A PORTENT IN THE AIR
'This is the first page of my diary and the last,' wrote William H.
Seward. 'One day's record satisfies me that, if I should every day
set down my hasty impressions, based on half information, I should do
injustice to everybody around me and to none more than my intimate
friends.'
This is true; and, when suspicion seemed to reign everywhere, after
August 1914, and one's private papers were never safe, in spite of
the fidelity of our servants--and no strangers were ever blessed with
better servants than my wife and I--it became all the more necessary
not to put down explicitly the day's talk. And the colleagues were
very frank--except when their Foreign Officers instructed them to say
something for export. If we were at the end of the world, I might
give daily conversations that would have a certain interest, but
probably some persons whom I have the honour to call friends, and
even intimate friends, might be misunderstood. A diplomatic corps in
a city like Copenhagen is one large family, and in Copenhagen the
court treats its members, who are sympathetic, with unusual courtesy,
and, at every fitting opportunity, makes them of the royal circle,
which is a very cosy and cheerful one.
The years 1910, 1911, and 1912 were eventful ones, not because things
happened, but because things were about to happen. It was a period of
unrest. The diplomatic conversations at this time occupied themselves
with the position of Germany.
Henckel-Donnersmarck had gone to Weimar, much to my regret. He was
supposed to have retired to private life because the Kaiser did not
find his reports minute enough, but, knowing him, it seemed to me
that he was glad to be out of a position which bored him thoroughly,
and which exacted of him duties that he did not care to fulfil.
Denmark was becoming more and more Socialistic, and even the
Conservatives were so extremely 'advanced,' that Count Henckel found
himself rather out of place. He made no country-house visits in the
summer, and gave dinners in the winter only when he could not help
it. Beyond certain conversations with me on political subjects
already mentioned, he did not go. Literature and the simpler aspects
of life interested him--children especially. We amused ourselves by
mapping out the career of his son, Leo, a very young person of marked
individualistic qualities.
For impressions of Germany and Austria, one had to go to other
sources. The upheaval in Germany caused by the Kaiser's disregard of
public opinion in 1908 had caused most of my colleagues some concern.
Nobody wanted war. The Austrians and the Russians alike were
horrified at the thought of it.
In 1909 there had been rumours of grave events; Count Ehrenthal had
announced privately to some bankers that 'war was evitable.' Count
Szechenyi, the Austrian-Hungarian, a lover of peace, if there ever
was one, met me one day on the steps of the Foreign Office, in a
state of trepidation. Mr. Michel Bibikoff, of the Russian Legation,
had seen me several times on the subject of the possible conflict,
academically and personally, of course, as our Government was
supposed to have no great interest in war in Europe. A speech made by
Mr. Alexander Konta, whose son, Geoffrey, was one of the best private
secretaries I ever had, put me on the track (Mr. Konta, an American
of Hungarian birth, had been conducting some financial affairs in his
native country). I suspected there would be no war since Count
Ehrenthal had announced to the financiers that there would be war. In
my opinion, it was a question of the fall or rise of stocks. Count de
Beaucaire, the French Minister, was intensely interested; a flame lit
in the Balkans might involve France. The English Minister, Sir Alan
Johnstone, seemed to take matters more calmly; we all expected his
Foreign Office to send him to Vienna, and his calmness was a
sedative. He, a prospective ambassador, was supposed to know
something of conditions, but Count Szechenyi discovered that he was
nervous, too. It struck me that it was rather absurd for me not to
know something definite.
There was an old friend, deep in the diplomatic secrets of the
Vatican, who knew the Balkans well, who disliked Russia as much as he
suspected Germany. It was easy to get an opinion from him because he
knew I would use it with discretion. There was a clever old
Hanoverian noble, much in the secrets of the court at Berlin, and
there was Frederick Wile in Berlin, who knew many things. When Count
Szechenyi, rather pale, came up the stairs of the Foreign Office, and
said, 'My God! There will be war!'
'No,' I answered, 'it is settled--there will be no war. I give you my
word of honour.'
'You are sure?'
'I have just told Bibikoff, and he is delighted.'
I have been grateful many times to Frederick Wile, who was once a
student of mine, but that day I was more grateful than ever, for war
_is_ hell and I was glad to relieve my friends' minds.
That night there was a _cercle_ at court. King Frederick VIII., the
most affable of kings, greatly interested in the Danes in America,
had been praising Count Carl Moltke, who had shown a great interest
in the Americans of Danish blood; it was an interesting subject. To
speak well of Count Moltke, who had the good taste to marry an
American, is always a genuine pleasure, though, I believe, he would
have left Washington if the sale of the Danish West Indies had been
mooted in his time. Then the king said, 'Your country is fortunate
not to be entangled in European affairs. There is talk of war. As the
American Minister, you have no interest, except a humanitarian one,
in a European war; you do not trouble yourself about the question
seriously.' I bowed, being discreet, I hope. Suddenly a deep voice,
audible everywhere, called out: 'But Egan told Szechenyi that the
propositions had been accepted, and there will be no war.' The king
turned to me; I was not especially desirous of admitting that I had
been making investigations, and still less desirous of revealing my
sources of information.
Before the king could ask a question, Sir Alan Johnstone cut in, just
behind me, 'From whom did you hear it?'
'From a journalist,' I answered, remembering Frederick Wile.
'It will be in the papers to-morrow, then,' said the king.
I was relieved. I should have hesitated to appear to have shown such
interest to the king as my mention of the other authorities might
have revealed.
It was announced later, but not in the next day's papers. However,
the apprehension still remained. The Kaiser was for peace--yes!--but
on his own terms.
The one objection to Mr. Seward's dictum on the exact keeping of
journals is that the writer, after the facts--unrelated and distorted
as they are each day--are seen in the light of experience, the
diarist finds it only too easy to prophesy for the public, because
now he _knows_. This is a temptation; but, as I look back, I must
confess that in 1910, in spite of the anxiety of my colleagues,
Germany seemed mainly important as regards her attitude to the sale
of the Danish East Indies to us. Lord Salisbury's trade of Zanzibar
for Heligoland was always in my mind. The correspondence of Mr. John
Hay and other investigations had led me to believe that the failure
of the proposed sale in 1901-1902 had been caused by German
opposition. I was, I must confess, glad to see the friendliness
between Germany and the United States. I knew rather well that it
could never grow very deep; the German point of view of the Monroe
Doctrine was too fixed for that. I knew, too, that if the very
Radical and Socialistic parties in Denmark continued to grow, the
island must be sold, and likewise that, if the United States and
Germany were unfriendly, the Social Democrats, who were too near
their German brethren not to be in sympathy with their brethren,
might turn the scale in favour of retaining the Islands. The eyes of
my colleagues were on Germany; mine were also, but for different
reasons. While they feared that Germany might want some of their
territory--we knew that, in spite of the Triple Alliance Germany and
Austria were one, Italy always being an 'outsider'--I was anxious to
save from Germany islands that might be hers if she should absorb
Denmark. I confess, with repentant tears, if you will, I had not the
slightest belief in the disinterestedness, when it came to a question
of territory, of any nation, except our own--and that might have its
limitations!
In August 1910, I was very glad to go to visit the Raben-Levitzaus.
One reason was that the Count and Countess Raben-Levitzau are among
the most cosmopolitan and interesting people in Europe; another was,
that Chamberlain and Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone were to be at the
castle of Aalholm. Raben-Levitzau had been Minister of Foreign
Affairs. He had married Miss Moulton, one of the most beautiful
ladies in Europe and the daughter of Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone by
her first marriage. Hegermann-Lindencrone had been minister to
Washington when I was at Georgetown College doing some philosophical
work under Father Guida and Father Carroll; but I had been permitted
to go into society occasionally and the fame of Hegermann-Lindencrone
was just beginning. Mutual acquaintances and memories established a
friendship, and I came to know him as one of the cleverest, most
farseeing and kind of diplomatists. If he has an enemy in the world,
that enemy must be one of the few human beings worthy of eternal
damnation!
The conversation is always good at Aalholm. Raben-Levitzau was rather
depressed; he was out of public life, which he loved. He had gone out
in 1908 with the J. C. Christensen ministry, owing to the fact that
Alberti, the Minister of Justice, had been found guilty of some
inexcusable manipulation of the public money. Alberti, with the rest
of the reigning ministry had been invited to the wedding of my
daughter Patricia, in September 1908. He very courteously declined,
giving as a reason that he was 'engaged'; he went to jail on that
day. He was a polite man. Raben-Levitzau resigned through the most
delicate sentiment of honour, in spite of the remonstrances of his
friends.
I found him not against the sale, though he seemed to regards it as
very improbable. He felt that the Danes had ceased to practise the
art--if they ever had it--of ruling colonies, and, I think, that the
tremendous expenses of the Socialistic régime in Denmark, where the
poor are practically supported in all difficulties by State funds,
would render improvements in distant possessions almost impossible.
Sentimentally he would hate to see the red and the white of the
Dannebrog cease to fly amid the flags of Holland, of England, of
France, on the other side of the Atlantic. Hegermann-Lindencrone was
frankly for the sale, though it was not then in question. I asked
about Germany's design on Denmark, rumours of which were in
everybody's mouth. He--he was still Danish Minister in Berlin--said
that, since the completion of the Kiel Canal, Germany had no reason
for assuming Denmark. This was reassuring.
Nevertheless, when one caught the reflections of German opinion in
Denmark, one became surer than ever that the new Empire was not
inclined to accept the isolation which European politicians were
apparently forcing on her. Hegermann-Lindencrone and his wife were
favourites at the German Court; the Kaiser made a point of
signalising his regard for them. Madame Hegermann was by birth an
American, a Greenough of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and never for a
moment does she forget it, though she has borrowed from the best
European society all the cultivation it could give her, in addition
to her natural talent and charm. The Kaiser showed his best side to
the Hegermann-Lindencrones, and they believed that personally he had
no evil designs on the peace of the world.
As a Dane, Hegermann-Lindencrone's task at Berlin had not been easy,
with discontent in Slesvig always threatening to break out, although
for a time he had, as secretary of Legation, Eric de Scavenius, who
knew Germany as well as Denmark, who was as patriotically firm as he
was humanly genial. He seemed to think that the sale of the Islands
in 1902 had failed because the sum offered was comparatively small,
others because of the governmental scandals, and of the opposition of
the Princess Marie and the East Asiatic Company.
This was interesting; he did not believe that either the German
Government of that time or the industrials, like Herr Ballin, were
against it--in fact, German interests on the Islands, especially
those of the Hamburg-American Line, were deemed as safe in the hands
of the Americans as those of the Danes. The time was, however, not
ripe for taking up the question; national opinion was against it, and
the great Danish industrials, like Etatsraad Andersen, Admiral de
Richelieu, Commander Cold, Holger Petersen and others had not yet had
their opportunity of testing the national feeling. As far as I could
see in 1910, England and France gave the matter no consideration,
though, to his horror, I occasionally informed the Count de Beaucaire
that an attempt on our part might be made to buy Martinique and
Jamaica and Curaçoa, unless the Danish Islands could be linked into
our belt. 'If I thought you were serious, I should oppose you with
all my might!' he said.
The South American representatives showed indifference when I
mentioned the Gallapagos Islands. The buying of islands was a fixed
idea with me, and I liked to talk about it. Diplomatic opinion was
inclined to treat the prospect as chimerical, but it was evident that
neither Sweden nor Norway liked it. However, as I have said, the time
had not come.
I discovered that, when it came to the matter of patent laws, etc.,
Denmark could not act without the example of Germany, and I gathered
from this, that, when the time should come, Germany might expect to
have something to say. In the meantime, there were other questions to
study, but somehow or other all of them seemed to hinge on Germany's
attitude. She was the sphinx of Europe.
It was in June, 1911, that the Atlantic Squadron stopped at Denmark
on its way to Germany. Admiral Badger, suave and sympathetic, was in
command. The four war vessels made a great effect, but the officers
and sailors a greater. Before they left for Kiel--it was a visit of
courtesy to the German Navy--the officers gave various dances on
board, and the decorum, the elegance, and, above all, the good
manners and good dancing of these gentlemen were praised even by
those who had been led to believe that most 'Yankees' were crude and
unpolished.
King Frederick expressed to me most cordially the honour done his
nation by the visit, and was very much amused by the flattering
attentions paid by the American sailors at Tivoli to the Danish
girls. 'I saw them myself!' he said. He was delighted by the 'tenue'
of the officers, and complimented by the enthusiasm of the sailors,
who had apparently taken a great fancy to him.
After one of the receptions given by the American officers, the
equerry who had been appointed to look after the Admiral and his
immediate suite, came to me in great perplexity. He held in his hand
a little box. 'I am in difficulty,' he said, 'and I have come to ask
you to help me out of it. His Majesty has received several letters
from the American sailors, and there is one which especially amused
him. It seems that he pleased the men by asking for the Scandinavians
in your navy. A sailor thanks him for this, addressing him as 'dear
King,' declaring that the men like Copenhagen so much that they beg
His Majesty to induce the Admiral to stay a few days longer. Of
course, His Majesty cannot do that, but he has asked me to give the
little medal in this box to the sailor. I am told that is against the
rules, which seem to be very strict. I really cannot tell the King
that I have not given the medal to the worthy sailor; you know the
King's kindness of heart. I am at my wit's end, so I appeal to you.
It seems so difficult to arrange without infringing upon the
discipline.'
'It is easy enough,' I said. 'When in a quandary of this kind, call
in the Church.'
We found the chaplain, and the amiable Frederick VIII. received a
note of gratitude, addressed 'Dear King.'
The French and the Russians were especially interested in the coming
of the squadron, but it was made rather evident that the Germans
would have preferred that the warships might have gone directly to
Kiel. To stop at Copenhagen and Stockholm was looked on as rather
tarnishing the compliment to the Imperial Master. There were several
private intimations that I had arranged it with a view to making the
Danes feel that the United States admired their qualities and desired
to stimulate their national ambition. 'It was as if the Magi had
concluded to visit a lesser monarch on their way to Bethlehem,' said
a sarcastic Dane I met at Oxholm's château of Rosenfeldt; 'the
ultra-Imperialists hold you responsible for it.' I replied that it
was a great honour to be mistaken for Providence!
The few pro-German writers on the Danish press rejoiced at the
compliment the United States was showing Germany; the press itself
was delighted. There were always some sarcastic paragraphs in the
Danish papers, the result of a German propaganda which allowed
nothing good in any other nation. These took the form of slight
sneers at the gaiety of our sailors and their open-handedness. The
response was indignantly made that American sailors were the only
sailors in the world who had too much to spend--and they spent this
largely in racing about in taxi-cabs, the cheapness of which amazed
them. There were rumours of depredation made by our men among the
beautiful flower beds in the Kongens Nytor. I investigated them.
There was not one valid case.
What did the visit of the squadron to Kiel mean? Germany again! Were
we afraid of the Kaiser? Was an alliance to be made between the two
great nations? Where did England come in? It was an arrangement,
offensive and defensive, against Japan? The United States would cede
the Philippines to Germany, to save those islands from the Yellow
Peril? 'Germany and the United States would drive the English from
the Atlantic, control the Pacific, and rule the world'--this was part
of a toast drunk by some enthusiastic German-Americans at a dinner in
the Hotel Bristol, which, fortunately, I had refused to attend. From
a diplomatic point of view, when in doubt, one always ought to refuse
a public dinner. Dinners are more dangerous to diplomatists than
bombs!
My son, Gerald, now in France, arranged a glorious game of baseball
between two of the crews of the squadron. Some of the American Colony
said it was 'educational.' The Danes, although Mr. Cavling, editor of
_Politiken_, gave a valuable silver vase to the winner, seemed to
look on it that way rather than as an amusement. The visit of the
_North Carolina_, the _Louisiana_, the _Kansas_ and the _New
Hampshire_ made an epoch, to which Americans could always allude with
justifiable pride.
Prince Hans, the 'uncle of Europe,' the elder brother of Frederick
VIII., our neighbour, was very ill at the time of the visit. The
dances put on the programme of a cotillion, to be directed by
Mr. William Kay Wallace, then Secretary of Legation, were, of course,
cancelled. Prince Hans, dying as he was, sent an attendant to the
Legation, to thank my wife for her courtesy. There was great fear
that His Highness would die, and thus force us to cancel our own gala
dinner, and naturally put an end to all festivities on the part of
the court and the navy. 'My uncle will not die until everything is
over,' said Prince Gustav; 'he is too polite!' He was. He died just
before the dinner given by King Frederick and Queen Louise, but the
news of his death was kept back by his own request, until the dinner
was over and the 'cercle' had begun; then the sad news began to be
whispered.
In 1912 the English and Russian squadrons appeared in the Sound. This
occasioned uneasiness. Some of the Danes asked 'did it mean a protest
against the presumed alliance between the United States and Germany?
Or was it an intimation to Germany that England and Russia had their
eyes on Germany? As to the second question, I had no answer; as to
the first, I laughed, and translated into my best Danish that such an
alliance would come when 'the sea gives up its dead.' It was a
curious allusion to make, in the light of horrible events that had
not yet occurred; I think I got it out of one of Jean Ingelow's
poems. By comparison with the glitter and gaiety of the Americans,
both the English and Russians seemed sad, and their officers rather
bored, too. Tea and cakes and conversation were no compensation in
the eyes of the Danes, who love to dance, for the American naval
bands and the claret punch of Admiral Badger's men--the navy was
'wet' then! I have no doubt, however, that the English chargé
d'affaires and the Russian Minister, were not obliged to see so many
lovelorn damsels, asking for the addresses or for news of various
sailor men, to whom they were engaged or expected to be. _Calypso ne
pouvait pas consoler_--for a time; but one or two marriages did
actually occur! The dancing of the American officers, and the weather
had been so 'marvellous'! How these enterprising sailor men managed
to engage themselves to young persons who spoke no English and
understood no language but Danish it was difficult to understand.
They had lost no time, however, but I left the problem to the
Consulate. The officers had been more discreet.
Many times before the English and Russian ships left the Sound, the
question, What will the Germans do now? was asked. The Copenhageners,
as I have said, like the old Athenians, are much given to the
repeating of new things. 'Now all the Athenians and strangers that
were there' (the Danes call diplomatists 'strangers') 'employed
themselves in nothing else but either in telling or in hearing some
new things,' says St. Luke. This makes Copenhagen a most amusing
place, though, unlike the Athenians, the Danes only talk of new
things in their moments of leisure.
One day just before the English and Russian vessels left, the
question as to what Germany would do was answered. A Zeppelin from
Berlin sailed over the masts of the English and Russian ships.
Copenhagen was indignant, but amused. We were invited to take the
trip back to Berlin in the Zeppelin--the fare was one hundred
kroner, or rather marks. What could be more pacific? But the Zeppelin
continued to float majestically, by preference over that space in the
Sound occupied by the English and Russians. Was it a threat? Was it a
notice served to these possible enemies that Germany had more
powerful instruments, more insidious, more deadly, than even the
great gun of the _Lion_ which we had admired so much?
It was a portent in the sky! I reported it to my Government. It
seemed significant enough.