'Public opinion,' he said scornfully, 'public opinion in the United States is for peace. In Europe, if we could all have what we want, we should all keep the peace; but what chance of peace can there be until Italy has the Trentino or France Alsace-Lorraine, or until Germany gets to her place by controlling the Slavs. You are of a new country, where they believe things because they are impossible.'

He was a wise gentleman and he, too, watched Germany. It was plain that he disliked the Triple Alliance. Suddenly it dawned on me 'like thunder' that we had an interest in watching Germany, too.

It seemed to be a foregone conclusion that Germany would one day absorb Denmark. 'And then the Danish West Indies would automatically become German!' This was my one thought. The 'fixed idea'!

It is pleasanter to be Dean of the Diplomatic Corps than a new-comer. It must be extremely difficult for a diplomatic representative to be comfortable at once, coming from American localities where etiquette is a matter of gentlemanly feeling only, and where artificial conventionalities hardly count. In a monarchical country, the outward relations are changed. Socially, rank counts for much, and the rules of precedence are as necessary as the use of a napkin. To have lived in Washington—not the changed Washington of 1918-19—was a great help. After long observation of the niceties of official etiquette in the official society of our own Capital, Copenhagen had no terrors.

CHAPTER V
GLIMPSES OF THE GERMAN POINT OF VIEW IN RELATION TO THE UNITED STATES

'The Kaiser does not want that. Mr. Tower habituated him to splendour, and he likes Americans to be splendid. Rich people ought to spend their money in Berlin. Besides, he had been accustomed to Mr. Tower, who, he thinks, will oil the wheels of diplomatic intercourse. Just at this moment, when the Kaiser has lost prestige because of his double-dealing with the Boers and his apparent deceit on the Morocco question, he does not want a man of such devotion to the principles of The Hague convention and so constitutional as Mr. Hill, who may acknowledge the charm of the emperor, but who, even in spite of himself, will not be influenced by it.'

'How do you know this?'

'Everybody about the court in Berlin knows it, but I hear it from Munich. But Speck von Sternberg would have balanced Hill, if he had lived. They think he would have influenced President Roosevelt. Tell us the secrets of the White House—you ought to know—it was an awful competition between Speck and Jusserand, I hear.'

'President Roosevelt is not easily influenced,' I said.

Persons whom I knew in Berlin wrote to me, informing me how charmed the Kaiser was with the new ambassador; but, in Copenhagen, we learned that what the Kaiser wanted was not a great international lawyer, but a rich American of less intensity.

It was worth while to get Russian opinions.

'The Kaiser is having a bad time,' I remarked to a Russian of my acquaintance—a most brilliant man, now almost, as he said himself, homme sans patrie.

'Temporarily,' he answered; 'those indiscreet pronouncements of his on the Boers and the reversion of his attitude against England in the affair of Morocco have shown him that he cannot clothe inconsistency in the robes of infallibility. He is a personal monarch and he sinks all his personality in his character as a monarch. He is made to the likeness of God, and there is an almost hypostatic union between God and him! Our Tsar is by no means so absolute, though you Americans all persist in thinking so. I have given you some documents on that point; I trust that you have sent them to your President. I am sure, however, that he knew that. Do not imagine that the emperor will be deposed, because he has made a row in Germany. He has only discovered how far he can go by personal methods, that is all; he has learned his lesson—reculer pour mieux sauter. He has played a clever game with you. Bernstorff, his new ambassador, will offset Hill. Your investments in Russia will now come through German hands, and you will get a bad blow in the matter of potash.'

'What do you mean?' I asked. I had regarded Count Bernstorff as a Liberal. His English experience seemed to have singled him out as one of the diplomatists of the Central Powers—there were several—inclined to admit that other nations had rights which Germany was bound to respect. In private conversations, he had shown himself very favourable to the United States, and had even disapproved of German attacks on the Monroe Doctrine in Brazil. 'Count Bernstorff is not likely to offend Washington, or to reopen the wound that was made at Manila.'

'You talk as if diplomatists were not, first of all, instructed to look after the business interests of their countries. Do you think Bernstorff has been chosen to dance cotillions with your 'cave dwellers' in Washington or to compliment Senators' wives? First, his appointment is meant to flatter you. Second, he will easily flatter you because he really likes America and it is his business to flatter you. Third, he will do his best to induce you to assist England in strangling Russia in favour of Turkey. Fourth, he will grip hard, without offending you, the German monopoly of potash. He doesn't want trouble between the United States and Germany. He knows that any difficulty of that kind would be disastrous; he is as anxious to avoid that as is Ballin. Under the glimmer of rank, of which you think so much in America, commercialism is the secret of Germany's spirit to-day. In Berlin, I heard an American, one of your denaturalised, trying to curry favour with Prince von Bülow by saying that the national genius of Germany demanded that Alsace-Lorraine should be kept by Germany to avenge the insolence of Louis XIV. and Napoleon. Prince von Bülow smiled. He knew that your compatriot was working for an invitation to an exclusive something or other for his wife. Bernstorff is just the man to neutralise Hill. It's iron ore and potash in Alsace-Lorraine that the emperor cares about.'

'And yet I know, at first hand, that the Pan-German hates Bernstorff. If anything approaching to a Liberal Government came in Germany, Bernstorff will be Minister of Foreign Affairs.'

My Russian friend smiled sardonically. 'We Russians feel that our one salvation is to oust the Turk and get to the Mediterranean. My party would provoke a war with Germany to-morrow, if we could afford it, and Germany knows it. Count Bernstorff, the most sympathetic of all German diplomatists, knows this, too, and you may be sure that he will persuade your Government that he loves you, give the Russian programme a nasty stroke when he can, and keep the price of potash high. I, desirous as I am of being an Excellency, would refuse to go to Berlin to-morrow, if I had Bernstorff against me on the other side. See what will happen to Hill! Germany may offend you, but Bernstorff will persuade you that it is the simple gaucherie of a rustic youth who assumes the antics of a playful bear[5]—a hug or two; it may hurt, but the jovial bear means well! If Hill should leave Berlin, you will need a clever man who has political power with your Government. Bernstorff will contrive to put any other kind of man in the wrong—I tell you that.'

The Russian who predicted this is in exile, penniless, a man sans patrie, as he says himself. When I took these notes he seemed to be above the blows of fate!

If the hand of Germany was everywhere, everybody was watching the movements of the fingers. Among the English there were two parties: One that could tolerate nothing German, the other that hated everything Russian, but both united in one belief, that the alliance with Japan would not hold under the influence of German intrigue and that Italy could not long remain a member of the Triple Alliance.

The gossip from Berlin was always full of pleasant things for an American to hear. The Kaiser treated our compatriots with unusual courtesy.

In Copenhagen we were deluged with letters announcing that Count Bernstorff's coming meant a new era; he even excelled 'Speck' in his charm, sympathy, and everything that ought to endear him to us; in him showed that true desire for peace of which his august master was, of all the world, the best representative. It was even rumoured that the German Foreign Office had begun to coquette with the Danish Social Democrats.

The exchange of professors between the United States and Germany was becoming an institution. Sometimes the American professors found themselves in awkward positions; they did not 'rank'; they had no fixed position from the German point of view. As mere American commoners, unrecognised by their Government, undecorated, they could not expect attentions from the court as a right. However, the Germans studied them and rather liked some of them, but, not being raths, they were poor creatures without standing. Even if they should make reputations approved by the great German universities, they had no future. How green were the lawns and how pleasant the sweet waters in the enclosed gardens of autocracy, of which the Emperor, Fountain of Honours, kept the key!

It was amusing to note the German attitude toward democracy, in spite of all the pleasant things said by the High, Well-Born citizens of the Fatherland in favour of the American brand. At the same time, one could not help seeing that the children of the Kaiser were wiser than the children of—let us say modestly—Light. 'If the President asked me,' said one of the most distinguished of lawyers and the most loyal of Philadelphians to me, 'I should be willing to live all my life in Germany.' This was the result of the impression the charm of the Kaiser made on the best of us.

He has changed his opinion now; he swears by the works of his compatriot, Mr. Beck. Even then, in 1908-9, my distinguished Philadelphia friend could not have endured life in Germany. He forgot that even the emperor could not give him rank, and that no matter how cosmopolitan, how learned, how tactful he was, he would at once be a commoner, and very much of a commoner on the day he settled there as a resident.

A Prussian Serene Highness, who came with letters from an Irish relative in Hungary dropped in; he was mostly Bavarian in blood; he had cousins in England and Italy. He liked a good luncheon, and, as Miss Knollys always said (I quote this without shame), 'The best food in Europe is at the American Legation!' He smoked, too, and Rafael Estrada, of Havana, had chosen the cigars.

'France is difficult,' said my acquaintance, His Serene Highness. 'It is not really democratic; and England will go to pieces before it becomes democratic.

'You Americans have freedom with order, and you respect rank and titles, though you do not covet them. That is why the Kaiser would not send any ambassador not of a great family to you. All Americans who come to Berlin desire to be presented at court. It is a sign that you will come to our way of thinking some day. We are not so far apart. You who write must tell your people that we are calumniated, we are not despots. That woman, the author of Elizabeth and Her German Garden, married to a friend of mine, does us harm. But most Americans see Germany in a mellow light. We are akin in our aspirations—Frederick the Great understood that.

'Bismarck, great as he was, became ambitious only for his family. His son, the coming chancellor, would have used our young emperor as a puppet, if our emperor had not put him into his place. This is the truth, and I am telling it to you confidentially. The British Government will come to anarchy if it weakens the House of Lords. The House of Commons is already weak. There is no barrier between honest rule and the demagogues. With your magnificent Senate there will always be a wall between the will of the canaille and good government. We Germans understand you!'

'But suppose,' it was Mr. Alexander Weddell, then connected with the Legation, now Consul General at Athens, who broke in, 'you should differ from us on the Monroe Doctrine. I have recently read an article by Mr. Frederick Wile in an English magazine on your management of your people in Brazil.'

'"Our people!" The Serene Highness seemed startled. 'A German is always a German. It is the call of the blood.'

'And something more,' Mr. Weddell said, 'a German citizen is always a German citizen; you never admit that a German can become a Brazilian. Suppose you should want to join your Germans in Brazil with your Germans at home. What would become of our Monroe Doctrine?'

'There are Germans in your country who have ceased to be Germans, and your upper classes are Anglicised, except when they marry into one of our great families; nevertheless, our own people would still see that you don't go too far with your Monroe Doctrine. It has not yet been drastically interpreted. The Monroe Doctrine is a method of defence. To interfere with the call of the German blood from one country to another would be offensive to us, and I cannot conceive of your country so far forgetting itself!'

His Serene Highness was of a mediatised house—a gentleman who had much experience in diplomacy. He had, I think, visited Newport, and been almost engaged to an American girl. The legend ran that, when this lady saw him without his uniform, she broke the engagement. He was splendid in his uniform. He thought he knew the United States; he even quoted Bryce and De Tocqueville; he had the impression that the Kaiser's propaganda of education was Germanising us for our good. 'The most eminent professors at your most important universities are Germans. Your newest university, that of Chicago, would have no reputation in Europe if it were not for the Germans. Wundt has revolutionised your conception of psychology; your scientific and historical methods are borrowed from us. Even your orthodox Protestants quote Harnack. Virchow long ago put out the lights of Huxley and Spencer. And the Catholic German in America, whom Bismarck almost alienated from us, revolts against the false Americanism of Cardinal Gibbons and Archbishop Ireland, whom the Kaiser rates as a son of the Revolution. Your Catholic University has begun to be moulded in the German way. Mgr. Schroeder, highly considered, was one of the most energetic of the professors——'

'Was,' I said. 'I happen to know that he was relieved of his professorship because of those very dominating qualities you value so much.'

'That is regrettable; but, you see, in Germany we follow the train of events in your country. Who has a larger audience than Münsterberg? In the things of the mind we Germans must lead.'

In my opinion, it is best for a diplomatist—at least for a man who is in the avocation of diplomacy—to be satisfied with l'éloquence de l'escalier. If he writes memoirs he can always put in the repartee he intended to make; and, if he does not, he can always think, too, with satisfaction of what he was almost clever enough to say! It was enough to have discovered one thing—that, with a large number of the ruling classes in the Fatherland, the Monroe Doctrine was looked on as an iridescent bubble. Many times afterwards this fact was emphasised.

The Austrians were not always so careful as the Germans to save, when it came to democracy, American susceptibilities. They were always easy to get on with, provided one remembered that even to the most discerning among them, the United States, 'America' as they always called it, was an unknown land.

As for Count Dionys Szechenyi, the Minister of Austria-Hungary, he was the most genial of colleagues, and he had no sympathy with tyranny of any kind; he had no illusions as to America.

His wife is a Belgian born, Countess Madeleine Chimay de Caraman. He was always careful not to touch on 'Prussianism,' as the Danes called the principle of German domination. He had many subjects of conversation, from portrait buying to transactions in American steel and, what had its importance in those days, a good dinner. At his house one met occasionally men who liked to be frank, and then these Austro-Hungarians were a delightful group. 'If we should be involved in a war with England—which is unthinkable, since King Edward and our Ambassador, Count Mensdorff would never allow it—I could not buy my clothes in London,' said one very regretfully.

This Austrian magnate heard with unconcealed amusement the German talk of 'democracy.' 'Max Harden is sincere, but a puppet; he helps the malcontents to let off steam; the German Government will never allow another émeute like that of 1848. Bismarck taught the Government how to be really imperial. In Austria we are frankly autocratic, but not so new as the Prussian. We wear feudalism like an old glove. There are holes in it, of course, and Hungary is making the holes larger. If the Hungarians should have their way, there would be no more majorats, no more estates that can be kept in families; and that will be the end of our feudalism.

'As it is, things are uncomfortable enough, but a war would mean a break-up. What do you Americans expect for Max Harden and his Zukunft—exile and suppression as soon as he reaches the limit. All the influences of the Centre could not keep the Jesuits from being exiled! Why? They would not admit the superiority of the state. Harden will never have the real power of the Jesuits, for the reason that he founds his appeal on principles that vary with the occasion. But he will go! As for the Social Democrats, they can be played with as a cat plays with a mouse. Democracy! If the Kaiser gets into a tight place he can always declare war!

'Is the Imperial Chancellor responsible to the German people? No. He is imperial because he wears the imperial livery. Can the Reichstag appoint a chancellor? The idea is pour rire! My dear Mr. Minister, you and your countrymen do not understand Prussian rule in Germany! And the Federal Council, what chance has it against the will of our emperor? And what have the people to do with the Federal Council? The members are appointed by the rulers by right divine. There is the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin. He rules his little duchy with a firm hand. There is the Duke of Brunswick, the Prince of Lippe-Schaumbourg—not to speak of the Grand Duke of Baden and a whole nest of rulers responsible only to the Head of the House.'

'But the people must count,' I said. 'Prince von Bülow has shown himself to be nervous about the growing power of the Social Democrats.'

'Oh, yes, they are very amusing. They may caterwaul in the Reichstag; they may wrangle over the credits and the budget; but the emperor can prorogue them at any time. The Pan-Germans could easily, if the Reichstag were too independent, counsel the Kaiser to prorogue that debating club altogether.

'Who can prevent his forcing despotic military rule on the nation, for the nation's good, of course? Everything in Germany must come from the top—you know that. Again, the power of the rich, as far as suffrage is concerned, is unlimited. The members of the Reichstag are elected by open ballot. Woe be to the working man who defies his emperor. Fortunately the rich German is not socially powerful until he ranks. You may be as rich as Krupp, but if the Fountain of Honour has not dashed a spray of the sacred water on you, you are as nobody.

'The greatest American plutocrat may visit Germany and spend money like water, and he remains a mere commoner. The Kaiser may invite him on his yacht and say polite things, but, until he ranks, he is nobody. His wife may manage to be presented at court under the wing of the American ambassadress, but that is nothing! The poorest and most unimportant of the little provincial baronesses outranks her. She will always be an outsider, no matter how long she may live in Germany.

'With us, in Austria, an American woman, no matter whom she marries, is never received at court. She is never "born,"' and he laughed. 'Americans can have no heraldic quarterings; but, then, we do not pretend to be democratic. If I loved an American girl, I would marry her, of course; but if I went to court, I should go alone. It is the rule, and going to court is not such a rare treat to people who are used to it. It becomes a bore.'

To do my German diplomatic colleagues justice, they never attempted masquerades in the guise of democrats. There were other Germans, whom one met in society. These people were always loyal to the Fatherland. Their attitude was that the German world was the best of all possible worlds.

If my own countrymen and countrywomen abroad were as solidly American as these people were German, our politeness would not be so frequently stretched to the breaking point. The most loyal of Germans were American people of leisure who had lived long in Germany with titled relatives. They enjoyed themselves; they lived for a time in the glory of rank.

With those who had to earn their own living in Germany, it was another story. They did not 'rank'; they were ordinary mortals; they had not the entrée to some little provincial court, and so they saw the Prussian point of view as it really was. The American women, strangely enough, who had married ranking Germans loved everything German. 'But how do you endure the interference with your daily life?' my wife asked an American girl married to a Baron.

'I like it; it makes one so safe, so protected; your servants are under the law, and give you no trouble. Order is not an idea, but a method. I know just how my children shall be educated. That is the province of my husband. I have no fault to find.' She laughed. 'I do not have to explain myself; I do not have to say, "I am a Daughter of the Revolution, my uncle was Senator so-and-so"—my place is fixed, and I like it!'

It was a distinguished German professor who assumed the task of convincing American University men that the German Army was democratic, and the conclusion of his syllogism was: 'No officer is ever admitted to a club of officers who has not been voted for by the members.' Would you believe it? It seems incredible that democracy should seem to depend on the votes of an aristocracy and not on principles. But later, just at the beginning of the war, this professor and a half dozen others signed a circular in which the same argument was used. In 1907-8-9-10, the propaganda for convincing Americans that Germany—that is that the Kaiser—loved us was part of the daily life in the best society in the neutral countries.

The Norwegians openly laughed at it. They knew only too well what the Kaiser's opinion of them and their king, Haakon, was. Amazed by the frequent allusions of the admirers of the Kaiser to his love for democracy, especially the American kind, I had a talk one day with one of the most frank and sincere of Germans, the late Baron von der Quettenburg, the father of the present vicar of the Church of St. Ansgar's in Copenhagen. He was a Hanoverian. He was at least seventy years of age when I knew him, but he walked miles; he rode; he liked a good dinner; he enjoyed life in a reasonable way; but he was frequently depressed. Hanover, his proud, his noble, his beautiful Hanover, was a vassal to the arrogant Prussian!

'But, if there were a war you would fight for the Kaiser?' I asked, after a little dinner of which any man might be proud.

'Fight? Naturally. (I did not know that you knew so well how to eat in America.) Fight! Yes! It would be our duty. Russia or France or the Yellow Nations might threaten us;—yes, all my family, except the priest, would fight. But, because one is loyal to the Kaiser through duty, it does not mean that we Hanoverians are Prussians through pleasure. We shall never be content until we are Hanoverians again—nor will Bavaria.'

'A break up of the empire by force?'

'Oh, no!' he said. 'Not by force; but if the Government does not distract public attention, Hanover will demand more freedom; so will Bavaria. None of us would embarrass the Kaiser by raising the question of—let us say—greater autonomy for our countries, if there were question of a foreign war; but we must raise them soon.'

'Do you think the emperor would make war to avoid the raising of these questions, which might mean a tendency toward the disintegration of the German monarchy?'

'The emperor would be incapable of that; he is for peace, but the raising of the question of a certain independence among the states that form the German Empire can only be prevented now by a war or some affliction equally great. Hanover can never remain the abject vassal of Prussia.'

'You would, then, like to see the German Emperor more democratic—a President, like ours, only hereditary, governing quasi-independent States?'

'That would not suit us at all,' he laughed. 'We are quite willing that the Reichstag should be in the power of the emperor, as it is a mere association for talk; but we want the tributary kings to have more power in their own states. Hanover a republic! How absurd! Republics may be good on your continent, but, then, you know no better; you began that way. Whoever tells us that we are democratic in Germany, deceives you. We Hanoverians want more power for Hanover, all the reasonable rights of our kings restored and less power for Prussia; but that we want republicanism, oh, no! A liberal constitution—yes; but no republic!'

An old friend, a Swedish Social Democrat, brought in to tea a German Social Democrat; they came to meet an Icelandic composer, in whom I was interested. The Icelander was a good composer, but filled with curious ideas about Icelandic independence. He was not content that Iceland should have the power of a State in the Federal Union. A separate flag meant to him complete independence of Denmark. He wanted to know the German Social Democrat's opinion of government.

'It is,' said the German, 'that Hohenzollerns shall go, and people have equality.'

'With us it is,' said the Swede, 'that the King of Sweden shall go, and the people have equality.'

'But, if Germany goes to war?' I asked.

'For a short war, we will be as one people; but after——' and he shook his head gravely.

In the meantime, we were told constantly of the Kaiser's charm. 'You once said,' remarked a débutante at the German court, who had been presented under the wing of our ambassadress, 'that if one wanted to dislike Mr. Roosevelt, one must keep away from him! I assure you, it is the same with the Kaiser. He is charming. For instance, notice this: he presented a lovely cigarette case, with imperial monogram in diamonds or something of that kind, to Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone, the wife of the Danish Minister, when her husband was leaving. "But my husband does not smoke," said Madame Hegermann-Lindencrone, later in the day. "That is the reason I gave it to him," said the Kaiser; "I knew that you like a cigarette, Madame!" Isn't he charming?'

We were told that the Kaiser loved Mark Twain. To love Mark Twain was to be American. To be sure he turned his back very pointedly on Mark on one occasion because Mark had dared to criticise the pension system of the United States. Pensions for the army should not be criticised, even if their administration were defective. All soldiers must be taken care of. This was the first duty of a nation, and Mark Twain forgot himself when he censured any system that put money into the pockets of the old soldiers, even of the wives of the soldiers of 1812! And this to the War Lord, the emperor of more than a Prætorian Guard! And as for President Roosevelt, if the Kaiser could only see this first of republicans! This meeting had been the great joy of his brother Prince Henry of Prussia's life.

The Kaiser had learned much from Americans—our great capitalists, for example. No American who was doing things was alien to him. Other monarchs might pretend to have an interest in the United States; his was genuine, for Germany, youngest among the nations, had so much to learn from the giant Republic of the West which possessed everything, except potash, the science of making use of by-products, and German Kultur!

President Roosevelt had just gone out of office, and President Taft was in. He wrote to me: 'You shall remain in your post as long as I remain in mine.'

I was pleased and grateful. The chance that President Roosevelt had given me, President Taft continued to give me. I was the slave of a fixed idea, that the validity not the legality, of the Monroe Doctrine was somewhat dependent on our acquiring by fair bargains all the territory we needed to interpret it!

As to Denmark in 1910, it was much more French than anything else. And, whatever might be done in the way of propaganda by Germany, France always remained beloved; while the English way of living might be imitated, nobody ever thought of imitating Germany's ways. Besides, the Danes are not good at keeping secrets, and the whisperings of German intentions, desires, likes, and dislikes disseminated in that city were generally supposed to be heart-to-heart talks with the world and received by the Danes with shrewd annotations. This the Kaiser did not approve of. It was curious that neither he nor his uncle, the King of England, liked Copenhagen—for different reasons!

It was understood that the King of England disliked it because he found it dull—the simplicity of Hvidhöre had no charms for him. He could not join in the liking of his Queen for everything Danish, from the ballets of De Bournonville to the red-coloured herring salad. Napoli, a ballet which Queen Alexandra especially recommended to my wife and myself, frankly bored him, and the mise-en-scène of the Royal Theatre was not equal to Covent Garden.

The Kaiser disliked Copenhagen because he had no regard for his Danish relatives, who took no trouble to bring out those charming boyish qualities he could display at times: the influence of the Princess Valdemar in Denmark displeased him; she was too French, too democratic, and too popular, and she had something of the quality for command of her late mother-in-law, Queen Louise. Altogether, the Danes were not amenable to German Kultur, or subservient to the continual threat of being absorbed in it, as the good Buddhist is absorbed in the golden lotus!

CHAPTER VI
GERMAN DESIGNS IN SWEDEN AND NORWAY

The United States, where so many Scandinavians had found a home, what of her? Too far off, and the Swedish leaders of public opinion knew too well what had been the fate of the attempts at the Hague conference to abrogate the Machiavellian doctrines that have been the basis of diplomacy almost since diplomacy became a recognised science and art.

As for diplomacy, what had it to do with the fate of the little nations? Scandinavia, among the rest of Europe, looked on it as a purely commercial machine dominated essentially by local political issues. Our State Department had a few fixed principles, but all Europe believed that we were too ignorant of European conditions and, more than that, too indifferent to them to be effective. The slightest political whisper in Russia or the smallest hint from court circles in Germany was enough to upset the equilibrium of Scandinavian statesmen. American opinion really never counted, because American opinion was looked on as insular. A diplomacy labelled as 'shirt sleeve' or 'dollar' might delight those members of Congress who had come to Washington to complete an education not yet begun at home, but, from the European point of view, it was beneath notice. It cannot be said that the United States was not looked on, because of her riches and her size, with respect; but her apparent indifference to the problem on which the peace of the world seemed, to Europe, to depend, and her policy of changing her diplomatic ministers or keeping them in such a condition of doubt that they kept their eyes on home political conditions, had combined to deprive her of importance in matters most vital to every European. This is not written in the spirit of censure, but simply as a statement of fact.

The Swedes, the Norwegians, the Danes had flocked to our country. In parts of the West, during some of the political campaigns, my old and witty friend, Senator Carter, chuckling, used to quote:

These people are a power in our political life; but they knew in Minnesota, in Nebraska, wherever they lived in the United States, that our country would not forcibly interfere with the designs either of Russia or of Germany. And, in Sweden, while King Gustav and the Conservatives saw with alarm the constant depletion of the agricultural element in the nation by emigration to the United States, their feeling towards our country was one of amiable indulgence for the follies of youth. King Oscar showed this constantly, and King Gustav went out of his way to show attentions to our present minister, Mr. Ira Nelson Morris. Nevertheless, until lately, American diplomacy was not taken seriously, and, when the war opened, it was taken less seriously than ever.

Sweden, then, fearing Russia, doubtful of England, full of German propagandists, her ruling classes looking on France as an unhappy country governed by roturiers and pedagogues, and, except in a commercial way, where we never made the most of our opportunities, regarding our country as negligible, Sweden, divided violently between almost autocratic ideas and exceedingly radical ones, was in a perilous position from 1914 to 1918. Frankly, there are no people more delightful than the Swedes of the upper classes whom one meets at their country houses. Kronoval, the seat of the Count and Countess Sparre, is one of the places where the voices of both parties may be heard. And, when one thinks of the Swedish aristocrat, one almost says, as Talleyrand said of the talons rouges, 'when the old order changes, much of the charm of life will disappear.' Under a monarchy, life is very delightful—for the upper classes. It is no wonder that they do not want to let go of it. It must be remembered, in dealing with European questions, that the Swede and the Spaniard are probably the proudest people on the earth. Another thing must not be forgotten: the educated classes are imperial-minded. And of this quality German intrigue makes the most.

A Scandinavian Confederacy, like the Grecian one, of which King George of Greece dreamed, was not looked on with yearning by the Pan-Germans. It must be remembered to the credit of King Gustav, that, overcoming the rancour born of the separation, he made the first move towards the meeting of the three kings at Malmö,[6] in the beginning of the war.

When Finland was annexed by Germany, the terror of Russia in Sweden became less intense. Before that Sven Hedin, suspected of being a tool of Germany, did his best to raise the threatening phantom of the Russian terror whenever he could. The hatred and fear of Russia revived. It was not in vain that sane-minded persons urged that Russia would have enough to do to manage the Eastern question, to watch Japan, to keep her designs fixed on Constantinople. The German propaganda constantly raised the question of the fortification of the Aaland Islands. Denmark and Norway were intensely interested in it; it gave Count Raben-Levitzau much thought when he was Minister of Foreign Affairs in Denmark, especially after the separation of Norway from Sweden; and since then, it has been a burning question, and the Foreign Office in Christiania was not untroubled. On the question of the Aaland Islands neither the Russian nor the Swedish diplomatists would ever speak except in conventional terms; but, when I wanted light, I went to the cleverest man in Denmark, Count Holstein-Ledreborg.

'De l'esprit?' he said, laughing, 'mais oui, j'ai de l'esprit. Tout le monde le dit; but other things are said, too. Fortunately, a bad temper does not drive out l'esprit. You are wrong; the cleverest man in Denmark is Edward Brandès.' But this is a digression.

'The Swedes,' Count Holstein-Ledreborg said, 'are at heart individualists. They would no more bear the German rule of living than they would commit national suicide by throwing themselves into the arms of Germany. England met with no success in Sweden in spite of the tact of her envoys, because her ideas of Sweden are insular. She scorns effective propaganda; she has never even attempted to understand the Swedes. The bulk of the Swedes do not vote (1909). The destinies of Sweden are in the hands of the Court. A king is still a king in Sweden; but that will pass, and the movement of the Swedish nation will be further and further away from the political ideas of Germany.'

In 1911 modified liberal suffrage became a Swedish institution. Still, the State and Church remain united. Religion is not free; nobody can hold office but a Lutheran. The 'Young Sweden' party is governed very largely by the ideas of the German historian, Treitschke. The philosophy of his history is reflected in the pages of Harald von Hjarne. He is patriotic to the core, but, whether consciously or not, he played into the hands of the Prussian propagandist. His history, a chronicle of the lives of Kings Charles XII. and Gustavus Adolphus, displayed in apotheosis; and the imperialistic idea, which carries with it militarist tendencies, is illuminated with all the radiance of Hjarne's magic pen. Sweden must have an adequate army.

When Norway threatened to secede, its attitude very largely due to the bad management of the very charming and indolent King Oscar, the Swedish army began to mobilise. The Swedes—that is the minority of Swedes, the governing body—would not brook the thought that Norway might become a real nation. 'We must fight!' Young Sweden said. The Young Sweden, intolerant and imperious, did not realise that it had Old and Young Norwegians to contend with. Now, if the Spaniard and the Swede are the proudest folk in Europe, the Norwegian and the Icelandic are the most stiff-necked. The Swedish pride and the Norwegian firmness, which contains a great proportion of obstinacy, met, and Norway became a separate monarchy with such democratic tendencies as make American democracy seem almost despotism.

After the success of the Liberals in 1911, there was a reaction. The German propaganda fanned the excited patriotism of the Swedish people; 'their army was too small, their navy inefficient'; the force of arms must be used against Russia. In fact, Russia had her Eastern problems; the best-informed of the Swedish diplomatists admitted this; but the propaganda was successful; the people were tricked; nearly forty thousand farming folk and labourers marched to the palace of King Gustav. They had made great contributions in money for the increase of the fleet. 'That cruiser,' said a cynical naval attaché, 'will one day fight for Germany—when the Yellow Peoples attack us,' he added to ward off further questions.

Nevertheless the German influence made no points against the 'yellow peoples.' It was against Russia all their bullets were aimed. The Russians understood secret diplomacy well; but, either because they despised the common people too much or because the writers on Russia were too self-centred, nothing was done to meet this propaganda effectively. The Swede was taught to believe that Germany was the best-governed nation on the face of the earth, and Russia the worst; that Germany would benevolently protect, while Russia was ready to pounce malignantly. Russian literature gave no glimpse of light. It was grey or black, and the language in which the Russian papers were printed was an effectual barrier to the understanding of the Swedes, who, as a matter of course, nearly all read German.

Young Sweden believed that the first step on the road to greatness was a declaration of war with Russia. Nothing could have suited the plans of the Pan-Germans better than this, for it meant for Sweden an alliance with Germany. The Swedish literary man and university professors voiced, as a rule, the pro-German opinions of Young Sweden. There were some exceptions; but there were not many. And the worst of all this was that these men were sincere. They were not bribed with money. They were flattered, if you like, by German commendations. Every historical work, every scientific treatise, every volume of poetry of any value, found publishers and even kindly critics in Germany. Russia was the enemy, and, from the point of view of the intellectual Swede, illiterate.

Russia had nothing to offer except commercial opportunities at great risks. Swedish capital might easily be invested at home or, if necessary, there was the United States or Germany for their surplus. The pictures of Russian life given out by the great writers who ought to know it, were not inspiring of hope in the future of Russia. There was no special need for the Swedish scholar to complain of the German influence in his country since it was all in his favour. The Government honoured him—following the German examples—and made him part of the State. Even the English intellectuals, who, as every Scandinavian knew, ought to have distrusted Germany, acknowledged the superiority of German 'Kultur' without understanding that it meant, not culture, but the worship of a Prussian apotheosis.

One of the most agreeable of Swedish professors whom I met in Christiania at the centennial of the Christiania University, went over the situation with me. I had come in contact with him especially as I had been honoured by being asked to represent Georgetown University and further honoured by being elected dean of all the American representatives, including the Mexican and South American. This was in 1911.

'Frankly,' I said, 'are not you Swedes putting all your eggs into one basket? What have you to do with the Teuton and Slavic quarrel? Do you believe for a moment that the ultra-Bismarckian policy which controls Germany will consider you anything but a pawn in the diplomatic game? I think that, as Swedes, you ought to help to consolidate Scandinavia, and your diplomatists, instead of playing into Germany's hands, ought to make it worth her while to support her, as far as you choose. You are selling yourself too cheap.'

His eyes flashed. 'You do not talk like an American,' he said. Then he remembered himself and became polite, even 'mannered.' 'I mean that you talk too much like diplomatists of the old school of secret diplomacy.'

'I believe that there are secrets in diplomacy which no diplomatist ever tells.'

'But you would have us attempt to disintegrate Russia, and, at the same time, play with Germany in order to make ourselves stronger.'

'I did not say so. For some reason or other, the Germans call you "stupid Swedes."'

'Not now. That has passed. The Germans recognise our qualities,' he added proudly. 'The English do not. The Russians look on us only as their prey. You, being an American, are pro-Russian. I have heard that you were particularly pro-Russian. Not,' he added hastily, 'that you are anti-German. The German vote counts greatly in the United States, and you could not afford to be; you might lose your "job," as one of your ministers at Stockholm called it; but you, confess it!—have a regard for the Russians.'

'They are interesting. We of the North owe them gratitude for their conduct during our Civil War. Anti-German? I love the old Germany; I love Weimar and the Tyrol; but, speaking personally, I do not love the Prussianisation of Germany. I have written against the Kulturkampf. I dislike the "Prussian Holy Ghost" who tried to rule us back in the '80's, but my German colleagues recognise the fact that I see good in the German people, and love many of their qualities.'

'Still,' laughed the professor, who knows one of my best friends in Rome, 'they say that you came abroad to live down your attacks in the Freeman's Journal on the German Holy Ghost.'

I changed the subject; that was not one of the things I had to live down.

'Germany is our only friend, our only equal intellectually, our only sympathetic relative by blood. The Norwegians hate us, the Danes dislike us. We have the same ideas as the Germans, namely, that the elect, not the merely elected, must govern. It was Martin Luther's idea, and his idea has made Germany great.'

'But there is nothing contrary to that idea in the Northern League, which Count Carl Carlson Bonde and other Swedes dreamed about, is there? You Swedes seem to believe that Martin Luther was infallible in everything but religion. He would probably like to see most of you burned, although you are all "confirmed."'

The Professor laughed: 'Paris vaut une messe,' he quoted. 'I admit that Luther would not approve of the religious point of view of our educated classes; but, at least, we have a semblance of unity, while you, like the English, have a hundred religions and only one sauce. Our Lutheranism is a great bond with Germany, as well as our love of science and our belief in authority. As to the Northern League, Count Bonde was a dreamer.'

'Everybody is a dreamer in Sweden who is not affected by the Pan-German idea. Is that it?'

'You are badly informed,' he said. 'Your Danish environment has affected you. As long as we can control our people, we shall be great. We have only to fear the Socialist. The decision in essential matters must always rest with the king and the governing classes. Our army and navy will be supported by popular vote, as in Germany; they are the guarantees of our greatness.'

This was the opinion of most of the autocratic and military—and to be military was to be autocratic—classes in 1911.

Later I spoke with one of the most distinguished of the Norwegians, Professor Morgenstjern. He seemed to be an exception to the general idolatry of German Kultur.

It was impossible to get the Swede of traditions to see that Germany's policy was to keep the three Northern nations apart—not only the Northern nations but the other small nations. When, just before the war, Christian X. and Queen Alexandrina visited Belgium on their accession the German propagandists in Scandinavia were shocked; it was infra dig. It was 'French.' 'The King and Queen of Denmark will be visiting Alsace-Lorraine and wearing the tricolour!' a disappointed hanger-on in the German Legation said.

It was my business to find out what various Foreign Offices meant, not what they said they meant. 'Of open diplomacy in the full sun, there are few modern examples. Secrecy in diplomacy has become gradually greater than it was a quarter of a century ago, not from mere reticence on the part of ministers, but to a large extent from the decline of interest in foreign affairs.'

The writer of this sentence in the Contemporary Review alluded to England. This lack of interest existed even more in the United States. And then as militarism grew in Europe, one's business was to discover what the Admiralty thought, for in Germany and Austria, even in France, after the Dreyfus scandal, one must be able to know what the military dictators were about. The newspapers had a way of discovering certain facts that Foreign Offices preferred to hide. But the most astute newspaper owing to the necessity of having a fixed political policy and the difficulty of finding men foolish enough or courageous enough to risk life for money, could rarely predict with certainty what Foreign Offices really intended to do. Besides Foreign Offices, outside of Germany, were generally 'opportunists.'

Few diplomatists of my acquaintance were deceived by the Kaiser's professions of peace. That he wanted war seemed incredible, for he had the reputation of counting the cost. He was indiscreet at times, but his 'indiscretions' never led him to the extent of giving away the intentions of the General Staff. That he wanted to turn the Baltic into a German sea was evident. The Swedish 'activist' would calmly inform you that, if this were true, Germany would treat Sweden, and perhaps the other Scandinavian countries, as Great Britain treated the United States—the Atlantic, as everybody knew, being a 'British lake' and yet free to the United States!

There was no missing link in the German propaganda in Sweden. Prussia used the Lutheran Church as she had tried to use the German Jesuits and failed. The good commonsense of the Swedish common people alone saved them from making German Kultur an integral part of their religion. When it filtered out that, notwithstanding the close relationship of the Tsaritza of Russia with the German Emperor, the Prussian Camorra had determined to control Russia, to humiliate her, to control her, there were those among the leaders who saw what this meant. They saw Finland and the Aaland Islands Germanised, and their resources, the product of their mines and of their factories, as much Germany's as Krupp's output. The bourgeoisie and the common people saw no future glory or profit in this.

The knowledge of it filtered through; the Lutheran pastor, with his dislike of democracy, his love for the autocratic monarchy, 'all power comes from God,' I heard him quote, without adding that St. Paul did not say that 'All rulers come from God,'—could not convince the hard-thinking, hard-working Swede that religion meant subjugation to a foreign power. The Lutheran Church, which, like all national churches, was hampered by the State, could give no intelligent answer to his doubts, so he turned to the Social Democrats. The governing class in Sweden seemed to take no cognisance of the growth of democracy in the hearts of the people. Germany was alive to it and feared it; but, in Sweden, rather than admit it and its practical effects, the rulers ignored it, were shocked by the great tide of emigration to the United States, yet careless of its effects on Swedish popular opinion.

On one occasion in Copenhagen, King Gustav asked me why so many of his people emigrated to my country. The King of Sweden is a very serious man, not easily influenced or distracted from any subject that interests him, and the good of his people interested him very much. It was a difficult question to answer, for comparisons were always odious.

'I can better tell you, sir, why your subjects prefer to remain at home:—when they get good land cheap, and when they see the chance of rising beyond their fathers' position in the social scale.'

He began to speak, but etiquette demanded a move. When I met him again he returned to the subject. It was better that he should talk, and he talked well. It became evident to me that there was little good agricultural land in Sweden to give away, and the division between the classes was not so impassable as I had believed. He made that clear.

The Social Democrat in Sweden wants an equal opportunity, no wars to be declared by the governing classes, and the abolition of the monarchy. He is not concerned greatly with the Central Powers or the Entente. He was glad to see the Hohenzollerns displaced, but he is German in the sense that he is affiliated with the German Social Democrats who, he believes, were forced to deny their principles temporarily or they would have been thrown to the lions; and as, above all things, he prizes a moderate amount of material comfort for himself and his family, he will not go out of his way to be martyred; but even he was the victim of modified German propaganda; he was too patriotic to accept it all.

Of late, as we know, the Liberal Party has gained strength, and the designs of a small activist military coterie were frustrated by a series of circumstances, of which the Luxburg revelations were not the least; but the main reason was the coquetting of the Government with Germany, one of the signs of which was that the Allied blockade was not treated as a fact, while the mythical blockade by Germany was accepted as really existing.

Personally, I had respect for Dr. Hammarskjold, the Premier of the conservative cabinet that ruled Sweden in the beginning of the war. He was formerly a colleague in Copenhagen, and, with the exception of Francis Hagerup, now Norwegian Minister at Stockholm, he is the greatest jurist in Northern Europe. He is a Swede of Swedes, with all the traditions of the over-educated Swede. Neutrality he desired above all things—that is, as long as it could be preserved with honour; but he evidently believed that, for the preservation of this neutrality, it was most necessary to keep on very good terms with Germany. Hammarskjold's point of view was more complicated, more technical than that of Herr Branting, and it is to Herr Branting's raising of the voice of the Swedish nation that a serious difficulty with the Entente was avoided. Nevertheless, it would be wrong to put down Hammarskjold as pro-German, for he is, first of all, pro-Swedish.

Edwin Bjorkman, an expert in Swedish affairs, says, after he has paid the compliments of an honest man to the wretched Prussian conspiracies in Sweden:—