That looked like a foreshadowing of some miracle.
Strassburg! and perhaps the Vosges as our frontier! Who could have dreamed of it three weeks before?
In the meantime the weather had cleared up. Shortly before one o’clock, under a broiling sun, three four-horse carriages drew up before our door, with soldiers riding as postilions. One was for the Chancellor, another for the Councillors and Count Bismarck-Bohlen, and the third for the Secretaries and Decipherers. The two Councillors and the Count having decided to ride, I took a place in their carriage, as I also did subsequently whenever they went on horseback. Five minutes later we crossed the stream and entered the Saarbrücken high road, which led past the battle-field of the 6th of August. Within half an hour of our departure from Sanct Johann we were on French soil. There were still many traces of the sanguinary struggle that had raged there five days ago—branches torn from the trees by artillery fire, fragments of accoutrements and uniforms, the crops trampled into the earth, broken wheels, pits dug in the ground by exploding shells, and small wooden crosses roughly tied together, probably marking the graves of officers and others. So far as one could observe all the dead had been already buried.
Here at the commencement of our journey through France I will break off my narrative for a while in order to say a few words about the Foreign Office Field Bureau and the way in which the Chancellor and his people travelled, lodged, worked and lived. The Minister had selected to accompany him Herr Abeken and Herr von Keudell, Count Hatzfeldt, who had previously spent several years at the Embassy in Paris, and Count Bismarck-Bohlen, all four Privy Councillors of Legation. After these came the Geheim-Sekretär, Bölsing, of the Centralbureau, the two deciphering clerks, Willisch and St. Blanquart, and finally myself. At Ferrières our list of Councillors was completed by Lothar Bucher, and a new deciphering clerk, Herr Wiehr, also joined us. At Versailles the number was further increased by Herr von Holstein, subsequently Councillor of Embassy, the young Count Wartensleben, and Privy Councillor Wagner, the latter, however, not being employed on Foreign Office work. Herr Bölsing who had fallen ill, was replaced by Geheim-Sekretär Wollmann, and the accumulation of work afterwards required a fourth deciphering clerk. Our “Chief,” as the Chancellor was usually called by the staff, had kindly arranged that all his fellow-workers, Secretaries as well as Councillors, should in a certain sense be members of his household. When circumstances permitted we lodged in the same house, and had the honour of dining at his table.
Throughout the whole war the Chancellor wore uniform. It was generally the well-known undress of the yellow regiment of heavy Landwehr cavalry. During the early months of the campaign he as a rule only wore the Commander’s Cross of the Order of the Red Eagle, to which he afterwards added the Iron Cross. I only saw him a couple of times in a dressing gown. That was at Versailles, when he was unwell, the only time, as far as I know, that anything ailed him throughout the whole war. When travelling he was usually accompanied in the carriage by Herr Abeken, but on some occasions he took me with him for several days in succession. He was very easy to please in the matter of his quarters, and was willing to put up with the most modest shelter when better was not to be had. Indeed, it once happened that there was no bedstead and that his bed had to be made upon the floor.
Our carriages usually followed immediately after those of the King’s suite. We started generally about 10 o’clock in the morning, and sometimes covered as much as sixty kilometres in the day. On reaching our quarters for the night our first duty was to set about preparing an office, in which there was seldom any lack of work, especially when we had the Field Telegraph at our disposal. When communications were thus established, the Chancellor again became what, with short intervals, he had been throughout this entire period, namely, the central figure of the whole civilised European world. Even in those places where we only stayed for one night he, incessantly active himself, kept his assistants almost continuously engaged until a late hour. Messengers were constantly going and coming with telegrams and letters. Councillors were drawing up notes, orders and directions under instructions from their chief, and these were being copied, registered, ciphered and deciphered in the Chancellerie. Reports, questions, newspaper articles, &c., streamed in from every direction, most of them requiring instant attention.
Never, perhaps, was the well nigh superhuman power of work shown by the Chancellor, his creative, receptive and critical activity, his ability to deal with the most difficult problems, always finding the right and the only solution, more strikingly evident than during this period. The inexhaustible nature of his powers was all the more astounding, as he took but little sleep. Except when a battle was expected and he rose at daybreak to join the King and the army, the Chancellor rose rather late, as had been his custom at home, usually about 10 o’clock. On the other hand, he spent the night at work, and only fell asleep as daylight began to appear. He was often hardly out of bed and dressed before he commenced work again, reading despatches and making notes upon them, looking through newspapers, giving instructions to his Councillors and others, and setting them their various tasks, or even writing or dictating. Later on there were visits to be received, audiences to be granted, explanations to be given to the King. Then followed a further study of despatches and maps, the correction of articles, drafts hurriedly prepared with his well-known big pencil, letters to be written, information to be telegraphed, or published in the newspapers, and in the midst of it all the reception of visitors who could not be refused a hearing yet must occasionally have been unwelcome. It was only after 2, or even 3 o’clock, in places where we made a longer stay, that the Chancellor allowed himself a little recreation by taking a ride in the neighbourhood. On his return he set to work again, continuing until dinner time, between 5.30 and 6 P.M. In an hour and a half at latest, he went back to his writing-desk, where he frequently remained till midnight.
In his manner of taking his meals, as in his sleep, the Count differed from the general run of mankind. Early in the day he took a cup of tea and one or two eggs, and from that time until evening he, as a rule, tasted nothing more. He seldom took any luncheon and rarely came to tea, which was usually served between 10 and 11 at night. With some exceptions, he therefore had practically but one meal in the twenty-four hours, but, like Frederick the Great, he then ate with appetite. Diplomats are proverbially fond of a good table, being scarcely surpassed in this respect by the clergy. It is part of their business, as they often have important guests who, for one reason or another, must be put in good humour, and it is universally recognised that nothing is better calculated to that end than a well-filled cellar and a dinner which shows the skill of a highly trained chef. Count Bismarck also kept a good table, which, when circumstances permitted, became quite excellent. That was the case for instance at Reims, Meaux, Ferrières and Versailles, where the genius of our cook in the Commissariat uniform created breakfasts and dinners that made any one accustomed to a homely fare feel, as he did justice to them, that he was at length resting in Abraham’s bosom, particularly when some specially fine brand of champagne was added to the other gracious gifts of Providence. During the last five months our table was also enriched by presents from home where, as was only right and proper, our people showed how fondly they remembered the Chancellor, by sending him plentiful supplies of good things, both fluid and solid, geese, venison, fish, pheasants, monumental pastry, excellent beer, rare wines, and other acceptable delicacies.
At first only the Councillors wore uniform, Herr von Keudell that of the Cuirassiers, and Count Bismarck-Bohlen that of the Dragoon Guards, while Count Hatzfeldt and Herr Abeken wore the undress uniform of the Foreign Office. It was afterwards suggested that the whole of the Minister’s personnel, with the exception of the two gentlemen first mentioned, who were also officers, should be allowed the same privilege. The Chief gave his consent, so the people of Versailles had an opportunity of seeing our Chancery attendants in a dark blue tunic with two rows of buttons, black collar trimmed with velvet, and a cap of the same colour, while our Councillors, Secretaries and Decipherers carried swords with a gold sword-knot. The elderly Privy Councillor Abeken, who could make his horse prance as proudly as any cavalry officer, looked wonderfully warlike in this costume, in which, I fancy, he delighted not a little. It was to him just as great a pleasure to show off in all this military bravery as it had been to travel through the Holy Land dressed up as an Oriental, although he did not understand a word of Turkish or Arabic.