The Life and Surprizing Adventures of Archibald Kerr, British Diplomat. Виктор Королев

Чтение книги онлайн.

      To Princess Sophie this hatred did not apply. He still thought of her with warmth and tenderness. They would meet again in 1914. The last summer before the war Kerr will spend on a cruise in the Mediterranean, and in Athens he will pay a friendly visit to the house of the King of Greece, or rather his wife.

      Queen Sophie was heartily glad to see him and held out her hand. They sat for a while on a soft Sofa in the shade of an old Fig tree. Then, as she had six years before, she led him by the hand into the Palace. In the ornate hall she showed a novelty – a portable gramophone. Smiling affectionately, she put on a record.

      ‘That's Tine Rossi – a charming voice, is not it? Remember our tango in Berlin?’

      ‘Of course I do,’ Kerr said. ‘I have a professional memory.’

      Chapter 4

      What can you do make for victory?

      Before Easter 1910, Archibald Kerr finally said goodbye to Berlin. A decade later, he sadly wrote in his diary: “I think that I did not pay enough attention to official Affairs, I spent too much time on different meetings, and I should have been more serious in Berlin. It’s clear that today I cannot change anything…”

      However, the Ministry of foreign Affairs officially stated that Kerr was the most conscientious and hardworking employee while working in Germany. In any case, over the years he has accumulated experience, increased self-esteem and confidence in the right choice of profession, as well as the ability to apply diplomatic charm to the envy of friends and enemies.

      His new assignment in Buenos Aires was very short. Kerr didn't even have time to look around and understand his responsibilities. He had come to the endlessly bustling, manyvoiced city, noisily celebrating the centenary of freedom, and at the first opportunity had gone to the shores of La Plata to take a break from the constant noise. He did not succeed. Early in the morning he was awakened by the neighing of a horse and shouts near the tent.

      ‘Mr. Kerr! I'm looking for Mr. Archibald Kerr!’

      He had to get dressed and leave the tent.

      ‘There's an urgent telegram for you!’

      The postman, still on his horse, handed him the yellow paper.

      ‘Please accept my condolences!’

      He put two fingers to the peak of his uniform cap and rode away.

      The message from Sydney was short: “Father died on the twenty-second. Please come. The funeral will take place on the twenty-seventh.”

      It was a heavy blow. Archie hadn't seen his father in ten years, but he felt his father's concern and pride in his diplomat son. And now his father was gone. Father's gone forever now, and there's nothing you can do.

      The Ministry sincerely sympathized and gave additional leave, so that Kerr could remain in Australia until the spring. During this time he tried to calm his mother and did another important thing. A difficult relationship with Australian relatives forced him to change his surname. Since 1911, he officially became known by another name – Archibald John Kerr. With small correction: the first its name of Archibald he always liked much more second. So it goes from the beginning of our story.

      In March, Archie Kerr returned to duty. However it was not Argentina. He was assigned to the British mission in Washington. At the time, there were only nine diplomats under the liberal James Bryce, a completely unique personality.

      Bryce was in his seventies. He was Scottish, too. And he, too, after the community colleges raised their education in the German and French universities. He and Kerr had a lot in common. And the difference is one – in age.

      ‘I could adopt you, Archie,’ Bryce said, smiling. ‘But I see my task in having time to convey to you, such an ambitious and talented person, the accumulated knowledge and understanding of life.’

      Bryce was an expert in everything. His student works on the history of the Roman Empire received first places at the University. He was a brilliant jurist. By the time he was Kerr's age, He was head of the civil law Department at Oxford. He knew several languages. He traveled a lot, was engaged in mountaineering. He conquered many mountain peaks. And when he came down from Ararat, he claimed to have seen the remains of Noah's ark. No one believed him then, but in vain – it was there, in a completely inaccessible place, a century later the nose of an ancient ship will be seen from an airplane…

      ‘Would you like to travel with me to Russia, young man? Are you tempted to ride on the Trans-Siberian railway through this huge and mysterious country?’

      Archibald didn't know what to say.

      ‘Maybe some other time.’

      ‘I hope you'll have the opportunity later. Don't miss it!’

      In the eyes of the young diplomat, Bryce was not a boss, he was a real hero. Kerr admired his intelligence and eccentricity, especially his habit of beginning every morning with a dictionary of the country in which he was or where he was going.

      ‘A diplomat must know foreign languages. Read ten or twenty pages of someone else's dictionary every morning,’ the old Professor advised. ‘Let you remember nothing – but when it is necessary, the brain itself will pull out the right words from the subconscious. To understand someone else's speech is very important for a diplomat.’

      One year has passed. James Bryce went to the Far East. Without such a teacher, Kerr was suddenly lonely. Other friends in this small collective at it and did not appear. Everyone now had to work almost for days. Fortunately, it was holiday time, and Kerr left for London.

      At last there was his long-awaited meeting with his mother. He wrote letters to her almost daily, worried, anxious to make sure she was well and happy. This love for his mother was celebrated by all who knew Kerr.

      One day he went to the Ministry. On the steps of the wide staircase he almost collided with a man in a magnificent dress uniform. His doublet without epaulette was embroidered with gold stitches; a long row of buttons spoke of the high status of an official. The dazzling white stockings were tight, the pantaloons and gloves perfectly white. A sword with an expensive hilt on the left side, sparkling buckles on patent leather shoes. Who is it?

      ‘Good afternoon, sir.’ Kerr respectfully removed his bowler hat.

      The stranger stopped.

      ‘Archibald! Good to see you, my young friend! How are you? How is your mother?’

      Oh, my God! This is Walter Townley, his former superior, who was envoy to Argentina and met Kerr in Buenos Aires. They had not known each other well at the time, but when the telegram came that his father was dead, Townley had helped a great deal to get Archibald to the funeral and to do all the necessary work in far-off Australia.

      Even now he was brief and matter-of-fact. Asked directly:

      ‘I've been appointed envoy to Teheran – would you like to join me?’

      Kerr agreed at once, and they went up to the secretariat. Girls for a long time there was not. The mustachioed clerk spoke to Townley with great deference, and asked Kerr to come the next day. Kerr did so.

      The clerk did not even rise when Archibald entered the room. Without looking into his eyes, he spoke slowly and even casually:

      ‘The Minister has СКАЧАТЬ