CHAPTER X
Former colleagues who have risen to eminence—Kiderlin-Waechter—Aehrenthal—Colonel Klepsch—The discomfiture of an inquisitive journalist—Origin of certain Russian scares—Tokyo—Dulness of Geisha dinners—Japanese culinary curiosities—"Musical Chairs"—Lack of colour in Japan—The Tokugawa dynasty—Japanese Gardens—The transplanted suburban Embassy house—Cherry-blossom—Japanese Politeness—An unfortunate incident in Rome—Eastern courtesy—The country in Japan—An Imperial duck catching party—An up-to-date Tokyo house—A Shinto Temple—Linguistic difficulties at a dinner-party—The economical colleague—Japan defaced by advertisements.
Petrograd was the only capital at which I was stationed in which there was a diplomatic table d'hôte. In one of the French restaurants there, a room was specially set apart for the diplomats, and here the "chers collègues" foregathered nightly, when they had no other engagements. When a Spaniard and a Dane, a Roumanian and a Dutchman, a Hungarian and an Englishman dine together frequently, it becomes a subject of thankfulness that the universal use of the French language as a means of international communication has mitigated the linguistic difficulties brought about by the ambitious tower-builders of Babel.
Two men whom I met frequently at that diplomatic table d'hôte rose afterwards to important positions in their own countries. They were Baron von Kiderlin-Waechter, the German, and Baron von Aehrenthal, the Austrian, both of whom became Ministers for Foreign Affairs in their respective countries, and both of whom are now dead. Kiderlin-Waechter arrived in Petrograd as quite a young man with the reputation of being Bismarck's favourite and most promising pupil. Though a South German by birth, Kiderlin-Waechter had acquired an overbearing and dictatorial manner of the most approved Prussian type. When a number of young men, all of whom are on very friendly terms with each other, constantly meet, there is naturally a good deal of fun and chaff passed to and fro between them. Diplomats are no exception to this rule, and the fact that the ten young men talking together may be of ten different nationalities is no bar to the interchange of humorous personalities, thanks to the convenient French language, which lends itself peculiarly to "persiflage."
Germans can never understand the form of friendly banter which we term chaff, and always resent it deeply. I have known German diplomats so offended at a harmless joke that they have threatened to challenge the author of it to a duel. I should like to pay a belated tribute to the memory of the late Count Lovendal, Danish Minister in Petrograd; peace to his ashes! This kindly, tactful, middle-aged man must during my time in Petrograd have stopped at least eight duels. People in trouble went straight to Count Lovendal, and this shrewd, kind-hearted, experienced man of the world heard them with infinite patience, and then always gave them sound advice. As years went on, Count Lovendal came to be a sort of recognised Court of Honour, to whom all knotty and delicate points were referred. He, if anyone, should have "Blessed are the peacemakers" inscribed on his tomb. At least four of the duels he averted were due to the inability of Germans to stand chaff. Kiderlin-Waechter, for instance, was for ever taking offence at harmless jokes, and threatening swords and pistols in answer to them. He was a very big, gross-looking, fair-haired man; with exactly the type of face that a caricaturist associates with the average Prussian.
His face was slashed with a generous allowance of the scars of which Germans are so proud, as testifying to their prowess in their student-duelling days. I think that it was the late Sir Wilfrid Lawson who, referring to the beer-drinking habits of German students and their passionate love of face-slashing, described them as living in a perpetual atmosphere of "scars and swipes." Though from South Germany, Kiderlin snapped out his words with true "Preussische Grobheit" in speaking German. Fortunately, it is impossible to obtain this bullying effect in the French language. It does not lend itself to it. I should be guilty of exaggeration were I to say that Kiderlin-Waechter was wildly adored by his foreign colleagues. He became Minister for Foreign Affairs of the German Empire, but made the same mistake as some of his predecessors, notably Count Herbert Bismarck, had done. They attributed Bismarck's phenomenal success to his habitual dictatorial, bullying manner. This was easily copied; they forgot the genius behind the bully, which could not be copied, and did not realise that Bismarck's tremendous brain had not fallen to their portion. Kiderlin-Waechter's tenure of office was a short one; he died very suddenly in 1912. He was a violent Anglophobe.
Baron von Aehrenthal was a very different stamp of man. He was of Semitic origin, and in appearance was a good-looking, tall, slim, dark young fellow with very pleasing manners. Some people indeed thought his manners too pleasant, and termed them subservient. I knew Aehrenthal very well indeed, and liked him, but I never suspected that under that very quiet exterior there lay the most intense personal ambition. He became Austro-Hungarian Minister for Foreign Affairs in 1907, being raised to the rank of Count next year. This quiet, sleepy-mannered man began embarking on a recklessly bold foreign policy, and, to the surprise of those who fancied that they knew him well, exhibited a most domineering spirit. The old Emperor Francis Joseph's mental powers were failing, and it was Aehrenthal who persuaded him to put an end to the understanding with Russia under which the status quo in the Balkan States was guaranteed, and to astonish Europe in 1908 by proclaiming the annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina to the Austrian Empire. This step, owing to the seething discontent it aroused in Bosnia, led directly to the catastrophe of Sarajevo on June 28, 1914, and plunged Europe into the most terrible war of history. Aehrenthal, whether intentionally or not, played directly into the hands of the Pan-Germanic party, and succeeded in tying his own country, a pliant vassal, to the chariot-wheels of Berlin. It was Aehrenthal who brought the immemorially old Hapsburg Monarchy crashing to the ground and by his foreign policy caused the proud Austrian Empire to collapse like a house of cards. He did not live to see the final results of his work, for he died in 1912.
Colonel Klepsch, the Austro-Hungarian Military Attaché at Petrograd, another habitué of the diplomatic table d'hôte, was a most remarkable man. He knew more of the real state of affairs in Russia, and of the inner workings and intentions of the Russian Government, than any other foreigner in the country, and his information was invariably correct. Nearly all the foreign Ambassadors consulted Colonel Klepsch as to the probable trend of affairs in Russia, and at times he called on them and volunteered pieces of information. It was well known that his source of intelligence was a feminine one, and experience had proved that it was always to be relied upon. To this day I do not know whether this mysterious, taciturn man was at times used as a convenient mouthpiece by the Russian Government, at the instigation of a certain person to whom he was devotedly attached; whether he acted on instructions from his own Ambassador, or if he took the steps he did on his own initiative. This tall, red-haired, silent man, with his uncanny knowledge of every detail of what was happening in the country, will always remain an enigma to me.
I mentioned earlier in these reminiscences that Lord Dufferin on one occasion accomplished the difficult feat of turning an English newspaper correspondent out of his house with the most charming courtesy.