There is a peculiar charm in the literary success attained after many years of persistent work—a success which hostile criticism in vain tries to minimize; for, in spite of an occasional disproportion between the battle and the result, the pen leaves traces behind which often, after many years, come back to us as the echo of long-forgotten exploits. As I have just spoken of my political activity, I will here mention, by way of curiosity, that Prince Reuss, late ambassador of the German Empire on the Neva, drawing my attention to the effect produced by my leading article published in the Augsburger Allgemeine Zeitung, said to me at the house of the German Consul-General Boyanowsky at Budapest: "You do not seem to know how much importance the Asiatic Department in St. Petersburg attaches to your enunciations in regard to Central Asiatic politics. Your articles served the Russians at the time not only as guides, but also as encouragement, and you have rendered but a problematic service to England by their publication." Personal experience on the scene of action, a constant, keen interest in the development of events in the inner Asiatic world, and the stimulus of ambition may have helped to give me a bolder and more far-reaching view than this body of statesmen possessed, but that my writings should carry so much weight I never thought. Comical episodes are not wanting either; they are sure to occur in any public career pursued for many years together. When the despatch of the German Emperor to Krüger, at the time of the Jameson Raid in the Transvaal, caused such tremendous excitement in London, and everybody was talking about the increasing Anglophobia in Germany, I discussed this question, of course from the point of view favourable to England, in a letter dated the 12th of January, 1896. The Times saw fit to publish my letter, which took up a whole column of its front page, and on a Saturday, too, so that the letter might lie over all the longer. Of course this article, signed "A Foreigner," attracted much attention in the German Press. Just at that time Leopold II., King of the Belgians, happened to be in London, and the German papers hit on the curious idea of connecting his Belgian Majesty with the "foreigner." Of course all were up in arms against the "Coburger," and the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung of January 21, 1896, delivered quite a peppered sermon against him. It could not leave me quite indifferent to see a crowned head taken to task for my utterances, and I communicated the real state of affairs to the Belgian Ambassador in Vienna, but this quid pro quo has never been made public, for the Times never betrays its co-operators. One would scarcely believe how much the influence of the Press is felt, even in the remotest corners of the earth. In consequence of the expression of my views about the Islamic nations, either in Turkish or Persian, I received letters not only from all parts of the Ottoman Empire, but also from the Crimea, Siberia, Arabia, and North Africa, and hardly ever did a Moslem, or Dervish, or merchant pass Budapest without coming to see me to assure me of the sympathy of his fellow-countrymen.
The Mohammedans of India[1] were particularly friendly, on account of my relations with the Sultan, and invited me to give lectures in some of their towns, an invitation which tempted me very much, as I was rather curious to see the effect of a Persian speech delivered by a European among these genuine Asiatics. An open letter to the Mohammedans of India did much to strengthen these friendly feelings, and if it had not been for the sixty years which weighed on my shoulders I should long ere now have made a trip to Hindustan.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] See [Appendix III.]
At the English Court