Soon after my arrival I observed a curious phenomenon concerning the position of an ambassador. The instinctive ambition of the attachés led them to try to keep the Ambassador from taking an active hand in the work of the Chancery. It was explained to me with great solemnity, that the business office of the Embassy was not like other business offices; that its operations were so involved in delicacies of diplomatic usage that none but old hands, trained in all their niceties, were competent to handle the transaction of its intricate affairs. All details, I was informed, should be left to those accustomed to handling them. I made short work of this mysterious nonsense. Business is business, and details are the substance of larger concerns. Therefore, I promptly acquainted myself with the records of the Embassy for several years preceding, and took absolute charge of its functions, as I was in duty bound to do. The mysteries faded instantly. Common sense, judgment, and energy are the desiderata of all business relationships, and I found no barrier in these affairs, because of their so-called diplomatic nature.
Other American ambassadors have complained to me that their subordinates usurped their functions in this fashion; and I know of some who have occupied the most exalted posts in Europe and never penetrated the mysteries of their Chanceries, and, consequently, never really functioned as ambassadors at all.
As my wife and Ruth had not accompanied me, their absence relieved me, for the moment, of social duties, and gave me time for a considered survey of the society in which I would soon be projected as an active member. I realized that much depended upon the first associations I should make in that society, and I needed just such an opportunity to learn by indirection the composition of it, the factions into which it was divided, and the cross currents of personality and interest that disturbed it.
The “diplomatic set” at Constantinople was a little world apart. At most, its members numbered a scant hundred. It comprised the Grand Vizier, the Premier and his Cabinet, and the ambassadors and ministers of other governments, with their principal attachés. Occasionally, there were added to this intimate circle a few leading international bankers and merchants and distinguished tourists. But chiefly we consorted with ourselves. Our intercourse was a continuous succession of luncheons, teas, dinners, and formal state functions. In such a constricted society, thrown into such intense communication, the personal equation was naturally of paramount importance. Ere long, I had occasion to use every resource, from social gifts to business experience, to maintain myself in this society of shrewd and cultivated men, all of whom had the advantage of a life-long training in diplomacy and in the intricacies of European statecraft.
My first concern, therefore, was to appraise their personalities. I recalled a piece of wise advice from James Stillman the elder, who was one of the cleverest American financiers. He told me that when a man confronted a new situation, and was not yet sure of his ground, his safest course was to impress his adversaries by mystifying them. I adapted this advice to the present occasion. I realized that the diplomatic corps at Constantinople knew much more about me than I knew about any of them, because I was the one stranger to them, and they were many and all strange to me. I resolved to do, as nearly as I could, directly the opposite of what they expected of me. For one thing, they had fallen into the European habit of imagining that all successful Americans are men of fabulous wealth, and they credited certain absurd stories about my supposed intention to conduct the Embassy on a scale of lavish expenditure, designed to make a great social impression. Accordingly, I went to the other extreme and managed the Embassy very modestly. For some weeks after my arrival I did not even use an automobile, contenting myself with a carriage and a pair of Arabian ponies.
Further to play the rôle of mystifier, I obeyed only the letter of the custom which prescribes that a new Ambassador shall call upon the other ambassadors after he has been presented to the Sovereign. They are supposed to return this call, and thereafter the newcomer is expected to make the advances to his elders toward a more intimate and workable acquaintance. Instead, I remained at the Embassy and devoted myself to the business of the Chancery and did some watchful waiting.
These tactics were rewarded by an opportunity to enter the society of the diplomatic corps under circumstances that gave me the advantage. One day the local correspondent of the Frankfürter Zeitung called upon me at the Embassy. This was Dr. Paul Weitz, who had been a resident of Turkey for more than twenty-five years, knew all the officials, spoke the language, and understood the subtleties of Turkish psychology. He was, in reality, an unofficial attaché of the Embassy and a secret agent of the German Government. Dr. Weitz opened the conversation.
“Mr. Ambassador,” he said, “I have gotten the impression that you are a man of direct methods. For this reason I, too, shall use the direct method. Frankly, I have come as the emissary of the German Ambassador and the Austrian Ambassador, with whom I had luncheon this very day. You were the principal topic of conversation. These gentlemen are puzzled by your attitude and they are curious to learn your true character. They have commissioned me to find out these things for them, and I have preferred to come and ask you bluntly rather than to follow my usual method of finding out by indirection. What is your real attitude? Are you by preference a recluse, or are you playing a game?”
“I am glad,” I replied, “that you have come to me personally with these questions, especially because it gives me the opportunity to send a direct message to your principals. Please be good enough to tell them for me that I have made it a life-long practice never to make the first advances. I have always waited for the advances to come from the other side. Therefore, you may tell “Their Excellencies” that it is for them to decide whether they wish their relationship with me to continue to be one of formal diplomatic exchanges, or a frank, man-to-man friendship. If they prefer the latter, I shall be delighted to meet them halfway, but they must cover the first half.”
Dr. Weitz readily agreed to carry this message, and he was so pleased with the frankness of my conversation that he made no concealment of his own position. He went on to tell me that he was a confidential adviser to the German ambassadors, and frequently was commissioned to carry on unofficial negotiations in which, for reasons of delicacy or of policy, it was not advisable either that the Ambassador should appear in person, or that he should make use of one of his official family. He explained to me that the reason he was used in this capacity was his intimate acquaintance with Turkish life and officials, and he offered to undertake similar commissions for me at any time I might care to make use of him. For obvious reasons, I never availed myself of the offer.