THE TRIUMPH OF MY LABOURS
From reading the preceding pages the reader will easily gather how it
was that, after so many years of hard fighting and struggling, my labour
brought its own triumph and gave me the gratification of my dearest
wishes.
The psychological problem is clear enough, and the solution is not hard.
Other children of men, animated by a desire to produce something new,
give themselves neither rest nor peace in the pursuit of their object,
but they hide the true motive which instigates them under a mask of
modesty; they pretend to be the unwilling instruments of fate. I frankly
admit that what animated me was the indomitable ambition to do something
out of the common, something that would make me famous. I think I must
have been born with this fire in my veins, this devil in my flesh. The
confession brings no blush of shame to my face, for now in my seventieth
year, looking back upon the thorny path of my life, I am fully convinced
it was this longing for fame and the insatiable thirst for activity in
the early stages of my career which were at the bottom of all the
inconsistencies of my life. On the one hand, the desire to put to some
practical use the experience and the knowledge I had gained urged me on
to take an active part in whatever was going on in Europe or Asia,
while, on the other, my natural propensities, or, perhaps more
correctly, the poverty and simplicity of my bringing up, made me lean
more towards a quiet, contemplative life and the retirement of my own
study. The severe rules of etiquette and the demands of society, where
everybody is so important in his own eyes, have ever been distasteful to
me, and often when I mixed with the leading people of the diplomatic
world or of high life I felt wearied with the empty talk and hollow,
would-be importance of these folks. These feelings were not calculated
to lit me for a diplomatic career, for, notwithstanding my eminently
practical turn of mind, I was anything but a man of the world.
Possibly--in fact, probably--these feelings would have become
considerably modified in process of time if at the commencement of my
public life, _i.e._, on my return from Central Asia, I had had the
chance of entering upon an active career instead of contenting myself
with purely scientific pursuits. I had always had a secret longing for
public activity, as I mentioned before, but at that time insurmountable
obstacles and difficulties stood in my way. In England I was certainly
a _distinguished foreigner_, but still I was a foreigner, and not likely
to receive the nation's unreserved confidence in important matters of
State. In Austria every chance of coming to the front was cut off for me
by ancient prejudices; and as for Hungary, its foreign affairs being
entirely managed in Vienna, there can even to this day be no question of
diplomatic activity. In bureaucratic and nobility-crazed Prussia the
prejudices against plebeian descent had already been somewhat mitigated,
and in so far overcome that the Iron Chancellor found for nearly all
German travellers who had gained experience in foreign lands some
employment in the diplomatic service. Nachtigal and Rohlfs have been
entrusted with missions to West and North Africa, for Emin Pasha there
was a regular fight, and Brugsch, who in company with Minutoli made only
one journey to Persia, was appointed First Secretary to the German
Embassy at Teheran. In spite of my excellent reception in England and
the rest of Europe, in spite of my energetic publicistic activity in
Asiatic politics, I was so absolutely unknown in Austria that when the
Ministry for War once had the unlucky idea of publishing a map of
Central Asia, obtained by secret means, and wanted to have it revised by
an expert, they submitted it to Kiepert in Berlin. He advised the
gentlemen in Vienna to refer the matter to one of their compatriots who
had visited the scene, and only after that the Military Geographical
Institute thought of me. This wilful and persistent ignoring of me
lasted for several years. When Austria sent its first Embassy to
Teheran, and the Press mentioned my name, an application of mine met
with the reply that I had not and could not come into consideration,
because in point of social rank I was not even a _Truchsess_ (_i.e._
chairbearer) at court; and yet, as I learned afterwards, the Shah and
his Government had received the newspaper report with pleasure. When
Austria, before the Bosnian occupation, sent a mission to Constantinople
to intercede for an amicable settlement of this affair, nobody thought
of me, although, as was afterwards clearly shown by my personal
intercourse with Sultan Abdul Hamid, no one could more easily than I
have brought about a conciliation, saving the country thousands of human
lives and millions of money, which the occupation campaign ultimately
claimed. At the critical period of the last Russo-Turkish War it was
considered advisable for the country to be represented at the Bosphorus
by a non-diplomatic ambassador. The choice fell on an aristocrat held to
be exceptionally cunning and clever, who before this was supposed to
have displayed his sagacity in various ways; but of Oriental affairs he
had not the faintest notion, and through ignorance and simplicity he
committed some gross mistakes. The fact that my many years' personal
intercourse with the Porte, my familiarity with the national customs,
languages, and conditions, and my personal acquaintance with the Sultan,
might have served the country far better, never entered anybody's mind;
not even my own countryman, Count Andrássy, who was then at the head of
foreign affairs, thought of me. Ridiculous! The very idea of it would
have been preposterous in the eyes of Austria. A Jew, a plebeian by
birth, how could he be admitted into the diplomatic service? Knowledge
and experience are of second or third-rate importance; and as for
literary proclivities, these had always been looked upon rather as a
crime than a virtue in Austria. Birth, position, rank, and the art of
dissimulation and cringing are worth more than all knowledge, and the
proverbial stupidity of Austria's diplomacy best illustrates how
strongly this mediæval spirit has asserted itself there.
In these circumstances it would have been only reasonable if, after
settling down in Austro-Hungary as a writer, I devoted myself henceforth
solely to literary pursuits. Quietly seated at my writing-table I
learned to appreciate the sweet fruits of liberty and independence. Here
I was safe against the chicaneries and whims of superior persons and the
constraint of social forms; the moral reward which honest work never
withholds was worth more to me than all the vain glamour of rank and
position coveted by all the world round me. Without wishing it, perhaps
against my own will, the force of circumstances finally landed me on
the right track, and I found a vocation more in keeping with my past
career. An active participation in Asiatic affairs might possibly have
made me richer and more noted, but certainly not happier or more
contented, for although I am not blind to the fact that literary fame
can never, either with the public at large or in the higher circles,
boast of the same recognition which birth and position claim as their
due, I have nevertheless noticed with satisfaction that the fruit of
intellectual labour is more real and lasting, more worth fighting for
than all the pomp and vanity people are so fond of displaying. Whatever
may be said in disparagement of writing, it remains true that the pen is
a power, and its victories greater, more durable, and nobler than the
advantages which other careers, be they ever so brilliant, have to
offer. The pen needs not the gracious nod of high personages; it depends
on none save on the hand that wields it; and if, in the face of the
amount of general and light literature produced in our days, some might
incline to think that the pen has lost its power, that its influence is
gone, and that for a writer to rise from obscurity and the lowest
position to the pedestal of esteem and appreciation is no longer
possible, the story of my life will help to reveal the fallacy of such
views. Even as the strenuous labour of my younger days raised me, the
quondam servant and Jewish teacher, to attract the attention of all
cultured Europe, even so my unremittent efforts in literary work have
secured me a position far beyond my merits and surpassing my wildest
expectations.
I have already mentioned the widespread popularity of my writings,
extending over three continents; I will only add here that, with regard
to some exclusively literary works, certain circles--not ordinarily
given to express admiration--could not help expressing their
appreciation of them, and the Press of England, which for years had
laughed at my political utterances, had at last ruefully to admit that I
was right, that I had rendered the State great service, and that I had
contributed many a brick to the building up of the wall of defence
around the Indian Empire. During a lecture which I delivered in 1889 in
Exeter Hall the late Commander-in-Chief of India, Sir Donald Stewart,
remarked that my writings had often stimulated the sinking courage of
the officers in India and stirred them up to endure to the end.
Frequently I received letters of appreciation from various parts of
India thanking me for my watchfulness over occurrences in Central Asia,
and the constant attacks I made on English statesmen who were so easily
rocked to sleep in false security.
There is a peculiar charm in the literary success attained after many
years of persistent work--a success which hostile criticism in vain
tries to minimize; for, in spite of an occasional disproportion between
the battle and the result, the pen leaves traces behind which often,
after many years, come back to us as the echo of long-forgotten
exploits. As I have just spoken of my political activity, I will here
mention, by way of curiosity, that Prince Reuss, late ambassador of the
German Empire on the Neva, drawing my attention to the effect produced
by my leading article published in the _Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung_,
said to me at the house of the German Consul-General Boyanowsky at
Budapest: "You do not seem to know how much importance the Asiatic
Department in St. Petersburg attaches to your enunciations in regard to
Central Asiatic politics. Your articles served the Russians at the time
not only as guides, but also as encouragement, and you have rendered but
a problematic service to England by their publication." Personal
experience on the scene of action, a constant, keen interest in the
development of events in the inner Asiatic world, and the stimulus of
ambition may have helped to give me a bolder and more far-reaching view
than this body of statesmen possessed, but that my writings should carry
so much weight I never thought. Comical episodes are not wanting either;
they are sure to occur in any public career pursued for many years
together. When the despatch of the German Emperor to Krüger, at the time
of the Jameson Raid in the Transvaal, caused such tremendous excitement
in London, and everybody was talking about the increasing Anglophobia in
Germany, I discussed this question, of course from the point of view
favourable to England, in a letter dated the 12th of January, 1896. The
_Times_ saw fit to publish my letter, which took up a whole column of
its front page, and on a Saturday, too, so that the letter might lie
over all the longer. Of course this article, signed "A Foreigner,"
attracted much attention in the German Press. Just at that time Leopold
II., King of the Belgians, happened to be in London, and the German
papers hit on the curious idea of connecting his Belgian Majesty with
the "foreigner." Of course all were up in arms against the "Coburger,"
and the _Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung_ of January 21, 1896, delivered
quite a peppered sermon against him. It could not leave me quite
indifferent to see a crowned head taken to task for my utterances, and I
communicated the real state of affairs to the Belgian Ambassador in
Vienna, but this _quid pro quo_ has never been made public, for the
_Times_ never betrays its co-operators. One would scarcely believe how
much the influence of the Press is felt, even in the remotest corners of
the earth. In consequence of the expression of my views about the
Islamic nations, either in Turkish or Persian, I received letters not
only from all parts of the Ottoman Empire, but also from the Crimea,
Siberia, Arabia, and North Africa, and hardly ever did a Moslem, or
Dervish, or merchant pass Budapest without coming to see me to assure me
of the sympathy of his fellow-countrymen.
The Mohammedans of India[1] were particularly friendly, on account of
my relations with the Sultan, and invited me to give lectures in some of
their towns, an invitation which tempted me very much, as I was rather
curious to see the effect of a Persian speech delivered by a European
among these genuine Asiatics. An open letter to the Mohammedans of India
did much to strengthen these friendly feelings, and if it had not been
for the sixty years which weighed on my shoulders I should long ere now
have made a trip to Hindustan.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] See Appendix III.
At the English Court