Europe in the Melting Pot: With Some Notes on French Statesmen

I

RATHER foolishly asking an American visitor to Paris what America was thinking, I received the well-deserved reply: ‘But America is not a country — it is a continent!’ What is true of the Pacific seaboard may not be at all true of the Atlantic littoral. And so Americans, who are inclined to generalize about Europe, should remember always that Europe, like Walt Whitman, is large and contains multitudes. Each nation has its own point of view, which often differs entirely from the point of view of other nations. There is at this moment absolutely no European idea; Europe has no purpose, but has a dozen contradictory purposes.

Nor is it true to say that Europe is definitely divided up into settled hostile camps. The European schism of which we sometimes hear is a schism whose frontiers are unfixed and protean. This power to-day is on the side of that power; but to-morrow it may be on the side of the other power. Europe — thy name is fluidity! Fickleness — thy name is Europe! Nobody except one of those dogmatic persons who write predictions in the newspapers, in the sure and certain hope that they will be forgotten before they are falsified by events, would venture to declare how the chief nations will range up. What it is possible to say is that the present alignment is not a permanent alignment; but what the permanent alignment will be, or even whether there can be a permanent alignment, no statesman can say. Things may turn out altogether differently from what may be now imagined.

It is, at a given moment, comparatively easy to suppose that the Entente between France and England will cease, and that England will take her stand with Germany. It is facile to picture a Russo-German alliance. It is the fashion to deplore the isolation of France. But all this is gratuitous assumption. Because it is likely at a certain instant, it does not follow that it will be likely an instant later. The wheel is constantly turning. In the whirligig of time are many reverses. It would be just as reasonable to suppose France and Germany allied against Russia and England; and whoever may scoff at the notion may live to repent.

In most speculations about Europe far too much is taken for granted. There are subtle and hidden factors which are operating, and the diplomatist who knows most is the diplomatist who confesses that he knows nothing of the future. I make these remarks by way of reaction against the rapid crystallization of notions that have only a superficial justification. When you have as many countries as there are cards in a pack, it is the height of folly to pretend to know how they will be shuffled. For example, who has paid the smallest attention to the Scandinavian countries? And yet these Scandinavian countries are destined to have an immense influence on the European situation. I wish that somebody would study and work out the effect of them upon the general scheme.

It is usually thought that the Baltic States are doomed to disappear when Russia recovers; but surely there is a considerable chance that they will form a lasting buttress against Russia. Generally men shake their heads about Poland, believing that Poland must be crushed between the upper and the nether millstones of Russia and Germany; but why should not Poland work in friendly coöperation with Germany on the one hand, or with Russia on the other, or even with both? Her present attitude undoubtedly is not her final attitude, and already one may detect a weakening of the ties which bind her politically to France, whose outpost she is represented to be. Can anyone prophesy what will happen to the Petite Entente? Is Czechoslovakia with France or with England, or is she seeking to make terms with her great Slav neighbor?

And Italy? Where does she stand? Will she compose her quarrel with France? or will she reach out through Austria, whom she no longer fears, to Germany, whose ally she once was? Will Austria, in spite of artificial and arbitrary injunctions of treaties, join up with Germany? What will be her ultimate relations with Hungary? Will Hungary and Rumania, forgetting their differences, find it desirable to make common cause against Bolshevism? And in the Balkans, properly socalled, what combinations will be formed? Will Greece look east or west? Will Yugoslavia continue to scowl across the Adriatic at a frowning Italy?

I could give the conventional answers to these and to many other questions, but I do not guarantee that the conventional answers are the right answers. On the contrary, I believe that, in all probability, what appears probable will prove improbable.

In short, it has become necessary to issue a warning against the diagrammatic statements of diplomatic writers who solemnly draw and color the map of Europe, but who will find that the map will not keep still and that the colors will run.

Europe is in flux. Europe is in the melting pot. No one can tell what the new Europe will be like. Polish boundaries are still unmarked; and disputed provinces, like Bessarabia, constitute terrible danger-points.

II

Nevertheless, some tendencies may be set down; and, above all, it is useful to consider the character of a few typical European statesmen. I have already, in the Atlantic Monthly, drawn some portraits of French politicians; but I may add to the gallery some croquis of M. Poincaré, M. Tardieu, M. Barthou, and M. Caillaux.

When M. Poincaré came to power, the British Government and the British press were quite openly against him. Never did he receive the smallest official or unofficial assistance. Everything that could be done to make his task harder was done. This, in my opinion, was a mistake. The personality of M. Poincaré may not be found pleasant, and Mr. Lloyd George is essentially a man who is moved by prejudices. He has almost a feminine sensibility. He has likes and dislikes. M. Poincaré was one of his dislikes. The result was that, if he did not personally oppose M. Poincaré, — so far as a minister in one country can oppose a minister in another country, — his henchmen and his tame writers, taking their cue from him, did so. The French Premier had to struggle against this antagonism. Rarely have I seen anything more foolish in diplomacy. M. Poincaré was forced into a false position. He was compelled to proceed to extremes which he would have wished to avoid.

The day when France will accept the dictation of another country as to her Prime Minister or her Foreign Minister is over. Frenchmen remember the fate of M. Delcassé, virtually dismissed because Germany demanded his head. If Mr. Lloyd George desired to carry out his plans, he would have been wiser to persuade M. Poincaré to go along with him, and to set aside his personal antipathy. It is, unfortunately, true that these personal antipathies play an important part in foreign affairs. How absurd! Beyond M. Poincaré, beyond Mr. Lloyd George, beyond any other person who happens to be invested with authority, is the nation. Over these petty quarrels of individuals, is the cause of humanity. While sympathizing very much with many of the aims of Mr. Lloyd George, the present writer was led to believe that he was ‘not big enough,’ by nothing so much as this personal feud and resentment against M. Poincaré.

The French statesman, by general British consent, was described as the French Kaiser, and was depicted in a Prussian spiked helmet, ready to unsheathe his glittering sword, and to shake a menacing mailed fist. The truth is, of course, that M. Poincaré (in a figurative as well as literal sense) wears a shining silk hat and white kid gloves, and for weapon carries only the bourgeois umbrella of a prudent life. M. Poincaré will never be understood unless it is recognized that his violence is chiefly verbal — and is a very methodic violence, full of reservations.

His mind is the mind of the cautious lawyer. On nearly every occasion that I have seen him, he has spoken of ‘Article so-and-so,’and has interpreted texts. In procedure he is inimitable. Were he pleading in a court of law, there is no point that he would miss. His technical skill is remarkable; and were diplomacy purely a thing of juridic intelligence, M. Poincaré would be the greatest diplomatist I have ever met. The Poincaré method, however, breaks down in this — that he has to execute his own judgments. He cannot, having made his plea, pick up his portfolio and leave the court, knowing that an official will carry out decisions with which he has nothing more to do. He is his own court, his own advocate, and his own bailiff.

I do not mean that M. Poincaré is incapable of real energy, but merely that, if he lacks any quality, it is the quality of forgetting his documents, of disregarding his texts, and of taking action. Living facts do not always present the same appeal to him as to Mr. Lloyd George, who, on the other hand, is far too much inclined to overlook legal and logical rights.

III

There are pressing M. Poincaré, on opposite sides, M. Tardieu and M. Barthou. M. Tardieu is certainly one of the cleverest politicians in France, and if his day is not yet, it will come. His personality is perhaps not altogether sympathique. He is somewhat too conscious of what he knows. He marshals his facts and his figures clearly and irresistibly — and yet one is not convinced: one is rather annoyed at his rightness, which is a still more rigid rightness than that of M. Poincaré. He makes less progress than he might otherwise make because he is regarded by Parliament as too much of a superior person. One respects a man whose arguments are water-tight and ironbound; but one likes better the man who comes down to our level and is a jovial virtuoso. M. Tardieu endeavors to be mathematically correct and omniscient, whereas a man like Mr. Lloyd George depends upon intuitive judgment and is not afraid of lightly leaping over chasms of ignorance. After all, in politics it is the light leaper who goes farthest.

Strongly in M . Tardieu’s favor is his utter loyalty to M. Clemenceau, his master and mentor. It was M. Clemenceau who gave him his chance, and he will not desert the old Tiger because the jackals are baying at his flanks. France, like other countries, is deplorably ungrateful to her politicians. When M. Clemenceau was in power, everybody fawned at his feet. When he fell, his popularity vanished in a night. The Tarpeian Rock is still near to the Capitol. But when M. Clemenceau was friendless, M. Tardieu remained his friend. In good and bad report he stood by him and by his treaty. M. Tardieu will see no fault or flaw in the treaty. He demands the treaty, the whole treaty, and nothing but the treaty. If matters have not turned out as was expected, if disappointment and disillusionment have followed, that is because the treaty is a ‘perpetual becoming.’ Its virtue lies in its proper application. The bad workman always complains of his tools.

In the triangular duel, M. Barthou takes up his corner as in the famous scene of Captain Marryat. That M. Barthou possesses ability of a high order, though not of the highest order, is not to be questioned. But he is to be placed rather in his relations to others, than on his own footing. I can best illustrate this point by saying that, when M. Briand was Prime Minister, M. Barthou was regarded as his possible successor because he was more conservative; and when M. Poincaré was Prime Minister, M. Barthou was considered his possible successor because he was more liberal. He is a man who, in default of being chief, must for safety’s sake be made a lieutenant — and even then safety is not necessarily secured. He will show up as more this or more that against the background of his chief; and according to which point of the triangle his chief occupies, will he appear conservative or liberal. With a man of the Right he will seem to be to the Left, and with a man of the Left he will seem to be to the Right; and so will he always have his supporters, always will he have rosy prospects, always will he commend himself to the inevitable adversary of Left or Right— but always will he fail to obtain the entire confidence of the Chamber.

IV

What does the future hold for M. Joseph Caillaux? M. Caillaux has undoubtedly become extremely active once more; and, in spite of the ban which is placed upon this one-time leader of the Radical Party, he is still to be reckoned with. For many years, according to the judgment of the High Court of the Senate, he is condemned to lose his political rights. It will be remembered that his conduct during the war was considered to be antipatriotic. He believed that the war might, or ought to, have been ended sooner. He adumbrated an eventual rapprochement with Germany. He was understood to be against a policy which committed France for a long period to British tutelage. It is not necessary to state precisely the charges which were brought against him — indeed, it would be difficult to state them except in these general terms. But at any rate, rightly or wrongly, he was found guilty by the High Court and may not even live in, or visit, Paris. He may not even be elected on the local comice agricole — which is hardly a political body. Thus, if the sentence stands, he is excluded altogether from political life until he reaches an age when he would, in any event, normally retire from the arena. And yet, it cannot be denied that there is some suggestion that he will return.

There is nothing to stop him from writing. He is writing books, and he is writing in the journals. His books have real force, and are taken by his admirers to show that he has not lost his grip of finance. Now it so happens that, in the long run, when all the political controversies shall have died down, it is the finances of France which will demand serious attention. Finance Minister after Finance Minister comes and goes; and as yet there is no hint of the solution of France’s problem. There are many people who hold that no first-rate politician, who is capable of tackling the true central question, has emerged, and that M. Caillaux in his seclusion is the man to whom France will ultimately have recourse.

Personally, I am inclined to doubt the validity of such indications. Not until the Bloc National disappears, not until the Radical Party is again predominant, can the verdict against M. Caillaux be quashed. And I am bound to say that the chances of the Radical Party are not as bright as is often represented. One cannot be dogmatic; but unless the financial crash of which many folk love to talk is nearer than I can imagine, the Bloc National will continue to rule the roost. Even assuming that the Radicals come back, there would be inevitable objections, due to jealousy, due to lack of courage, to any revision of the old sentence. Other leaders have come to the front, who would make way reluctantly for M. Caillaux, who is an impetuous, somewhat supercilious, overbearing, and sharp-tempered man. However this may be, it would be well not to leave M. Caillaux completely out of the reckoning, for an unexpected turn of the wheel would bring him and his policy, which implies a FrancoGerman economic accord, back into effective international life.

V

Probably it is true that the real trend of the world is toward the Left — that is to say toward liberalism. But we must not exaggerate the speed of the movement. One may find that many institutions which are regarded as bulwarks of the Reaction have disappeared and are disappearing; but it does not necessarily follow that with them vanish tyranny and obtuseness. If one looks around Europe to-day, one will find many ruined thrones. But what of that? The kings depart — but not the captains, and not the capitalists. The Tsar, the Kaiser, the Emperor of Austria, and many minor monarchs, no longer reign. Is therefore Russia less oppressed? Are the people of Germany freer? Is not Hungary notoriously governed by a military caste? And though England retains her King and her House of Lords, while France long ago became a republic, is it not a French publicist, M. Jacques Bainville, who boldly cries: ‘Let us frankly take up our position as the most reactionary country in the world! ’ I do not accept his estimate, but it indicates sufficiently that it is not so-called proletarian rule, or so-called bourgeois rule, or so-called aristocratic rule, or so-called military rule, that makes the difference to the happiness of a people. Apparently the real ruler everywhere is Big Business. It is in economic terms that one is obliged to speak. I recall the expression of Camille Desmoulins, when he dissociated himself from the Terrorists of his time: ‘No, Liberty is not a courtesan of the Opera, it is not a Phrygian cap, a dirty shirt, and rags.’ Communism has found that out and has been found out.

Indeed it is difficult, if one looks closely at the European situation, to discover genuine signs of a movement to the Left. England is certainly trying to escape from the vicious circle of the treaty she fashioned for her own imprisonment. Mr. Lloyd George is describing the attempt in moral phrases. But the purpose is not moral. It is purely economic. The fact is, that there are electoral problems and there are unemployed problems. France is thinking, above all, of her budget, and of taxation, and of the bankruptcy which many Cassandras are crying. Russia is preoccupied with reconstruction, but is not willing to make doctrinal concessions. Germany is clearly wondering how she can escape from the burden of reparations. Italy is concerned about her want of coal and the general industrial depression. Austria is asking how she can live. Other countries are anxious, either to stick to the economic as well as the territorial gains they have acquired, or to recover those which they have lost. Look where you will, it is the economic equation which matters; and, as the profit of one country is the loss of another, they are all at sixes and sevens. It should be candidly acknowledged that the motives everywhere are egotistic. The thing is, to find the common denominator. What is to the interest of all? If only they could see it, the good of their neighbor is their own good, and trade freely flowing may be found to be the unifying and pacifying factor. In my view, it is the only hope of peace; but unfortunately commerce has two faces. It may divide, or it may knit together. At present it divides.

Two commodities which are necessary to industry are the objects, of strife and are determining the political currents in Europe. One is coal and the other is oil. It is better to face the facts with complete frankness. While it would be foolish to deny that there are purely political problems, they are dominated by these economic problems. Whatever subject was discussed at Genoa, every delegate was thinking about oil. Russia is, from the international standpoint, chiefly remarkable as an oil field which may become a battlefield. Truth, it is said, lies at the bottom of a well — but it is an oil well. When it can be decided, to the general advantage of Russia, England, America, and France, how and by whom the oil resources of the great land are to be exploited and to whom these riches are to be allocated, the Russian enigma will be largely solved. If only this could be got out of the way, the rest would be easy. Obviously the fight is chiefly between America and British interests, with France playing the part of honest broker. Apparently, France has given up thought of herself taking a leading part in the working of the oil wells; but If she is more or less disinterested, she nevertheless sees political advantages as well as material advantages in supporting this or that company, this or that country. I do not intend to do more than to indicate that here is one of the keys to European politics.

The second key is coal. If Russia may be described as an oil-problem, Germany may be described as a coalproblem. Here France is intensely interested. Without discounting what I have already written in respect of France, I may add that, in addition to purely financial considerations, there is also this broader economic consideration. Of two things, one: either France must come to a peaceable arrangement with Germany, by which the iron ore of Lorraine is exchanged against the coal of the Ruhr or smelted in Ruhr furnaces, or France must obtain forceful possession of the Ruhr, if she is to make the most of the great windfall of iron ore she has obtained in Lorraine. To obtain control of the Ruhr is to obtain a double profit. Not only is the German metallurgical industry ruined, but the French metallurgical industry is placed in the most favorable situation.

Here, however, is where French interests come up against, not only the interests of Germany but the interests of England, who has hitherto led the way in coal and iron. It is possible that, if French military operations in Westphalia resulted only in the destruction of the German metallurgical industry, England would be able to look on with some indifference. But it is impossible that the definite superiority of France in these vital possessions should not arouse alarm in England. France already holds the most abundant deposits of iron in Europe. It would be too much that she should also have an incontestable advantage in coal.

Thus, besides the masses of the British people afflicted by unemployment, Mr. Lloyd George can command the support of the magnates of industry and the coal-owners, when he opposes the invasion of Westphalia. The enterprise, it has been pointed out, would be as dangerous for England as for Germany. Now, France is not and never has been keen upon making the most of the opportunity that is offered her; but in view of so much provocation from Germany, and from those who unthinkingly denounced the Entente in England, the ranks of the more adventurous capitalists in France are strengthened. No such midsummer madness has ever been known in European politics as the tactics of English men and parties who would break with France, instead of remaining with her at any cost and thus serving to check the transports of the extremists. I repeat that there was never any demand for the occupation of the Ruhr until there were stupid voices raised in England for the smashing of the Entente and the abandonment of France.

Nothing will ever be accomplished until all these cards are placed on the table and the international situation is regarded, not so much as a moral problem (for alas! much masquerading morality and canting humanitarianism have served only to camouflage, but not to conceal, the real issue), but as an economic problem — an economic conflict in which nobody will win if regard is had only to individual interests. An equitable arrangement will result in the salvation of Europe. A continuation of the struggle will result in the beggary of everyone.

If the movement to the Left in the world at large is not so swift as is represented, neither is it in France in particular. First, it is by no means certain that the Radicals in 1924 will triumph over the Bloc National; and second, it will be seen that, in the nature of the case, the Radicals, when they get down to essential things, can adopt no other attitude than does the Bloc National. M. Herriot, who, since the eclipse of M. Caillaux, is the Radical leader, or M. Painlevé, who is a sincere Radical, who has been, and may again be, Prime Minister, is obliged to take account of these implications if the attitude of England remains what it has become. Once it becomes an economic battle instead of an economic accord for coöperative purpose, the cleavage must grow deeper and wider. There may be devil’s broth brewing in the melting pot in which Europe is seething.