These negotiations were not mentioned at dinner. It would appear, however, to be a matter of course that the preliminaries of the capitulation were discussed. The Chief spoke at first of Bernstorff, and said: “Anyhow, that is a thing I have never yet been able to manage—to fill page after page of foolscap with the most insignificant twaddle. A pile so high has come in again to-day”—he pointed with his hand—“and then the back references: ‘As I had the honour to report in my despatch of January 3rd, 1863, No. so-and-so; as I announced most obediently in my telegram No. 1666.’ I send them to the King, and he wants to know what Bernstorff means, and always writes in pencil on the margin, ‘Don’t understand this. This is awful!’” Somebody observed that it was only Goltz who wrote as much as Bernstorff: “Yes,” said the Chief, “and in addition he often sent me private letters that filled six to eight closely-written sheets. He must have had a terrible amount of spare time. Fortunately I fell out with him, and then that blessing ceased.” One of the company wondered, what Goltz would say if he now heard that the Emperor was a prisoner, and the Empress in London, while Paris was being besieged and bombarded by us. “Well,” replied the Chief, “he was not so desperately attached to the Emperor—but the Empress in London! Nevertheless, in spite of his devotion to her, he would not have given himself away as Werther did.”
The death of a Belgian Princess having been mentioned, Abeken, as in duty bound, expressed his grief at the event. The Chief said: “How can that affect you so much? To my knowledge, there is no Belgian here at table, nor even a cousin.”
The Minister then related that Favre complained of our firing at the sick and blind—that is to say, the blind asylum. “I said to him, ‘I really do not see what you have to complain about. You yourselves do much worse, seeing that you shoot at our sound and healthy men.’ He will have thought: What a barbarian!” Hohenlohe’s name was then mentioned, and it was said that much of the success of the bombardment was due to him. The Chief: “I shall propose for him the title of Poliorketes.” The conversation then turned on the statues and paintings of the Restoration, and their artificiality and bad taste. “I remember,” said the Chief, “that Schuckmann, the Minister, was painted by his wife, en coquille I think it was called at that time, that is, in a rose-coloured shell, and wearing a kind of antique costume. He was naked down to the waist—I had never seen him like that.” “That is one of my earliest remembrances. They often gave what used to be called assemblées, and are now known as routs—a ball without supper. My parents usually went there.” Thereupon, the Chief once more described his mother’s costume, and then continued: “There was afterwards a Russian Minister in Berlin, Ribeaupierre, who also gave balls, where people danced till 2 o’clock in the morning, and there was nothing to eat. I know that, because I and a couple of good friends were often there. At length we got tired of it, and played them a trick. When it got late, we pulled out some bread and butter from our pockets, and after we had finished, we pitched the paper on the drawing-room floor. Refreshments were provided next time, but we were not invited any more.”
CHAPTER XVIII
DURING THE NEGOTIATIONS RESPECTING THE CAPITULATION OF PARIS
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.”