An incident which took place in my own house opened all our eyes to the seriousness with which von Sanders regarded this military mission. On February 18th I gave my first diplomatic dinner; General von Sanders and his two daughters attended, the general sitting next to my daughter Ruth. My daughter, however, did not have a very enjoyable time; this German Field-Marshal, sitting there in his gorgeous uniform, his breast all sparkling with medals, did not say a word throughout the whole meal. He ate his food silently and sulkily, all my daughter’s attempts to enter into conversation evoking only an occasional surly monosyllable. The behaviour of this great military leader was that of a spoiled child.
At the end of the dinner von Mutius, the German chargé d’affaires, came up to me in a high state of excitement. It was some time before he could sufficiently control his agitation to deliver his message.
“You have made a terrible mistake, Mr. Ambassador,” he said.
“What is that?” I asked, naturally taken aback.
“You have greatly offended Field-Marshal von Sanders. You have placed him at the dinner lower in rank than the foreign Ministers. He is the personal representative of the Kaiser, and as such is entitled to equal rank with the Ambassadors. He should have been placed ahead of the Cabinet Ministers and the Foreign Ministers.”
So I had affronted the Emperor himself! This, then, was the explanation of von Sanders’s boorish behaviour. Fortunately, my position was an impregnable one. I had not arranged the seating precedence at this dinner; I had sent the list of my guests to the Marquis Pallavicini, the Austrian Ambassador and dean of the diplomatic corps, and the greatest authority in Constantinople on such delicate points as this. The Marquis had returned the list, marking in red ink against each name the order of precedence—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, etc. I still possess this document, as it came from the Austrian Embassy, and General von Sanders’s name appears with the numerals “13” against it. I must admit, however, that “the thirteenth chair” did bring him pretty well to the foot of the table.
I explained the situation to von Mutius and asked Mr. Panfili, conseiller of the Austrian Embassy, who was a guest at the dinner, to come up and make everything clear to the outraged German diplomat. As the Austrians and Germans were allies, it was quite apparent that the slight, if slight there had been, was unintentional. Panfili said that he had been puzzled over the question of von Sanders’s position, and had submitted the question to the Marquis. The outcome was that the Austrian Ambassador had himself fixed von Sanders’s rank at No. 13. But the German Embassy did not let the matter rest there, for afterward Wangenheim called on Pallavicini, and discussed the matter with considerable liveliness.
“If Liman von Sanders represents the Kaiser, whom do you represent?” Pallavicini asked Wangenheim. The argument was a good one, as the Ambassador is always regarded as the alter ego of his Sovereign.
“It is not customary,” continued the Marquis, “for an Emperor to have two representatives at the same Court.”
As the Marquis was unyielding, Wangenheim carried the question to the Grand Vizier. But Saïd Halim refused to assume responsibility for so momentous a decision and referred the dispute to the Council of Ministers. This body solemnly sat upon the question and rendered this verdict: von Sanders should rank ahead of the Ministers of foreign countries, but below the members of the Turkish Cabinet. Then the foreign Ministers lifted up their voices in protest. Von Sanders not only became exceedingly unpopular for raising this question, but the dictatorial and autocratic way in which he did it aroused general disgust. The Ministers declared that, if von Sanders were ever given precedence at any function of this kind, they would leave the table in a body. The net result was that von Sanders was never again invited to a diplomatic dinner. Sir Louis Mallet, the British Ambassador, took a sardonic interest in the episode. It was lucky, he said, that it had not happened at his Embassy; if it had, the newspapers would have had columns about the strained relations between England and Germany!