CHAPTER X
A PORTENT IN THE AIR

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 Donnebrog 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.

CHAPTER XI
THE PRELIMINARIES TO THE PURCHASE OF THE DANISH ANTILLES

Danish diplomatists seemed to think that Germany, now that she had created the Kiel Canal, had no further designs on Denmark, whom the Pan-Germans continued, however, to call, 'our Northern province.' This was the opinion of Hegermann-Lindencrone, of Raben-Levitzau, and I have heard a similar opinion credited to the present Danish Minister at Berlin, Count Carl Moltke, though he did not express it to me. My old friend, Count Holstein-Ledreborg, was not altogether of that opinion. 'In case of war with England, Denmark would be seized by our neighbour, naturally,' he said; 'unless we go carefully we are doomed to absorption.' Count Holstein-Ledreborg knew Germany well. He had lived in that country for many years, having shaken the dust of his native land from his soles because many of his friends and relatives—in fact, nearly all the aristocratic class in Denmark—had practically turned their backs on him on account of his political Liberalism. This he told me. He had returned, with his family, to his beautiful estate at Ledreborg, and, for a short time, became prime minister, in order to do what seemed impossible—to unite the factions in Parliament in favour of a bill for the defence of the kingdom. Against England? England had no designs. Against Russia? Russia was allied to France, and she could hardly join hands with Germany. The intentions of the Kaiser? But the Kaiser seemed to be a peaceful opportunist. Even the acute Lord Morley had more than once, in conversation, put him down as a lover of peace; but—There was always a 'but' and the General Staff of the German Army!

Study the personality of the important personages as one might, there were always these things to be considered as obstacles to clear vision:—the growing corruption of principle in the Reichstag and among the German people, if Hamburg represented them, and the point of view of the military caste. In 1911 the increasing riches—the thirst for money had become a veritable passion—of the German people seemed to indicate that one of the principal obstacles to aggression which would involve war was being rapidly removed. The difference between the American desire for money and the German was, as I was often compelled to point out, that, while the German desired great possessions to have and to hold, the American wanted them in order to use them; and, in spite of the industrious 'muck rakers,' it was evident that our enormously rich men were not hoarding their wealth for the sake of greed and selfish power as the German rich were doing. Possibly, as our Government does nothing for art or for music or for the people in need, there is a greater necessity for private benevolence than in countries where the Government subsidises even the opera. Nevertheless, the fact remains; the European rich man hoarded more than the American. And Germany, in spite of the extravagance of Berlin and the great cities, was hoarding. It was a bad sign for the world.

Of Slesvig, Prince Bismarck said in 1864, 'Dat möt wi hebben.' He was terribly in earnest, and he spoke in his own Low German. At any moment, the Kaiser might say of Denmark, 'Her must we have.' But how foolish this statement must seem to the Pacifists and all the more foolish in the mind of a Minister who ought not to be carried away by rumour or guesses or to be determined by anything but the exact truth!

It would have been foolish if, in 1911, a serious man behind the scenes could have trusted any country in the European concert to act in any way that was not for its own national ends. A damaging confession this, but the truth is the truth. We all know how amazed some statesmen were when President Roosevelt refused the Chinese spoil, when Cuba was restored, and promises to the Filipinos began to be kept. If Denmark should be 'assumed,' the Danish Antilles would be the property of the nation that 'assumed' it. As it was apparently to the interest of the Pan-Germans to keep the Danes in suspense, and, as most of the Danes distrusted the intentions of their neighbours, it was not well to assume that there was smoke and no fire.

Besides, were there not other powers who might find it to their advantage to prevent the Danish West Indies from falling into our hands? We were not, from 1907 to 1914, in such a state of security as we imagined, in spite of our system of peace treaties. Dans les coulisses of all countries, there was a certain amount of cynicism as to the effect of these peace treaties, and very little belief, except among the international lawyers, that anything binding or serious had been accomplished by them. After all, my business was to hoe my own row, but I listened with great respect to such men as my colleague, now the Norwegian Minister at Stockholm, Mr. Francis Hagerup, and other legal-minded men. However, I determined to make the task of saving the Islands from 'assimilation' as easy as possible for my successor or his successor. I hoped, of course, for the chance of doing something worth while for the country seemed to be mine, and President Wilson—I shall always be most grateful to him—gave me the happiness of doing humbly what I could.

In 1907 I found that the irritation caused by the attitude of our Government in the matter of the Islands had not worn away. The majority of the Danes had really never wanted to sell the Islands. 'Why should a great country like yours want to force us to sell the Danish Antilles? You pretend to be democratic, but you are really imperialists. It is not a question of money with us; it is a question of honour. Your country has approached us only on the side of money—and when you knew that our poverty consented.'

This was the substance of conservative opinion. There was a widespread distrust, especially among the upper classes in Denmark, as to our intentions. The title of a brochure written by James Parton in 1869 was often quoted against us, for the Danes have long memories. It was entitled The Danish West Indies: Are we Bound in Honour to pay for Them? 'An arrogant nation, no longer democratic' because we had seized the Philippines! It must be said that a minister desiring to make a good impression on the people had little help from the press at home. Foreign affairs were treated as of no real importance in the organs of what is called our popular opinion. The American point of view, as so well understood over all the world now, was not explained; but sensational stories describing the exaggerated splendours of our millionaires, frightful tales of lynching in the South, the creation of an American Versailles on Staten Island, which would make the Sun King in the Shades grow pale with envy, the luxuries of American ladies, were invariably reproduced in the Danish papers. President Roosevelt was looked upon as the one idealist in a nation mad for money, and even he had a tremendous fall in the estimation of the Radicals when he spoke of a Conservative democracy in Copenhagen. It was necessary to overcome a number of prejudices which were constantly being fostered, partly by our own estimate of ourselves as presented by the Scandinavian papers in extracts from our own.

Then, again, the real wealth of our people, our art and literature—which count greatly in Denmark—were practically unknown. Everything seemed to be against us. The press was either contemptuous or condescending; we were not understood.

It is true that nearly every family in Denmark had some representative in the United States, but their representatives were, as a rule, hard-working people, who had no time to give to the study of the things of the mind among us. In spite of all their misconceptions, which I proposed to dissipate to the best of my ability, I found the Danes the most interesting people I had ever come in contact with, except the French, and, I think the most civilised. There was one thing certain:—if the Danish West India Islands were so dear to Denmark that it would be a wound to her national pride to suggest the sale of them to us, no such suggestion ought to be made by an American Minister. First, national pride is a precious thing to a nation, and the more precious when that nation has been great in power, and remains great in heart in spite of its apparently dwindling importance. It was necessary, then, to discover whether the Danes could, in deference to their natural desire to see their flag still floating in the Atlantic Ocean, retain the Islands, and rule them in accordance with their ideals. Their ideals were very high. They hoped that they could so govern them that the inhabitants of the Islands might be fairly prosperous and happy under their rule. They were not averse to expending large sums annually to make up the deficit occasioned by the possession of them. The Colonial Lottery was depended upon to assist in making up this budget. The Danes have no moral objections to lotteries, and the most important have governmental sanction.

Under the administrations of Presidents Roosevelt and Taft it was useless to attempt to reopen the question. All negotiations, since the first in 1865, had failed. That of 1902, and the accompanying scandals, the Danes preferred to forget. President Roosevelt's opinion as to the necessity of our possessing the Islands was well known. In 1902 the project for the sale had been defeated in the Danish Upper House by one vote. Mr. John Hay attributed this to German influence, though the Princess Marie, wife of Prince Valdemar, a remarkably clever woman, had much to do with it, and she could not be reasonably accused of being under German domination. The East-Asiatic Company was against the sale and likewise a great number of Danes whose association with the Islands had been traditional. Herr Ballin denied that the German opposition existed; he seemed to think that both France and England looked on the proposition coldly. At any rate, he said that Denmark gave no concessions to German maritime trade that the United States would not give, and that the property of the Hamburg-American Line would be quite as safe in the hands of the United States as in those of Denmark. In 1867 Denmark had declined to sell the Islands for $5,000,000, but offered to accept $10,000,000 for St. John and St. Thomas, or $15,000,000 for the three. Secretary Seward raised the price to $7,500,000 in gold for St. Thomas, St. John and Santa Cruz. Denmark was willing to accept $7,500,000 for St. Thomas and St. John; Santa Cruz, in which the French had some rights, might be had for $3,750,000 additional. Secretary Seward, after some delay, agreed to give $7,500,000 for the two islands, St. Thomas and St. John. The people of St. John and St. Thomas voted in favour of the cession. In 1902 $5,000,000 was offered by the United States. Diligent inquiries into the failure of the sale, although the Hon. Henry White, well and favourably known in Denmark, was sent over in its interest, received the answer from those who had been behind the scenes, '$5,000,000 was not enough, unaccompanied by a concession that might have deprived the transaction of a merely mercenary character.'

At that time Germany might have preferred to see the Islands in the hands of the United States rather than in those of any other European power. It was apparently to the interest of the United States to encourage the activities of that great artery of emigration, the Hamburg-American Line. She did not believe that the United States would fail to raise the spectre of the Monroe Doctrine against either of the nations who owned Bermuda or Mauritius, if one of them proposed to place her flag over St. Thomas.

In 1892 the question of Spain's buying St. Thomas, in order to defend Puerto Rico, thrown out by an obscure journalist, was a theory to laugh at. Germany was practically indifferent to our acquisition of islands on the Atlantic coast that might possibly bring us one day in collision with either England or France. As to the Pacific, her point of view was different.

Her politicians even then cherished the sweet hope that the Irish in the United States and Canada might force the hand of our Government against 'perfidious Albion' if the slightest provocation was given. Besides, in 1868, Germany had done her worst to the Danes. She had taken Slesvig, and had ruined Denmark financially; she had made Kiel the centre of her naval hopes; she could neither assume Denmark nor borrow the $7,500,000—then a much greater sum than now—for her own purposes. I have never had reason to believe that Germany prevented the sale of the Danish Antilles in 1902.

The Congressional Examination of the scandalous rumours that might have reflected on the honour of certain Danish gentlemen and of some of our own Congressmen are a matter of record, and show no traces of any such domination. Curiously enough, there was a persistent rumour of a secret treaty with Denmark which gave the United States an option on the Islands. No such treaty existed, and no Danish Minister of Foreign Affairs of my acquaintance would have dreamed of proposing such an arrangement.

It is hardly necessary to dwell here on the value of these Islands to the United States. President Roosevelt, President Wilson, Senator Lodge, most persistently, made the necessity of possessing these islands, through legitimate purchase, very plain.

The completion of the Panama Canal increased their already great importance. If such men as Seward, Foster, Olney, Root, Hay, and our foremost naval experts considered them worth buying before the issues raised by the creation of the Panama Canal were practical, how much more valuable had they become when that marvellous work was completed! Many interests contributed to the desirability of our acquiring islands in the West Indies—every additional island being of value to us—but the great public seemed to see this as through a glass—darkly.

Puerto Rico was of little value in a strategic way without the Danish Antilles. A cursory examination of the map will show that Puerto Rico, with no harbours for large vessels and its long coast line, would offer no defences against alien forces. Naval experts had clearly seen the hopelessness of defending San Juan. Major Glassford, of the Signal Corps, in a report often quoted and carefully studied by people intelligently interested in the active enforcement of the Monroe Doctrine rather than its mere statement as a method of defence on paper, said that 'St. Thomas might be converted into a second Gibraltar.' He was right. The frightful menace of the cession of Heligoland to Germany was an example of what might happen if we failed to look carefully to the future. Besides, even those advocates of peace, right or wrong, who infested our country before the war, who were not sympathetic with the acquisition of territory, ought to have remembered that one of the best guarantees of peace was to leave nothing to fight about as far as these islands of value in our relations 'to the region of the Orinoco and the Amazon' and the Windward Passages were concerned. The German occupation of Brazil—increasing so greatly that the Brazilians were alarmed, the European prejudices, made evident during the Spanish-American War as existing in South and Central America—were all occasions for thought.

'The harbour of Charlotte Amalie,' wrote Major Glassford, writing of St. Thomas, 'and the numerous sheltered places about the island offer six and seven fathoms of water. Besides, this harbour and the roadsteads are on the southern side of the island, completely protected from the prevailing strong winds. If this place were strongly fortified and provisioned'—the number of inhabitants are small compared with Puerto Rico—'it would be necessary for an enemy contemplating a descent upon Puerto Rico to take it into account first. The location on the north-east side of the Antilles is in close proximity to many of the passages into the Caribbean Sea, and affords an excellent point of observation near the European possessions in the archipelago. It is also a centre of the West Indian submarine cable systems, being about midway between the Windward Passage and the Trinidad entrance into the Caribbean Sea.'

Other interests distracted attention from the essential value of these islands for local reasons, party reasons, which are the curse of all modern systems of government. The failure to purchase the Islands in 1892 did not discourage Senator Lodge. On March 31st, 1898, the Committee on Foreign Affairs reported a bill authorising the President to buy the Danish West India Islands for a naval and coal station. On this bill, Senator Lodge made a most interesting and valuable report, in which he said, after stating that the fine harbour of St. Thomas possessed all the required naval and military conditions—'It has been pointed out by Captain Mahan, as one of the great strategic points in the West Indies.' 'The Danish Islands,' he concluded, 'could easily be governed as a territory, could be readily defended from attack, occupy a commanding strategic position, and are of incalculable value to the United States, not only as part of the national defences, but as removing by their possession a very probable cause of foreign complications.'

My predecessors in Denmark, Messrs. Risley, Carr, Svendsen, were of this opinion. The arguments of Mr. Carr, expressed in his despatches, are invincible. Mr. O'Brien, who was minister plenipotentiary to Denmark until he was sent as ambassador to Japan, saw, as I did, in 1907, that the Danes and their Government were in no mood to accept any suggestions on the subject. However, I discussed the matter academically with each minister of Foreign Affairs, saying that the United States would make no proposition at any time which might offend the national self-respect of the Danes, that in fact, as valuable as the Islands would be to us and as expedient as it might be for the Danes to sell them to us, their Government must give some unequivocal sign that it was willing to part with them before we should seriously take up the question again. Neither Count Raben-Levitzau nor Count William Ahlefeldt-Laurvig gave me any official encouragement, though I hardly expected it as I had taken means to sound public opinion on my own account. Both Count Raben-Levitzau and Count Ahlefeldt were Liberal Ministers of Foreign Affairs, and I knew that, if there was any hope that a sale might be made, they would give me reasonable encouragement. Besides, I was doubtful whether the price—which might probably be asked—reasonable enough in my eyes and in the eyes of those European diplomatists who knew what Heligoland and Gibraltar meant to Germany and to England—would not have raised such an outcry among voters at home, who had not yet learned to weigh any transaction with a foreign Government—except commercially, in terms of dollars and cents, that another failure might have followed. It was out of the question to risk that.

Many of my friends among the more conservative of the Danes scorned the idea of the sale on any terms. Among these was Admiral de Richelieu, whose father is buried in St. Thomas, and who is the most intense of Danish patriots. If objections to the sale on the part of my best friends in Denmark had governed me, I should have despaired of it. However, my friends, like de Richelieu, felt that our Government would be glad to see the Danish West India Islands improved as far as the Danes could improve them. De Richelieu, Etatsraad Andersen—Etatsraad meaning Councillor of State—Holger Petersen, Director Cold, formerly Governor of the Islands, Hegemann, who bore the high title of Geheimekonferensraad, were among those most interested in the Islands.

Hegemann, since dead, was the only one of the group who thought that the Danish Government could never either improve the Islands socially or make them pay commercially. 'The Danes are bad colonisers,' he said. He was a man of great common-sense, of wide experience, and a philanthropist who never let his head run away with his heart. He did a great deal for technical education in Denmark. In fact, there was scarcely any movement for the betterment of the country economically in which he was not interested. He had great properties in the island of Santa Cruz; but he looked on the Danish possession of the Islands as bad for the reputation of his native country and worse for the progress of the Islands and the Islanders. 'The present Government is too mild in its treatment of the blacks,' he said; 'equality, liberty and fraternity, the motto of the ruling party, is excellent, but it will not work in the Islands.' Besides, the construction of the Panama Canal was drawing the best labourers from them. He was interested in sugar and even in sea cotton; he thought that, the tariff restrictions being removed and a market for labour made, something might be done by us towards making the Islands a profitable investment. I was entirely indifferent as to that—our great need of the Islands was not for commercial uses.

The prevailing opinion in Court circles was against the sale, based on no antagonism to the United States, but on the desire that Denmark should not lose more of its territory. The Faroe Islands, Greenland and Iceland were still appendages; but Iceland was always restive, and Greenland seemed, in the eyes of the Danes, to have only the value of remotely useful territory. They had been shorn of territory by England, by Sweden, and, last of all, by Germany.

Our Government, knowing well how strong the national pride was, and how reasonable, permitted me to show it the greatest consideration. When the East-Asiatic Company, which had important holdings in St. Thomas, proposed that the national sentiment should be tested, and each Danish citizen asked to make a pecuniary sacrifice for the retention of the Islands, I was permitted to express sympathy with the movement, and to assist it in every way compatible with my position.

The attempt failed. It was evident that the majority of the people, whatever were their sentiments, knew that it was impracticable to attempt to govern the Islands from such a distance. If it had been possible to retain them with honour, with justice to the inhabitants, who for a long time had been desirous of union with the United States, no amount of money would have induced Denmark to part with the last of her colonial possessions. As it was, the prospect was not at all clear.

In modern times, a man who aspires to do his duty in diplomacy must be honest and reasonably frank. To pretend to admire the institutions of a nation, to affect a sympathy one does not feel, with a view to obtaining something of advantage to one's own country, was no doubt possible when foxes were preternaturally cunning and crows unbelievingly vain, but not now. The whole question of the Islands was a matter which must be settled by the commonsense of the Danes at the expense of their sentiment; no pressure on our part could be used, short of such arguments as might point to the forcible possession of the Islands temporarily in case of war; but the fact that the United States preferred to give what seemed to be an enormous sum—(though $25,000,000 have to-day scarcely the purchasing power of the $15,000,000 demanded for the three Islands from Secretary Seward in 1867)—rather than run the risk of future unpleasant complications with a small and friendly State, showed that the intentions of our Government were on a par with its professions.

When the proposed sale of the Islands stopped, largely because Senator Sumner disliked President Johnson, and the treaty lapsed in 1870 in spite of the support of Secretary Fish, King Christian IX. wrote, in a proclamation to the people of the Danish Islands—a majority of whom had consented to the proposed sale,—'The American Senate has not shown itself willing to maintain the treaty made, although the initiative came from the United States themselves.' The king had only consented to the sale to lighten the terrible financial burdens imposed on his country by the unjust war which Germany and Austria had forced upon Denmark with a view to the theft of Slesvig; and his consent would never have been given had not Secretary Seward, the predecessor of Secretary Fish, reluctantly agreed that the vote of the inhabitants should be taken. He was more democratic than Mr. Seward.

King Christian would not sign the treaty, which gave $7,500,000 to Denmark for the two Islands of St. Thomas and St. John, until Mr. Seward consented to 'concede the vote.' The Danes were frank in admitting that their 'poverty, but not their will,' consented. 'Ready as We were to subdue the feelings of Our heart, when We thought that duty bade Us so to do,' continued the king in his proclamation, 'yet We cannot otherwise than feel a satisfaction that circumstances have relieved Us from making a sacrifice which, notwithstanding the advantages held out, would always have been painful to Us. We are convinced that You share these sentiments, and that it is with a lightened heart You are relieved from the consent which only at Our request You gave for a separation from the Danish crown.'

The king added that he entertained the firm belief that his Government, supported by the Islanders, would succeed in making real progress, and end by effacing all remembrances of the disasters that had come upon them, his overseas dominions. Affairs in the mother country did look up; the Danes developed their country, in spite of the worst climatic conditions, into a land famous for its scientific farming. A wit has said that Denmark, after the loss of Slesvig, was divided like old Gaul, itself, into three parts,—butter, eggs and bacon. The Danes, cast into a condition of moral despondency and temporal poverty, with their national pride stricken, and their soil outworn, seized the things of the spirit and made material things subservient. Religion and patriotism, developed by Bishop Grundtvig, saved the mother country; but the Islands continued to go through various stages of hope and fear. The United States was too near and Denmark too far off. Home politics were generally paramount, and each new governor was always obliged to consider the sensitiveness of his Government to the amount of expenditure allowed. There were persons in power at home who seemed to see the Islands from the point of view of Bernardin de Saint Pierre—sentimentally. The happy black men were to dance under spreading palms, gently guided by Danish Pauls and Virginias! The black men were only too willing to dance under palms, whether spreading or not, and to be guided by any idyllic persons who, leaving them the pleasures of existence, would take the trials. All the governors suffered more or less from the Rousseau-like point of view taken by the Government. Mr. Helvig Larsen was the last who was expected to be 'idyllic.' One of the fears often expressed to me was that 'the Americans would treat the blacks badly—we have all read Uncle Tom's Cabin, you know.'

Even Her Majesty, the Dowager Queen Louise, one of the best-informed women in Europe, had her doubts about our attitude to the negroes. 'You have black nurses,' Her Majesty said to me; 'why are your people, especially in the South, not more kind to their race?' Queen Louise, who was sincerely interested in the welfare of her coloured subjects, would listen to reason. I sent her the Soul of the Black, which shows unconsciously why social equality in this case would be undesirable, but not until Booker Washington's visit did Her Majesty understand the attitude that sensible Americans, who know the South, take on the subject of the social equality of our coloured fellow-citizens. During my stay in Europe this matter was frequently discussed.

Some of my German colleagues politely insinuated that 'democracy' was little practised in a country where a President could be severely censured for inviting a coloured man of distinction to lunch. And nearly all the Danes of the modern school took this point of view. The naval officers, who are always better informed as to foreign conditions than most other men, readily understood that social equality assumes a meaning in the United States which would imply the probability of what is known as 'amalgamation.' While the German critic of our conditions might very well understand the impossible barrier of caste in his own country and object to 'permanent marriages' with women of the inferior 'yellow' races, he seemed to think that the laws in some of the United States against the marriages of blacks and whites were un-Christian and illogical.

'But you would not encourage such marriages?' I asked of one of the most distinguished Danes at the Copenhagen University.

'Why not?' he asked.

From my point of view, the case was hopeless. And every now and then an extract from an American paper, containing the account of a lynching with all the gruesome details described, would be translated into Danish. I never believed in censoring the press until I came to occupy a responsible position in Denmark. I confess, mea culpa!—that I wanted many times to have the right to say what should or should not be reprinted for foreign consumption! The newspapers seemed to have no regard for the plans of the diplomatists, believing news is news! There will always be the irrepressible conflict!

One of my wife's friends in Denmark, the late Countess Rantzau, born of the famous theatrical family of the Poulsens, who was well-read, and who knew her Europe well, produced one day an old embroidered screen for my benefit. There were the palms; there was an ancient African with a turban on his very woolly head; there was a complacent young person in stiff skirts seated at his feet, looking up to him with adoring eyes. 'Antique?' I asked, preparing to admire the work of art; the tropical foliage of acanthus leaves was so flourishing in the tapestry, and the luncheon had been so good!

'It is not as a work of art that I show it to the American Minister, but to let him know that we Danes love the virtues of the blacks. This is Uncle Tom and Little Eva!'

It was intended to soften a hard heart!

In October 1910 Mr. Andrew Carnegie telegraphed that Mr. Booker Washington would pay a visit to Denmark. I had met Mr. Booker Washington with Mr. Richard Watson Gilder in New York, and I admired him very greatly. However, I felt that I should be embarrassed by his visit, as I knew both King Frederick and Queen Louise were interested in him and would not only expect me to present him, but likewise—they were the fine flowers of courtesy—wish my wife and myself to dine at Amalieborg Palace with him. When Admiral Bardenfleth, the queen's chamberlain, came to inquire as to when Mr. Booker Washington should arrive, I suggested that Her Majesty, who had often shown her high appreciation of Mr. Washington's work, might like to talk with him informally, as I knew that she had many questions to ask, and that he himself would be more at his ease if I were not present. The Admiral thanked me. I said the same thing to the Master of Ceremonies of the Court when he came on behalf of the king.

For charm of manner, ease, the simplicity that conceals the perfection of social art, and at least apparent sympathy with one's difficulties, let the high officials of the Court of Denmark be commended! The Master of Ceremonies was delighted. Their Majesties would miss me from the introduction and regret that Mrs. Egan and I would not be present at the dinner, which, however, would be earlier than usual, as I had said that Mr. Booker Washington must catch a train; it would also be very unceremonious. His Majesty would ask only his immediate entourage.

I was pleased with myself (a fatal sign by the way!); Mr. Washington would have all the honour due him. I arranged to attend his lecture, with all the Americans I could collect. I sent the landau with two men on the box, including the magnificent Arthur and the largest cockades, to meet Mr. Washington. In 1910, King Frederick used only carriages and the diplomatists followed his example, though some of a more advanced temperament had taken to motor cars. Mr. Washington was pleased. He loved the landau and the cockades, and Arthur, our first man, who had been 'in diplomacy twenty-five years,' treated him with distinction.

'You have honoured my people and my work most delicately,' he said to me. 'I thank you for sending me the king's invitation to dinner to the Hôtel d'Angleterre. Too much public talk of this honour in the United States would do my people and myself much harm. I will make, in print, an acknowledgment of your courtesy, so effective and so agreeable. To have my work recognised in this manner by the most advanced Court in Europe is indeed worth while, and to have this honour without too much publicity is indeed agreeable.'

Mr. Washington's lecture had been a great success. It had helped, too, to do away with the impression that lynching is to the Americans of North America what bull fights are to those of South America. The most awkward question constantly put to me at Court and in society was, 'But why do you lynch the black men?'

Filled with satisfaction at the result of my machinations (a bad state of mind, as I have said), I was bending over my desk one morning when two correspondents of American newspapers were announced. They came from London; I had met them both before.

'Cigars?'

'Yes. We do not want to give you trouble, Mr. Minister; you were very decent to us all in the Cook affair, but we shall make a good story out of this Booker Washington visit, and we think it is only fair to say that we are going to 'feature' you. There is nothing much doing now, and we've been asked to work this thing up. We know on the best authority that the king will give a dinner to Booker Washington; you will respond with a reception; Mrs. Egan will be taken in to dinner by Mr. Washington; there will be lots of ladies there—in a word, we'll get as big a sensation out of it as the newspapers did out of the Roosevelt-Booker Washington incident. It will do you good in the North, and, as you're a Philadelphian, you need not care what the South thinks.'

These gentlemen meant to be kind; they were dropping me into a hole kindly, but they were letting me into a hole!

'It is not a question as to how I feel,' I said; 'it is a question of raising unpleasant discussions, of injuring the coloured people by holding out false hopes, which, hurried into action, excite new prejudices against them. President Roosevelt, when he invited Booker Washington to lunch, acted as I should like to act now, but I would regret the ill-feeling raised by discussions of such an incident as greatly as he regretted it; but,' I added, 'you have your duty to your papers, which must have news, although the heavens fall. If my wife is taken in to dinner by Mr. Booker Washington at Court, if I give the reception you speak of——'

'You will,' said the elder newspaper man, joyously; 'it is a matter of rigid etiquette. We have a private tip!'

'Very well, when I do these things, I shall not complain if you headline them.'

'Sensation in Denmark,' he read, from a slip. 'Wife of American Minister is taken in to Dinner by Representative Coloured Man. Perfect Social Equality Exemplified by Reception to Mr. Booker Washington at American Legation! London will like you all the better for that,' he said, laughing.

'As "tout Paris" liked President Roosevelt,' I answered.

I shivered a little. 'Come to lunch to-morrow, but do not let us talk on this subject. If I am compelled by etiquette, as you insist I shall, I'll swallow the headlines. I shall ask Mr. Hartvig of some London papers and the New York World to meet you.' And off they went!

If I were a Spartan person and really loved to perform my duties in the most idealistic way, I should have treated the situation greatly, nobly, and unselfishly; I should not have been pleased at the prospect of cheating my journalistic friends out of a good story; but, not being Spartan and really not loving difficult duties, I felt that I had done enough in giving them a luncheon worthy of the reputation of our Legation, with sole à la Bernaise and the best Sauterne.

Mr. Washington called before he went to the king's dinner; he was all smiles, and his evening suit was perfect. He said 'good-bye,' and I was thankful that the event of his visit was over; he was not only satisfied, but radiant and grateful.

Consul-General Bond and his wife, Dr. Brochardt, of the Library of Congress, and several other interesting people were to come in, to dine and to play bridge this evening. I fancied the disappointment of the newspaper men when they should arrive, to find no reception in progress and no Booker Washington. I think I told my guests of the remarkably clever way—I hope I did not use that phrase—by which they had been outwitted.

We were about to go into the drawing-room for coffee when a card was brought in. 'Mr. Booker Washington.' Some of the guests, those from the South especially, wanted to see him; but I trembled when I imagined the scene that would meet the reporters, who were, I knew, sure to come about nine o'clock. The drawing-room would be brilliantly lighted, half a dozen charming ladies in evening gowns would be there, surrounding the eminent apostle! Enter the writers, and then would follow an elaborate sketch of the social function to be described as a New Step in Social Evolution, the Dawn of a New Day, a Symbol of Entire Social Equality. I knew that the elder newspaper man, a friend of Stead's, was quite capable of all this!

'Coffee will be served in my study,' I said, not waiting to consult my wife. 'I will see Mr. Washington, at least for a moment, alone.'

The group of guests moved off reluctantly. Mr. Washington waited in the back drawing-room, where both the Kaiser and Colonel Roosevelt had once stood, though at different times. His train would be late; he came in the fulness of his heart, to tell me that King Frederick and Queen Louise had been most sympathetic. He was enthusiastic about the discernment and commonsense of Queen Louise, who had read his book and followed every step of his work with great interest. 'I was glad to have Her Majesty know that the best men of my race are with me, that the opposition to me comes, not from the whites, but from that element in my own race which wants to enjoy the luxuries of life and its leisure without working! I thank you again, Mr. Minister, for arranging this affair in such a way as to preserve my dignity and to prevent me from appearing as if I were vain; yet I am legitimately proud of the great honour I have received. I shall now go to my hotel, and arrange for my departure.'

'I have ordered the carriage,' I said.

Just then, the footman threw the doors open, and in came the two newspaper men, resplendent as a starry night, one wearing a Russian decoration.

'Alone?' he said.

'With Dr. Booker Washington.'

'The reception?'

'Dr. Booker Washington has just come to describe his dinner at the Court. Let me present you two gentlemen. Dr. Washington has little time; if you will accompany him to the hotel, he will, I am sure, give you an interview. Mr. Hartvig of the New York World will be present, too.'

'Stung!' said the younger newspaper man.

'Lunch with me to-morrow,' I said; 'I have some white Bordeaux.'

Dr. Washington gave a prudent interview and the incident was closed. May he rest in peace. He was a great man, a modest, intelligent and humble man, and no calumny can lessen his greatness.

This is a digression to show that the social question in the United States, much as it might have seemed to people who looked on Denmark as entirely out of our orbit, had its importance in the affair of the purchase of the Islands, which then interested me more than anything else in the world.

Pastor Bast was the only Methodist clergyman in Copenhagen. His good works are proverbial and not confined to his own denomination. The Methodists were few; indeed, I think that even Pastor Bast's children were Lutherans. Having recommended one of his charities, I was asked by a very benevolent Dane:

'Are the Methodists really Christians in America?'

'Why do you ask that question?'

'I have read that there is a division in their ranks because most of them refuse to admit black people on equal terms. If that is so, I cannot help Pastor Bast's project, although I can see that it has value.'

It was in vain to explain the difference of opinion on the 'Afro-American question' which separated the Northern and Southern Methodists; he could not understand it. I hope, however, that Pastor Bast received his donation.

In August 1910, the unrest in Europe, reflected in Denmark, was becoming more and more evident. The diplomatic correspondents during the succeeding years—some of it has been made public—showed this.

Japan, it was understood, would, with the Mexican difficulty, keep the United States out of any entanglements in Europe. So sure were some of the distinguished Danes of our neutrality in case of war—a contingency in which nobody in the United States seemed to believe—that I was asked to submit to my Government, not officially, a proposal to Denmark for the surrender of Greenland to us, we to give, in return, the most important island in the Philippines—Mindanao. Denmark was to have the right to transfer to Germany this island for Northern Slesvig. The Danish Government had no knowledge of this plan, which was, however, presented in detail to me.

Against it was urged the necessity of Denmark's remaining on good terms with Germany. 'We could never be on good terms with our Southern Neighbour, if we possessed Slesvig; besides, the younger Danes in Slesvig are so tied up with Germany economically that their position would be more complicated. 'In fact,' this Slesviger said, 'though I hate the Prussian tyranny, I fear that our last state would be worse than our first. Germany might accept the Philippine Island, and retake Slesvig afterwards. Unless we could be protected by the Powers, we should regard the bargain as a bad one. Besides, England would never allow you to take Greenland.' It was an interesting discussion in camera.

These discussions were always informal—generally after luncheon—and very enlightening. Admiral de Richelieu, who will never die content until Slesvig is returned to Denmark, looked on the arrangement as possible.

'Germany wants peace with you; she could help you to police the Philippines; Greenland would be more valuable to you than to us,—and Slesvig would be again Danish.'

'But suppose we should propose to take the Danish Antilles for Mindanao?' I asked.

'Out of the question,' he said, firmly. 'You will never induce us to part with the West Indies. We can make them an honourable appendage to our nation; but Greenland, with your resources, might become another Alaska.'

De Richelieu is one of the best friends I have in the world; but, when it came to the sale of the Islands, he saw, not only red, but scarlet, vermilion, crimson and all the tints and shades of red!

In 1915, it seemed to me that my time had come to make an attempt to do what nearly every American statesman of discernment had, since Seward's time, wanted done. It must be remembered that, if I seem egoistical, I am telling the story from the point of view of a minister who had no arbitrary instructions from his Government, and very little information as to what was going on in the minds of his countrymen as to the expediency of the purchase. It is seldom possible to explain exactly the daily varying aspect of foreign politics in a European country to the State Department; if one keeps one's ear to the ground, one often discovers the beginning of social and political vibrations in the evening which have quite vanished when one makes a report to one's Government in the morning. Again, mails are slow; we had no pouch; any document, even when closed by the august seal of the United States might be opened 'by mistake.' Long cables, filled with minutiæ, were too expensive to be encouraged. Besides, they might be deciphered and filed by under-clerks, who probably thought that 'Dr. Cook had put Denmark on the Map,'—only that, and nothing more! I knew one thing—that my colleague, Constantin Brun, was for the sale; another, that Erik de Scavenius, the youngest Minister of Foreign Affairs in Europe, was as clever as he was patriotic and honourable, and as resourceful as audacious. He had an Irish grandfather. That explained much. Another thing I assumed—that my Government trusted me, and had given me, without explicitly stating the fact, carte blanche. However, I prepared myself to be disavowed by the State Department if I went too far. I knew that, provided I was strictly honourable, such a disavowal would mean a promotion on the part of the President. I had done my best to accentuate the good reasons given by my predecessors, especially Carr and Risley, for they were beyond denial, for our buying the Islands. One despatch I had sent off in May or June 1915, almost in despair, a despatch in which I repeated the fear of German aggression and quoted Heligoland, which had become as much a part of my thoughts and talk in private as the appearance of the head of Charles I. in that of Dickens's eccentric character.

In June 1915, no nation had the time or the leisure or the means of interfering with the project, for war means concentration, and I had found means of knowing that Germany would not coerce Denmark in the matter. I hoped and prayed that our Government would take action. I knew, not directly, but through trusted friends like Robert Underwood Johnson, lately Editor of The Century Magazine, what point of view nearly every important journal in the United States would take. Senator Lodge's views were well known; in fact, he had first inflamed my zeal. President Wilson had put himself on record in this momentous matter. Unless public opinion should balk at the price—$50,000,000 would not have been too much—the purchase would be approved of by the Senate and the House. This seemed sure.

Against these arguments was the insinuation made and widely but insidiously spread, that Germany approved the sale because she expected to borrow the amount of money paid! In June 1915, it was plain to all who read the signs of the times, that we could not long keep out of the war. 'I did not raise my boy to be a soldier' was neither really popular in the United States nor convincing, for, sad as it may seem, disheartening as it is to those who believe in that universal peace which Christ never promised, the American of the United States is a born fighter!

If the Islands were to be ours, now was the acceptable time. In Denmark, the prospect looked like a landscape set for a forlorn hope. Erik de Scavenius, democrat, even radical, though of one of the most aristocratic families in Denmark, would consider only the good of his own country. He was neither pro-German, pro-English nor pro-American. Young as he was, his diplomatic experience had led him to look with a certain cynicism on the altruistic professions of any great European nation. He relied, I think, as little as I did on the academic results of the Hague conferences.

Denmark needed money; the Government, pledged to the betterment of the poor, to the advancement of funds to small farmers, to the support of a co-operative banking system in the interest of the agriculturists, to old-age pensions, to the insurance of the working man and his support when involuntarily idle, to all those Socialistic plans that aim at the material benefit of the proletariat,[14] and in addition to this, to the keeping up of a standing army as large as our regular army before the war, now 'quasi-mobilised,'—could ill afford to sink the State's income in making up the deficit caused by the expenses of the Islands.