Ahlefeldt

Count Preben Ferdinand Ahlefeldt-Laurvig, Danish envoy to Great Britain, 1921–37.

is a typical diplomat of the pre-war generation, obsessed with etiquette and clueless in politics. Over five years I have failed to observe any real intelligence in him. Only bonhomie.

But his wife! Good grief! Tall as a pole, flat as a plank, with a neck so long and dismal that she always had to keep it propped up with a high collar made of spangles, stones and celluloid. The countess was truly hideous. A nose a yard long, eyes like a frog’s, and skin that had darkened from decay and spite. Every time I had to look at her I started feeling sick.

In addition to all these charms, Countess Ahlefeldt was from the Russian White Guard. She had once been a maid of honour in the court of Mariya Fedorovna

Mariya Fedorovna, wife of Tsar Alexander III.

and lived in the Anichkov Palace.

The former imperial palace in St Petersburg.

Then she fled the revolution and married her splendid ‘consort’. Of course she hated us with a visceral loathing, and this was the seed of conflict between the Soviet embassy and the Danish mission; it lasted throughout the five years of my time in London. The gist of the conflict was as follows.

Although, according to the old-fashioned etiquette of the Vienna Congress, newly appointed ambassadors pay first visits only to other ambassadors upon arrival and not to envoys (who should themselves pay first visits to new arrivals), I have never followed this absurd custom. I thought that the newcomer ought to pay the first visit to all his colleagues, as old-timers, irrespective of their rank. Therefore, having handed my credentials to the English king I began to do the rounds of both ambassadors and envoys. I called on Ahlefeldt, too. Ahlefeldt returned my visit. Then Agniya began making her calls in the same order as I did. When it was time to visit the Danish lady, my secretary called the Danish mission to set the date and hour for Agniya to see the countess. A brief reply followed from the Danish mission: the countess was unwell. A few days later we read in the papers that Ahlefeldt and his spouse had attended a diplomatic dinner. Agniya concluded that the countess must have recovered, and my secretary called the Danish mission once again. This time they answered that the countess was leaving for Denmark and could not receive Agniya. The matter was taking a strange turn. I suspected that something was amiss (I did not know then that the countess was from the Russian White Guard). So, when we were refused a second time, I asked my secretary to ask the Danish countess to inform my wife when she returned from Denmark, so that my wife could pay her a visit. That was the end of it. The countess never got round to calling all these five years. As a result, my wife remained ‘unacquainted’ with Countess Ahlefeldt and, on meeting in the palace, at receptions, etc., they never greeted one another. Nor did we ever invite the Ahlefeldt couple to our receptions; and they paid us in the same coin. Relations between the two missions were essentially broken, although relations between the USSR and Denmark remained friendly throughout.

In the end, the countess got angry. Being untouched by genius, she began to pour her hatred on us by spreading the most absurd rumours about Agniya among the diplomatic community. Thus on one occasion an English journalist we knew told us that Countess Ahlefeldt was going round telling everybody (including that journalist) that when Agniya met her at a reception at Buckingham Palace and saw the last tsarist medal on her breast, she came right up to her and spat on it.

‘And what did you do?’ the journalist asked the Danish lady mischievously.

She did not understand that he was provoking her and answered: ‘What did I do? Of course I spat back in that Bolshevik bag’s face.’

The journalist roared with laughter.

‘Why are you laughing?’ the countess asked in alarm.

‘I know Mrs Maisky too well to believe a story like that,’ exclaimed the journalist.

The countess turned bright red and abruptly walked off.

That’s what lady diplomats can be like!