Page images
PDF
EPUB

strong hand together in the Conference which will presently discuss the affairs of Morocco, it will do more to strengthen our alliance than the friendly meetings of many squadrons.

There was, however, one element in the Portsmouth fêtes which must not be forgotten. They have introduced a new character into English diplomacy. The man in the street has been permitted to do his best to affect the fate of nations, and thus democracy has advanced another step in her triumphal progress. Time was when diplomacy was the most silent of the arts. Representatives of rival States met in secret, and in secret discussed the grave affairs of which none but they and their masters had cognisance. Now and again a too pushing journalist waylaid a document, as did Blowitz at Berlin; but breaches of confidence were rare, and the world knew nothing of the deliberations until their result was officially announced. This method of procedure was at once dignified and practical, and we cannot but regret that the people is attempting to usurp the functions of diplomacy. But so long as the French Squadron was in English waters, the Press and the sailors took the matter in hand. At rare intervals, it is true, the discussion was carried to a higher level; but statesmen were easily eclipsed by the crowd, and the journalists had their own way. Portsmouth, indeed, was the paradise of the special correspondent, for whose benefit it seems that all the pageants

of war and peace are arranged. He made of the occasion what he would; and if he heard cheers where there were no cheers, if he overcharged his account with a too ready enthusiasm, he did but act after his kind, and, fortunately, he was powerless to do harm.

At the other Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, the journalist's opportunity was greater and more hazardous. In England we knew what would be the result of the meeting before Admiral Caillard set sail. The representatives of Japan and Russia, on the other hand, met in America to perform a delicate and uncertain task. Their decision, had they arrived at one, would have affected the lives and fortunes of many thousands, and one might have thought that dignity and sincerity should have been the essence of their proceedings. Unfortunately, the dignity and sincerity have been all on one side. The demeanour of the Japanese has been beyond praise. They have shown in the Council the same energy, the same reticence, which they have hitherto displayed in the field. They have gravely attended to the serious question of peace, which brought them to Portsmouth, without attempting to win over to their side the gentlemen of the Press. And let it not be supposed that the distinguished representatives of Russia and Japan are allowed to meet unnoticed. When they arrived at Portsmouth they found 120 special correspondents waiting for them. Baron Komura was by

entente mean to England and to France. From the point of view of amenity, its value can hardly be over-estimated. It is far more agreeable to live on good terms than on evil with our nearest neighbour. At last France and England are well enough acquainted to take their pleasures in common, and to profit by a commercial interchange. The Rue de la Paix, no doubt, rivals Bond Street in satisfaction, and there is no one, either French or English, who will not cross the Channel with a livelier sympathy and a more comfortable mind than heretofore. But we need not incur the disappointment, which will be inevitable, if we attach too great an importance to what is, after all, nothing else than a spontaneous expression of private friendship.

The politics of feeling are seldom permanent, and often misleading. A sudden outburst of sentiment may distort the truth, or wrap the commonest object in an atmosphere of romance. A few days before French and English met at Brest, the whole of France was bending her knee before the shrine of Paul Jones, whose ashes have been sent back to America. She did not ask who Paul Jones was, or what he achieved. She was content to accept the value which the newspapers put upon him, and to believe for the moment that he was a valiant hero, the saviour of his country, and the founder of the American navy. So she permitted his bones to enter the Invalides, and she paid what is left of him the highest honour she could. And

had her wisdom got the better of her feelings, she might have discovered that Paul Jones was no better than a buccaneer, who would have been far more honest had he flown the black flag, and plundered whatever craft he met. Few men have ever been so thickly cloaked in fancy dress. His name was not Jones; he was not an American; he was a fearless marauder, not a leader of men ; and he founded nothing of greater consequence than his own fortune. His exploits off the coast of Scotland were the exploits of a burglar, and they failed; he cared so little for the cause he espoused that he was as ready to fight for Robespierre as he had been to accept the favour of Louis XVI. But France, carried away by her feeling, saw a hero in the ruffian, and once more illustrated the danger of mixing up sentiment with public affairs. In this instance no harm was done. It is not of the smallest consequence where the ashes of Paul Jones are laid, or what opinion is held concerning his exploits. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm which his vague memory evoked is characteristic, and we must not look with too grave an eye upon an attachment in which the heart is more deeply engaged than the head. The interchange of vows, the swapping of hats, the emptying of beerpots, the chanting of national anthems, all take their part in the drama of friendship. But when it comes to the pinch, community of interest is of greater account than them all, and if France and England play a

strong hand together in the Conference which will presently discuss the affairs of Morocco, it will do more to strengthen our alliance than the friendly meetings of many squadrons.

There was, however, one element in the Portsmouth fêtes which must not be forgotten. They have introduced a new character into English diplomacy. The man in the street has been permitted to do his best to affect the fate of nations, and thus democracy has advanced another step in her triumphal progress. Time was when diplomacy was the most silent of the arts. Representatives of rival States met in secret, and in secret discussed the grave affairs of which none but they and their masters had cognisance. Now and again a too pushing journalist waylaid a document, as did Blowitz at Berlin; but breaches of confidence were rare, and the world knew nothing of the deliberations until their result was officially announced. This method of procedure was at once dignified and practical, and we cannot but regret that the people is attempting to usurp the functions of diplomacy. But so long as the French Squadron was in English waters, the Press and the sailors took the matter in hand. At rare intervals, it is true, the discussion was carried to a higher level; but statesmen were easily eclipsed by the crowd, and the journalists had their own way. Portsmouth, indeed, was the paradise of the special correspondent, for whose benefit it seems that all the pageants

of war and peace are arranged. He made of the occasion what he would; and if he heard cheers where there were no cheers, if he overcharged his account with a too ready enthusiasm, he did but act after his kind, and, fortunately, he was powerless to do harm.

At the other Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, the journalist's opportunity was greater and more hazardous. In England we knew what would be the result of the meeting before Admiral Caillard set sail. The representatives of Japan and Russia, on the other the other hand, met in America to perform a delicate and uncertain task. Their decision, had they arrived at one, would have affected the lives and fortunes of many thousands, and one might have thought that dignity and sincerity should have been the essence of their proceedings. Unfortunately, the dignity and sincerity have been all on one side. The demeanour of the Japanese has been beyond praise. They have shown in the Council the same energy, the same reticence, which they have hitherto displayed in the field. They have gravely attended to the serious question of peace, which brought them to Portsmouth, without attempting to win over to their side the gentlemen of the Press. And let it not be supposed that the distinguished representatives of Russia and Japan are allowed to meet unnoticed. When they arrived at Portsmouth they found 120 special correspondents waiting for them. Baron Komura was by

entente mean to England and to France. From the point of view of amenity, its value can hardly be over-estimated. It is far more agreeable to live on good terms than on evil with our nearest neighbour. At last France and England are well enough acquainted to take their pleasures in common, and to profit by a commercial interchange. The Rue de la Paix, no doubt, rivals Bond Street in satisfaction, and there is no one, either French or English, who will not cross the Channel with a livelier sympathy and a more comfortable mind than heretofore. But we need not incur the disappointment, which will be inevitable, if we attach too great an importance to what is, after all, nothing else than a spontaneous expression of private friendship.

The politics of feeling are seldom permanent, and often misleading. A sudden outburst of sentiment may distort the truth, or wrap the commonest object in an atmosphere of romance. A few days before French and English met at Brest, the whole of France was bending her knee before the shrine of Paul Jones, whose ashes have been sent back to America. She did not ask who Paul Jones was, or what he achieved. She was content to accept the value which the newspapers put upon him, and to believe for the moment that he was a valiant hero, the saviour of his country, and the founder of the American navy. So she permitted his bones to enter the Invalides, and she paid what is left of him the highest honour she could. And

had her wisdom got the better of her feelings, she might have discovered that Paul Jones was no better than a buccaneer, who would have been far more honest had he flown the black flag, and plundered whatever craft he met. Few men have ever been so thickly cloaked in fancy dress. His name was not Jones; he was not an American; he was a fearless marauder, not a leader of men; and he founded nothing of greater consequence than his own fortune. His exploits off the coast of Scotland were the exploits of a burglar, and they failed; he cared so little for the cause he espoused that he was as ready to fight for Robespierre as he had been to accept the favour of Louis XVI. But France, carried away by her feeling, saw a hero in the ruffian, and once more illustrated the danger of mixing up sentiment with public affairs. In this instance no harm was done. It is not of the smallest consequence where the ashes of Paul Jones are laid, or what opinion is held concerning his exploits. Nevertheless, the enthusiasm which his vague memory evoked is characteristic, and we must not look with too grave an eye upon an attachment in which the heart is more deeply engaged than the head. The interchange of vows, the swapping of hats, the emptying of beerpots, the chanting of national anthems, all take their part in the drama of friendship. But when it comes to the pinch, community of interest is of greater account than them all, and if France and England play a

[ocr errors]

strong hand together in the Conference which will presently discuss the affairs of Morocco, it will do more to strengthen our alliance than the friendly meetings of many squadrons.

There was, however, one element in the Portsmouth fêtes which must not be forgotten. They have introduced a new character into English diplomacy. The man in the street has been permitted to do his best to affect the fate of nations, and thus democracy has advanced another step in her triumphal progress. Time was when diplomacy was the most silent of the arts. Representatives of rival States met in secret, and in secret discussed the grave affairs of which none but they and their masters had cognisance. Now and again a too pushing journalist waylaid a document, as did Blowitz at Berlin; but breaches of confidence were rare, and the world knew nothing of the deliberations until their result was officially announced. This method of procedure was at once dignified and practical, and we cannot but regret that the people is attempting to usurp the functions of diplomacy.

But

so long as the French Squadron was in English waters, the Press and the sailors took the matter in hand. At rare intervals, it is true, the discussion was carried to a higher level; but statesmen were easily eclipsed by the crowd, and the journalists had their own way. Portsmouth, indeed, was the paradise of the special correspondent, for whose benefit it seems that all the pageants

[blocks in formation]

At the other Portsmouth, in New Hampshire, the journalist's opportunity was greater and more hazardous. more hazardous. In England we knew what would be the result of the meeting before Admiral Caillard set sail. The representatives of Japan and Russia, on the other hand, met in America to perform a delicate and uncertain task. Their decision, had they arrived at one, would have affected the lives and fortunes of many thousands, and one might have thought that dignity and sincerity should have been the essence of their proceedings. Unfortunately, the dignity and sincerity have been all on one side. The demeanour of the Japanese has been beyond praise. They have shown in the Council the same energy, the same reticence, which they have hitherto displayed in the field. They have gravely attended to the serious question of peace, which brought them to Portsmouth, without attempting to win over to their side the gentlemen of the Press. And let it not be supposed that the distinguished representatives of Russia and Japan are allowed

meet unnoticed. When they arrived at Portsmouth they found 120 special correspondents waiting for them. Baron Komura was by

« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »