not make for peace.  I should imagine that the best of diplomatists are quite aware of this.  Indeed, there seems reason to suppose that Sir Edward Grey, owing to definite experience in the last two years, not only discovered the uselessness of the principle of a Balance of Power, but did his best to substitute something entirely different—­the Concert of Europe.  All the negotiations he conducted during and after the two Balkan wars, his constant effort to summon London Conferences and other things, were intended to create a Concert of European Powers, discussing amongst themselves the best measures to secure the peace of the world.  Alas! the whole of the fabric was destroyed, the fair prospects hopelessly clouded over, by the intemperate ambition of the Kaiser, who, just because he believed that the Balance of Power was favourable to himself, that Russia was unready, that France was involved in serious domestic trouble, that England was on the brink of civil war, set fire to the magazine and engineered the present colossal explosion.

CONTROL OF FOREIGN POLICY

One cannot feel sure that diplomacy as hitherto recognised will be able, or, indeed, ought to be able, to survive the shock.  In this country, as in others, diplomacy has been considered a highly specialised science, which can only be conducted by trained men and by methods of entire secrecy.  As a mere matter of fact, England has far less control over her foreign policy than any of the continental Powers.  In Germany foreign affairs come before the Reichstag, in France they are surveyed by the Senate, in America there is a special department of the Senate empowered to deal with foreign concerns.  In Great Britain there is nothing of the kind.  Parliament has practically no control whatsoever over foreign affairs, it is not even consulted in the formation of treaties and arrangements with other nations.  Nor yet has the Cabinet any real control, because it must act together as a whole, and a determined criticism of a foreign secretary means the resignation of the Government.  Fortunately, our diplomacy has been left for the most part in very able hands.  Nevertheless, it is surely a paradox that the English people should know so little about foreign affairs as to be absolutely incapable of any control in questions that affect their life or death.  Democracy, though it is supposed to be incompetent to manage foreign relations, could hardly have made a worse mess of it than the highly-trained Chancelleries.  When the new Europe arises out of the ashes of the old, it is not very hazardous to prophesy that diplomacy, with its secret methods, its belief in phrases and abstract principles, and its assumption of a special professional knowledge, will find the range of its powers and the sphere of its authority sensibly curtailed.

CHAPTER II

LESSONS OF THE PAST