As the Argentinian was absent, I was the fourth in line. That’s how high I am now! A short step to becoming doyen. That would be amusing. Not that being doyen under the present king is such a frightening prospect. I entered the room and handed the envelope with my credentials to Eden, who was standing to one side and who placed it on top of similar packets already lying in a small basket. Meanwhile, Edward shook my hand and began asking questions befitting the occasion: How long have I been ambassador in London? Where did I serve earlier? I have been in London before, have I not? and so on. I gave similarly ‘innocent’ and superficial answers. At the end, the king said: ‘In January I had a long and interesting conversation with Mr Litvinov.’ I replied that I had heard about the conversation and that Mr Litvinov was delighted with his meeting with the king. That was all. It seemed to me that the king was chillier towards me than during our previous meetings when he was still the prince of Wales. Why? Was it the result of a general muddle in the sphere of British foreign policy? Or the reflection of Edward’s allegedly growing Germanophilia? Or maybe I am mistaken and there was no particular coldness in the king’s manner?

‘Yes, of course!’ replied Monck.

‘But you know,’ I continued, ‘one of the new members is a woman: the deputy of trade, Mosina.’

The expression on Monck’s face changed. Trying to conceal his embarrassment with a laugh, he exclaimed: ‘Oh, that’s a quite different matter!’

He hesitated for a moment before continuing: ‘Maybe it would be better to present the lady not at the levee but at the summer garden party? What do you think?’

‘Why?’ I inquired.

‘Oh, M. Ambassador, you are always so logical,’ Monck joked, avoiding the question. ‘We English are an illogical people. Well, I’ll talk to the marshal of the diplomatic corps about it.’

Five days passed and this morning the marshal telephoned me himself. Here is our conversation.

Marshal: Today I am sending invitations to the coming levee to the heads of missions. Mr Monck told me that you wanted to introduce a lady, deputy for trade Mosina, to the king. May I ask you not to do it? It would be better if you introduced her at the summer garden party.

I: May I ask you why, Mr Marshal?

Marshal: I rummaged through the archives and found no precedent in our history of a lady attending a levee. Even when there were ladies in the Cabinet, they did not appear at levees. This matter was discussed for the last time in connection with Margaret

Margaret Grace Bondfield, Labour MP 1923–31; parliamentary secretary to the minister of labour, 1924–29; minister of labour, 1929–31.

and the duchess of Atholl,

Katharine Marjory Stewart-Murray (duchess of Atholl), Conservative MP for Kinross and West Perthshire, 1923–38.

when they were members of the government. There were heated debates, even quarrels, but it was decided finally that women should not be present at levees.

I: Tell me please, what would you do if a woman were appointed ambassador or envoy to London? Wouldn’t you let her attend a levee?

Marshal (laughing): Oh, this is a highly unlikely situation!

I: Why do you think so? We have a lady envoy in Stockholm [Aleksandra Kollontay], and the USA has a lady envoy in Copenhagen. I’d not be surprised if tomorrow a woman came to replace me in London as ambassador. What would you do then?

Marshal (coughing in embarrassment): But… but… an ambassador or envoy should get an agrément before coming to London…

I: That’s right. But are you trying to say that the British government might refuse the agreement on the grounds that the ambassador is a woman? Forgive me, Mr Marshal, but the British government would make a laughing-stock of itself.

Marshal (still more embarrassed, realizing that he had said a foolish thing): No, no! You misunderstood me! That’s not what I wanted to say. I simply meant that the prospect of a lady ambassador is not at issue at the moment, so we do not have to rack our brains over how we would act if it were.

I: You are the hosts and we are guests. I find it my duty to follow the rules established by the hosts. Therefore, if you, Mr Marshal, find it improper to present Mosina at the levee, I’ll postpone her presentation until the garden party. But I must let you know that at the garden party Madam Mosina will not be in the company of the ladies, the diplomats’ wives, but in the company of the male diplomats, as she will be present there not in the capacity of a spouse, but as an appointed member of the diplomatic corps.

Marshal (musingly): You think she’ll be with men? Hm… Hm… (reluctantly) Well, let her be with men.

I: Fine. So, I’ll introduce Mosina to the king at the garden party together with the male diplomats. What should she wear?

Marshal: The usual afternoon dress.

I: Goodbye, Mr Marshal.

Marshal: Goodbye, Mr Ambassador.

How was A.M. [Kollontay] to present her credentials?

Visiting the Foreign Ministry together with the perplexed and frightened chief of protocol – who, like Sir Sidney Clive, had consulted the archives in vain – she began to create an unheard-of ‘precedent’.

The presentation of credentials takes place in the morning. Ambassadors who do not have uniform usually wear tails, that is, evening dress. What dress should she wear? An evening dress? It does not befit a lady to wear an evening dress in the morning. An afternoon dress? The chief of protocol was frightened. Then A.M. took matters into her own hands and announced: I’ll wear a black long-sleeved dress with a white lace collar. The chief of protocol frowned but gave his consent.

Furthermore, according to Swedish etiquette, nobody may appear before the king with their head covered. Men present their credentials bareheaded. What was A.M. to do? She is a lady, and ladies wear hats on their daily business. A long and lively discussion followed. A.M. was for a hat and the chief of protocol against. Finally, the poor chief of protocol asked in exhaustion: ‘What kind of hat do you have?’ A.M. said: ‘A small black brimless hat.’ The chief of protocol raised his hands and cried: ‘All right, all right! A small black brimless hat. But a very small one, please!’ So, agreement was reached on this issue of global importance as well.

The next ‘problem’. According to etiquette, envoys should enter the hall and go towards the king, who stays where he is. On the other hand, in Swedish society, on meeting a lady a gentleman must walk towards her and not vice versa. What should A.M. do? She is both a lady and an envoy. The chief of protocol insisted that A.M. should walk towards the king as men do.

One more ‘problem’. After the presentation of credentials, the king converses with the envoy. Both should be standing. But, in Swedish society, when a man converses with a lady, he offers her a seat. What to do with A.M.? On the chief of protocol’s insistence, it was decided that A.M. should talk while standing, like a male envoy.

In the event, nothing came out quite as planned. When A.M. appeared in the doorway with her credentials, the king, twitching in obvious embarrassment, made a couple of hesitant steps in her direction. They met halfway. When the credentials had been presented and the conversation began, the king became twitchy once again and said in some confusion, ‘Now, it seems, I should ask you to be seated?’ A.M. sat down and the king sat next to her, and it was from their armchairs that they conducted the rest of their conversation (in which, among other things, the king complained that there were now too many schools, and this made people unhappy). Thus, the gentleman won out over the man of the court.

In this way a new precedent was established in the Swedish court, and its every detail was entered into the book of Swedish protocol for the edification of descendants.