After dinner, just as we had finished our coffee, the American general, Burnside, who had called whilst we were at table, presented himself again, accompanied by an elderly gentleman who wore a red woollen shirt and a paper collar. The general, a rather tall, portly gentleman, with thick, bushy eyebrows, and an exceptionally fine set of beautifully white teeth and close-cut, mutton-chop whiskers, might pass for an elderly Prussian major in plain clothes. The Chief sat with him on the sofa, and had a lively conversation in English over a couple of glasses of kirschwasser, which were afterwards replenished. Prince Radziwill, in the meantime, had a talk with the general’s companion.
After the Minister had observed to his visitor that he had come rather late to see the fighting, he went on to say that in July we had not the least desire for war, and that when we were surprised by the declaration of hostilities, no one, neither the King nor the people, had thought of any conquests. Our army was an excellent one for a war of defence, but it would be difficult to use it for schemes of aggrandisement, because with us the army was the people itself, which did not lust after glory, as it required and wished for peace. But for that very reason both popular sentiment and the press now demanded a better frontier. For the sake of the maintenance of peace we must secure ourselves in future against attack from a vainglorious and covetous nation, and that security could only be found in a better defensive position than we had hitherto had. Burnside seemed inclined to agree, and he praised very highly our excellent organisation and the gallantry of our troops.
Wednesday, September 28th.—The general conversation at dinner gradually adopted a more serious tone. The Chancellor began by complaining that Voigts-Rhetz in his report had not said a single word about the gallant charge of the two regiments of dragoon guards at Mars la Tour, which nevertheless he himself had ordered, and which had saved the 10th Army Corps. “It was necessary—I grant that; but then it ought not to have been passed over in silence.”
The Minister then began a lengthy speech, which ultimately assumed the character of a dialogue between himself and Katt. Pointing to a spot of grease on the table-cloth, the Chief remarked: “Just in the same way as that spot spreads and spreads, so the feeling that it is beautiful to die for one’s country and honour, even without recognition, sinks deeper into the skin of the people now that it has been bathed in blood—it spreads wider and wider.... Yes, yes, the non-commissioned officer has the same views and the same sense of duty as the lieutenant and the colonel—with us Germans. That feeling in general goes very deep through all classes of the nation.... The French are a mass that can easily be brought under one influence, and then they produce a great effect. Amongst our people everybody has his own opinion. But when once a large number of Germans come to hold the same opinion, great things can be done with them. If they were all agreed they would be all-powerful.... The French have not that sense of duty which enables a man to allow himself to be shot dead alone in the dark. And that comes from the remnant of faith which still abides in our people; it comes from the knowledge that there is Someone there Who sees me even if my lieutenant does not see me.”
“Do you believe that the soldiers reflect on such things, Excellency?” asked Fürstenstein.
“‘Reflect?’ no. It is a feeling—a frame of mind; an instinct, if you like. When once they reflect they lose that feeling; they argue themselves out of it.... I cannot conceive how men can live together in an orderly manner, how one can do his duty and allow others to do theirs without faith in a revealed religion, in God, Who wills what is right, in a higher Judge and a future life.”
The Grand Duke of Weimar was announced. But the Minister continued, it might well be for a quarter of an hour longer, at times suddenly departing from his proper theme, and frequently repeating the same idea in other words: “If I were no longer a Christian I would not serve the King another hour.
“If I did not put my trust in God I should certainly place none in any earthly masters. Why, I had quite enough to live on, and had a sufficiently distinguished position. Why should I labour and toil unceasingly in this world, and expose myself to worry and vexation if I did not feel that I must do my duty towards God?[10] If I did not believe in a Divine Providence which has ordained this German nation to something good and great, I would at once give up my trade as a Statesman or I should never have gone into the business. Orders and titles have no attraction for me. A resolute faith in a life after death—for that reason I am a Royalist, otherwise I am by nature a Republican. Yes, I am a Republican in the highest degree; and the firm determination which I have displayed for ten long years in presence of all possible forms of absurdity at Court is solely due to my resolute faith. Deprive me of this faith and you deprive me of my fatherland. If I were not a firm believer in Christianity, if I had not the wonderful basis of religion, you would never have had such a Chancellor of the Confederation. If I had not the wonderful basis of religion I should have turned my back to the whole Court—and if you are able to find me a successor who has that basis I will retire at once. But I am living amongst heathens. I do not want to make any proselytes, but I feel a necessity to confess this faith.”
Katt said that the ancients had also shown much self-sacrifice and devotion. They also had the love of country, which had spurred them on to great deeds. He was convinced that many people nowadays acted in the same way through devotion to the State, and a sense of duty to society.
The Chief replied that this self-sacrifice and devotion to duty towards the State and the King amongst us was merely a remnant of the faith of our fathers and grandfathers in an altered form,—“more confused, and yet active, no longer faith, but nevertheless faithful.” “How willingly would I go away! I enjoy country life, the woods and nature. Sever my connection with God and I am a man who would pack up to-morrow and be off to Varzin, and say ‘Kiss my ——,’ and cultivate his oats. You would then deprive me of my King, because why?—if there is no Divine commandment, why should I subordinate myself to these Hohenzollerns? They are a Suabian family, no better than my own, and in that case no concern of mine. Why, I should be worse than Jacoby, who might then be accepted as President or even as King. He would be in many ways more sensible, and at all events cheaper.”