Under Four Administrations Part 4

ENTERING DIPLOMACY

At sea--Our arrival in London--Concerning George Eliot and Lewes--At the banking house of Baron de Rothschild--In Paris--Boulanger's Napoleonic dreams; his suicide--Josef Hofmann as a boy pianist--The artist who painted "Christ before Pilate"; an extraordinary wife--Distinguished hosts and rich cooking--Vienna and the Balkans--Thoughts on pa.s.sing through the Bosphorus--Constantinople, the city of picturesque dirt--Many delays obstruct my audience with the Sultan--The fast of Ramazan--Diplomatic garden parties--An amba.s.sador's 300 Circa.s.sian slave-wife--The Sultan says his prayers--Advice from a seasoned diplomat--My address at Robert College commencement--In the Sultan's Palace.

Our voyage was not altogether a light one. We had found it expedient to leave Mildred, our elder daughter, then four years old, with her Grandma Lavanburg; and while she was in excellent hands my wife was naturally heavy-hearted at the thought of traveling so far and for so long without her. The weather on board ship was for the most part stormy. Our little Aline and her nurse were so seasick that the child resented being on board with all the force of age three. "Mama, this ship is n.o.body's home; why did you bring me here? I shall write sister Milly never to go on the ocean," she declared rebelliously.

Having reached London, however, things went more pleasantly. Our minister there at the time--we did not yet appoint amba.s.sadors--was Edward J. Phelps, for many years Professor of International Law at Yale, a scholarly gentleman. I called on him almost immediately on my arrival, and subsequently Mrs. Straus and I dined at the legation to meet Rustem Pasha, Turkish amba.s.sador, veteran diplomat who had been in the service for thirty-three years and was about twice as old. He was leading Turkish representative at the Congress of Berlin in 1878, following the Russo-Turkish War. He referred to the various questions pending between his Government and mine--the interpretation of Article 4 of the Treaty of 1830, signed only in Turkish; the proposed treaty of 1874, negotiated by Minister Boker and not confirmed by the Senate, concerning naturalized citizens of the United States returning to Turkey; missionary matters; our refusal to negotiate a treaty for the extradition of criminals. I had informed myself regarding all of these, but I deemed it wise not to discuss them in detail; rather I chose to be the listener and draw him out, a.s.suring him that when I arrived at my post all these subjects would have my very best attention. He was particularly concerned with the treaty for the extradition of criminals, but the so-called criminals that came to the United States at that period, especially from Russia and Turkey, were with rare exception political refugees, and it is provided in most of our extradition treaties that political offenders are not to be delivered up.

We remained in London about ten days, calling on a number of interesting people. We spent one pleasant evening with Dr. and Mrs. John Chapman, of the "Westminster Review." My article on "The Development of Religious Liberty in America" was appearing in a current number of the "Review."

The Chapmans were good friends of George Eliot and Professor Lewes. In fact, the novelist and the professor first met at the Chapman home. Dr.

Chapman also told me he was the one who first employed George Eliot in literary work. He became editor of the "Review" in 1851 and engaged her as a.s.sociate editor. When George Eliot resigned, Mrs. Chapman became the a.s.sociate editor. With us that evening, too, was Harold Frederic, London correspondent of the "New York Times" and a novelist of some promise.

From Messrs. J. & W. Seligman of New York I had received a letter to the Seligman banking house in London, at 3 Angel Court. Mr. Isaac Seligman invited us to dine _en famille_, and arranged for me to call at Messrs.

N. M. Rothschild & Sons', where I was very pleasantly received by Baron Alfred Charles de Rothschild, who showed me through his magnificent banking establishment and offered to send me a letter to the Paris Rothschild firm. The Baron was then about forty-four years old, very agreeable, a polished gentleman of the best Jewish type.

In Paris, our next stopping-place, we also had a very interesting time.

Of course we called on our minister, Robert M. McLane, then seventy-four years old, but looking sixty. He was distinctly of the old school, with all the grace of manner, combined with ability and wide experience in public service--an excellent representative who was esteemed by the French people quite as highly as by our own citizens in France. I speak of this especially because in capitals like Paris it is not an easy task to please both elements.

At dinner one evening in the home of my friend Adolphe Salmon, an American merchant residing in Paris, we met Count Dillon and his wife, most affable people to whom we felt ourselves immediately attracted. The Count was a thorough Royalist, had been for many years in the army. At this time he was managing director of the Mackay-Bennett Cable Company and the leader of a movement, really anti-Republican intrigue, designed to put General Boulanger, Minister of War, at the head of the State. The Count was a close personal friend and schoolmate of Boulanger, then the most extolled man in all France. The Count suggested that he arrange a luncheon or dinner to have us meet the General, if that was agreeable to us, for he felt sure the General would be pleased.

Consequently a few days later we lunched at Count Dillon's beautiful villa some thirty minutes outside of Paris. It was an intimate two-hour luncheon party, just Mr. and Mrs. Adolphe Salmon, the Count and Countess Dillon, General Boulanger, Mrs. Straus, and myself. Boulanger was a young-looking man for his fifty years, of medium height and weight, wearing a closely trimmed beard; rather Anglo-American than French in appearance, una.s.suming, of pleasant expression, and probably at the height of his power. Five years before he had been Director of Infantry in the War Office and made himself very popular as a military reformer.

In 1886, under the aegis of Clemenceau and the Radical Party which brought Freycinet into power, Boulanger was made Minister of War. He was noted for his fire-eating att.i.tude toward Germany in connection with the Schnaebele frontier incident, and because of this was hailed as the man destined to give France her revenge for the disasters of 1870. In fact, the ma.s.ses looked upon him as a second Napoleon, "the man on horseback,"

and his picture on horseback was displayed in countless shop windows.

At our luncheon party he entertained us with many an interesting anecdote, and I particularly recall his telling of coming to the Yorktown Centennial Celebration and traveling as far as the Pacific Coast in company with General Sherman to see our fortifications. "I was asked what I thought of your American fortifications ["You know what antiquated and insignificant things they are," in an aside to Mrs.

Straus], and I praised them and said I thought they were splendid, that I had never seen any better ones because"--and here his eyes twinkled--"no country has such nice ditches in front of its fortifications," He meant, of course, the Atlantic and the Pacific.

When the champagne was being drunk and toasts were in order I turned to the General, after drinking to the health of the company, and said: "May you administer the War Department so successfully that posterity will know you as the great preserver of peace." To this he responded that for fifteen years France had always been on the defensive and permitted insults rather than take offense, but that the time had come when she could no longer do so and must be ready for the offensive. He evidently had in mind that war was imminent. At a later meeting he asked me whether, in case of war, I would be willing to take charge of French interests in Turkey. I told him that while of course it would be agreeable to me personally, such action could be taken only under the authority of my government, which authority I would have to obtain before giving an official answer.

The subsequent meteoric career of Boulanger is a matter of history. For two years more his personality was one of the dominating factors of French politics. I remember writing from Constantinople early in 1889: "The most menacing condition exists in France, where, I am of opinion, Boulanger will gain the presidency before many months and from that time perhaps try to tread in the footprints of his Napoleonic ideal. If so--alas, poor France, and alas the peace of Europe!" He had become an open menace to the republic; and when Constans was Minister of the Interior a prosecution was inst.i.tuted against Boulanger and a warrant signed for his arrest. He fled from Paris and was afterward tried and condemned _in absentia_ for treason. In 1891 he committed suicide on the grave of his mistress in a cemetery at Brussels.

We dined, on another evening in Paris, with Mr. and Mrs. William Seligman, of the banking firm of Seligman Freres, the Paris branch of J.

& W. Seligman of New York and of the London Seligman establishment. This dinner was a very large and elaborate affair, with many distinguished guests present. After dinner we were entertained by the budding genius of Josef Hofmann, then ten or eleven years old.

The noted Hungarian, Munkacsy, painter of "Last Day of a Condemned Man,"

"Christ before Pilate," "Christ on Calvary," and other celebrated works, was also there with his wife. As a couple they presented a striking contrast indeed. He was a silent man, talking very little and haltingly; he impressed one as a refined artisan of some sort, perhaps a carpenter.

He was a large man of about five feet ten in height, with bushy hair combed up, bushy beard and mustache, and small eyes which he screwed up to almost nothing when observing something. His wife, on the other hand, was as coa.r.s.e-looking a woman as one might discover, with a loud, raucous, almost masculine voice which, like a saw in action, rose above every other sound. However, I have observed that these contraries in personality in couples often make for happiness.

The artist seemed to take a keen interest in Mrs. Straus. He quite embarra.s.sed her by his constant staring, and after dinner sought an introduction and sat next to her. Her plain hair-dress, smoothly brushed back and rolled in a coil behind, fascinated him. He remarked how natural and becoming it was and wanted to know whether she always wore it that way; he wondered whether it would be as becoming any other way.

He wanted to know how long we should remain in Paris and expressed regret when told we were leaving in three or four days. Mrs. Straus felt he had studied her head long enough to paint it from memory. And who knows, perhaps he has used it in some painting that we have not yet discovered!

Another memorable dinner was at the home of Eli Lazard, of Lazard Freres, bankers, where we met Judge Wilson and daughters, of Cincinnati.

All of these hospitalities were very pleasant, but personally I should have been glad to escape them, for the late hours, together with the rich cooking of Paris, were not in accord with my quiet habits and simple tastes in food and drink.

In Vienna I called on our consul-general, Edmund Jussen, whose wife was the sister of my esteemed friend Carl Schurz, which fact really prompted me to make the call. Jussen himself was not very admirable. He had much of the arrogance of a German official, so out of place in an American representative. However, during our sojourn in the city he and his wife exchanged several visits with us. Mrs. Jussen did not much resemble her distinguished brother, except for an expression about the eyes. She was a very amiable woman with a good face. She told me much of her brother's childhood and school years--how he had to struggle hard for his education. Their father was a small shopkeeper, but no business man, and was never able to make money. Carl did not earn money, but always applied himself diligently. This and much more that has since been published about Schurz interested me greatly, of course.

We continued our journey to Varna on the Black Sea, there to take the steamer for Constantinople. In those days there was no railway connection with Constantinople. The Oriental Express went only to Varna, by way of Bucharest. On that particular part of our journey we got our first glimpses of the picturesque costumes of the Balkan district, especially those of the men with their bare legs and flying shirts.

The trip from Varna to Constantinople was beautiful and inspiring. We boarded the boat at about four in the afternoon and retired early so as to be up by five or six next morning, when we pa.s.sed through the Bosphorus, round which cl.u.s.ters so much of cla.s.sical memory. I suddenly realized how much of my Homer I had forgotten--the Homer on whom I had spent years of hard study. However, most of us meet so many new subjects that have a more direct relation to our surroundings that it is next to impossible to get that "elegant leisure" necessary for a continued interest in the cla.s.sics.

The effect of the trip through the Bosphorus is quite like a dream. The high coast on both sides is covered with green, with here and there a house or some large huts; on one side is Europe and on the other side Asia, looking very much alike, bathed by the same sunshine, peaceful.

We sailed past Buyukdereh, Therapia, the summer residence of most of the diplomats, about twelve miles from Constantinople, where the English, French, Austrian, and Russian emba.s.sies had magnificent palaces and the Germans were engaged in building; on past the lovely old towers of Roumeli-Hissar, built eight hundred years before, when first the Turks set foot in Europe, and back of this the tower of Robert College.

Suddenly my ever-smiling and happy wife spied a launch flying a large United States flag at the stern. "It's our launch!" And sure enough, when we waved our handkerchiefs we discovered the members of my official family, who had come in the legation launch to meet us. There were Pendleton King, acting charge d'affaires; Mr. Gargiulo, dragoman; J.

Lynch Pringle, consul-general; Mehmet, the _cava.s.s_; and several clerks of the consulate and legation.

The _cava.s.s_, by the way, is a sort of bodyguard. He walks before the minister, or rides on the box beside the driver, and serves the purpose of designating that the minister or amba.s.sador follows. He carries two huge pistols and a sword suspended from a gold belt, and his coat, sometimes red and sometimes blue, is much bebraided and embroidered. The natives know each minister or amba.s.sador by his _cava.s.s_.

Our first impression from the windows of the Royal Hotel in Constantinople was of picturesque dirt. As Mrs. Straus said at the time, dirt not only on the hard earth roads and the people, but even on the dogs. In time, however, one is less impressed by the dirt than by the picturesqueness--the venders calling out their wares of fish, fruit, meat, vegetables, all carried on the edges of baskets covered with leaves; the water-carriers with their urns carried on yokes; and the veiled women.

Immediately upon my arrival, of course, I communicated with His Excellency, Sad Pasha, Minister of Foreign Affairs, to present my credentials and arrange for an audience with His Majesty the Sultan, Abdul Hamid. The Pasha replied at once, appointing a time two days later, and accordingly I went to the Sublime Porte, as the Turkish Government seat is called, in company with the charge and the dragoman or interpreter. That was about May 26th. Not until June 6th, however, did I receive a communication from Munir Pasha, Grand Master of Ceremonies, that His Majesty had named June 8th for my audience. The next evening I received a telegram postponing the audience to the 10th.

On the 9th I received another communication, postponing it _sine die_.

On the 15th a new appointment was made for the 17th; then, between midnight and one o'clock on the night of June 16th-17th, the personal secretary of the Sultan came knocking at the door of my apartment, and, after apologizing for his arrival at that untimely hour, informed me that he had come at the Sultan's special request to say that word had come from the Porte that June 17th was a most sacred day, a fact just determined by the phases of the moon, and the Sultan therefore was constrained to postpone the audience again. The date was later set for July 1st, when I finally had my audience.

It was a peculiarity of Abdul Hamid to delay audiences to new representatives for weeks and sometimes months by these successive appointments and postponements, to no other purpose than to impress the agents of foreign governments with the importance of His Majesty. In my case there was some added cause: it was the month of Ramazan, during which only the most pressing official functions take place.

Ramazan, ninth month of the Turkish calendar, is a period of fasting.

For twenty-nine days every Mussulman abstains from food and water, and even smoking, from sunrise to sunset; which the rich arrange conveniently by sleeping all day and eating all night, while the poor who have to work all day eat at sundown, at midnight, and very early in the morning. The first meal after the fasting, at sunset, is called _iltar_. The fast is broken with Ramazan bread, a cakelike bread, circular in shape, which we saw much in evidence at a bazaar in the courtyard of a mosque at Stamboul, the more Oriental part of Constantinople, where the costumes of Greeks, Armenians, Turks, and Arabs form a strange mixture indeed.

During Beiram, a three days' feasting following Ramazan, the mosques are all illuminated at night, and the view over the water, with the moving lights of boats in the foreground and the dimly lighted houses beyond, interspersed with brightly illumined mosques, is quite like a picture of some enchanted land.

Because of the Sultan's peculiarities in receiving foreign representatives, the custom in regard to official calls at Constantinople is different from that at most capitals. Elsewhere calls on colleagues are not made until after a minister or amba.s.sador has had his audience; but here usage dictated calling on one's colleagues as soon as possible. Therefore I called first on Baron de Calice, amba.s.sador from Austria-Hungary and _doyen_ of the diplomatic corps. He received me with great cordiality and kindness, and advised me fully regarding diplomatic practices at Constantinople. And we were welcomed by each and all of my colleagues in turn, so that I found these calls very much less disagreeable than I had antic.i.p.ated; I even enjoyed many of them. At each visit coffee or tea was served, and generally cigarettes too, as is customary with the Turks, which is wonderfully effective in taking off the chill of diplomatic formalities. One soon gets to expect these refreshments; it is a delightful custom that might be adopted in other places to advantage.

Another reason why these formal calls were less formidable than they might have been was that three days after our arrival at the capital we were invited to a garden party given by Lady White, wife of the British amba.s.sador, Sir William A. White. This served to give us a prompt introduction to all my colleagues. In fact, in the five weeks intervening between our arrival and my audience, we had attended so many garden parties and dinners given to us, that I found myself heartily longing for respite. My natural inclination was to regard these social gatherings in the light of idle frivolities, especially in the summer, when one is supposed to be relatively free from functions of this kind; and I was not alone among my colleagues in preferring more evenings at home to the occasional headaches that it cost to continue the very late hours these many engagements forced us to keep. Yet I could not consistently decline invitations; such a course might have been interpreted as a desire on my part to withdraw from the diplomatic circle and would have interfered with the pleasant social relations it was inc.u.mbent on me to cultivate. Attendance was really part of my duty, and in time I found these functions distinctly advantageous.

We looked forward with more than usual interest to the evening of our dinner at the Persian emba.s.sy. The Persian amba.s.sador's wife had been a Circa.s.sian slave, whom he was said to have bought for 300 with a horse thrown into the bargain. The amba.s.sador's wife was, of course, typically Circa.s.sian; chalky white skin, soft black eyes, small features, an unattractive figure unattractively dressed, with whom conversation was almost nil because she knew only Persian.

The streets of Pera, the European part of Constantinople, are exceedingly narrow and very hilly, for the city is built on several hills, like ancient Rome; in addition they are poorly paved and dirty.

This makes driving dangerous and, as in mediaeval times, sedan chairs were quite generally in use as a means of conveyance for the ladies of the diplomatic corps and the wives of the higher Turkish officials, especially at night to dinners and other official functions. Two sinewy porters carry these chairs, one in front and the other behind, and they shuffle along with considerable rapidity. Usually the lady is carried while the gentleman, preceded by his _cava.s.s_ in the case of a diplomat, walks alongside, except in inclement weather when he follows also in a chair. I am reminded of the wife of the German amba.s.sador at the time, a large, heavy woman, whom the porters quite justly charged double. She, however, was entirely oblivious of her extra avoirdupois and always complained of the injustice of these porters! The Austrian and Russian emba.s.sies were particularly difficult of approach by conveyance other than the sedan.

We certainly were living in a new sphere of life, in a strange land among strange people, with customs and habits that brought to mind the age of the patriarchs. There was much to see where some thirty nationalities lived and did business as if in their own homes--much to wonder at, much to deplore, much to praise and admire. The natives are a peculiar people, with many admirable characteristics; they are kind and hospitable, comparatively honest and reliable, especially the lower cla.s.ses, and they manifest a most sincere devotion to their religion.

The lower cla.s.ses are poor, very poor; yet they are content and reasonably happy because their wants are few. Their poverty is not a suffering condition and they seemed to be better off than the poor elsewhere. Their religion strictly interdicts the use of alcoholic drinks, and as they are true to it and live faithfully up to its principles, they are spared all the evils that fall in the train of drunkenness.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MRS. STRAUS IN TURKEY]

During the weeks that I waited for my audience with the Sultan I devoted my time to studying in detail the various questions in regard to our diplomatic relations, so that I might be better informed when they came up. This study was very interesting from an historical point of view, for some of the questions were related to capitulations that dated as far back as the fall of Constantinople in 1453. My legal training also proved valuable in enabling me to understand and handle matters.

On our first Friday in Constantinople we witnessed Selamlik, the picturesque ceremony held with great pomp every Friday, attending the Sultan's going to the mosque. The Sultan's mosque is on the top of a hill commanding the most beautiful view of the city, from which can be seen the Bosphorus and, farther on, the Sea of Marmora. On the roads surrounding the mosque as far as the eye could see were ranged ten or more regiments of infantry and cavalry, each dressed in glittering uniforms according to the section of the empire from which they came, the most resplendent being the Nubian and the Arabian. The Sultan arrived in an open landau, and opposite him Osman Pasha, distinguished soldier, hero of the Battle of Plevna in the Russo-Turkish War, and Grand Marshal of the Palace. The coachman was magnificently dressed in scarlet and gold, and following were the aides-de-camp, also beautifully dressed, one, an Armenian, all in white and gold. As the Sultan entered the mosque a priest chanted a call to prayer which sounded not unlike the old Hebrew chants in some of our synagogues. The mosque was so crowded that we could see many Moslems kneeling and salaaming on the streets outside the doors. The service lasted about twenty minutes, whereupon the bands played and the Sultan reviewed his troops from one of the windows of the mosque. He then returned to the Palace in a beautiful top phaeton drawn by two horses, which he drove himself, again with Osman Pasha opposite, followed by his aides and the carriage that had brought him. Usually several carriages, open and closed, also several saddle horses, are brought from the royal stables to the mosque, that the Sultan may take his choice for his return to the Palace.