The Green Flag and Other Stories of War and Sport - A Foreign Office Romance

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Section 17 of The Green Flag and Other Stories of War and Sport. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org. Recording by Gilles LeBlanc.

The Green Flag and Other Stories of War and Sport by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle A Foreign Office Romance There are many folk who knew Alphonse Lacour in his old age. From about the time of the Revolution of 48, until he died in the second year of the Crimean War, he was always to be found in the same corner of the Café de Provence, at the end of the rue Saint-Honoré, coming down about nine in the evening, and going when he could find no one to talk with.

It took some self-restraint to listen to the old diplomatist, for his stories were beyond all belief, and yet he was quick at detecting the shadow of a smile or the slightest little raising of the eyebrows. Then his huge rounded back would straighten itself, his bull-dog chin would project, and his r's would burr like a kettle-drum. When he got as far as, Ah, Monsieur, or, Vous ne me croyez pas donc? it was quite time to remember that you had a ticket for the opera.

There was his story of Tayeran and the five oyster-shells, and there was his utterly absurd account of Napoleon's second visit to Ayatio. Then there was that most circumstantial romance, which he never ventured upon until his second bottle had been uncorked, of the emperor's escape from St. Helena, how he lived for a whole year in Philadelphia, while Count Herbert de Bertrand, who was his living image, personated him at Longwood.

But of all his stories, there was none which was more notorious than that of the Koran and the Foreign Office messenger. And yet when M. Hortot's memoirs were written, it was found that there really was some foundation for Aude Lacour's incredible statement. You must know, Monsieur, he would say, that I left Egypt after Clébert's assassination.

I would gladly have stayed on, for I was engaged in a translation of the Koran. And between ourselves I had thoughts at the time of embracing Muhammadanism, for I was deeply struck by the wisdom of their views about marriage. They had made an incredible mistake, however, upon the subject of wine. And this was what the Mufti who attempted to convert me could never get over. Then when all Clébert died and Menou came to the top, I felt that it was time for me to go. It is not for me to speak of my own capacities, monsieur, but you would readily understand that the man does not care to be ridden by the mule. I carried my Quran in my papers to London, where Mr. Otto had been sent by the First Consul to arrange a treaty of peace, for both nations were very weary of the war, which had already lasted ten years. Here I was most useful to Mr. Otto on account of my knowledge of the English tongue, and also, if I may say so, on account of my natural capacity. There were happy days during which I lived in the square of Bloomsbury. The climate of Monsieur's country is, it must be confessed, detestable. But then, what would you have? Flowers grow best in the rain. One has but to point to Monsieur's fellow countrywomen to prove it.

Well, Monsieur Otto, our ambassador, who kept terribly busy over that treaty, and all of his staff were worked to death. We had not Pitt to deal with, which was perhaps as well for us. He was a terrible man, that Pitt, and wherever half a dozen enemies of France were plotting together, there was his sharp pointed nose right in the middle of them. The nation, however, had been thoughtful enough to put him out of office, and we had to do with Monsieur Addington. But Milford Huxbury was the foreign minister, and it was with him that we were obliged to do our bargaining. You can understand that it was no child's play. After ten years of war, each nation had got hold of a great deal which had belonged to the other, or to the other's allies. What was to be given back, and what was to be kept?

Is this island worth that peninsula? If we do this at Venice, will you do this at Sierra Leone? If we give up Egypt to the Sultan, will you restore the Cape of Good Hope, which you have taken from our allies, the Dutch?

So we wrangled and wrestled, and I have seen M. Otto come back to the Embassy so exhausted that his secretary and I had to help him from his carriage to his sofa. But at last things adjusted themselves, and the night came round when the treaty was to be finally signed. Now you must know that the one great card which we held and which we played, played, played at every point of the game was that we had Egypt. The English were very nervous about our being there. It gave us a foot at each end of the Mediterranean, you see. And they were not sure that that wonderful little Napoleon of ours might not make it the base of an advance against India. So whenever Lord Hawkesbury proposed to retain anything, we had only to reply, In that case, of course, we cannot consent to evacuate Egypt. And in this way, we quickly brought him to reason. It was by the help of Egypt that we gained terms which were remarkably favourable, and especially that we caused the English to consent to give up the Cape of Good Hope. We did not wish your people, Monsieur, to have any foothold in South Africa, for history has taught us that the British foothold of one half-century is the British Empire of the next. It is not your army or your navy against which we have to guard, but it is your terrible younger son and your man in search of a career. When we, French, have a possession across the seas, we like to sit in Paris and to facilitate ourselves upon it. With you it is different. You take your wives and your children and you run away to see what kind of place this may be, and after that we might as well try to take that old square of Bloomsbury away from you. Well, it was upon the first of October that the treaty was finally to be signed. In the morning I was congratulating Mr. Otto upon the happy conclusion of his labours. He was a little pale shrimp of a man, very quick and nervous, and he was so delighted now at his own success that he could not sit still, and ran about the room chattering and laughing, while I sat on a cushion in the corner, as I had learned to do in the East. Suddenly in came a messenger with a letter which had been forwarded from Paris.