THE KAISER AND THE KING OF ENGLAND
It was pleasant to renew old memories among diplomatists and
ex-diplomatists in Copenhagen. I remembered the old days in
Washington, when Sir Edward Thornton's house was far up-town, when
the rows between the Chileans and Peruvians--I forget to which party
the amiable Ibañez belonged--convulsed the coteries that gathered at
Mrs. Dahlgren's, when Bodisco and Aristarchi Bey and Baron de Santa
Ana were more than names, and the Hegermann-Lindencrones[2] were the
handsomest couple in Washington. So it was agreeable to find some
colleagues with whom one had reminiscences in common. Then there were
the Americans married to members of the corps. Lady Johnston, wife of
Sir Alan; Madame de Riaño, married to one of the most well-balanced
and efficient diplomatists in Europe. These ladies made the way of my
wife and my daughters very easy.
[2] Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone is the author of _In the Court of
Memory_ and _The Sunny Side of Diplomacy_.
An envoy arriving at a new post has one consolation, not an
unmitigatedly agreeable one. He is sure of knowing what his
colleagues think of him. And for a while they weigh him very
carefully. The American can seldom shirk the direct question: 'Is
this your first post?' It required great strength of mind not to say:
'I had a special mission to the Indian Reservations, and I have
always been, more or less, you know----'
'Ah, I see! Calcutta, Bombay----!'
'Not exactly--Red Lake, you know--the Reservations, wards of our
Government.'
'Oh, red Indians! I was not aware that you had diplomatic relations
with the old red Indian princes. But this is your first post in
Europe?'
You cannot avoid that. However, the longer one is at a post, the more
he enjoys it. In the course of nearly eleven years, I never knew one
of my colleagues who did not show _esprit de corps_. They become more
and more kindly. You know that they know your faults and your
virtues. In the diplomatic service you are like Wolsey, naked, not to
your enemies, but to your colleagues. They can help you greatly if
they will.
After the peace of Portsmouth, which in the opinion of certain
Russians gave all the advantages to Japan, the Emperor of Germany
spoke of President Roosevelt with added respect, we were told. The
attitude toward Americans on the part of Germans seemed always the
reflection of the point of view of the Kaiser. From their point of
view, it was only the President who counted; our nation, from the
Pan-German point of view seemed not to be of importance.
It was rather hard to find out exactly what the Kaiser's attitude
towards us was. Some of the court circle--there were always visitors
from Berlin--announced that the Kaiser was greatly pleased by the
result of the Portsmouth conference. He knew the weakness of Russia,
and though he believed that German interests required that she should
not be strong, he feared, above all things, the preponderance of the
Yellow Races. I discovered one thing early, that the Pan-German
party propagated the idea that the Japanese alliance with England
could be used against the United States.
It was vain to argue about this. 'Japan is your enemy; the
Philippines will be Japanese, unless you strengthen yourselves by a
quasi-alliance with us; then England, tied to Japan, can not oppose
you.' One could discover very little from the Kaiser's public
utterances; but he indemnified himself for his conventionality in
public by his frankness in private.
He described the Danish as the most 'indiscreet of courts.' He forgot
that his own indiscretions had become proverbial in Copenhagen.
Whether this 'indiscretion' was first submitted to the Foreign Office
is a question. His diplomatists were usually miracles of discretion;
but the city was full of 'echoes' from Berlin which did not come from
the diplomatists or the court. The truth was, the Kaiser looked on
the courts of Denmark and Stockholm as dependencies, and he was
'hurt' when any of the court circle seemed to forget this.
In his eyes, a German princess, no matter whom she married, was to
remain a German. The present Queen of Denmark, the most discreet of
princesses, never forgot that she was a Danish princess and would be
in time a Danish queen.
Every German princess was looked upon as a propagator of the views of
the Kaiser;--the Queen of the Belgians was a sore disappointment to
him; but, then, she was not a Prussian princess. When one of the
princesses joined the Catholic Church, there was an explosion of rage
on his part.
As far as I could gather, in 1908-9-10, he was _chambré_, as liberal
Germany said, surrounded by people who echoed his opinions, or who,
while pretending to accept them, coloured them with their own.
It was surmised that he despised his uncle, King Edward. Evidences of
this would leak out.
He admired our material progress, and he was determined to imitate
our methods. The loquacity of some of our compatriots amused him.
He understood President Roosevelt so little as to imagine that he
could influence him. There was one American he especially disliked,
and that was Archbishop Ireland; but the reason for that will form
almost a chapter by itself.
As I have said, it seemed to me most important that good feeling in
the little countries of Europe should be founded on respect for us.
Somebody, a cynic, once said that the only mortal sin among Americans
is to be poor. That may or may not be so. It was, however, the
impression in Europe. It was difficult in Denmark to make it
understood that we were interested in literature and art, or had any
desire to do anything but make money. The attempt to buy the Danish
West Indies, made in 1902, was looked on by many of the Danes as the
manifestation of a desire on the part of an arrogant and
imperial-minded people to take advantage of the poverty of a little
country. 'You did not dare to propose to buy an island near your
coast from England or France, or even Holland,' they said. This
prejudice was encouraged by the German press whenever an opportunity
arose. And against this prejudice it was my business to fight.
Until after the war with Spain--unfortunate as it was in some
aspects--we were disdained; after that we were supposed to have crude
possibilities.
German propagandists took advantage of our seeming 'newness,'
forgetting that the new Germany was a _parvenu_ among the nations.
Our people _en tour_ in Europe spent money freely and gave opinions
with an infallible air almost as freely. They too frequently assumed
the air of folk who had 'come abroad' to complete an education never
begun at home; or, if they were persons who had 'advantages,' they
were too anxious for a court _entrée_, asking their representative
for it as a right, and then acting at court as if it were a divine
privilege.
It was necessary in Denmark to accentuate the little things. The
Danes love elegant simplicity; they are, above all, aesthetic. My
predecessor, who did not remain long enough in Denmark to please
his Danish admirers, called the Danes 'the most civilised of
peoples.' I found that he was right; but they were full of
misconceptions concerning us. We used toothpicks constantly! We did
not know how to give a dinner! The values of the wine list (before
the war, most important) would always remain a mystery to us. In a
word, we were 'Yankees!' To make propaganda--the first duty of a
diplomatist--requires thought, time and money. The Germans used all
three intelligently.
One cannot travel in the provinces without money. One cannot reach
the minds of the people without the distribution of literature.
Unhappily, Governments before the war, with the exception of the
German Government, took little account of this.
One of the best examples of an effective propaganda, of the most
practicable and far-sighted methods, was that of the French
Ambassador to the United States, Jusserand. He did not wait to be
taught anything by the Germans.
We have two bad habits: we read our psychology as well as our
temperament--the result of a unique kind of experience and
education--into the minds of other people, and we despise the opinion
of nations which are small. The first defect we have suffered from,
and the latter we shall suffer from if we are not careful. Who cares
whether Bulgaria respects us or not? And yet a diplomatist soon
learns that it counts. It is a grave question whether the little
countries look with hope towards democracy, or with helpless respect
towards autocracy. We see that Bulgaria counted; we shall see that
Denmark counted, too, when the moment came for our buying the Virgin
Islands.
The German propaganda was incessant. Denmark was in close business
relations with England. Denmark furnished the English breakfast
table--the inevitable butter, bacon and eggs. But the trade relations
between England and Denmark were not cultivated as were those between
Denmark and Germany. The German 'drummer' was the rule, the English
commercial traveller the exception.
As to the American, he seldom appeared, and when he came he spoke no
language but his own. In literature the Germans did all they could to
cultivate the interest of the Danish author. He was petted and
praised when he went to Berlin--that is, after his books had been
translated. Berlin never allowed herself to praise any Scandinavian
books in the original. As to music, the best German musicians came to
Denmark. Richard Strauss led the _Rosenkavalier_ in person; the
Berlin symphony and Rheinhart's plays were announced. Every
opportunity was taken to show Denmark Germany's best in music, art
and science. 'If you speak the word culture, you must add the word
German.' This was a Berlin proverb. 'All good American singers must
have my stamp before America will hear them,' the Kaiser said. Danish
scientists were always sure of recognition in Germany, but they must
be read in German or speak in German when they visited Berlin.
In 1908 King Edward came to Copenhagen. He was regarded principally
as the husband of the beloved Princess Alexandra. He did not conceal
the fact that Copenhagen bored him, and the Copenhageners knew it.
However, they received him with an appearance of amiability they had
not shown to the Kaiser on the occasion of his visit.
No Dane who remembered Bismarck and Slesvig and who saw at Kiel the
growing German fleet could admire the Emperor William II. Even the
most ferocious propagandists demanded too much when they asked that.
They looked on the visits of King Frederick VIII. to Germany with
suspicion.
When the Crown Prince, the present Christian X., married the daughter
of the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, they were not altogether
pleased. They were reconciled, however, by the fact that the Crown
Princess was the daughter of a Russian mother. Besides, the Crown
Princess, now Queen Alexandrina, was chosen by Prince Christian
because he loved her. 'She is the only woman I will marry,' he had
said. And when she married him, she became Danish, unlike her
sister-in-law, the Princess Harald, who has always remained German,
much to the embarrassment of her husband, and the rumoured annoyance
of the present king, who holds that a Danish princess must be a Dane
and nothing else.
The Danish queen's mother is the clever Grand Duchess Anastasia
Michaelovna,[3] who was Russian and Parisian, who loved the Riviera,
above all Cannes, and who was the most brilliant of widows. When the
sister of Queen Alexandrina married the German Crown Prince in 1905,
the Danes were relieved, but not altogether pleased. Those of them
who believed that royal alliance counted, hoped that a future German
Empress, so nearly akin to their queen, might ward off the
ever-threatening danger of Prussian conquest.
[3] On the outbreak of the war, the Grand Duchess threw off her
allegiance to Germany, and resumed her Russian citizenship.
The Crown Princess Cecilia became a favourite in Germany; it was
rumoured that she was not sufficient of a German housewife to suit
the Kaiser.
'The Crown Princess Cecilia is adorable, but she will not permit her
august father-in-law to choose her hats,' said a visiting lady of the
German autocratic circle; 'she might, at least, follow the example of
her mother-in-law, for the Emperor's taste is unimpeachable!' My wife
remembered that this serene, well-born lady wore a hat of mustard
yellow, then a favourite colour in Berlin!
In April 1908, King Edward VII. and Queen Alexandra made a visit to
Copenhagen. It was the custom in Denmark that, when a reigning
sovereign came on a gala visit, the Court and the diplomatists were
expected to go to the station to meet him. The waiting-room of the
station was decorated with palms which had not felt the patter of
rain for years, and with rugs evidently trodden to shabbiness by many
royal feet. Amid these splendours a _cercle_ was held.
The visiting monarch, fresh from his journey, spoke to each of the
diplomatists in turn. He dropped pearls of thought for which one gave
equally valuable gems.
'The American Minister, Your Majesty,' said the Chamberlain. 'Glad to
see you; where are you from?' 'Washington, the capital.' 'There are
more Washingtons?' 'Many, sir.' 'How do you like Copenhagen?'
'Greatly--almost as well as London' (insert Stockholm, Christiania,
The Hague, to suit the occasion).
And then came the voice of the Chamberlain--'The Austrian Minister,
Your Majesty.' 'How do you like Copenhagen?' The same formula was
used until the _chargés d'affaires_, who always ended the list, were
reached: 'How long have you been in Copenhagen?'
King Edward was accompanied by a staff of the handsomest and most
soldierly courtiers imaginable; they were the veritable splendid
captains of Kipling's _Recessional_. Queen Alexandra was attended by
the Hon. Charlotte Knollys and Miss Vivian. It was a great pleasure
to see Miss Knollys again. To those who knew her all the tiresome
waiting was worth while; she seemed like an old friend.
The police surveillance was not so strict when the King and Queen of
England were in Copenhagen; but when any of the Russian royalties
arrived, the police had a time of anxiety though they were reinforced
by hundreds of detectives.
In Copenhagen it was always said that the Empress Dowager, the Grand
Duke Michael, the Archduchess Olga, and others of the Romanoff
family, were only safe when in the company of some of the English
royal people. The Empress Dowager of Russia, formerly the Princess
Dagmar of Denmark, never went out without her sister. They were
inseparable, devoted to each other, as all the children of King
Christian IX. were. It was not the beauty and charm of Queen
Alexandra that saved her from attack; it was the fact that England
was tolerant of all kinds of political exiles, as a visit to Soho, in
London, will show.
At the station, just as the King and Queen of England entered, there
was an explosion. 'A bomb,' whispered one of the uninitiated. It
happened to be the result of the sudden opening of a _Chapeau claque_
in the unaccustomed hands of a Radical member of the Cabinet who,
against his principles, had been obliged to come in evening dress.
We, of the Legation, always wore evening dress in daylight on gala
occasions. One soon became used to it. Our American citizens of
Danish descent always deplored this, and some of our secretaries
would have worn the uniform of a captain of militia or the court
dress of the Danish chamberlains, which, they said, under the
regulations we were permitted to wear. Not being English, I found
evening dress in the morning not more uncomfortable than the
regulation frock coat. I permitted a white waistcoat, which the Danes
never wore in the morning, but refused to allow a velvet collar and
golden buttons because this was too much like the _petit uniforme_ of
other Legations.
There was one inconvenience, however--the same as irked James Russell
Lowell in Spain--the officers on grand occasions could not recognise
a minister without gold lace, and so our country did not get the
proper salute. On the occasion of the arrival of the King of England,
I remedied this by putting on the coachmen rather large red, white
and blue cockades. Arthur and Hans were really resplendent!
Later, when my younger daughter appeared in society after the
marriage of the elder, there was no difficulty. All the officers who
loved parties recognised the father of the most indefatigable dancer
in court circles. A cotillion or two at the Legation amply made up
for the absence of uniforms. Our country, in the person of its
representative, after that had tremendously resounding salutes.
Prince Hans, the brother of the late King Christian IX., who has
since died, was especially friendly with us. He was beloved of the
whole royal family. His kindliness and politeness were proverbial.
When he was regent in Greece, he had been warned that the Greeks
would soon hate him if he continued to be so courteous. His equerry,
Chamberlain de Rothe, told me that he answered: 'I cannot change; I
_must_ be courteous.' He is the only man on record who seems to have
entirely pleased a people who have the reputation of being the most
difficult in Europe.
Prince Hans came in to call, at a reasonable time, after the arrival
of the King and Queen of England; we were always glad to see him; he
was so really kind, so full of pleasant reminiscences; he had had a
very long and full life; he was the 'uncle' of all the royalties in
Europe. He especially loved the King of England. Having lived through
the invasion of Slesvig, he was most patriotically Danish; he looked
on the Prussians as an 'uneasy' people.
'The King of England is much interested in the condition of your
ex-President, Grover Cleveland,' he said. 'If you will have him, he
will come to tea with you; I will bring him. He is engaged to dine
with the Count Raben-Levitzau and, I think, to go to the Zoological
Gardens and to dine with the Count Friis; but he will make you a
visit, to ask personally for ex-President Cleveland and to talk of
him after, of course, he has lunched at the British Legation.'
I said that the Legation would be deeply honoured. Informal as the
visit would be, it would be a great compliment to my country.
'The German Legation will be surprised; but it can give no offence; I
am _sure_ that it can give no offence. King Edward is not pleased
altogether with his nephew. When the emperor came to Copenhagen in
1905 he was not so friendly to us as he is now. Poor little Denmark.
It has escaped a great danger through Bertie's cleverness,' Prince
Hans murmured. From this I gathered that Prince Hans felt that the
king's coming to the American Legation would be noticed by all the
Legations as unusual, but especially by the German Legation. From
this I judged that some danger to Denmark might have been
threatening.
'The Kaiser dined in this room,' Prince Hans said, 'when he was here
in 1905--no, no, he took coffee in this room, and not in the
dining-room. However, as Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone has told, the
German Minister, von Schoen, who gave so many parties that all the
young Danish people loved him, and his wife could not decide where
coffee was to be taken; the Kaiser settled it himself. It is an
amusing story; it has made King Frederick laugh. If the King of
England comes to tea, you will not be expected to have boiled eggs,
as we have for the Empress Dowager of Russia and Queen Alexandra and
King George of Greece, some champagne, perhaps, and the big cigars,
of course.'
'And, as to guests?'
'Only the Americans of your staff, I think, who have been already
presented to the king.'
The announcement that the King of England would take tea with us did
not cause a ripple in the household; the servants were used to kings.
King Frederick had a pleasant way of dropping in to tea without
ceremony, and the princesses liked our cakes. Besides, Hans, the
indispensable Hans, had waited on King Edward frequently, so he knew
his tastes. But the king did not come; Prince Hans said that he was
tired. He sent an equerry, with a most gracious message for Grover
Cleveland, and another inquiry as to his health. The royal cigars
lasted a long time as few guests were brave enough to smoke them. The
king at the _Cercle_ at court was most gracious. 'I hope to see you
in London,' he said. My colleagues seemed to think that his word was
law, and that I would be the next ambassador at the Court of St.
James's. I knew very well that his politeness was only to show that
he was in a special mood to manifest his regard for the country I
represented.
The King of England was failing at the time as far as his bodily
health was concerned, but he had what a German observer called 'a
good head' in more senses than one. He still took his favourite
champagne; his cigars were too big and strong for most men, but not
too big and strong for him. He showed symptoms of asthma, but he was
alert, and firmly resolved to keep the peace in Europe, and, it was
evident--he made it very evident--he was determined to keep on the
best terms with the United States. During the pause between the parts
of the performance at the Royal Opera House, where we witnessed Queen
Alexandra's favourite ballet, _Napoli_, and heard excerpts from _I
Poliacci_ and _Cavalleria_, the king renewed the questions about
Grover Cleveland's health. Prince Hans suddenly announced that he was
dead. As every minister is quite accustomed to having all kinds of
news announced before he receives it, I could only conclude that it
was true. Several ladies of American birth came and asked me; I could
only say, 'Prince Hans says so.' Countess Raben-Levitzau, whose
husband was then Minister of Foreign Affairs, seemed to be much
amused that I should receive a bit of information of that kind
through Prince Hans. Late that night, after the gala was over, a
cable came telling me that the ex-President was well. I was glad that
I was not obliged to put out the flag at half-mast for the loss of a
President whom the whole country honoured, and who had shown great
confidence in me at one time.
Prince Hans was full of the sayings and doings of the King of England
after his departure. He called him 'Bertie' when absent-minded,
recovering to the 'King of England' when he remembered that he was
speaking to a stranger. Once, quoting the German Emperor, he said
'Uncle Albert.'
'Denmark will not become part of Germany in the Kaiser's time--"Uncle
Albert" will see to that. England will not fight Germany in his time
on any question; therefore Russia will not go against us.'
'But the Crown Prince. What of him?'
'"Uncle Albert" will see to that if the Kaiser should die--but life
is long. The King of England will cease to smoke so much, and, after
that, his health will be good; he has saved us, I will tell you, by
defeating at Berlin the designs of the Pan-Germans against Denmark.'
The late King of England had new issues to face, and he knew it. The
cause of sane democracy would have been better served had he lived
longer. Perhaps he had been, like his brother-in-law, King Frederick
of Denmark, crown prince too long. Nevertheless, he had observed, and
he was wise. He may have been too tolerant, but he was not weak. In
Denmark, one might easily get a fair view of the characters of the
royal people. The Danes are keen judges of persons--perhaps too keen,
and the members of their aristocracy had been constantly on intimate
terms with European kings and princes. 'As for Queen Alexandra,' Miss
Knollys once said, 'she will go down in history as the most
beautiful of England's queens, but also as the most devoted of wives
and mothers. The king makes us all work, but she works most
cheerfully and is never bored.'
The visit of the King of England caused more conjectures. What did it
mean? A pledge on the part of England that Denmark would be protected
both against Germany and Russia? Notwithstanding the opinion that the
Foreign Office in England did all the work, the diplomatists held
that kings, especially King Edward and the Kaiser, had much to do
with it.