MARGINAL COMMENT
By HAROLD NICOI„SON IN the gardens of the Luxembourg there is an octagonal pond, as large almost as the Round Pond in Kensington. Upon the surface of this pond the sons and daughters of the Parisians sail model boats. They do not, as in London, bring their own boats with them, staggering along the pavements encumbered by cutter, ketch or yawl ; they hire these boats from an elderly man who sits beside the pond with a whole fleet of sailing vessels around him. The boats bear upon their mainsails various numerals, printed sufficiently large to be observable from the shore; this introduces an element of competition into the pastime, and the space around the pond is filled with the shrill cries of the competitors : " Tu vois, Andre, to vois—le deux cent cinq!" And in fact once these model cutters are launched upon the pond they at once adopt the manner of adult boats; the mainsail will flap while the jib swells into its pretty curve: " Tu vois, Andre," the little girl will yell again, " to vois, le foe comme it se gonfle." And thereafter the boat will heel over in the appropriate manner, the mainsail will fill to the breeze, and around the bows the water will ripple, leaving a slight wake. The effect of these little boats crossing and recrossing the pond is a pretty effect; it reminds one of Cowes; but if one observes closer one discovers that in fact it is not like Cowes in the least. Since although these little boats have all the appearance of free will and dexterity, in fact they are clamped by a fixed rudder, which obliges them, however strong the breeze, to take a wide circular course within the pond, returning eventually to the exact spot from which they were launched. Mishaps occur, of course ; there are slight collisions occasionally, when two boats will cling together for a moment in acute embarrassment ; there are times when a boat sails under the jet of the fountain, pauses for an instant, and then shudders with remorse : and every now and then a boat will behave eccentrically, refuse to circle in the accustomed round, and hide its nose doggedly in the lead bulrushes from which the fountain springs.
Day after day, as I make my way to the Conference, I pause beside the pond, enjoying the lights and shadows which play around its surface and the cries of the children darting like swallows around. And when I enter the hot Chamber in which the plenary sessions are held I observe the delegates, one after another, behaving exactly like the sailing boats that I have witnessed; launching out upon the breeze of self-satisfaction, giving all the appearance of freedom and dexterity, but in fact controlled by some unseen rudder, which is fixed in such a manner as to drive them round in circles and to force them, one after the other, to return after their little outing to the very place from which they first were launched. A certain monotony also can be observed in the words they use; fine and resonant words will they repeat, even as the jib swells prettily, but so often that the sense of admiration fades; gusts of indignation, squalls of passion, will vibrate their voices, yet one has the impres- sion that these are but storms in a pond, transient as the rainbow colours which flash in the fountain's spray. One is conscious also that beyond the Luxembourg are real ships and real seas; that out beyond there somewhere there are strong storms raging to the crash of masts and spars ; that these debates within the Senate House are but trim models of real things outside; that it is only in octagonal ponds that ships go round and round and that in real life they plough onwards, crashing often upon the reefs, intent and sinister. Nor do the happy cries of children urge them on.
* * * * This sense of unreality, this feeling that it is some long charade which is being enacted at the Luxembourg, is due beyond anything to the absurd conditions of publicity in which the proceedings are conducted. Surely there must exist some mean between secret diplomacy and diplomacy by loud-speaker. The amplification of every word that is -uttered renders impossible all serious discussion between sensible men. But it does more than that. It introduces into the councils of statesmen an element of mass emotion which
makes them say things which, as individuals, they would be ashamed to say. It induces them to forget completely that they are supposed to be addressing twenty of their colleagues in conference and to remember only that their words will be heard, or certainly read, by their political supporters or opponents at home. If this grave disability which undue publicity imposes upon diplomatic inter- course were to result merely in a series of gentlemen making a series of set speeches, then only time would be wasted. That is dangerous enough, since peace is most susceptible to wastage of time. But in fact these orations, in that they are addressed to home audiences, tend to become propaganda speeches and thereby to contain attacks or insinuations against the very countries with which the orator is supposed to be negotiating. Thus M. Molotov the other day indulged in an undisguised attack upon British and American policy in the Mediterranean; he may have hoped that this would sound well when broadcast from Moscow and might even do something to turn Italian opinion against the present Italian Government and French opinion against her western allies ; but I cannot believe that M. Molotov would have made such a speech had the microphone been absent, since he has not really come to Paris for the sole purpose of annoying his former allies. Thus the publicity conditions at this Conference entail not merely a most regrettable waste of time, but create disagreements and ill-feeling wholly unconnected with the admittedly difficult issues now under discussion.
It is easy enough to accuse the Russians of exploiting this Conference for the purpose of making propaganda against their former allies. It is difficult for these allies, who made such heavy sacrifices in order to assist Russia in her hour of acute danger, to turn the other cheek to these attacks upon them. Yet if we or the Americans were in fact to make rejoinders to the insults and insinuations levelled against us, then in truth the Conference would degenerate into a slanging match and would lose the last vestiges of such dignity as it possesses. It s clearly wiser to ignore the tactics of the Russian delegation, knowing that if we tried to imitate them we should not be very good at it, and seeking by patience to persuade the Russians that we have all come to Paris to make peace and not to create further suspicions and animosities. And after all we must realise always that the Russian mind works in terms of attack and defence and that it is not adapted to compromise. How curious is this lack in the Slays of any sense of proportion! To them something which is obviously important appears as trivial ; whereas some tiny incident, some slight quirk of manner, is magni- fied for them until it assumes gigantic shapes, even as the little chessmen beside the opium-smoker's couch become vast gcds and heroes whose shadows sway immensely in the flickering of the lamp. I am reminded always of the remark attributed to Coleridge when with Wordsworth he visited the first steam-engine. "That was a giant," he said on leaving, " with a single idea."
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Perhaps I am being unduly pessimistic about the effects upon negotiation of the microphOne and the loud-speaker. Perhaps there do exist in this system benefits, at present unapparent, which with the passage of months will expand into vast magnolia flowers. But for the moment it would certainly seem that, if diplomatists address their remarks, not to their fellow negotiators, but to the peoples of Eastern and Southern Europe, much delay will be created in the conclusion of a reasonable peace. And if the appearance of our former enemies upon the tribune of the Senate Chamber is to tempt them to indulge in invectives against our former allies, it seems at least doubtful whether sweetness and light will be much increased upon this earth. Moreover, if appeals are made from the tribune to the great heart of the masses it must always occur that these appeals are couched in language which the masses are accus- tomed to understand. That language is repetitive. And thus the little boats, with seeming dexterity, sail round and round and round.
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