CHAPTER XV
INTERNATIONAL POLITICS
The Villa Mimosa flamed with lights from the top story to theground-floor. The entrance gates stood wide-open. All along the drive,lamps flashed from unsuspected places beneath the yellow-floweringtrees. One room only seemed shrouded in darkness and mystery, and aroundthat one room was concentrated the tense life of the villa. Thickcurtains had been drawn with careful hands. The heavy door had beensecurely closed. The French-windows which led out on to the balcony hadbeen almost barricaded. The four men who were seated around the ovaltable had certainly secured for themselves what seemed to be a completeand absolute isolation. Yet there was, nevertheless, a sense ofuneasiness, an indescribable air of tension in the atmosphere. Thequartette had somehow the appearance of conspirators who had not settleddown to their work. It was the last arrival, the man who sat at Mr.Grex's right hand, who was responsible for the general unrest.
Mr. Grex moved a little nervously in the chair which he had just drawnup to the table. He looked towards Draconmeyer as he opened theproceedings.
"Monsieur Douaille," he said, "has come to see us this evening at my ownurgent request. Before we commence any sort of discussion, he has askedme to make it distinctly understood to you both--to you, Mr.Draconmeyer, and to you, Herr Selingman--that this is not in any senseof the word a formal meeting or convention. We are all here, as ithappens, by accident. Our friend Selingman, for instance, who is a pastmaster in the arts of pleasant living, has not missed a season here formany years. Draconmeyer is also an habitue. I myself, it is true, havespent my winters elsewhere, for various reasons, and am comparatively astranger, but my visit here was arranged many months ago. You yourself,Monsieur Douaille, are a good Parisian, and no good Parisian should misshis yearly pilgrimages to the Mecca of the pleasure-seeker. We meettogether this evening, therefore, purely as friends who have a commoninterest at heart."
The man from whom this atmosphere of nervousness radiated--a man ofmedium height, inclined towards corpulence, with small grey imperial, athin red ribbon in his buttonhole, and slightly prominentfeatures--promptly intervened. He had the air of a man whollyill-at-ease. All the time Mr. Grex had been speaking, he had beendrumming upon the table with his forefinger.
"Precisely! Precisely!" he exclaimed. "Above all things, that must beunderstood. Ours is a chance meeting. My visit in these parts is in noway connected with the correspondence I have had with one of our friendshere. Further," Monsieur Douaille continued impressively, "it must bedistinctly understood that any word I may be disposed to utter, eitherin the way of statement or criticism, is wholly and entirely unofficial.I do not even know what the subject of our discussion is to be. Iapproach it with the more hesitation because I gather, from some slighthint which has fallen from our friend here, that it deals with a schemewhich, if ever it should be carried into effect, is to the disadvantageof a nation with whom we are at present on terms of the greatestfriendship. My presence here, except on the terms I have stated," heconcluded, his voice shaking a little, "would be an unpardonable offenceto that country."
Monsieur Douaille's somewhat laboured explanation did little to lightenthe atmosphere. It was the genius of Herr Selingman which intervened. Heleaned back in his chair and he patted his waistcoat thoughtfully.
"I have things to say," he declared, "but I cannot say them. I havenothing to smoke--no cigarette, no cigar. I arrive here choked withdust. As yet, the circumstance seems to have escaped our host's notice.Ah! what is that I see?" he added, rising suddenly to his feet. "Myhost, you are acquitted. I look around the table here at which I aminvited to seat myself, and I perceive nothing but a few stumpy pens andunappetising blotting-paper. By chance I lift my eyes. I see the partingof the curtains yonder, and behold!"
He rose and crossed the room, throwing back a curtain at the furtherend. In the recess stood a sideboard, laden with all manner of liqueursand wines, glasses of every size and shape, sandwiches, pasties, andfruit. Herr Selingman stood on one side with outstretched hand, in themanner of a showman. He himself was wrapped for a moment in admiration.
"For you others I cannot speak," he observed, surveying the label upon abottle of hock. "For myself, here is nectar."
With careful fingers he drew the cork. At a murmured word of invitationfrom Mr. Grex, the others rose from their places and also helpedthemselves from the sideboard. Selingman took up his position in thecentre of the hearth-rug, with a long tumbler of yellow wine in one handand a sandwich in the other.
"For myself," he continued, taking a huge bite, "I wage war against allformality. I have been through this sort of thing in Berlin. I have beenthrough it in Vienna, I have been through it in Rome. I have sat at longtables with politicians, have drawn little pictures upon theblotting-paper and been bored to death. In wearisome fashion we havedrafted agreements, we have quarrelled and bickered, we have yawned andmade of ourselves men of parchment. But to-night," he added, takinganother huge bite from his sandwich, "to-night nothing of that sort isintended. Draconmeyer and I have an idea. Mr. Grex is favourablyinclined towards it. That idea isn't a bit of good to ourselves or anyone else unless Monsieur Douaille here shares our point of view. Here weare, then, all met together--let us hope for a week or two's enjoyment.Little by little we must try and see what we can do towards instillingthat idea into the mind of Monsieur Douaille. We may succeed, we mayfail, but let us always remember that our conversations are theconversations of four friends, met together upon what is nothing more orless than a holiday. I hate the sight of those sheets of blotting-paperand clean pens. Who wants to make notes, especially of what we are goingto talk about! The man who cannot carry notes in his head is nostatesman."
Monsieur Douaille, who had chosen champagne and was smoking a cigarette,beamed approval. Much of his nervousness had departed.
"I agree," he declared, "I like well the attitude of our friendSelingman. There is something much too formal about this table. I am nothere to talk treaties or to upset them. To exchange views, if youwill--no more. Meanwhile, I appreciate this very excellent champagne,the cigarettes are delicious, and I remove myself to this easy-chair. Ifany one would talk world politics, I am ready. Why not? Why should wepretend that there is any more interesting subject to men likeourselves, in whom is placed the trust of our country?"
Mr. Grex nodded his head in assent.
"The fault is mine," he declared, "but, believe me, it was notintentional. It was never my wish to give too formal an air to ourlittle meeting--in fact I never intended to do more than dwell on theoutside edge of great subjects to-night. Unfortunately, MonsieurDouaille, neither you nor I, whatever our power or influence may be, aredirectly responsible for the foreign affairs of our countries. We can,therefore, speak with entire frankness. Our countries--your country andmine--are to-day bound together by an alliance. You have something whichalmost approaches an alliance with another country. I am going to tellyou in plain words what I think you have been given to understandindirectly many times during the last few years--that understanding isnot approved of in St. Petersburg."
Monsieur Douaille knocked the ash from his cigarette. He gazedthoughtfully into the fire of pine logs which was burning upon the openhearth.
"Mr. Grex," he said, "that is plainer speaking than we have everreceived from any official source."
"I admit it," Mr. Grex replied. "Such a statement on my part may sound alittle startling, but I make it advisedly. I know the feeling--you willgrant that my position entitles me to know the feeling--of the men whocount for anything in Russian politics. Perhaps I do not mean thetitular heads of my Government. There are others who have even moreresponsibilities, who count for more. I honestly and truthfully assureyou that I speak for the powers that are behind the Government of Russiawhen I tell you that the English dream of a triple alliance betweenRussia, England, and France will never be accepted by my country."
Monsieur Douaille sipped his champagne.
"This is candour," he remarked, "absolute candour.
One speaks quiteplainly, I imagine, before our friend the enemy?" he added, smilingtowards Selingman.
"Why not?" Selingman demanded. "Why not, indeed? We are not fools here."
"Then I would ask you, Mr. Grex," Monsieur Douaille continued, "where inthe name of all that is equitable are you to find an alliance morelikely to preserve the status quo in Europe? Both logically andgeographically it absolutely dovetails. Russia is in a position toabsorb the whole attention of Austria and even to invade the north coastof Germany. The hundred thousand troops or so upon which we could relyfrom Great Britain, would be invaluable for many reasons--first, becausea mixture of blood is always good; secondly, because the regular armywhich perforce they would have to send us, is of very fine fightingmaterial; and thirdly, because they could land, to give away a very opensecret to you, my friend Selingman, in a westerly position, and wouldvery likely succeed thereby in making an outflanking movement towardsthe north. I presume that at present the German fleet would not come outto battle, in which case the English would certainly be able to do greatexecution upon the northern coast of Germany. All this, of course, hasbeen discussed and written about, and the next war been mapped out in adozen different ways. I must confess, however, that taking every knownconsideration into account, I can find no other distribution of powersso reasonable or so favourable to my country."
Mr. Grex nodded.
"I find no fault with any word of what you have said," he declared,"except that yours is simply the superficial and obvious idea of the manin the street as to the course of the next probable war. Now let us go alittle further. I grant all the points which you urge in favour of yoursuggested triple alliance. I will even admit that your forecast of a wartaking place under such conditions, is a fairly faithful one. Weproceed, then. The war, if it came to pass, could never be decisive. Animmense amount of blood would be shed, treasure recklessly poured out,Europe be rendered desolate, for the sake most largely of whom?--ofJapan and America. That is the weakness of the whole thing. A warcarried out on the lines you suggest would be playing the game of thesetwo countries. Even the victors would be placed at a huge disadvantagewith them, to say nothing of the losers, who must see slipping away fromthem forever their place under the sun. It is my opinion--and I havestudied this matter most scientifically and with the help of the SecretService of every country, not excepting your own, Herr Selingman--it ismy opinion that this war must be indecisive. The German fleet would becrippled and not destroyed. The English fleet would retain itsproportionate strength. No French advance into Germany would besuccessful, no German advance into France is likely. The war wouldlanguish for lack of funds, through sheer inanition it would flickerout, and the money of the world would flow into the treasuries ofAmerica. Russia would not be fighting for her living. With her it couldbe at best but a half-hearted war. She would do her duty to thealliance. Nothing more could be hoped from her. You could not expect,for instance, that she would call up all her reserves, leave the wholeof her eastern frontier unprotected, and throw into mid-Europe such aforce as would in time subjugate Germany. This could be done but it willnot be done. We all know that."
Monsieur Douaille smoked thoughtfully for several moments.
"Very well," he pronounced at last, "I am rather inclined to agree withall that you have said. Yet it seems to me that you evade the greatpoint. The status quo is what we desire, peace is what the world wants.If, before such a war as you have spoken of is begun, people realisewhat the end of it must be, don't you think that that itself is thegreatest help towards peace? My own opinion is, I tell you frankly, thatfor many years to come, at any rate, there will be no war."
Herr Selingman set down his glass and turned slowly around.
"Then let me tell you that you are mistaken," he declared solemnly."Listen to me, my friend Douaille--my friend, mind, and not thestatesman Douaille. I am a German citizen and you are a French one, andI tell you that if in three years' time your country does not make upits mind to strike a blow for Alsace and Lorraine, then in three years'time Germany will declare war upon you."
Monsieur Douaille had the expression of a man who doubts. Selingmanfrowned. He was suddenly immensely serious. He struck the palm of onehand a great blow with his clenched fist.
"Why is it that no one in the world understands," he cried, "whatGermany wants? I tell you, Monsieur Douaille, that we don't hate yourcountry. We love it. We crowd to Paris. We expand there. It is theholiday place of every good German. Who wants a ruined France? Not we!Yet, unless there is a change in the international situation, we shallgo to war with you and I will tell you why. There are no secrets aboutthis sort of thing. Every politician who is worth his salt knows them.The only difficulty is to know when a country is in earnest, and how farit will go. That is the value of our meeting. That is what I am here tosay. We shall go to war with you, Monsieur Douaille, to get Calais, andwhen we've got Calais--oh, my God!" Selingman almost reverentlyconcluded, "then our solemn task will be begun."
"England!" Monsieur Douaille murmured.
There was a brief pause. Selingman had seemed, for a moment, to havepassed into the clouds. There was a sort of gloomy rapture upon hisface. He caught up Douaille's last word and repeated it.
"England! England, and through her...."
He moved to the sideboard and filled his tumbler with wine. When he cameback to his place, his expression had lightened.
"Ah, well! dear Monsieur Douaille," he exclaimed, patting the other'sshoulder in friendly fashion, "to-night we merely chatter. To-night weare here to make friends, to gain each the confidence of the other. Toourselves let us pretend that we are little boys, playing the game ofour nation--France, Germany, and Russia. Germany and Russia, to be frankwith you, are waiting for one last word from Germany's father, somethingsplendid and definite to offer. What we would like France to do, whileFrance loses its money at roulette and flirts with the pretty ladies atCiro's, is to try and accustom itself not to an alliance withGermany--no! Nothing so utopian as that. The lion and the lamb mayremain apart. They may agree to be friends, they may even wave paws atone another, but I do not suggest that they march side by side. What weask of France is that she looks the other way. It is very easy to lookthe other way. She might look, for instance--towards Egypt."
"What we ask of France is that she looks the other way."]
There was a sudden glitter in the eyes of Monsieur Douaille. Selingmansaw it and pressed on.
"There are laurels to be won which will never fade," he continued,setting down his empty tumbler, "laurels to be won by that statesman ofyour country, the little boy France, who is big enough and strong enoughto stand with his feet upon the earth and proclaim--'I am for France andmy own people, and my own people only, and I will make them greatthrough all the centuries by seeing the truth and leading them towardsit, single-purposed, single-minded.' ... But these things are not to bedisposed of so readily as this wonderful Berncastler--I beg its pardon,Berncastler Doctor--of our host. For to-night I have said my say. I havewhims, perhaps, but with me serious affairs are finished for the night.I go to the Sporting Club. Mademoiselle keeps my place at the baccarattable. I feel in the vein. It is a small place, Monte Carlo. Let us makeno appointments. We shall drift together. And, monsieur," he concluded,laying his hand for a moment upon Douaille's shoulder, "let the thoughtsink into your brain. Wipe out that geographical and logical map ofEurope from your mind; see things, if you can, in the new daylight.Then, when the idea has been there for just a little time--well, wespeak again.... Come, Draconmeyer. I am relying upon your car to get meinto Monte Carlo. My bounteous host, Mr. Grex, good night! I touch yourhand with reverence. The man who possesses such wine and offers it tohis friends, is indeed a prince."
Mr. Grex rose a little unwillingly from his chair.
"It is of no use to protest," he remarked, smiling. "Our friendSelingman will have his way. Besides, as he reminded us, there is onelast word to arrive. Come and breathe the odours of the Riviera,Monsieur Douaille. This is wh
en I realise that I am not at my villa onthe Black Sea."
They passed out into the hall and stood on the terrace while the carsdrew up. The light outside seemed faintly violet. The perfume of mimosaand roses and oleander came to him in long waves, subtle and yetinvigorating. Below, the lights of Monte Carlo, clear and brilliant,with no northern fog or mist to dull their radiance, shone like gems inthe mantle of night. Selingman sighed as he stepped into the automobile.
"We are men who deserve well from history," he declared, "who, in themidst of a present so wonderful, can spare time to plan for thegenerations to come!"