I have been scrupulously exact in reporting nearly all the essential parts of my conversation with Lord Granville.

I should like to do as much for the long interview which I had later with Mr. Gladstone, at that time Prime Minister in the English Cabinet. The words of this eminent statesman are all of them imbued with a special character, which renders them in the highest degree interesting, even when they ran counter to my wishes. However, “est modus in rebus” and one must know when to stop in a short narrative and be careful above all not to repeat oneself.

Mr. Gladstone clearly had the same ideas as Lord Granville regarding the war and regarding England’s neutrality and the possibility of her taking any steps in the interests of France. In substance he told me exactly the same as Lord Granville had done on all these questions.

It will appear later that the two Ministers must have conferred together and taken concerted views before receiving me, so as to express exactly the same opinions. So I will do no more than give an extract of my conversation with Mr. Gladstone and record in summary the principal questions which arose.

I first met Mr. Gladstone at the house of his colleague, Lord Granville.

The latter gave a dinner in my honour the day after my first interview with him, and among other persons he had also invited Mr. Gladstone. That is how I made this gentleman’s acquaintance, and I looked forward to profiting by it in furtherance of the enterprise which had brought me to London.

It was certainly impossible for me to hope, after the formal declaration of Lord Granville, that his colleague the Prime Minister would have different views and would be more disposed than the former to depart from the contemplative policy which seemed so dear to England. At the same time I was convinced that it was not necessary for England to plunge into war, which she would not do at any price, in order effectively to serve France’s interests. If only she had consented to take up another attitude, her intervention would have certainly sufficed without it being necessary to go to the point of armed intervention in order to modify Prussian demands at the moment of negotiation.

I had not lost all hope of persuading English statesmen of this truth, and I was very desirous of seeing the Prime Minister to sound his thoughts, and in my turn express our views and aspirations.

The day after meeting him at Lord Granville’s I wrote to him asking for an interview. He had already gone off to spend Christmas at Hawarden Castle, a splendid country seat in the extreme west of the island, in the county of Lancashire, near the city of Chester. London society always passes a good part of the winter at its country seats. That is easily understood, as the winter is sad and sombre by the foggy banks of the Thames, while the English countryside is charming even in winter.

What astonished me more was that the Prime Minister of a great country like England could find it possible to live for a part of the year at such a distance from the capital, Hawarden Castle being situated at the other end of Great Britain. One has to cross the entire length of the country between London and Liverpool to get there, and if my memory serves me aright, I think the express train from London takes six hours to reach the little station, which is two miles from the Castle. What would they say in France of a “President du Conseil” who wanted to live so far from Paris? The thing would be thought impossible and so in truth it would be. But in London, on the contrary, everybody finds it natural and things are not carried on any the worse for it. But the English are a practical people, and we are not.

Mr. Gladstone has simply got the telegraph as his auxiliary; it is installed at the Castle and goes direct from his study to his Ministerial Office in London. He can thus be in permanent communication with the whole Department and can transmit his orders at any hour of the day or night.

Mr. Gladstone immediately answered my letter. He wrote that he much regretted having left for the country before having had an opportunity of receiving me, but that he flattered himself by hoping that I would not shrink from a journey in order to give him the pleasure of a visit and that I would accept his hospitality at Hawarden Castle. He did not intend returning to London for some time and we should be quite at our ease at the Castle and could talk together about any matter I liked.

I did not hesitate to accept his invitation, but knowing that in England Christmas is par excellence a family gathering, I did not want to come in as a stranger, and I answered that I would make a point of visiting him two days after Christmas. Mr. Gladstone’s son met me at the station on my arrival, and my room was ready at the Castle.

The next day, after breakfast, the master of the house put himself at my disposition for an interview, and we repaired to his study.

The interview was a long and cordial one, and again confirmed my conviction that the reason why we had been so completely abandoned by our neighbours was that the war had broken out so suddenly that no one had expected it and no Power had had the time to be prepared.

At the risk of being accused of needless repetition, I must again describe what had already struck me in my interviews in Vienna, in London and everywhere—that is, that the Powers were afraid of our conquerors. Nor was this fear without foundation; it arose from the state of impotence into which the suddenness of the war had plunged every Government. The war had surprised them while in absolute repose, and, as it were, asleep.

In all Europe a single Power was on guard and not taken by surprise, for she was waiting for the alarm signal and had long been prepared for it. It was the enemy which the Empire had chosen in a moment of evil fortune and blindness.

When I say that only a single Power foresaw the signal and was prepared, that is true in the literally numerical sense of the word; not even with the exception of the unhappy Empire which had caused such general stupefaction by provoking the war.

To-day it is proved that the Empire went to war with Prussia as if it had been a military promenade to Berlin. It did not see any danger, and not even any difficulties ... and such was its blindness that it entered on this ill-omened war without even having prepared the material means necessary for such a struggle, and without having assured itself of any allies. We were completely isolated, and this isolation was forcibly and by the fatality of things doomed to last till the end, till the conclusion of peace.

When the candidature of the Prince of Hohenzollern was definitely abandoned, and when it appeared for a moment that the threatening storm had cleared, the Powers all immediately recovered from their alarm and thought the incident finished. The declaration of war which afterwards supervened at a time when it was no longer expected by anyone, forcibly threw all the States in Europe into profound stupefaction, and found them in a state of absolute impotence. They were denied the material possibility of arming, and the rapidity of events had robbed them of the time necessary for their preparations.

Then, hostilities once commenced, Prussia did not allow them to take breath or to recover from their stupefaction. On the contrary, their amazement grew day by day, with the swift and bewildering rush of her victories. Therefore our isolation, which marked the beginning of the war and which gave the character of criminal folly to the enterprise, continued during our disasters up till the last moment of the terrible negotiations which finished with the mutilation of France.

The selfishness and the inertia of the Powers certainly equalled the madness of those responsible for such a declaration of war. If the rulers who presided over their destinies had then decided to follow a more elevated and far-seeing policy, the mutilation of France would have been prevented. The germs of new complications in the more or less distant future would have been removed, and the foundations of a sincere and lasting peace would have been laid in Europe. The era of general disarmament, the Golden Age of modern times, could have been prepared. But alas, the opportunity was lost!

The Powers, however, were able to explain their conduct in words often repeated to me at the time: “You have taken us by surprise and we are not ready. France is invaded, the German armies are victorious and intoxicated by success. If Prussia were to refuse our intervention and take us as at our word, the day we spoke more boldly we should with you be beaten, because we are neither armed nor in a condition to fight against victorious Germany.”

This is the explanation of the pusillanimous attitude which the States of Europe maintained during the war and which no Power dared to depart from, even at the moment of concluding peace.

France lacked neither sympathy nor good wishes, but our enemy was feared, and none felt themselves in a position to challenge him. This, if I am not in error, was the real cause of our isolation, even at the end of the conflict when sympathy for us had revived and France had shown courage and vigour worthy of another fate.

But to return to my interview with Mr. Gladstone at Hawarden Castle. If it was as sterile as all the others, it was at least complete. We examined every question exhaustively and in the minutest details.

Mr. Glynn, the member of Parliament and Secretary to the Treasury, who was a friend of the family, on seeing me leave the study with Mr. Gladstone, said: “You may flatter yourself on having enjoyed more of the Prime Minister’s society than anyone else I know. Since Mr. Gladstone has become Premier he has never granted anyone as long an interview as he has to you.” This was evidently very flattering to the cause which had brought me here. Indeed, it was worth anyone’s while thoroughly to discuss it, but without in the slightest degree overlooking the great kindness of my charming host, I would have preferred a more satisfactory result even if it had meant a shorter interview.

Mr. Gladstone spoke French perfectly, but he asked my permission—this is a characteristic trait which shows the practical and cautious mind of the great statesman of the Anglo-Saxon race—to carry on the conversation in English because, as he said, he was more certain of the accuracy of his expressions in his own language.

“The accuracy of his expressions!”——Does that not teach one a remarkable lesson?

Here is an eminent Minister who has grown old in politics and is accustomed to the most important and difficult conversations. He finds himself in the presence of one who is young enough to be his son, and he takes serious precautions to guarantee the sureness of his speech and the accuracy of his expressions!

I learnt the lesson and followed his example. I accepted his proposal and asked for reciprocity—that is to say, for permission for me to answer in French. Our conversation was therefore carried on in two languages, Mr. Gladstone speaking English and I replying in French.

The first point we discussed was the election of a National Assembly.

On this matter Mr. Gladstone gave utterance to an opinion which well marks the difference between him and Lord Granville. I have faithfully set down Lord Granville’s views, and the reader has seen how insistently he advised the election, in any manner whatsoever, of a National Assembly. Now here is what Mr. Gladstone thought on this matter:—

Should one proceed to elections, said he, or should one not even think of such a thing under existing circumstances? That is purely and essentially a domestic question, which concerns no one outside the French Government. The French Government is the only judge, and a sovereign judge, of that question; and no foreign nation has the right to be heard on the desirability of this measure. But Mr. Gladstone, like Lord Granville, could not see the impossibility of holding Elections without an armistice, and said that, if he were entitled to offer his advice to the French Government, he would counsel them to do so. But he did not refuse to recognise that there were very good grounds for a contrary opinion.

If one cannot go so far as to declare, said he, that it is materially impossible to call a National Assembly, at least there is what may be called a moral impossibility. Because the dignity of the elections would suffer very much from the presence of the enemy and the actual condition of the country.

Personally he had no hesitation in recognising the National Defence Government as for the time being the legal government of the country. This Government was strong with the approval and the assent not only of Paris, which had confirmed it by a formal vote, but of the whole of France, and every day that passed served to augment its moral force and authority within and without the country. He recognised with pleasure the efforts that had been made by the National Defence Government to hold its own against the enemy, and he congratulated it on the great progress in resistance which, thanks to its efforts, had been made.

Mr. Gladstone was not chary of compliments to ourselves, and seemed animated by great admiration for France and by a deep desire to see our efforts crowned by success. Recent events in particular had given him hopes that we should arrive at the desired result by our own strength.

When we were speaking of the military deeds of the last fortnight—the battles of the army of the Loire and the general organisation of the country—he himself contrasted the position at the beginning of the war with the progress that we had since made.

“I have observed with pleasure,” said he, “that there is a great change in your situation; your military organisation has made considerable advance. As you rightly say, the war has entered a new phase. You have no longer only defeats, you have also successes to record and, above all, your resistance is a serious one. You have soldiers, you have army corps to put in the field against the enemy. Prussia is beginning to encounter serious obstacles in her path. All this is really admirable and gives one reason to hope that you will perhaps soon enter a last phase, that of success. But one must not hide from oneself that it is only a distant hope. You are still only in the state of solid resistance.

“I have great confidence in your final success. The fundamental power of the French Nation is greater than is usually thought. This fundamental power appears throughout her history. Take, for instance, the reign of Louis the Fourteenth. See what France suffered in the wars of that period and see what she became in spite of her exhaustion. And one must not forget that France was at that time divided into small States, while she is now a single and great united country.”

Mr. Gladstone continued on these lines, and he did not tire of admiring the prodigious efforts which we had made and which we were daily making to resist an enemy who had every advantage over us. But when I thanked him for his words and asked him for more effective and less Platonic assistance than pure admiration, he answered me as his colleague Lord Granville had done, by an absolute “non possumus.” England wished for France’s success, but she could not leave the strict neutrality she had maintained from the beginning of the struggle. The Government could not unnecessarily throw the country into such an adventure and expose it to a formidable war.

And the English statesman expounded his system with great warmth and remarkable eloquence.

Parliament had closed its last Session with a formal declaration on the part of the Cabinet, which might be resumed in the single word: “Peace.” The Government had solemnly promised to an approving country that it would assure it the precious boon of peace, and it had no right to take away all the advantages and all the blessings which peace sheds on a rich, strong and industrious nation. The Government were bound by their promise and they would be guilty of a crime if they wished to break it.

Mr. Gladstone is a philosopher and a historian. He likes to go back to principles and to look at questions from the lofty point of view of morality. After pointing out that his Government had given the country an undertaking that it would maintain peace, he discussed the question of war in general.

“War is a terrible disaster for humanity. Are there any circumstances which may justify a Government throwing a country into war, and what are such circumstances?”

Mr. Gladstone desired to narrow the limits within which war might be considered justifiable as much as possible, but he thought that a great country had the right to make war whenever the cause was a just one. Consequently he considered that a Government may engage the country in a just war, but only on condition that the nation has given its consent.

I accepted this principle; the proposition seemed to be a good one for my case, and I let him continue without interruption. After his exposition I brought the conversation back to the actual state of affairs by observing to Mr. Gladstone that the war between France and Germany had greatly changed in character since the overthrow of the Empire.

At the beginning, it might have been held from a philosophic point of view that the war was an unjust one as far as we were concerned, and that it had been provoked without sufficient reason for the purpose of conquest. But now the Empire had disappeared and France alone was face to face with Germany. Reparation was being offered for the damage which her Government had done in provoking the war. The French nation, which had never wanted the war, was now fighting for its existence and the integrity of its soil. France was now defending herself against invasion and conquest. She was therefore continuing the fight for a just and strong cause, and it was Germany that was refusing to end a war which had become an immoral and an impious one as far as the latter was concerned, since her haughtily avowed and only end was the brutal conquest of Alsace and Lorraine.

Mr. Gladstone did not deny the justice of this argument.

I went on, and asked him if he did not admit that a great nation might not only have the right but even, up to a certain point, the duty, of intervening in a war of this nature. Did not the necessity for intervention exist, if intervention not only served to maintain a just and moral cause, but were also to a nation’s own interest?

Mr. Gladstone again admitted that there might possibly be circumstances which would oblige England to take up arms and intervene in a struggle between two other Powers, but he held that there were no such circumstances in the present war. I then told him that the future—perhaps the very near future—would give him cause to regret not having seized the opportunity of putting us under an obligation by going to war for a “moral cause,” and with the approval of the English people. I referred to the difficulties preparing for England in the East and the services we in our turn could render her in that direction. He answered that he did not consider the situation in the East as dangerous, and that he did not share the opinions of those who saw in it a source of grave complications for England; “I have no fears in that direction,” said he. “At any rate it must not be forgotten that Russia has German provinces and that she is more threatened by Prussia than we are. Moreover, we are sheltered from the attacks of Prussia by the natural situation of our country. The latter could not even attack the little island of Heligoland against our will.”

I then went on to another order of ideas. I spoke of the ancient friendship which united the two people and the great economic interests which were drawing them nearer to each other day by day. I asked him if England from this standpoint was not pledged to another attitude towards France than that of being an inert and impassive spectator at a time when her intervention could assure for France an honourable peace, a just and moral peace....

Mr. Gladstone freely recognised that France had rights to England’s friendship. “But,” he said, “I do not think those rights are such as to make us intervene in a war which France has commenced herself and without us. I do not think our friendship can go to the point of our declaring war against Prussia and fighting at your side.”

At this point Mr. Gladstone reproachfully repeated the charge which had everlastingly been made against us since the beginning of the war and which I encountered everywhere from those I addressed. “Who was it,” said he, “who definitely commenced this deplorable war? Who was it who provoked it without any reason and for the sole purpose of conquest, for the purpose, that is, of taking the Rhine?” My answer was a very simple one. I looked at the question from Mr. Gladstone’s own standpoint and loyally recognised the wrong we had done. The war was the work of the French Government. The French Government alone had commenced it without sufficient reason and for a, from a philosophic standpoint, inexcusable and immoral purpose—that of conquest. I did not even try to exculpate the nation, by saying, as I might have done, that the French people were far from desiring the war, and that, had they been consulted, they would have refused it with all their energies.

I admitted the nation’s responsibility on the ground of their having supported the Imperial Government and accepted a rÉgime which had the power of plunging them into such a war and in such circumstances. It is best to argue after his own fashion with a Minister who likes to mix philosophy and politics. “But do you not perceive that the situation is to-day no longer the same? The Government which commenced the war no longer exists. To-day the people are free and have pronounced their opinion—they have never wanted the war. To-day they want it less than ever. They are offering ransom to the enemy. Do you not think that the wrongs of the past have been made good, as far as the nation is concerned, by the overtures made by M. Jules Favre to M. de Bismarck at FerriÈres?”

I was not mistaken. Such arguments as these were to his taste.

Mr. Gladstone freely recognised that the interview at FerriÈres might be regarded as a considerable event. It had given another character to the continuation of the war, and to-day the rÔles were changed. It was Prussia who was now pressing the purpose of conquest, and it was France who was now defending the sacred soil of her territory. Mr. Gladstone put much lucidity and eloquence into the task of expounding his views concerning wars of conquest, legitimate defence of one’s territory, and the “impious” continuation of war....

I will not write down the entire system of England’s learned Prime Minister, but will only state that he himself admitted what I had said at the beginning—namely, that a great nation had the right and even the duty to intervene in an impious war in order to finish it in the interests of morality.

But when I asked him what was the application of his theory to the existing war, and when I pointed out that this was a case in point and that his theories could never be put into practice with more reason than now, he shook his head....

“That is a tremendous responsibility,” he answered with conviction and in a grave and solemn voice. “To throw a nation into war is a responsibility that makes one shudder. The English people have suffered cruelly from the wars of past centuries. They need peace and they want peace. We have not the right to throw them into all the miseries of such a war. For it would be a European war, a general conflagration, and we have no right to throw ourselves voluntarily in, without being provoked or attacked.” Invoking his own words against him, I insisted on my point and did my best to show him that his fears were exaggerated. Far from bringing about a general conflagration, the intervention of England would result in preventing the continuation of an impious and immoral war, and intervention would have the approval of the English people. It would be just and moral, and almost popular in the country.

Mr. Gladstone did not engage in the discussion of the principle which he had laid down and developed. He admitted it, but he added; “We are not as sure as you seem to be that war against Prussia would be popular in England.

“Far be it from me to think that a great nation can refuse to go to war when the war is for a moral purpose. I am equally far from denying that this war is completely changed in character since the fall of the Empire, inasmuch as its continuation on the part of Prussia has conquest, an immoral thing in itself, as its end. But I am by no means convinced that a war against Prussia would be really popular in England.

“Even if Austria joined us, you see it would still be we who had commenced and who had brought it about. Consequently it would always be we who had caused war, and that is a tremendous responsibility which neither I nor any of my colleagues would ever care to assume.”

As regards the surrender of Alsace and Lorraine which Prussia demanded as a sine qua non for conditions of peace, this is what Mr. Gladstone thought of it. “England will never agree to any territorial cession. The English people have a horror of wars of conquest and will never give their agreement to the dismemberment of France.”

I did not understand what that might mean, as on the one side Prussia was loftily announcing these claims, and on the other England was definitely decided not to oppose her. I finally understood that this was another theory of Mr. Gladstone’s. All he meant was that England simply did not approve of Prussia’s annexation of the two provinces, but that she could do nothing to stop it.

From the commencement of our conversation Mr. Gladstone had expressed great confidence in our ultimate success. At the end he reverted to this theme. “Your efforts,” said he, “are prodigious and will be crowned with success. You will end by being victorious.” He then reopened the question of England’s intervention and said: “Perhaps our intervention may be useful later.”

“Later,” said I. “May I ask when?”

“When the French armies are victorious.”

“What,” said I. “Is it then that you intend to intervene? Is that what your friendship consists of? You want to intervene against us?”

“No,” said he, “for you. But the opportunity will then be more favourable than now, and Prussia will give way to us more easily....”

I answered the eminent statesman as I had already answered his excellent colleague Lord Granville, that this was a singular manner of practising friendship and that at any rate his friendship would then be useless.

“Hic Rhodos, hic salta! It must be intervention now or never!”

I will not end this summary account without mentioning some curious phrases uttered by Mr. Gladstone concerning the Second Empire.

It was clear that we were bound to speak of it. I had made it a rule, ever since the inception of my journey, to speak of it only with the greatest reserve.

I had foreign diplomatists to address, and it was consequently unworthy of my rÔle and unnecessary for my mission to belittle a Government, which France had tolerated for eighteen years, more than it had belittled itself.

But the persons I interviewed did not consider themselves bound to the same reserve, and the fallen Government which had plunged France into this war was criticised very severely both in Vienna and in London. Among other things Mr. Gladstone said:— “We have always regarded the 2nd of December with horror, and we have always detested the rÉgime it initiated. We have a hatred of despotism. But since the French nation accepted it, we had on our side no other course but to tolerate it. It was a question of domestic politics, which in no way concerned a foreign people.

“Later on our dislike grew less. The friendly relations which the Empire established between France and England, particularly the great commercial relations, which it opened up by means of commercial treaties, made us forget the horror which its origin and its despotism had inspired in us ... but with the latter we were never frankly reconciled.

“It was not till the month of January, 1870, that we had hopes of amelioration. We then thought that a new parliamentary rÉgime, with its attendant liberties, was about to commence in France, and we greeted the Ministry that was to have given it with pleasure and satisfaction.

“Unfortunately, we were mistaken....”

Coming back to the war and the causes which had brought it about, Mr. Gladstone said: “We did everything that depended on us to prevent the fallen Government from plunging into this war with Germany.

“We warned them, but they would not listen.

“They absolutely wanted the war, and they engaged in it, but not without having been sufficiently warned, and well informed of the condition of the enemy they were about to provoke....”

The reader will remember that the same thing had already been told me in Vienna, and I again make no comments.

Nor will I comment on a very characteristic trait of Mr. Gladstone’s, which struck me most forcibly.

As he rose and left the apartment with me, he said: “Have you from our conversation gathered any difference between my views and those of Lord Granville?”

I will here terminate this narrative. Should circumstances permit me I will take it up again later, in order to set down the events which followed during the months of December and January until the conclusion of peace.

Note:—The sequel contemplated by the author was never completed.

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