writer on this subject in the 9th edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica to say that “it would be an historical absurdity to suppose diplomatic relations connecting together China, Burma and Japan, as they connect the great European powers.”
Principles.—Though diplomacy has been usually treated under the head of international law, it would perhaps be more consonant with the facts to place international law under diplomacy. The principles and rules governing the intercourse of states, defined by a long succession of international lawyers, have no sanction save the consensus of the powers, established and maintained by diplomacy (see Balance of Power); in so far as they have become, by international agreement, more than mere pious opinions of theorists, they are working rules established for mutual convenience, which it is the function of diplomacy to safeguard or to use for its own ends. In any case they by no means cover the whole field of diplomatic activity; and, were they swept away, the art of diplomacy, developed through long ages of experience, would survive.
This experience may perhaps be called the science, as distinct from the art, of diplomacy. It covers not only the province of international law, but the vast field of recorded experience which we know as history, of which indeed international law is but a part; for, as Bielfeld in his Institutions politiques (La Haye, 1760, t. I. ch. ii. § 13) points out, “public law is founded on facts. To know it we must know history, which is the soul of this science as of politics in general.” The broad outlook on human affairs implied in “historical sense” is more necessary to the diplomatist under modern conditions than in the 18th century, when international policy was still wholly under the control of princes and their immediate advisers. Diplomacy was then a game of wits played in a narrow circle. Its objects too were narrower; for states were practically regarded as the property of their sovereigns, which it was the main function of their “agents” to enlarge or to protect, while scarcely less important than the preservation or rearrangement of territorial boundaries was that of precedence and etiquette generally, over which an incredible amount of time was wasted. The haute diplomatie thus resolved itself into a process of exalted haggling, conducted with an utter disregard of the ordinary standards of morality, but with the most exquisite politeness and in accordance with ever more and more elaborate rules. Much of the outcome of these dead debates has become stereotyped in the conventions of the diplomatic service; but the character of diplomacy itself has undergone a great change. This change is threefold: firstly, as the result of the greater sense of the community of interests among nations, which was one of the outcomes of the French Revolution; secondly, owing to the rise of democracy, with its expression in parliamentary assemblies and in the press; thirdly, through the alteration in the position of the diplomatic agent, due to modern means of communication.
The first of these changes may be dated to the circular of Count Kaunitz of the 17th of July 1791, in which, in face of the Revolution, he impressed upon the powers the duty of making common cause for the purpose of preserving “public peace, the tranquillity of states, the inviolability of possessions, and the faith of treaties.” The duty of watching over the common interests of Europe, or of the world, was thus for the first time officially recognized as a function of diplomacy, since common action could only be taken as the result of diplomatic negotiations. It would be easy to exaggerate the effective results of this idea, even when it had crystallized in the Grand Alliance of 1814 and been proclaimed to the world in the Holy Alliance of the 26th of September 1815 and the declaration of Aix-la-Chapelle. The cynical picture given by La Bruyère of the diplomatist of the 18th century still remained largely true: “His talk is only of peace, of alliances, of the public tranquillity, and of the public interests; in reality he is thinking only of his own, that is to say, of those of his master or of his republic.”[1] The proceedings of the congress of Vienna proved how little the common good weighed unless reinforced by particular interests; but the conception of “Europe” as a political entity none the less survived. The congresses, notably the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle (q.v.) in 1818, were in a certain sense European parliaments, and their ostensible object was the furtherance of common interests. Had the imperial dreamer Alexander I. of Russia had his way, they would have been permanently established on the broad basis of the Holy Alliance, and would have included, not the great powers only, but representatives of every state (see Alexander I. and Europe: History). Whatever the effective value of that “Concert of Europe” which was the outcome of the period of the congresses, it certainly produced a great effect on the spirit and the practice of diplomacy. In the congresses and conferences diplomacy assumes international functions both legislative and administrative. The diplomat is responsible, not only to his own government, but to “Europe.” Thus Castlereagh was accused of subordinating the interests of Great Britain to those of Europe; and the same charge was brought, perhaps with greater justice, against Metternich in respect of Austria. Canning’s principle of “Every nation for itself and God for us all!” prevailed, it is true, over that of Alexander’s “Confederation of Europe”; yet, as one outcome of the congresses, every diplomatic agent, though he represents the interests of his own state, has behind him the whole body of the treaties which constitute the public law of the world, of which he is in some sort the interpreter and the guardian.
Parallel with this development runs the second process making for change: the increasing responsibility of diplomacy to public opinion. To discuss all the momentous issues involved in this is impossible; but the subject is too important to be altogether passed over, since it is one of the main problems of modern international intercourse, and concerns every one who by his vote may influence the policy of the state to which he belongs. The question, broadly speaking, is: how far has the public discussion of international affairs affected the legitimate functions of diplomacy for better or for worse? To the diplomatist of the old school the answer seems clear. For him diplomacy was too delicate and too personal an art to survive the glare and confusion of publicity. Metternich, the last representative of the old haute diplomatie, lived to moralize over the ruin caused by the first manifestations of the “new diplomacy,” the outcome of the rise of the power of public opinion. He had early, from his own point of view, unfavourably contrasted the “limited” constitutional monarchies of the west with the “free” autocracies of the east of Europe, free because they were under no obligation to give a public account of their actions. He himself was a master of the old diplomatic art, of intrigue, of veiling his purpose under a cloud of magniloquence, above all, of the art of personal fascination. But public opinion was for him only a dangerous force to be kept under control; and, even had he realized the necessity for appealing to it, he had none of the qualities that would have made the appeal successful. In direct antagonism to him was George Canning, who may be called the great prototype of the “new diplomacy,” and to Metternich was a “malevolent meteor hurled by divine providence upon Europe.” Canning saw clearly the immense force that would be added to his diplomatic action if he had behind him the force of public opinion. In answer to Metternich’s complaint of the tone of speeches in parliament and of the popular support given in England to revolutionary movements, he wrote, “Our influence, if it is to be maintained abroad, must be secure in its sources of strength at home: and the sources of that strength are in the sympathy between the people and the government; in the union of the public sentiment with the public counsels; in the reciprocal confidence of the House of Commons and the crown.”[2]
It would be a mistake to jump to the conclusion that Canning was wholly right and Metternich wholly wrong. The conditions of the Habsburg monarchy were not those of Great Britain,[3] and even if it had been possible to speak of a public opinion in the Austrian empire at all, it certainly possessed no such organ as the British parliament. But the argument may be carried yet
- ↑ La Bruyère, Caractères, ii. 77 (ed. P. Jouast, Paris, 1881).
- ↑ To Wellesley, in Stapleton’s Canning, i. 374.
- ↑ For the motives of Metternich’s foreign policy see Austria-Hungary: History (iii. 332-333).
