in natura? Can we defend, on the same lines, the adventurous spirit which has been so characteristic of France's foreign policy under the Bourbons and the House of Orleans, under the Second Empire and the Third Republic? M. Seignobos appears to think that this spirit is an evil legacy from the old régime and the Napoleonic era. He is inclined, we notice, to speak of French diplomatists as though they were a race apart, nurtured in a bad tradition, out of sympathy with democratic principles and aspirations. No doubt, there is a grain of truth in his contention. Diplomacy has afforded a career to many Frenchmen who could, not reconcile themselves to the drudgery, or adapt themselves to the moral code, of parliamentary politics. They have not, however, been on that account less effective as representatives of France. To a foreigner it would appear that the errors of French foreign ministers, and of their professional agents and advisers, have generally sprung from an excessive anxiety to humour the electorate. This was the view both of Lord Palmerston and of Prince Bismarck-two critics who had unusual opportunities of studying French diplomacy in its less amiable aspects. Often as the French elector has been called upon to pay a heavy price for the failure of a spirited policy, he has never been long content with a policy which is tame and safe. A policy which skirts the maëlstrom without actually rushing into it; a policy which is perpetually and visibly scoring little points at the expense of a timid or slow-witted neighbour; which is not satisfied with a plain straightforward bargain, but always obtains for France a little more than France had a right to expect that seems to be the policy which French opinion applauds, until the responsible agents go one step too far, and a humiliating impasse is created. All this is very irritating to the foreign powers with whom France has to deal, but it is the national tradition that a policy of this kind raises the nation in the eyes of Europe, creates an impression of strength and alertness, and secures for France a respectful hearing on any topic international importance. Perhaps, in this case, the stinct of France is not entirely at fault.

Before the Revolution of 1789 the French diplomatist was not embarrassed to the same extent by a popular Vol. 239.-No. 475.

U

demand for immediate and obvious results. In the long run an undistinguished policy would be fatal to a minister of the old régime; but, in the performance of his daily task, the minister had only to satisfy his sovereign who, though he might not be of more than average intelligence, was well informed about the facts of the diplomatic situation, and had been trained in the broad principles of diplomatic strategy. He would, for example, be aware that it is foolish to imperil your main object for the sake of those trifling and ephemeral advantages which are so grateful to the impatient elector or to the hard-pressed parliamentary statesman. Consequently it was safe for a minister of the old régime to frame a far-reaching design and to pursue it deliberately with a single mind. Talleyrand had been trained in this school, and by virtue of its training secured some remarkable successes at the Congress of Vienna, acting upon instructions which he himself had drafted, and reporting on questions of real moment only to Louis XVIII. In 1830 and 1831, when he represented France at the Congress of London, and helped to decide the destinies of Belgium, he was working under very different conditions. Louis Philippe, who trusted Talleyrand implicitly, could only correspond with him by stealth; for Louis Philippe was a constitutional king, bound to be guided by his constitutional advisers, of whom Talleyrand was not one. He could not always protect Talleyrand against a foreign minister who was itching to annex odds and ends of Belgian territory, who hoped to make the new Belgian State dependent upon France. Talleyrand, whose one object was to detach Belgium from Holland, and so to effect a breach in the Vienna settlement, chafed and fumed at the interference of his foreign office; but he could not always refuse to obey its instructions; and when he did obey, his annoyance was more than justified by the effect which its inopportune claims produced upon his colleagues. 'It really disgusts one,' wrote Palmerston, 'to see the government of a great country, in a great crisis of affairs, when such great interests are at stake, scram bling and intriguing for such pitiful objects as the ruined castle of Bouillon and its circumjacent territories.'

Talleyrand possessed the technical skill of the old

school. He also inherited the strictly continental aims which were fashionable under Louis XVI. In those days the old schemes of conquest and settlement in Asia and America had been condemned as radically unsound. What was the advantage of founding new factories in the East or new colonies in the West, which England would infallibly appropriate when it was worth her while? France would do better to cultivate a garden nearer home. Natural frontiers and a just equilibrium of Europe-with the balance inclining ever so slightly to the side of France-were more reasonable objects. In this theory Talleyrand remained unshaken through the Napoleonic era. Writing of that era in retrospect, he says that the Emperor failed through not knowing where to halt. He could have made a lasting settlement with the Allies either in 1803 or in 1807. At either date he might have kept all the new territory that had been incorporated with France since the outbreak of the Revolution-the Austrian Netherlands, Piedmont and Savoy, and the Left Bank from the Dutch frontier up to Bâle. That, Talleyrand thought, would have been a reasonable settlement; and the Allies would have been thankful for it. In 1807, if the settlement had been delayed till that year, some supplementary adjustments would have been desirable. A real kingdom of Poland and a real kingdom of Italy should have been created; and Germany should have been partitioned between Austria and Prussia. Here we have the classical system expounded, in the form of a criticism on the past, for the benefit of the French statesmen of the future. Under the restored House of Bourbon a more modest programme was inevitable; and after 1815 the advice of Talleyrand to Louis XVIII and also to Louis Philippe, was that France must begin by recovering her 'liberty of action.' One way of furthering this aim was to sow dissensions in the camp of the Allies, to combine with England and Austria against Russia and Prussia, or with England alone against the other three. Other methods were to esist the expansion of Austria's influence in Italy, to Cultivate the friendship of Sardinia, to secure for Belgium status of independence and perpetual neutrality.

Talleyrand was out of office from 1815 to 1830, and even during his London mission (1830-34) his influence on

French policy was intermittent. Long before his death a younger generation of French diplomatists was working on new lines to obtain the 'liberty of action' which he desired. In 1823 Villèle and Chateaubriand opened the era of those theatrical excursions which Palmerston called anconades. First came the invasion of Spain to restore the Bourbon monarchy and suppress the Liberal revolution. Next an expeditionary force was sent to police the Greek peninsula. Then followed the attack upon Algiers, which gradually became a war of conquest. Finally, Casimir Perier astonished Europe by sending troops to Ancona, and claiming an equal voice with Austria in the pacification of the Pope's rebellious territories. The first two of these expeditions were sanctioned by some at least of the Powers, as conducing to the peace of Europe. The last two were intended to assert the right of liberty of action' in the most absolute sense, and served no interests but those of France. All four had this feature in common, that they helped to make France more influential in the Mediterranean. Here, at least, it seemed, France could display her military strength, and exercise her inexperienced troops, without provoking simultaneously all the Powers of the Quadruple Alliance. A Mediterranean policy might sometimes exasperate Great Britain, and sometimes Russia; but these two rivals were not likely to draw together very often, or to remain together very long. More often than not it would be possible to play off one of them against the other.

This programme was not easy to reconcile with the Anglo-French entente which Talleyrand had negotiated and which Louis Philippe was anxious to maintain; but it was a popular programme, and in 1839 Thiers extended it to cover Syria and Egypt. He came to an understanding with Mehemet Ali behind the backs of all the other Powers. French good offices were to save the Pasha from the humiliation of evacuating Syria. In the event of opposition from England, the navies of France and Egypt were to co-operate in the Levant. France was to receive economic privileges in the Pasha's dominions. Palmerston, however, learned of the intrigue in time, and parried it by his Four-Power Treaty of London which settled the Egyptian question without regard to

the views of France. Thiers found himself on the brink of war, and would perhaps have gone to war if the final decision had lain in his own hands. As it lay with Louis Philippe the peace was preserved, and Thiers retired from office; but his discomfiture did not restore cordial relations between England and France. In future our statesmen watched with acute uneasiness the smallest move of France in Mediterranean affairs. Until 1851 we refused to recognise French sovereignty in Algeria. We suspected the existence of French designs against Tunis and Morocco. We treated the Spanish marriages, in 1845, as affairs of far-reaching moment; we assumed that a Prince-consort of French blood could ruin all our interests in the Iberian peninsula. We incurred some odium and much ridicule by sending our fleet to redress the wrongs of Don Pacifico (1850), simply because we believed him to be the victim of French intrigues at the court of Athens.

These apprehensions survived into the period of the Second Empire. Napoleon III made common cause with England in the Crimean War, only to desert her at the Conference of Paris, in which he sometimes behaved as though his only interest was to propitiate the Tsar. Moreover, one at least of the apologies which he offered to the world for his share in the war was that France could not tolerate the creation of a Russian navy with bases in the Eastern Mediterranean. That was a prospect which we too disliked; but we were bound to ask ourselves whether Russia was the only power that France desired to elbow out of the Egean. Napoleon III spoke quite frankly to Bismarck on this subject in 1857. Je ne dis pas que je veux faire de la Mediterranée un lac français, mais pourtant à peu près He did not talk in this vein to Lord Cowley, our ambassador in Paris; but he alarmed both Cowley and Palmerston by submitting to them a scheme for the partition of North Africa England to take Egypt, Victor Emanuel to take Tunis, Morocco to be

la même chose.'*

the portion reserved for France. As Palmerston pointed Out, the proposal was not only an outrage on political morality; it was also an insult to our common sense :

* 'Grosse Politik,' vi, 103.