Trained in the old school of Tsaral diplomacy, M. Georg Tchitcherin, now Foreign Minister to the Soviet Union, represents a late and almost perfect flowering of the outworn cult of secret diplomacy. He still employs all its stock phrases, catch-subterfuges which seldom deceive a rabbit—for example, he never "goes on a mission" but "travels for his health." Yet when cornered and pressed for categorical answers to specific questions he speaks with the adroit tongue of a sibyl or a Machiavelli. Last week he arrived at Paris as expected (TIME, Dec. 7), and...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
