CHAPTER X

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.