Correspondence
A LEITER FROM PARIS.
[To the Editor of the Spectator.]
Snr,—The last lingering holiday-maker has returned to town, the tardiest window shutter has been thrown back with a resounding clack, and Paris is alive again. Alive, too, with quite a deal to interest it. We have the Motor Salon, which, however, owing to increasing standardization, becomes less interesting every year ; we have also a number of new plays to see and talk about, and of course, the newspapers. These just now are particularly interesting. Of course, one read them in some desultory fashion during the holidays. Paris by the sea scanned the headlines and things seemed fairly satisfactory. For Paris by the sea is inclined to be more patriotic than political. France, it seemed, was still leading the way in Europe. M. Briand's scheme for a European Federation had set all the Chancelleries agog. They were all writing letters to the Quai d'Orsay. As regards the scheme itself, well, one could not think these things out during the holiday season. Anyhow, it was a French idea that had set Europe talking, and that was good. So the Parisian closed his paper, sat back in his hammock chair, and, looking out to sea, told himself that France was a great nation.
On returning to Paris he had quite a shock. For, gradually emerging from the holiday mists, he bumped against a number of very hard rocks of reality. There was Herr Hitler triumph- ing in Germany and openly shaking his first at France. Italy had broken off the naval negotiations. But M. Briand was still at Geneva. The Radical papers said he was" dominating" Geneva. There was really going to be a French League of Nations, a much better League than the other one (that always to the Frenchman seems to have a British smack about it) and Europe would settle nicely down to work out this brilliant French idea and the Treaty of Versailles simply would not matter.
Then, one morning Sennep, most brilliant and cruel of car- toonists, told the truth in the Echo de Paris. A train had just arrived from Geneva. Someone from a carriage window was holding out a limp, shapeless bundle and was calling fora porter. The bundle was Mr. Briand ! Of course, the Echo de Paris is a bitter enemy of M. Briand, but despite all his friends can say it is gradually being realized that the French Foreign Minister did not " dominate " Geneva and that the French League of Nations scheme has been neatly swallowed by the other League, and probably will never enjoy the good fortune of Jonah.
Thus one detects growing signs of uneasiness. France, it is being increasingly realized, so far as the diplomatic or political situation goes, is losing her hold. At the same time there is a growing sense among the people of the country's isolation. France begins to feel out in the cold. The French- man will advance you every reason but the right one for this condition of things. He will tell you most often that the other European nations are jealous of France. France is pro- sperous. Her industries are forging ahead. She has no unem- ployment. Her recovery from the wreck left by the War has been marvellous. Great Britain, Germany and Italy have their troubles. Naturally they are jealous of France. In such a fashion the Frenchman casts around for reasons to explain his country's isolation. From an international point of view the moment has its hope. In this mood of questioning uneasiness there is a possibility that the country will at last touch the vital spot and begin to question the wisdom of its foreign policy. It may enquire whether France can afford to remain isolated, whether it can afford, even with its following of satellite countries, to maintain against practically the rest of Europe a cast-iron Treaty of Versailles. Other things being equal, the country might come to the conclusion that the game was not worth the candle. But the tragedy is that the men who might carry out the wiser policy are not regarded as wise men. The Radicals, when they can forget Italy, are a Pacifist party, but, so far as I can see, there is not a ghost of a chance of their coming into power. They are divided among themselves, their politics are bitter and personal. The country as a whole does not trust them. The big men, the men of statesman calibre, are on the Right, or the Nationalist side. MM. Poineare, Tardieu, and others of their group—these are the men who have brought France from financial chaos to sound finance and prosperity, these are the men whom the country trusts, and these are the intransigents whose whole foreign policy is based on the maintenance of the Treaty of Versailles. There is the situation. What will be the outcome ? M. Briand, of course, is a great Pacifist, but it is now fairly clear that he will not be much longer able to perform that difficult circus feat of riding two horses (one Nationalist and the other Radical) both trying to trot in opposite directions. The moment is critical. France, in the light of M. Briand's failure to reconcile Nationalism and Pacifism, must either frankly recast her policy to bring it more in line with the general trend of Europe's development, or she must consolidate and even intensify her present policy. How difficult the former course would be I have already shown. Unfortunately, then, it would seem that the latter development is the more likely. Already the signs of its coming are evident. France, although it is quite true she has reduced her army below its strength in 1913, is still the strongest military power in Europe. Yet those newspapers that proclaim the Nationalist opinion are saying quite openly that the country must increase its armed force. The country may be pacifist at heart, and it may be prosperous, which, again, should make peace well worth while, but at the same time France is proud of her prosperity. She has an increasing idea of her resources, not only of the resources of geographical France, but of that greater France whose empire is second only to that of Great Britain, and whose great wealth will be glitteringly displayed before the country at the Colonial Exhibition next year. Her mood, despite her momentary fears and misgivings, is frankly Nationalist.
Thus, an isolated France will be a proud France. And a France isolated and proud will be a dangerous France. She will be just as dangerous as Germany was when she was also isolated and proud in 1914. The outlook is not bright. But it is just as well to face the facts for only by facing them can the danger be dealt with. Finally, however, I would leave the picture of the Parisian home from the holidays, feeling a little shocked at contact with realities and wondering uneasily what is going to happen. Now is the time to convert him. But how Y—I am, Sir, he.,
YOUR PARIS CORRESPONDENT.
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