Autobiography of Andrew Dickson White — Volume 2

by Andrew Dickson White

Of course the task of the embassy in protecting American citizens abroad was especially increased in those times of commotion. At such periods the number of ways in which American citizens, native or naturalized, can get into trouble seems infinite; and here, too, even from the first moment of my arrival in Berlin as ambassador, I saw evidences of the same evil which had struck me during my previous missions in Berlin and St. Petersburg—namely, the constant and ingenious efforts to prostitute American citizenship. Among the manifold duties of an ambassador is the granting of passports. The great majority of those who ask for them are entitled to them; but there are always a considerable number of persons who, having left Europe just in time to escape military service, have stayed in America just long enough to acquire American citizenship, and then, having returned to their native country, seek to enjoy the advantages of both countries while discharging the duties of neither. Even worse were the cases of the descendants of such so-called Americans, most of them born in Europe and not able even to speak the English language; worst of all were the cases of sundry Russians—sometimes stigmatized as "predatory Hebrews"—who, having left Russia and gone to America, had stayed just long enough to acquire citizenship, and then returned and settled in the eastern part of Germany, as near the Russian frontier as possible. These were naturally regarded as fraudulent interlopers by both the German and Russian authorities, and much trouble resulted. Some of them led a life hardly outside the limits of criminality; but they never hesitated on this account to insist on their claims to American protection. When they were reminded that American citizenship was conferred upon them, not that they might shirk its duties and misuse its advantages in the land of their birth, but that they might enjoy it and discharge its duties in the land of their adoption, they scouted the idea and insisted on their right, as American citizens, to live where they pleased. Their communications to the embassy were, almost without exception, in German, Russian, or Polish; very few of them wrote or even spoke English, and very many of them could neither read nor write in any language. For the hard-working immigrant, whether Jew or Gentile, who comes to our country and casts in his lot with us, to take his share not only of privilege but of duty, I have the fullest respect and sympathy, and have always been glad to intervene in his favor; but intervention in behalf of those fraudulent pretenders I always felt to be a galling burden.

Fortunately the rules of the State Department have been of late years strengthened to meet this evil, and it has finally become our practice to inform such people that if they return to America they can receive a passport for that purpose; but that unless they show a clear intention of returning, they cannot. Very many of them persist in their applications in spite of this, and one case became famous both at the State Department and at the embassy. Three Russians of the class referred to had emigrated with their families to America, and, after the usual manner, stayed just long enough to acquire citizenship, and had then returned to Germany. One of them committed a crime and disappeared; the other two went to the extreme eastern frontier of Prussia and settled there. Again and again the Prussian Government notified us that under the right exercised by every nation, and especially by our own, these "undesirable intruders" must leave Prussian territory or be expelled. Finally we discovered at the embassy that a secret arrangement had been made between Germany and Russia which obliged each to return the undesirable emigrants of the other. This seemed to put the two families in great danger of being returned to Russia; and, sooner than risk a new international trouble, a proposal was made to them, through the embassy, to pay their expenses back to America; but they utterly refused to leave, and continued to burrow in the wretched suburbs of one of the German cities nearest the Russian border. Reams of correspondence ensued—all to no purpose; a special messenger was sent to influence them—all in vain: they persisted in living just as near Russia as possible, and in calling themselves American, though not one of them spoke English.

From time to time appeared in our own country attacks against the various American embassies and legations abroad for not protecting such American citizens, and a very common feature of these articles was an unfavorable comparison between the United States and England: it being claimed that Great Britain protects her citizens everywhere, while the United States does not. This statement is most misleading. Great Britain, while she is renowned for protecting her subjects throughout the world, —bringing the resources of her fleet, if need be, to aid them,—makes an exception as regards her adopted citizens in the land of their birth. The person who, having been naturalized in Great Britain, goes back to the country of his birth, does so at his or her own risk. The British Government considers itself, under such circumstances, entirely absolved from the duty of giving protection. The simple fact is that the United States goes much further in protecting adopted citizens than does any other country, and it is only rank demagogism which can find fault because some of our thinking statesmen do not wish to see American citizenship prostituted by persons utterly unfit to receive it, who frequently use it fraudulently, and who, as many cases prove, are quite ready to renounce it and take up their old allegiance if they can gain advantage thereby.

Another general duty of the embassy was to smooth the way for the large number of young men and women who came over as students. This duty was especially pleasing to me now, as it had been during my life as minister in Berlin twenty years before. At that time women were not admitted to the universities; but now large numbers were in attendance. The university authorities showed themselves very courteous, and, when there was any doubt as to the standing of the institution from which a candidate for admission came, allowed me to pass upon the question and accepted my certificate. Almost without exception, I found these candidates excellent; but there were some exceptions. The applicants were usually persons who had been graduated from some one of our own institutions; but, from time to time, persons who had merely passed a freshman year in some little American college came abroad, anxious to secure the glory of going at once into a German university. Certificates for such candidates I declined to sign. To do so would have been an abuse sure to lead the German authorities finally to reject the great mass of American students: far better for applicants to secure the best advantages possible in their own country, and then to supplement their study at home by proper work abroad.

In sketches of my former mission to Berlin I have mentioned various applications, some of them psychological curiosities; these I found continuing, though with variations. Some compatriots expected me to forward to the Emperor begging letters, or letters suggesting to him new ideas, unaware that myriads of such letters are constantly sent which never reach him, and which even his secretaries never think of reading. Others sent books, not knowing the rule prevailing among crowned heads, never to accept a PUBLISHED book, and not realizing that if this rule were broken, not one book in a thousand would get beyond the office of his general secretary. Others sent medicine which they wished him to recommend; and one gentleman was very persistent in endeavoring to secure his Majesty's decision on a wager.

Then there were singers or performers on wind or string instruments wishing to sing or play before him, sculptors and painters wishing him to visit their studios, and writers of music wishing him to order their compositions to be brought out at the Royal Opera.

All these requests culminated in two, wherein the gentle reader will see a mixture of comic and pathetic. The first was from a person (not an American) who wished my good offices in enabling her to obtain a commission for a brilliant marriage,—she having in reserve, as she assured me, a real Italian duke whom, for a consideration, she would secure for an American heiress. The other, which was from an eminently respectable source, urged me to induce the imperial authorities to station in the United States a young German officer with whom an American young lady had fallen in love. And these proposals I was expected to further, in spite of the fact that the rules for American representatives abroad forbid all special pleading of any kind in favor of individual interests or enterprises, without special instructions from the State Department. Discouraging was it to find that in spite of the elaborate statement prepared by me during my former residence, which had been freely circulated during twenty years, there were still the usual number of people persuaded that enormous fortunes were awaiting them somewhere in Germany.

One application, from a truly disinterested man, was grounded in nobler motives. This was an effort made by an eminent Polish scholar and patriot to wrest American citizenship for political purposes. He had been an instructor at various Russian and German universities had shown in some of his books extraordinary ability, had gained the friendship of several eminent scholars in Great Britain and on the Continent, and was finally settled at one of the most influential seats of learning in Austrian Poland. He was a most attractive man, wide in his knowledge, charming in his manner; but not of this world. Having drawn crowds to his university lectures, he suddenly attacked the Emperor Franz Josef, who, more than any other, had befriended his compatriots; was therefore obliged to flee from his post; and now came to Berlin, proposing seriously that I should at once make him an American citizen, and thus, as he supposed, enable him to go back to his university and, in revolutionary speeches, bid defiance to Austria, Russia, and Germany. Great was his disappointment when he learned that, in order to acquire citizenship, he would be obliged to go to the United States and remain there five years. As he was trying to nerve himself for this sacrifice, I presented some serious considerations to him. Knowing him to be a man of honor, I asked him how he could reconcile it with his sense of veracity to assume the rights of American citizenship with no intention to discharge its duties. This somewhat startled him. Then, from a more immediately practical point of view, I showed that, even if he acquired American citizenship, and could reconcile his conscience to break the virtual pledge he had made in order to obtain it, the government of Austria, and, indeed, all other governments, would still have a full right, under the simplest principles of international law, to forbid his entrance into their territories, or to turn him out after he had entered,—the right of expelling undesirable emigrants being constantly exercised, even by the United States. This amazed him. He had absolutely persuaded himself that I could, by some sleight of hand, transform him into an American citizen; that he could then at once begin attempts to reestablish the fine old Polish anarchy in Austria, Russia, and Germany; and that no one of these nations would dare interfere with him. It was absurd but pathetic. My advice to him was to go back to his lecture-room and labor to raise the character of the younger generation of Poles, in the hope that Poland might do what Scotland had done—rise by sound mental and moral training from the condition of a conquered and even oppressed part of a great empire to a controlling position in it. This advice was, of course, in vain, and he is now building air-castles amid the fogs of London.

In my life at Berlin as ambassador there was a tinge of sadness. Great changes had taken place since my student days in that city, and even since my later stay as minister. A new race of men had come upon the stage in public affairs, in the university, and in literary circles. Gone was the old Emperor William, gone also was the Emperor Frederick, and Bismarck and Moltke and a host of others who had given dignity and interest to the great assemblages at the capital. Gone, too, from the university were Lepsius, Helmholtz, Curtius, Hoffmann, Gneist, Du Bois-Reymond, and Treitschke, all of whom, in the old days, had been my guests and friends. The main exceptions seemed to be in the art world. The number of my artist friends during my stay as minister had been large, and every one of them was living when I returned as ambassador; the reason, of course, being that when men distinguish themselves in art at all, they do so at an earlier age than do high functionaries of state and professors in the universities. It was a great pleasure to find Adolf Menzel, Ludwig Knaus, Carl Beeker, Anton von Werner, and Paul Meyerheim, though grown gray in their beautiful ministry, still daily at work in their studios.

Three only of my friends of the older generation in the Berlin faculty remained; and as I revise these lines the world is laying tributes upon the grave of the last of them—Theodor Mommsen. With him my relations were so peculiar that they may deserve some mention.