Bismarck

Wednesday, January 25th.—Count Lehndorff dined with us, and talked about hunting and hunting dinners, including a great banquet given by some Baron which consisted of no less than twenty-four courses. His brother was present and fell asleep propped on his elbows, while a neighbour of his sunk into slumber on the shoulder of a governess who was sitting next him. The dinner lasted over five hours and the people were most horribly bored, as often happens in the country. The Chief remarked: “I always know how to get over that difficulty. One must put down a good bit of liquor right at the beginning, and under its influence one’s neighbours to the left and right grow ever so much cleverer and pleasanter.”

The Minister then spoke about his first journey to St. Petersburg. He drove in a carriage, as at first there was no snow. It fell very heavily later on, however, and progress was terribly slow. It took him five full days and six nights to reach the first railway station, and he spent the whole time cramped up in a narrow carriage without sleep and with the thermometer at fifteen degrees Reaumur below zero. In the train, however he fell so fast asleep that on their arrival in St. Petersburg, after a ten hours’ run, he felt as if he had been only five minutes in the railway carriage.

“The old times before the railways were completed had also their good side,” continued the Minister. “There was not so much to do. The mail only came in twice a week, and then one worked as if for a wager. But when the mail was over we got on horseback, and had a good time of it until its next arrival.” Somebody observed that the increased work, both abroad and at the Foreign Office, was due more to the telegraph than to the railways. This led the Chief to talk about diplomatic reports in general, many of which, while written in a pleasant style, were quite empty. “They are like feuilletons, written merely because something has to be written. That was the case, for instance, with the reports of Bamberg, our Consul in Paris. One read them through always thinking: Now something is coming. But nothing ever came. They sounded very well and one read on and on. But there was really nothing in them. All barren and empty.” Another instance was then mentioned, Bernhardi, our Military Plenipotentiary at Florence, of whom the Chief said: “He passes for being a good writer on military subjects because of his work on Toll. We do not know, however, how much of that he himself wrote. Thereupon he was given the rank of major, although it is not certain that he ever was an officer at all, and he was appointed Military Plenipotentiary in Italy. Great things were expected of him there, and in the matter of quantity he did a great deal—also in the matter of style. He writes in an agreeable way, as if for a feuilleton, but when I have got to the end of his closely-written reports in a small neat hand, for all their length I have found nothing in them.”...

The Minister then returned to the subject of tiresome journeys and long rides. He said: “I remember after the battle of Sadowa I was the whole day in the saddle on a big horse. At first I did not want to ride him as he was too high and it was too much trouble to mount. At last, however, I did so, and I was not sorry for it. It was an excellent animal! But the long waiting above the valley had exhausted me and my seat and legs were very sore. The skin was not broken, that has never happened to me, but afterwards when I sat down on a wooden bench I had a feeling as if I were sitting on something that came between me and the wood. It was only a blister. After Sadowa we arrived late at night in the market-place of Horsitz. There we were told that we were to seek out our own quarters. That, however, was much easier said than done. The houses were bolted and barred, and the sappers, who might have broken in the doors for us, were not to arrive before five in the morning.” “His Excellency knew how to help himself in a similar case at Gravelotte,” interrupted Delbrück. The Chief continued his story: “Well, I went to several houses at Horsitz, three or four, and at length I found a door open. After making a few steps into the dark I fell into a kind of pit. Luckily it was not deep, and I was able to satisfy myself that it was filled with horse-dung. I thought at first, ‘How would it be to remain here,’—on the dung-heap, but I soon recognised other smells. What curious things happen sometimes! If that pit had been twenty feet deep, and full, they would have had a long search next morning for their Minister, and doubtless there would be no Chancellor of the Confederation to-day.” “I went out again and finally found a corner for myself in an arcade on the market-place. I laid a couple of carriage cushions on the ground and made a pillow of a third, and then stretched myself out to sleep. Later on some one waked me. It was Perponcher, who told me that the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg had a room for me and an unoccupied bed. That turned out to be correct, but the bed was only a child’s cot. I managed to fix it, however, by arranging the back of a chair at the end of it. But in the morning I could hardly stand, as my knees had been resting on the bare boards.” “One can sleep quite comfortably if one has only a sackful of straw, however small. You cut it open in the middle, push the straw to the two ends, and let yourself into the hollow part. I used to do that in Russia when out hunting. I ripped the bag open with my hunting knife, crept into it and slept like a log.” “That was when the despatch from Napoleon came,” observed Bohlen. The Chief replied: “Yes, the one at which the King was so pleased, because it showed that he had won a great battle—his first great battle.” “And you were also glad,” said Bohlen, “and you swore an oath that you would one day requite the Gauls when an opportunity offered.”...

Finally the Chief related: “Favre told me the day before yesterday that the first shell that fell in the Pantheon cut off the head of the statue of Henri IV.” “He doubtless thought that was a very pathetic piece of news,” suggested Bohlen. “Oh, no,” replied the Chief, “I rather fancy that, as a democrat, he was pleased that it should have happened to a King.” Bohlen: “That is the second piece of bad luck that Henri has had in Paris. First a Frenchman stabbed him there, and now we have beheaded him.”

The dinner lasted very long this evening, from 5.30 till after 7. Favre was expected back from Paris every moment. He came at length at 7.30, again accompanied by his son-in-law with the Spanish name. It is understood that neither hesitated this time, as they did on the former occasion, to take the food that was offered to them, but, like sensible people, did justice to the good things that were laid before them. It is doubtless to be inferred from this that they have also listened to reason in the main point, or will do so. That will soon appear, as Favre is again conferring with the Chancellor.

After dinner read drafts. Instructions have been sent to Rosenberg-Grudcinski at Reims respecting the collection of taxes. The Municipalities are to be called upon to pay five per cent. extra for each day of arrears. Flying columns with artillery are to be sent to districts where payment is obstinately refused. They are to summon the inhabitants to pay up the taxes and if this is not done immediately to shell the place and set it on fire. Three examples would render a fourth unnecessary. It is not our business to win over the French by considerate treatment or to take their welfare into account. On the contrary, in view of their character, it is desirable to inspire them with a greater fear of us than of their own Government, which, of course, also enforces compulsory measures against them. According to a report by the Minister of the Netherlands to his Government, the Red Republicans in Paris attempted a rising the night before last, released some of their leaders, and then provoked a riot outside the Hôtel de Ville. The National Guard fired upon the Mobiles, and there were some dead and wounded, but ultimately order was restored.

About 10 o’clock, while Favre was still here, there was heavy firing from big guns which continued for perhaps an hour. I went to tea at 10.30 P.M., and found Hatzfeldt and Bismarck-Bohlen in conversation with Del Rio in the dining-room. He is a man of medium height, dark beard, slightly bald, and wears a pince-nez. Shortly after I came down, he left for his quarters at Stieber’s house, accompanied by Mantey, and he was followed a quarter of an hour later by Favre. Del Rio spoke of Paris as being the “centre du monde,” so that the bombardment is a kind of target practice at the centre of the world. He mentioned that Favre has a villa at Reuil and a large cellar in Paris with all sorts of wine, and that he himself has an estate in Mexico of six square German miles in extent. After Favre’s departure the Chief came out to us, ate some cold partridge, asked for some ham, and drank a bottle of beer. After a while he sighed, and sitting up straight in his chair, he exclaimed: “If one could only decide and order these things one’s self! But to bring others to do it!” He paused for a minute and then continued: “What surprises me is that they have not sent out any general. And it is difficult to make Favre understand military matters.” He then mentioned a couple of French technical terms of which Favre did not know the meaning. “Well, it is to be hoped that he had a proper meal to-day,” said Bohlen. The Chief replied in the affirmative, and then Bohlen said he had heard it rumoured that this time Favre had not despised the champagne. The Chief: “Yes, the day before yesterday he refused to take any, but to-day he had several glasses. The first time he had some scruples of conscience about eating, but I persuaded him, and his hunger doubtless supported me, for he ate like one who had had a long fast.”

Hatzfeldt reported that the Mayor, Rameau, had called about an hour before and asked if M. Favre was here. He wanted to speak to him and to place himself at his disposal. Might he do so? He, Hatzfeldt, had replied that of course he did not know. The Chief: “For a man to come in the night to a person who is returning to Paris is sufficient of itself to bring him before a court-martial. The audacious fellow!” Bohlen: “Mantey has doubtless already told Stieber. Probably this M. Rameau is anxious to return to his cell.” (Rameau was obliged some time since to study the interior of one of the cells in the prison in the Rue Saint Pierre for a few days in company with some other members of the corporation—if I am not mistaken, on account of some refusal or some insolent reply about supplying provisions for Versailles.)

The Minister then related some particulars of his interview with Favre. “I like him better now than at Ferrières,” he said. “He spoke a good deal and in long, well-rounded periods. It was often not necessary to pay attention or to answer. They were anecdotes of former times. He is a very good raconteur.” “He was not at all offended at my recent letter to him. On the contrary, he felt indebted to me for calling his attention to what he owed to himself.” “He also spoke of having a villa near Paris, which was, however, wrecked and pillaged. I had it on the tip of my tongue to say, ‘But not by us!’ but he himself immediately added that it had doubtless been done by the Mobiles.” “He then complained that Saint Cloud had been burning for the last three days, and wanted to persuade me that we had set the palace there on fire.” “In speaking of the franctireurs and their misdeeds, he wished to call my attention to our guerillas in 1813—they indeed had been much worse. I said to him: ‘I don’t want to deny that, but you are also aware that the French shot them whenever they caught them. And they did not shoot them all in one place, but one batch on the spot where the act was committed, another batch at the next halt, and so on, in order to serve as a deterrent.’” “He maintained that in the last engagement, on the 19th, the National Guard, recruited from the well-to-do classes, fought best, while the battalions raised from the lower classes were worthless.”

The Chief paused for a while and seemed to be reflecting. He then continued: “If the Parisians first received a supply of provisions and were then again put on half rations and once more obliged to starve, that ought, I think, to work. It is like flogging. When it is administered continuously it is not felt so much. But when it is suspended for a time and then another dose inflicted, it hurts! I know that from the criminal court where I was employed. Flogging was still in use there.”

The subject of flogging in general was then discussed, and Bohlen, who favours its retention, observed that the English had re-introduced it. “Yes,” said Bucher, “but first for personal insult to the Queen, on the occasion of an outrage against the Royal person, and afterwards for garrotting.” The Chief then related that in 1863, when the garrotters appeared in London, he was often obliged to go after twelve o’clock at night through a solitary lane, containing only stables and full of heaps of horse-dung, which led from Regent Street to his lodgings in Park Street. To his terror, he read in the papers that a number of these attacks had taken place on that very spot.

Then, after a pause, the Minister said: “This is really an unheard-of proceeding on the part of the English. They want to send a gunboat up the Seine” (Odo Russell put forward this demand, which the Chancellor absolutely refused) “in order, they say, to remove the English families there. They merely want to ascertain if we have laid down torpedoes and then to let the French ships follow them. What swine! They are full of vexation and envy because we have fought great battles here—and won them. They cannot bear to think that shabby little Prussia should prosper so. The Prussians are a people who should merely exist in order to carry on war for them in their pay. This is the view taken by all the upper classes in England. They have never been well disposed towards us, and have always done their utmost to injure us.” “The Crown Princess herself is an incarnation of this way of thinking. She is full of her own great condescension in marrying into our country. I remember her once telling me that two or three merchant families in Liverpool had more silver-plate than the entire Prussian nobility. ‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘that is possibly true, your Royal Highness, but we value ourselves for other things besides silver.’”

The Minister remained silent for a while. Then he said: “I have often thought over what would have happened if we had gone to war about Luxemburg—should I now be in Paris or would the French be in Berlin? I think I did well to prevent war at that time. We should not have been nearly so strong as we are to-day. At that time the Hanoverians would not have made trustworthy soldiers. I will say nothing about the Hessians—they would have done well. The Schleswig-Holstein men have now fought like lions, but there was no army there then. Saxony was also useless. The army had been disbanded and had to be recruited over again. And there was little confidence to be placed in the South Germans. The Würtembergers, what excellent fellows they are now, quite first rate! But in 1866 they would have been laughed at by every soldier as they marched into Frankfurt like so many militiamen. The Baden troops were also not up to the mark. Beyer, and indeed the Grand Duke, has since then done a great deal for them.” “It is true that public opinion throughout Germany would have been on our side had we wished to fight for Luxemburg. But that was not enough to compensate for such deficiencies. Moreover, we had not right on our side. I have never confessed it publicly, but I can say it here: after the dissolution of the Confederation the Grand Duke had become the sovereign of Luxemburg and could have done what he liked with the country. It would have been mean of him to part with it for money, but it was open to him to cede it to France. Our right of occupation was also not well founded. Properly speaking, after the dissolution of the Confederation we ought no longer to have occupied even Rastatt and Mainz. I said that in the Council—I had at that time yet another idea, namely, to hand over Luxemburg to Belgium. In that case we should have united it to a country on behalf of whose neutrality, as people then thought, England would intervene. That would also have strengthened the German element there against the French speaking inhabitants, and at the same time have secured a good frontier. My proposal was not received with any favour, and it is just as well as it has turned out.”

Bismarck-Bohlen drew attention to a capital cartoon in Kladderadatsch: Napoleon waiting on the platform of the railway station and saying “They have already given the signal to start.” He has put on an ermine cloak for his journey to Paris, and is carrying his portmanteau in his hand. The Chief, however, observed: “Doubtless he thinks so, and he may be right. But I fear he will miss the train. Yet, after all, there may be no other way left. He would be easier to convince than Favre. But he would always require half the army to maintain him on the throne.”

Thursday, January 26th.—The Chief drove off to see the King at 10.30 A.M.

Herr Hans von Rochow and Count Lehndorff dined with us. The Chief talked about Favre: “He told me that on Sundays the boulevards are still full of fashionably dressed women with pretty children. I remarked to him, ‘I am surprised at that. I wonder you have not yet eaten them!’” As some one noticed that the firing was particularly heavy to-day, the Minister observed: “I remember in the criminal court we once had a subordinate official—I believe his name was Stepki—whose business it was to administer the floggings. He was accustomed to lay on the last three strokes with exceptional vigour—as a wholesome memento!” The conversation then turned upon Strousberg, whose bankruptcy was said to be imminent, and the Chief said: “He once told me, ‘I know I shall not even die in my own house.’ But for the war, it would not have happened so soon, perhaps not at all. He always kept afloat by issuing new shares, and the game succeeded, although other Jews, who had made money before him, did their best to spoil it. But now comes the war, and his Rumanians have fallen lower and lower, so that at present one might ask how much they cost per hundredweight. For all that, he remains a clever man and indefatigable.” The mention of Strousberg’s cleverness and restless activity led on to Gambetta, who was said to have also “made his five millions out of the war.” But doubts were expressed on this point, and I believe rightly. After the Dictator of Bordeaux, it was Napoleon’s turn to be discussed, and according to Bohlen, people said he had saved at least fifty millions during the nineteen years of his reign. “Others say eighty millions,” added the Chief, “but I doubt it. Louis Philippe spoiled the business. He had riots arranged, and then bought stocks on the Amsterdam Exchange, but at last business men saw through it.” Hatzfeldt or Keudell then observed that this resourceful monarch used to fall ill from time to time with a similar object.

Morny was then spoken of as having been specially ingenious in making money in every possible way under the Empire. The Chief told us that “when Morny was appointed Ambassador to St. Petersburg he appeared with a whole collection of elegant carriages, some forty-three of them altogether, and all his chests, trunks and boxes were full of laces, silks, and feminine finery, upon which, as Ambassador, he had to pay no customs duty. Every servant had his own carriage, and every attaché and secretary had at least two. A few days after his arrival he sold off the whole lot by auction, clearing at least 800,000 roubles. He was a thief, but an amiable one.” The Chief then, pursuing the same subject and quoting further instances, continued: “For the matter of that, influential people in St. Petersburg understood this sort of business—not that they were willing to take money directly. But when a person wanted something, he went to a certain French shop, and bought expensive laces, gloves or jewellery, perhaps for five or six thousand roubles. The shop was run on behalf of some official or his wife. This process repeated, say, twice a week, produced quite a respectable amount in the course of the year.”

Bohlen called out across the table: “Do, please, tell that lovely story about the Jew with the torn boots who got twenty-five lashes.” The Chief: “It came about in this way. One day a Jew called at our Chancellerie declaring that he was penniless, and wanted to be sent back to Prussia. He was terribly tattered, and he had on in particular a pair of boots that showed his naked toes. He was told that he would be sent home, but then he wanted to get other boots as it was so cold. He demanded them as a right, and became so forward and impudent, screaming and calling names, that our people did not know what to do with him. And the servants also could not trust themselves to deal with the furious creature. At length, when the row had become intolerable, I was called to render physical assistance. I told the man to be quiet or I would have him locked up. He answered defiantly: ‘You can’t do that. You have no right whatever to do that in Russia!’ ‘We shall see!’ I replied. ‘I must send you home, but I am not called upon to give you boots, although perhaps I might have done so. But first you shall receive punishment for your abominable behaviour.’ He then repeated that I could not touch him. Thereupon I opened the window and beckoned to a Russian policeman, who was stationed a little way off. My Jew continued to shriek and abuse us until the policeman, a tall stout man, came in. I said, ‘Take him with you—lock him up till to-morrow—twenty-five!’ The big policeman took the little Jew with him, and locked him up. He came again next morning quite transformed, very humble and submissive, and declared himself ready for the journey without new boots. I asked how he had got on in the interval. Badly, he said, very badly. But what had they done to him? They had—well, they had—physically maltreated him. I thought that when he got home he would enter a complaint against me, or get his case into the newspapers—the Volkszeitung, or some such popular organ. The Jews know how to make a row. But he must have decided otherwise, for nothing more was heard of him.”

When I came down to tea at 10.30 P.M. I found the Chief in conversation with the members of Parliament, Von Köller and Von Forckenbeck. The Minister was just saying that more money would soon be required. “We did not want to ask more from the Reichstag,” he said, “as we did not anticipate that the war would last so long. I have written to Camphausen, but he suggests requisitions and contributions. They are very difficult to collect, as the immense area of country over which we are dispersed requires more troops than we can spare for purposes of coercion. Two million soldiers would be necessary to deal thoroughly with a territory of 12,000 German square miles. Besides, everything has grown dearer in consequence of the war. When we make a requisition we get nothing. When we pay cash there is always enough to be had in the market, and cheaper than in Germany. Here the bushel of oats costs four francs, and if it is brought from Germany six francs. I thought at first of getting the contributions of the different States paid in advance. But that would only amount to twenty millions, as Bavaria will keep her own accounts until 1872. Another way out of the difficulty occurred to me, namely, to apply to our Diet for a sum on account. But we must first find out what Moltke proposes to extort from the Parisians, that is to say, from the city of Paris—for that is what we are dealing with for the present.” Forckenbeck was of opinion that the Chief’s plan would meet with no insurmountable resistance in the Diet. It is true the doctrinaires would raise objections, and others would complain that Prussia should again have to come to the rescue and make sacrifices for the rest of the country, but in all probability the majority would go with the Government. Köller could confirm that opinion, which he did.

Afterwards an officer of the dark blue hussars, a Count Arnim who had just arrived from Le Mans, came in and gave us a great deal of interesting news. He said the inhabitants of the town appeared to be very sensible people who disapproved of Gambetta’s policy, and everywhere expressed their desire for peace. “Yes,” replied the Chief, “that is very good of the people, but how does it help us if with all their good sense they allow Gambetta, time after time, to stamp new armies of 150,000 men out of the ground?” Arnim having further related that they had again made great numbers of prisoners, the Minister exclaimed: “That is most unsatisfactory! What shall we do with them all in the end? Why make so many prisoners? Every one who makes prisoners ought to be tried by court-martial.” This, like many other similar expressions, must doubtless not be taken literally, and applies only to the franctireurs.

Friday, January 27th.—It is said that the bombardment ceased at midnight. It was to have recommenced at 6 o’clock this morning in case the Paris Government was not prepared to agree to our conditions for a truce. As it has ceased, the Parisians have doubtless yielded. But Gambetta?

Moltke arrives at 8.30 A.M., and remains in conference with the Chief for about three-quarters of an hour. The Frenchmen put in an appearance shortly before 11. Favre (who has had his grey Radical beard clipped) with thick underlip, yellow complexion, and light grey eyes; General Beaufort d’Hautpoule, with his aide-de-camp, Calvel; and Dürrbach, a “Chief of the Engineers of the Eastern Railway.” Beaufort is understood to have led the attack on the redoubt at Montretout on the 19th. Their negotiations with the Chief appear to have come to a speedy conclusion, or to have been broken off. Shortly after twelve o’clock, just as we sit down to lunch, they drive off again in the carriages that brought them here. Favre looks very depressed. The general is noticeably red in the face, and does not seem to be quite steady on his legs. Shortly after the French had gone the Chancellor came in to us and said: “I only want a breath of fresh air. Please do not disturb yourselves.” Then, turning to Delbrück and shaking his head, he said: “There is nothing to be done with him. Mentally incapable—drunk, I believe. I told him to think it over until half-past one. Perhaps he will have recovered by that time. Muddle-headed and ill-mannered. What is his name? Something like Bouffre or Pauvre?” Keudell said: “Beaufort.” The Chief: “A distinguished name, but not at all distinguished manners.” It appears, then, that the general has actually taken more than he was able to carry, perhaps in consequence of his natural capacity having been weakened by hunger.

At lunch it was mentioned that on his way here, Forckenbeck saw the village of Fontenay still in flames. It had been fired by our troops as a punishment for the destruction of the railway bridges by the mutinous peasantry. Delbrück rejoiced with us “that at last adequate punishment had been once more inflicted.”

In the afternoon we heard that the Chancellor drove off shortly before 1 o’clock, first to see the Emperor, and then to Moltke’s, where he and Podbielski again met the Frenchmen. The latter afterwards left for Paris, about 4 o’clock, and will return to-morrow at noon for the purpose of completing the capitulation.

At dinner, the Chief, speaking of Beaufort, said he had behaved like a man without any breeding. “He blustered and shouted and swore like a trooper, and with his ‘moi, général de l’armée française,’ he was almost unendurable. Favre, who is not very well bred either, said to me: ‘J’en suis humilié!’ Besides, he was not so very drunk; it was, rather, his vulgar manners. At the General Staff they were of opinion that a man of that sort had been chosen in order that no arrangement should be come to. I said that, on the contrary, they had selected him because it did not matter for such a person to lose credit with the public by signing the capitulation.”

The Chief then continued: “I said to Favre during our last interview: ‘Vous avez été trahi—par la fortune.’ He saw the point clearly, but only said: ‘A qui le dites-vous! Dans trois fois vingt quatre heures je serai aussi compté au nombre des traîtres.’ He added that his position in Paris was very critical. I proposed to him: ‘Provoquez donc une émeute pendant que vous avez encore une armée pour l’etouffer.’ He looked at me quite terror-stricken, as if he wished to say, How bloodthirsty you are. I explained to him, however, that that was the only right way to manage the mob.” “Then, again, he has no idea of how things are with us. He mentioned several times that France was the land of liberty, while Germany was governed by a despotism. I told him, for instance, that we wanted money and that Paris must supply some. He suggested that we should raise a loan. I replied that that could not be done without the approval of the Diet. ‘Ah’ he said, ‘you can surely get five hundred million francs without the Chamber.’ I answered: ‘No, not five francs.’ But he would not believe it. I told him that I had been at loggerheads with the popular representatives for four whole years, but that the raising of a loan without the Diet was the limit to which I went, and which it never occurred to me to overstep. That seemed to disconcert him somewhat, but he only said that in France ‘on ne se gênerait pas.’ And yet he returned afterwards to the immense freedom which they enjoy in France. It is really funny to hear a Frenchman talk in that way, and particularly Favre, who has always been a member of the Opposition. But that’s their way. You can give a Frenchman twenty-five lashes, and if you only make a fine speech to him about the freedom and dignity of man of which those lashes are the expression, and at the same time strike a fitting attitude, he will persuade himself that he is not being thrashed.”

“Ah, Keudell,” said the Chief suddenly, “it just occurs to me. I must have my full powers drawn up for to-morrow, of course in German. The German Emperor must only write German. The Minister can be guided by circumstances. Official communications must be written in the language of the country, not in a foreign tongue. Bernstorff was the first to try to introduce that system in our case, but he went too far with it. He wrote to all the diplomatists in German, and they replied, of course by agreement, each in his own language, Russian, Spanish, Swedish and what not, so that he had to have a whole army of translators in the office. That was how I found matters when I came into power. Budberg (the Russian Ambassador in Berlin) sent me a note in Russian. That was too much for me. If they wanted to have their revenge Gortschakoff should have written in Russian to our Ambassador in St. Petersburg. That would have been the right way. It is only fair to ask that the representatives of foreign countries should understand and speak the language of the State to which they are accredited. But it was unfair to send me in Berlin a reply in Russian to a note in German. I decided that all communications received in other languages than German, French, English and Italian should be left unnoticed and put away in the archives. Budberg then wrote screed after screed, always in Russian. No answer was returned and the documents were all laid by with the State papers. At last he came himself and asked why he had received no reply. ‘Reply!’ I exclaimed. ‘To what?’ Why, he had written a month ago and had afterwards sent me several reminders. ‘Ah, quite so!’ I said. ‘There is a great pile of documents in Russian down stairs, and yours are probably amongst them. But we have no one who understands Russian, and I have given instructions for all documents written in a language we do not understand to be put away in the archives.’” It was then arranged that Budberg should write in French, and the Foreign Office also when it suited them.

The Chief then talked about the French negotiators and said: “M. Dürrbach introduced himself as ‘membre de l’administration du Chemin de fer de l’Est; j’y suis beaucoup intéressé.’—If he only knew what we intend.” (Probably the cession of the Eastern Railway.) Hatzfeldt: “He threw up his hands in dismay when the General Staff pointed out to him on the map the tunnels, bridges, &c., destroyed by the French themselves. ‘I have always been against that’ he said, ‘and I pointed out to them that a bridge could be repaired in three hours—but they would not listen to me.’” The Chief: “Repaired after a fashion, certainly, but not a railway bridge capable of carrying a train. They will find it hard now to bring up provisions to Paris, particularly if they have committed the same stupid destruction in the west. I think they rely upon drawing supplies from Brittany and Normandy, where there are large flocks of sheep, and from the ports. To my knowledge there are plenty of bridges and tunnels in those parts too, and if they have destroyed them they will find themselves in great straits. I hope, moreover, that people in London will only send them hams and not bread!”

Saturday, January 28th.—At 11 o’clock the French negotiators again arrived—Favre, Dürrbach and two others, who are understood to be also leading railway officials; and two officers, another general, and an aide-de-camp, both men with a good presence. They take lunch with us. Then follows a lengthy negotiation at Moltke’s lodgings. The Chief afterwards dictates to the Secretaries Willisch and Saint Blanquart the treaties of capitulation and armistice, which are drawn up in duplicate. They are afterwards signed and sealed by Bismarck and Favre, at twenty minutes past seven, in the green room next to the Minister’s study up stairs.

The Frenchmen dined with us. The general (Valden is his name) ate little and hardly spoke at all. Favre was also dejected and taciturn. The aide-de-camp, M. d’Hérisson, did not appear to be so much affected, and the railway officials, after their long privations, devoted themselves with considerable gusto to the pleasures of the table. According to what I can gather from the latter they have, as a matter of fact, been on very short commons in Paris for some time past, and the death rate last week amounted to about five thousand. The mortality was especially heavy amongst children up to two years of age, and coffins for these tiny French citizens were to be seen in all directions. Delbrück declared afterwards that “Favre and the General looked like two condemned prisoners who were going to the gallows next morning. I pitied them.”

Keudell expects that peace will soon be concluded and that we shall be back in Berlin within a month. Shortly before 10 o’clock a bearded gentleman apparently about forty-five, who gave his name as Duparc, called and was immediately conducted to the Chief, with whom he spent about two hours. He is understood to be the former French Minister Duvernois, coming from Wilhelmshöhe with proposals for peace. The capitulation and armistice do not yet mean the end of the war with France.

Sunday, January 29th.—Our troops moved forward to occupy the forts. In the morning read despatches respecting the London Conference, and other subjects, as well as the treaties for the armistice and capitulation signed yesterday. Bernstorff reported that Musurus became very violent at one of the sittings of the Conference. He could not conceive why the stipulation closing the Dardanelles against Russian men-of-war should not be worded in an indirect and therefore less offensive form for Russia, and at the same time quite as acceptable to the Porte. From another of Bernstorff’s despatches the Chief appears to have hinted that Napoleon should not miss the right moment. It is also stated that Palikao, who was of the same opinion, thought it would be dangerous to agree in the capitulation to leave the National Guard under arms. Vinoy and Roncière, being in favour of the Emperor, would doubtless be the right men to assume command of the troops in the city.

Our copy of the capitulation fills ten folio pages, and is stitched together with silk in the French colours, on the end of which Favre has impressed his seal.

We were joined at lunch by Count Henckel, who has been appointed Prefect at Metz. He maintained that in about five years the elections in his department would be favourable to the Government; indeed, he was confident even now of being able to bring about that result. In Alsace, however, the prospect was not so good, as Germans are not so docile to authority as the French. He also mentioned that his department had really suffered severely. At the commencement of the war it had some thirty-two to thirty-five thousand horses, and now he believed there were not more than five thousand left.

Before dinner I read further drafts, including a memorandum, in which the Chief explained to the King that it was impossible to demand from Favre, after the conclusion of the capitulation, the surrender of the flags of the French regiments in Paris.

We were joined at dinner by Count Henckel and the French aide-de-camp who was here yesterday. The latter, whose full name is d’Hérisson de Saulnier, wore a black hussar uniform, with yellow shoulder straps and embroidery on the sleeves. He is said to understand and speak German, yet the conversation, into which the Chief entered with zest, was for the most part carried on in French. In the absence of Favre and the General (the former was still in the house, but as he was very busy he had his dinner sent up to him in the small drawing-room) the aide-de-camp was more lively and amusing than yesterday. He bore the whole burden of the conversation for a considerable time, with a series of droll anecdotes. The scarcity of food in the city had become of late very painfully perceptible, but his experience would appear to have been more with the amusing, than with the serious, side of the question. He said that for him the most interesting period of their fast was “while they were eating up the Jardin des Plantes.” Elephant meat cost twenty francs per kilogramme and tasted like coarse beef, and they had really had “filets de chameau” and “côtelettes de tigre.” A dog flesh market was held in the Rue Saint Honoré, the price being two francs fifty per kilo. There were hardly any more dogs to be seen in Paris, and whenever people caught sight of one, they immediately hunted it down. It was the same with cats. If a pigeon alighted on a roof a view holloa was at once raised in the street. Only the carrier pigeons were spared. The despatches were fastened in the middle of their tail feathers, of which they ought to have nine. If one of them happened to have only eight, they said: “ce n’est qu’un civil” and it had to go the way of all flesh. A lady is said to have remarked: “Jamais je ne mangerai plus de pigeon, car je croirais toujours avoir mangé un facteur.”

In return for these and other stories the Chief related a number of things which were not yet known in the drawing-rooms and clubs of Paris, and which people there might be glad to hear, as for instance the shabby behaviour of Rothschild at Ferrières, and the way in which the Elector of Hesse transformed Rothschild’s grandfather Amschel from a little Jew into a great one. The Chancellor repeatedly referred to the latter as the “Juif de cour,” and afterwards gave a description of the domesticated Jews of the Polish nobility.

On Bohlen reporting later on that he had, in accordance with instructions, sent certain papers to “the Emperor,” the Chief observed: “The Emperor? I envy those to whom the new title already comes so trippingly.” Abeken returned from his Majesty’s and announced that “The matter of the flags was settled.” The Chief: “Have you also fired off my revolver letter?” Abeken: “Yes, Excellency, it has been discharged.”

After dinner read drafts and reports, amongst the latter a very interesting one in which Russia advises us to leave Metz and German Lorraine to the French, and to annex a neighbouring piece of territory instead. According to a recent despatch from St. Petersburg Gortschakoff has suggested that Germany might take Luxemburg and leave the French a corresponding portion of Lorraine. The geographical position of the Grand Duchy indicated that it should form part of Germany, and Prince Henry, who is devotedly attached to his separate Court, alone stood in the way. King William wrote on the margin of the despatch that this suggestion was to be absolutely rejected. The Chief then replied as follows: The future position of Luxemburg would, it is true, be an unpleasant one—not for us, but rather for the Grand Duchy itself. We must not, however, exercise any compulsion, nor take the property of others. We must therefore adhere to the programme communicated five months ago to St. Petersburg, especially as we have since then made great sacrifices. The realisation of that programme is indispensable for the security of Germany. We must have Metz. The German people would not tolerate any alteration of the programme.

Favre did not leave till 10.15 P.M., and then not for Paris, but for his quarters here in the Boulevard du Roi. He will come again to-morrow at noon.

The Chief afterwards joined us at tea. In speaking of the capitulation and the armistice, Bohlen asked: “But what if the others do not agree—Gambetta and the Prefects in the south?” “Well, in that case we have the forts which give us the control of the city,” replied the Chief. “The King also could not understand that, and inquired what was to happen if the people at Bordeaux did not ratify the arrangement. ‘Well,’ I replied, ‘then we remain in the forts and keep the Parisians shut up, and perhaps in that case we may refuse to prolong the armistice on the 19th of February. In the meantime they have delivered up their arms, and they must pay the contribution. Those who have given a material pledge under a treaty are all the worse off if they cannot fulfil its conditions.’”

Favre had, it seems, confessed to the Chief that he had proceeded “un peu témérairement” in the matter of the revictualling of Paris. He really did not know whether he would be able to provide in good time for the hundreds of thousands in the city. Somebody observed: “In case of necessity Stosch could supply them with live stock and flour.” The Chief: “Yes, so long as he can do so without injury to ourselves.” Bismarck-Bohlen was of opinion that we need not give them anything; let them see for themselves where they could get supplies, &c. The Chief: “Well, then, you would let them starve?” Bohlen: “Certainly.” The Chief: “But then how are we to get our contribution?”

Later on the Minister said: “Business of State, negotiations with the enemy, do not irritate me. Their objections to my ideas and demands, even when they are unreasonable, leave me quite cool. But the petty grumbling and meddling of the military authorities in political questions, and their ignorance of what is possible and not possible in such matters! One of them comes and wants this, another one that, and when you have got rid of the first two, a third one turns up—an aide-de-camp or aide-de-camp general—who says: ‘But, your Excellency, surely that is impossible,’ or ‘We must have this too in addition, else we shall be in danger of our lives.’ And yesterday they went so far as to insist that a condition (i.e., for the surrender of the flags), which was not mentioned in the negotiations, should be introduced into a document that was already signed. I said to them, however: ‘We have committed many a crime in this war—but falsification of deeds! No, gentlemen, really that cannot be done.’”

Bernstorff, it was mentioned, reports that he had informed the Conference that from this time forward he represented the German Empire and Emperor; and that the other members received this announcement with approval. Thereupon the Chief remarked: “Bernstorff is after all a man who has had business experience. How can he do such things? His wife—what’s her name? Augusta—no, Anna—will have a fine opinion of herself now. Imperial Ambassadress! I cannot lay much store by such titles. A prosperous and powerful King is better than a weak Emperor, and a rich Baron better than a poor Count.” “Such an Emperor as that of Brazil or Mexico!” “With a salary of 800,000 florins,” interjected Holstein. The Chief: “Well, that would be enough to get on with. They require no firing and no winter clothes.”

Hatzfeldt mentioned that a Spanish secretary of embassy had called. He had come from Bordeaux and wanted to enter Paris in order to bring away his countrymen. He also had a letter from Chaudordy for Favre, and was in great haste. What answer should be given to him? The Chief stooped down a little over the table, then sat bolt upright again, and said: “Attempting to carry a despatch from one member of the enemy’s Government to another through our lines—that is a case exactly suited for a court-martial. When he comes back you will treat the matter in a very serious way: receive him coolly, look surprised, and say that we must complain to the new King of Spain with regard to such a breach of neutrality and demand satisfaction. Besides, I am astonished that Stiehle should have let the fellow pass. These soldiers always pay too much deference to diplomats. And even if he had been an ambassador, Metternich for instance, he should have been turned back even if he had to freeze and starve in consequence. Indeed, such carrier service borders closely on spying.”

The rush of people to and out of Paris that was now to be apprehended then came up for discussion. The Chief: “Well, the French will not let so very many out, and we shall only let those pass who have a permit from the authorities inside, and perhaps not all of those.”

Some one said that Rothschild, who had been supplied with a safe conduct, wanted to come out; upon which the Chief: “It would be well to detain him—as a franctireur, and include him amongst the prisoners of war. (To Keudell) Just inquire into the matter. I mean it seriously.” Bohlen exclaimed: “Then Bleichröder will come rushing over here and prostrate himself in the name of all the Rothschild family.” The Chief: “In that case we will send him in to join them in Paris, where he can have his share of the dog hunting.”

Astonishment was then expressed that the Daily Telegraph should have already published a detailed epitome of the convention signed yesterday, and in this connection Stieber, Favre’s fellow lodger, was mentioned. The English correspondent had acknowledged, according to Bucher, that he had received the news from Stieber, and the Minister added: “I am convinced that Stieber opened Favre’s writing-desk with a picklock, and then made extracts from his papers which he gave to the Englishman.” This is scarcely probable, as Stieber’s knowledge of French is inadequate for that purpose. He much more probably received the news from his patron Bohlen, or perhaps from some officer who heard it from the General Staff, who—as the Chancellor recently remarked—“are very obliging and communicative in such matters.”

Monday, January 30th.—Favre and other Frenchmen, including the Chief or Prefect of the Paris police, were busily engaged with the Chief during the afternoon, and dined with him at 5.30 P.M. The secretaries and I were to go to the Hôtel des Reservoirs, as there was not room enough at table. I remained at home, however, and translated Granville’s latest peace proposals for the Emperor.

Abeken came up to me after dinner to get the translation, and was sorry I had not been present as the conversation was specially interesting. The Chief had told the Frenchmen, amongst other things, that to be consistent in one’s policy was frequently a mistake, and only showed obstinacy and narrow-mindedness. One must modify his course of action in accordance with events, with the situation of affairs, with the possibilities of the case, taking the relations of things into account and serving his country as the opportunity offers and not according to his opinions, which are often prejudices. When he first entered into political life, as a young and inexperienced man, he had very different views and aims to those which he had at present. He had, however, altered and reconsidered his opinions, and had not hesitated to sacrifice his wishes, either partially or wholly to the requirements of the day, in order to be of service. One must not impose his own leanings and desires upon his country. “La patrie veut être servie et pas dominée.” This remark greatly impressed the Parisian gentlemen, of course principally because of its striking form. Favre replied: “C’est bien juste, Monsieur le Comte, c’est profond.” Another of the Frenchmen also declared enthusiastically: “Oui, Messieurs, c’est un mot profond.”

Bucher, when I went down to tea, confirmed the above particulars, and related that Favre after praising the truth and profundity of the Chief’s remark—which, of course, was made for the edification of the Parisians, just as in general his table talk is intended for the benefit of his guests—must needs add the following bêtise: “Néanmoins c’est un beau spectacle de voir un homme, qui n’a jamais changé ses principes.” The railway director, who appeared to Bucher to be more intelligent than Favre, added, in reference to the “servie et pas dominée,” that that amounted to men of genius subordinating themselves to the will and opinions of the majority, and that majorities were always deficient in intelligence, knowledge, and character. The Chief made a lofty reply to this objection, stating that with him (i.e., with the man of genius, the hero) the consciousness of his responsibility before God was one of his guiding stars. He opposed to the droit du génie, to which his interlocutor had given such a high place, the sense of duty (doubtless meaning what Kant describes as the categorical imperative), which he maintained to be nobler and more powerful.

A little after 11 o’clock the Chancellor joined us at tea. “I am really curious,” he said, “to see what Gambetta will do. It looks as if he wanted to think over the matter further, as he has not yet replied. I think, too, he will ultimately give way. Besides, if not it will be all right. I should have no objection to a little ‘Main line’ across France. These Frenchmen are really very funny people. Favre comes to me with a face like a martyred saint, and looks as if he had some most important communication to make. So I say to him, ‘Shall we go up stairs?’ ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘let us do so.’ But when we are there he sits down and writes letter after letter, and I wait in vain for any important statement or piece of news from him. As a matter of fact, he had nothing to say. What he has done for us would go into two pages of note-paper.” “And this Prefect of Police! I have never in my whole life met such an unpractical man. We are expected to advise and help them in everything. In the course of half an hour he fires all sorts of requests into me, so that at last I nearly lost patience, and said to him, ‘But, my good sir, would it not be better to let me have all this in writing? Otherwise it cannot be properly attended to, for it is impossible for me to carry it all in my head.’ Thousands of things pass through one’s mind, and when I think seriously of one matter I lose sight of all others.”

The conversation then turned on the difficulty of supplying the Parisians with provisions. Several railways were useless, at least for the time being; to allow supplies to be drawn from those parts of France immediately adjoining the districts we occupy might result in scarcity and embarrassment to ourselves; and the port of Dieppe, where they count upon receiving consignments from abroad, could only hold a few vessels. The Chief reckoned out how many rations would be required daily, and how much could be transported in moderately normal circumstances. He found that the supply would be a very scanty one, and that possibly large numbers might still have to starve. He then added: “Favre himself said to me that they had held out too long. That was, however, as he confessed, merely because they knew we had provisions stored for them at Lagny. They had exact particulars on that point. At one time we had collected for them there 1,400 loaded waggons.”

The levying of taxes and contributions was then discussed, and the Chief explained to Maltzahn the arrangements he wished to see made. Instead of scattering our forces they should in general be massed in the chief town of the department or arrondissement, and from these centres flying columns should be despatched against those who refused to pay taxes, as well as against the guerillas and their aiders and abettors.

With regard to the ten million francs contribution imposed upon the district of Fontenay for the destruction of the railway bridges, Henckel declared, as an expert, that that was an impossible demand—they could not squeeze even two millions out of the people. “Probably not one million,” remarked the Chief. “But that is our way of doing things. All sorts of terrible threats are constantly uttered, and then afterwards they cannot be carried out. The people end by seeing through that sort of thing, and get accustomed to the threats.”

Then followed a highly interesting and detailed review of the various phases in the development of the scheme for the accession of the South German states to the Northern Confederation. “While we were still in Mainz,” related the Chancellor, “the King of Bavaria wrote a letter to our most gracious master in which he expressed a hope that he would not be mediatised. As a matter of course, his mind was set at ease on that point. But the King did not want the answer to be quite so categorical. That was the first conflict between the King and myself during the war. I told him that King Lewis would probably in that case withdraw his troops, and that he would be within his right in doing so. I remember it was in the corner room. It was a hard struggle, and finally he left me still in doubt as to what he was going to do. After the first great victories and before Sedan, there was another idea, namely, that of a military revolution and a military Emperor of Germany, who should be proclaimed by the troops, including the Bavarians. That idea was not to my liking. Subsequently, when Bray came here, they had thought out a plan of their own in Munich. They felt themselves to be safe, and wished for something more. Bray brought with him the plan of the alternating imperial dignity. As Bray said to me, an agreement could be come to between the North German Confederation and Bavaria or between Germany and Bavaria. In the meantime we might very well conclude treaties with Baden and Würtemberg, and afterwards come to an understanding with Bavaria. I was quite satisfied with that. But when I told it to Delbrück, he looked as if he were going to faint. I said to him, ‘For Heaven’s sake, why not accept it? It is exactly what we want.’ And so it was too. For when I informed Suckow and Mittnacht, they were beside themselves with rage, and immediately came to terms with me. Later on, however, the King (of Würtemberg) was induced to strike out again in a new line. It was through Frau von Gasser, who had great influence at the Court in Stuttgart. He wanted to act once more with Bavaria. The Ministers, however, remained firm, and assured me they would rather resign, and thus it came about that the Treaty with Würtemberg was not concluded until afterwards in Berlin. Finally, after all sorts of difficulties on both sides, the arrangement with Bavaria was also settled. Now there was only one thing wanting—but that was the most important of all! I saw a way, and wrote a letter—and after that the credit belongs to a Bavarian Court official. He achieved an almost impossible feat. In six days he made the journey there and back, eighteen German miles, without a railway, to the palace in the mountains where the King was staying—and in addition to that his wife was ill at the time. It was really a great deal for him to do. He arrives at the palace, finds the King unwell—suffering from a tumour in the gum, or from the after effects of an operation under chloroform. He is not to be seen. Well, but he had a letter from me to deliver—very pressing. In vain; the King will not be disturbed; he will do no business to-day. At last his Majesty’s curiosity is aroused, and he wants to know what I have to communicate to him—and the letter is well received. But there is no ink, no paper, no writing materials. They send off a groom, who ultimately comes back with some coarse letter paper; the King writes his answer, just as he is, in bed—and the German Empire is made!”

Jacoby’s arrest having been mentioned, the Chief observed: “Otherwise, Falkenstein acted quite sensibly, but thanks to that measure of his and to his refusal to release Jacoby when I requested him to do so, we were unable to convoke the Diet for a whole month. As far as I am concerned, he might have had Jacoby carved up for himself into rhinoceros cutlets, but he ought not to have locked him up! All he had to show for his pains was the possession of a dried up old Jew. The King, too, would not at first listen to my representations. We were accordingly obliged to wait, as the Diet would have been within its right in demanding his liberation.”

Jacoby’s name brought up that of another congenial mind, viz., Waldeck (the Radical leader in the Prussian Diet), of whom the Chief gave the following description: “Something like Favre, always consistent, his views and decisions cut and dried in advance, and, in addition to that, a stately presence and a venerable white beard, fine speeches delivered with the earnestness of deep-toned conviction, even on trifling matters, that is so impressive! He makes a speech in a voice throbbing with devotion to principle in order to prove to you that this spoon is in the glass, and he proclaims that any one who refuses to accept that statement is a scoundrel! And all the world believes him, and praises him for his staunchness in every key from treble to bass.”

Tuesday, January 31st.—The King of Sweden has delivered a bellicose speech from the throne. Why, ye gods? I write two paragraphs under instructions from the Chief, and then a third, which calls attention to the sufferings during the bombardment of a number of inoffensive German families who, for various reasons, remained behind in Paris after the expulsion of their fellow countrymen, and commend Washburne, the United States Minister, for the efforts he made to alleviate the lot of these unfortunate people. In this respect he has really acted in a manner that deserves our warmest thanks, and has been loyally assisted by his subordinates.

The Parisian gentlemen are again here, including Favre, who has sent a telegram to Gambetta urgently requesting him to yield. It is to be feared he will not do so. At least the Prefect of Marseilles is showing his teeth and snarling at poor Favre with the patriotic declaration: “Je n’obéis plus le capitule de Bismarck. Je ne le connais plus.” Proud and staunch—but danger is best at a distance.

At tea I hear from Bucher that the Chief has been speaking very strongly about Garibaldi, that old dreamer, whom Favre declares to be a hero.

Subsequently Duparc had an interview with the Minister. Shortly after ten the Chief joined us at tea. He first spoke of the unpractical character of the Frenchmen who have been working with him during the past few days. Two Ministers, Favre and Magnin, the Minister of Finance who has accompanied him this time, spent half an hour to-day worrying over one telegram. This led him to speak of the French in general and of the entire Latin race, and to compare them with the Germanic peoples. “The Germans, the Germanic race,” he said, “is, so to speak, the male principle throughout Europe—the fructifying principle. The Celtic and Slav peoples represent the female sex. That principle extends as far as the North Sea and then across to England.” I ventured to add: “And also as far as America and the Western States of the Union, where some of our people form the best part of the population and influence the manners of the rest.” “Yes,” he replied, “those are their children, the fruit they bear.” “But that was to be seen in France while the Franks had still the upper hand. The Revolution of 1789 was the overthrow of the Germanic element by the Celtic. And what have we seen since then? And this held good in Spain so long as the Gothic blood predominated. And also in Italy, where in the North the Germans also played a leading part. When that element had exhausted itself, there was nothing decent left. It was much the same thing in Russia, where the Germanic Waräger, the Ruriks, first bound them together. As soon as the natives there prevail over the German immigrants and the Germans of the Baltic Provinces, they fall asunder into mere communes.” “It is true that the unmixed Germans are not of much account either. In the south and west where they were left to themselves, there were only Knights of the Empire, Imperial Towns, and Immediate Villages of the Empire, each for itself, and all tumbling to pieces. The Germans are all right when they are forced to unite—excellent, irresistible, invincible—otherwise each one will act according to his own ideas.” “Really, after all, an intelligent absolutism is the best form of government. Without a certain amount of it everything falls asunder. One wishes this thing and another that, there is eternal vacillation, eternal delays.” “But we have no longer any genuine absolutists—that is to say, no kings. They have disappeared. The variety has died out.” “A Republic is perhaps after all the right form of government, and it will doubtless come in the future; but I dislike our Republicans. Formerly things were different, when princes still appeared in brocaded coats and covered with stars. They are declining everywhere, and that decline will be much greater in future. One sees that in the younger generation. It is the case with us also. No more rocher de bronce. They no longer want to govern, and are glad when some one relieves them of the trouble. All they care for is to be praised in the newspapers, and to get as much money as possible for their personal requirements. The only one who still conducts his business properly is the old King of Saxony.” “And when they sit at the table d’hôte in the Hôtel des Reservoirs, here near the Palace of Louis XIV., and every one sees that they are ordinary human beings—and how ordinary!—why, the halo is quite lost. And then one fine morning three Grand Dukes pay their respects to me, and find me in my dressing gown!”

I ventured to relate that as a little child I pictured to myself the King of Saxony, who was the only monarch I knew of at that time, as resembling the king in the pack of cards—clad in ermine, and wearing a crown with orb and sceptre, stiff, gorgeous, and imperturbable: and that it was a fearful disappointment for me when my nurse once pointed out to me a gentleman in the passage between the palace and the Catholic church in Dresden, and told me that that little, crooked, frail, old man, whose uniform became him so badly, was King Anton. The Chief said:—“Our peasants also had very curious conceptions, and the following story was current amongst them. It was to the effect that on one occasion, when a number of us young people were gathered together in some public place, we said something against the King, who happened to be close to us, but was unknown to us. He suddenly stood up, opened his mantle and showed the star on his breast. The others were terrified, but it did not affect me, and I pitched him down the stairs. I received ten years imprisonment for it and was not allowed to shave myself. As I wore a beard at that time, a habit which I had acquired in France (1842) where it was then the fashion, it was said that the executioner came once every year on St. Sylvester’s night to shave it off. Those who told this story were rich peasants and otherwise not at all stupid, and they repeated it, not because they had anything against me but quite in a friendly way, and full of sympathy for a young man’s rashness. The pitching down stairs was rather a coarse invention, but I was pleased all the same that it was only to me they gave credit for not being intimidated by the star.”

I thereupon asked the Chief if there was any truth in the story of the beer glass he was said to have broken on some one’s head in a Berlin restaurant because he had insulted the Queen or refused to drink her health. “It was quite different,” he replied, “and had no political significance whatever. As I was going home late one evening—it must have been in the year 1847—I met some one who tried to pick a quarrel with me. As I pulled him up on account of his language, I discovered that he was an old acquaintance. We had not seen each other for a long time, and on his proposing to me, ‘Come, let’s go to ——’ (he mentioned a name), I went with him, although I really had had enough already. But after getting our beer he fell asleep. Now there were a lot of people sitting near us, one of whom had also taken more than he could carry, and who was attracting attention by his noisy behaviour. I quietly drank my beer, and this man got angry at my being so quiet and began to taunt me. I took no notice, and that made him only the more angry and his language grew more and more violent. I did not want to have any quarrel, nor did I like to go away, as people would have thought I was afraid. At last, however, he came over to my table and threatened to throw the beer in my face. That was too much for me. I stood up and told him to go away, and as he made a motion to throw the beer at me, I gave him a blow under the chin, so that he fell backwards, breaking the chair and the glass, and rolled across the room right on to the wall. The landlady then came and I told her she need not worry, as I would pay for the chair and the beer glass. I said to the others: ‘You are witnesses, gentlemen, that I did not seek a quarrel, and that I endured it as long as possible. But I cannot be expected to allow a glass of beer to be poured on my head simply because I was quietly drinking my glass. If the gentleman has lost a tooth in consequence I shall be sorry. But I was obliged to defend myself. Besides, if anybody wishes to know more, here is my card.’ It turned out that they were quite sensible people and took my view of the case. They were annoyed with their comrade and acknowledged that I was in the right. I afterwards met two of them at the Brandenburg Gate. I said: ‘I think, gentlemen; you were present when I had that affair in the beer house in the Jägerstrasse. What has happened to my adversary? I should be sorry if he had been hurt.’ I must explain to you that he had to be carried away on that occasion. ‘Oh,’ they replied; ‘he is all right, and his teeth are quite sound again. He is altogether subdued, and extremely sorry for what he did. He had just entered the army to serve his year, as he is a doctor, and it would have been very unpleasant for him if people had heard of the affair, and especially if it had come to the knowledge of his superiors.’”

The Chief then related that when he was attending the University at Göttingen he fought twenty-eight students’ duels in three terms, and was always lucky enough to escape with a whole skin. Once his opponent’s blade flew off, probably because it was badly screwed in, and caught him in the face, where it remained sticking. Otherwise he had never received a scar. “I had one very narrow escape, though, at Greifswald. There they had introduced an extraordinary head-dress, a white felt, sugar-loaf hat, and I took it into my head that I must snip off the top of the sugar-loaf, and thus I exposed myself so that his blade whizzed by close to my face. I bent back, however, in good time.”

Wednesday, February 1st.—It was stated at lunch that Gambetta had approved of the armistice, but expressed surprise that we still continued to attack the French in the south-east. Favre, with his unbusinesslike habits, had omitted to telegraph to him that operations were not suspended there. This, by the way, was at his own request.

There were no guests at lunch. The Minister, speaking about Favre, said: “I believe he came here to-day merely in consequence of our conversation of yesterday, when I would not acknowledge that Garibaldi was a hero. He was evidently anxious about him, because I would not include him in the armistice. He pointed to the first article like a thorough lawyer. I said: ‘Yes, that was the rule, but the exceptions followed, and Garibaldi comes under them.’ I quite understood that a Frenchman should bear arms against us—he defended his country, and had a right to do so; but I could not recognise the right of this foreign adventurer with his cosmopolitan Republic and his band of revolutionaries from every corner of the earth. He asked me then what we should do with Garibaldi in case we took him prisoner. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘we will exhibit him for money, and hang a placard round his neck bearing the word “Ingratitude.”’”

The Chief then asked: “But where is Scheidtmann?” Somebody told him. “He will have, I think, to give me legal advice in the matter” (viz., the war contribution of two hundred millions to be paid by Paris). “Is he not a lawyer?” Bucher said no, he had not studied at all, was originally a tradesman, &c. The Chief: “Well, then, Bleichröder must first go into action. He must go into Paris immediately, smell and be smelt at by his brethren in the faith, and discuss with the bankers how it is to be done. Surely he is coming?” Keudell: “Yes, in a few days.” The Chief: “Please telegraph him at once, that we want him immediately—then it will be Scheidtmann’s turn. I suppose he can speak French?” No one could say. “I am disposed to select Henckel as the third string. He is well acquainted with Paris, and knows the financiers. A member of the haute finance once said to me: ‘On the Stock Exchange we always lay our money on lucky players,’ and if we are to follow that rule Count Henckel is our man.”

À propos of German unity, the Minister told us that thirty years ago, at Göttingen, he had made a bet with an American as to whether Germany would be united within twenty-five years. “The winner was to provide twenty-five bottles of champagne, and the loser was to cross the ocean to drink them. The American wagered against union, and I in favour. The interesting point is that, as far back as 1833, I must have had the idea which has now, with God’s help, been realised, although at that time I was opposed to all those who professed to desire such a change.”

Finally, the Chief declared his belief in the influence of the moon on the growth of the hair and of plants. This subject came up through his jocularly congratulating Abeken on the style in which his locks had been trimmed. “You look twice as young, Herr Geheimrath,” he said. “If I were only your wife! You have had it cut exactly at the right time, under a crescent moon. It is just the same as with trees. When they are intended to shoot again they are felled when the moon is in the first quarter, but when they are to be rooted up then it is done in the last quarter, as in that case the stump decays sooner. There are people who will not believe it, learned men, but the State itself acts on this belief, although it will not openly confess to it. No woodman will think of felling a birch tree which is intended to throw out shoots when the moon is waning.”

After dinner I read a number of documents relating to the armistice and the revictualling of Paris, including several letters in Favre’s own hand, which is neat and legible. One of the letters states that Paris has only flour enough to last up to the 4th of February, and after that nothing but horseflesh. Moltke is requested by the Chief not to treat Garibaldi on the same footing as the French, and in any case to demand that he and his followers shall lay down their arms—the Minister desires this to be done on political grounds. Instructions have been sent to Alsace that the elections for the Assembly at Bordeaux, which is to decide as to the continuance of the war, or peace, and eventually as to the conditions on which the latter is to be concluded, are not to be hindered, but rather ignored. The elections are to be conducted by the Maires and not by the Prefects in the districts we occupy.