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.”
The Foreign Minister of Russia at this time, and for many years before and after, was Count Panin. It was then suspected and is now known that he was firmly bought by Frederick II. But there has been some doubt as to whether he entered upon this corrupt relation behind the back of Empress Catherine or at her bidding. It is known that she often encouraged her ministers at foreign courts to accept bribes and apparently to sell themselves to foreign governments, because through the relationship of confidence thus established they might gather information useful to their own government. This is one of the many ways in which the game of corruption tended to defeat itself.
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.[A]
[A] “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.
III
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.”