Ambassador Gerard was quietly warning Americans to leave Berlin; and yet we were 'neutral,' and the German Government believed that we would remain neutral at least in appearance. No German seemed to believe that we were neutral at heart, though there were those among the expatriated who held that we ought to be, in spite of the Lusitania and our traditions. One of the puzzles of this was (every American in Copenhagen tried to solve it) the effect that a long residence in Germany had on Americans. 'I sometimes read the English papers,' said one of these; 'I try to be fair, but I am shocked by their calumnies. The Kaiser loves the United States; he has said it over and over again to Americans, and yet you will not believe it.'
'Belgium!'
'Oh, the Germans have made a fruitful and orderly country out of Belgium.'
This kind of American helped to deceive the Germans into the belief that our patience would endure all the insults of Cataline. There was very little opportunity to compare notes with my colleagues in Sweden and Norway. They were busy men. I fancy Mr. Morris's real martyrdom did not begin in Sweden until after Easter Sunday, 1917. Mr. Schmedeman doubtless had his when the rigours of the embargo struck Norway; but for me, the worst time was when we were 'neutral'!
As to the German Foreign Office, why should it listen to the warnings of our Ambassador, in November, who might be recalled by a change of administration in March?
Six months before election, no American envoy has any real influence at the Foreign Office with which he deals. The chances are that the policy of the last four years will be reversed by the election in November. Up to the last moment, as far as I could see, the Foreign Office in Berlin believed that the growing warlike democratic attitude would be softened by the new Administration, which, it was informed, would not dare to make Colonel Roosevelt Secretary of State.
'Secretary of State,' an Austrian said, 'how could an ex-President condescend to become Secretary of State. One might as well expect a deposed Pope to become Grand Electeur!'
Previous to November 7th, 1916, the day of the Presidential election, our situation was looked on by all the diplomatists and all the Foreign Offices as fluid. It might run one way or the other. There was a widely diffused opinion in Denmark that, as President Wilson had been elected on a peace platform for his first term, Germany might go as far as she liked without drawing the United States into the conflict.
In Berlin, in high circles, the election of Mr. Hughes was considered certain. He was supposed to represent capital, and capital would think twice before burning up values. The Kaiser had given Colonel Roosevelt up; 'Sa conduite est une grande illusion pour notre Empereur,' Count Brockdorff-Rantzau had said. I learned from Berlin that the ex-President had been approached by a representative of the Kaiser of sufficient rank, who had reminded Colonel Roosevelt of the honours the Kaiser had showered upon him during his European tour. 'I was also well received by the King of the Belgians,' Colonel Roosevelt answered. 'C'est une grande illusion,' Count Brockdorff-Rantzau repeated, more in sorrow than in anger. 'The Emperor did not think that the ex-President would turn against him!'
Until election day, every American diplomatist in Europe merely marked time. He represented a Government which was without power for the time being.