans in their faces, as did Bismarck at a later time. A startling and fearless frankness is one of the characteristics of political genius.
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 (still as Sir James Harris) 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 chargé 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 (Prince Potemkin) 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 (two million francs).