Somebody having mentioned that early Protestantism had shown no tolerance, Bucher called attention to the fact that, according to Buckle, the Huguenots were zealous reactionaries, as was, indeed, the case with all the reformers of that period. “They were not exactly reactionaries,” replied the Chief, “but petty tyrants—each parson was a small Pope.” He then referred to the course taken by Calvin against Servetus, and added “Luther was just the same.” I ventured to recall Luther’s treatment of the followers of Karlstadt and Munzer, as well as the case of the Wittenberg theologians after him, and Chancellor Krell. Bucher related that towards the end of the last century the Scottish Presbyterians punished a person for merely lending Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man with twenty-one years’ transportation, the offender being immediately cast into chains. I pointed to the rigid intolerance of the New England States towards the members of other religious communions and to their tyrannical liquor law. “And the Sabbath-keeping,” said the Chief, “that is a horrible tyranny. I remember the first time I went to England on landing at Hull I whistled in the street. An Englishman, whose acquaintance I had made on board said to me, ‘Pray, sir, don’t whistle!’ I asked ‘Why not? is it forbidden here?’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘but it is the Sabbath.’ That made me so angry that I immediately took a ticket on another steamer for Edinburgh, as it did not at all suit me not to be able to whistle when I had a mind to.” Bucher remarked that in general the Sunday in England was not so bad. He himself had always greatly enjoyed the stillness after the rush and roar of the working day in London, where the noise began early in the morning. The Chancellor then continued: “In other respects I am not at all opposed to keeping the Sabbath holy. On the contrary, as a landed proprietor, I promote it as much as possible. Only I will not force the people. Every one must know best for himself how to prepare for the future life. No work should be done on Sunday, because it is wrong as being a breach of the Divine commandment, and unfair to man, who requires rest. That of course does not apply to the service of the State and in particular to the diplomatic service, in which despatches and telegrams are delivered on Sundays which must be dealt with at once. There can also be no objection to our country people saving their hay or corn on a fine Sunday after a long spell of bad weather. I could not bring myself to coerce my farmers in those things.... I can afford to do as I think right myself, as the damage done by a possible rainy Monday would not affect me. Our landed proprietors consider that it is not respectable to allow their people to work on Sunday even in such an emergency!” I mentioned that pious families in America do not even cook on the Sabbath, and that on being once invited to dinner in New York on a Sunday there was only cold meat on the table. “In Frankfurt,” said the Chief, “when I had more liberty we always dined very simply on Sundays, and I never ordered the carriage out on account of the servants.” I ventured to remark that in Leipzig all shops were closed on Sunday, with the exception of the bakers’ and some tobacconists. “Yes, that is as it should be; but I do not want to put pressure on anybody. I might possibly do it in the country by not buying from a tradesman—that is if his goods were not of exceptionally high quality, for then I do not know whether I should be able to stand firm. Care should be taken, however, that noisy trades, such as that of the blacksmith, should not be carried on in the neighbourhood of a church on Sunday.”
I was summoned to the Minister in the evening. “Thile[12] writes to me,” he said, “that the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung has a terrible article against the Catholics. Is it by you?” “I do not know which he alludes to, as I have recently called attention on several occasions to the proceedings of the Ultramontanes.” He then searched for the extract, which he read over half aloud. “But that is perfectly true and correct. Yes, that’s quite right. Our good Thile has been thoroughly taken in by Savigny. He has gone out of his wits and howls because we have not rescued the Pope and his whole family.”
We were thirteen at table to-day, Dr. Lauer being one of the number. I pointed this out to Bucher, who sat near me. “Don’t speak so loud,” he replied. “The Chief has a very sharp ear, and he is superstitious on that point.”[13]
Monday, October 10th.—Called to the Chief twice during the morning. He went subsequently to the Crown Prince’s quarters, where he remained for lunch.
The conversation at dinner at first turned on the interview of the King with Napoleon at Bellevue, near Sedan, respecting which Russell sent a full report to The Times, although the two Sovereigns were alone and the Chancellor himself was only aware of what had passed in so far as the King had assured him that there had been absolutely no reference to politics. “As a matter of fact,” said the Chancellor, “it would not have been nice of ‘our Most Gracious’ to have maintained silence only towards his Ministers. Russell must unquestionably have received his news from the Crown Prince.”
I now forgot how and by whom the subject of dangerous touring expeditions was introduced, but the Minister himself related some daring enterprises of his own. “I remember,” he said, “being once with a party, amongst whom were the Orloffs, in South France, near the Pont du Gard. An old Roman aqueduct of several stories crossed the valley. Princess Orloff, a very spirited lady, proposed that we should go across over it. There was a very narrow path, about a foot and a half wide, along one side of the old water channel, and on the other side a wall of big slabs of stone. It looked a very hazardous undertaking, but I could not allow myself to be beaten by a woman. We two accordingly started on this enterprise, Orloff going with the rest of the company down by the valley. For some time we walked on all right along the stone wall, from which we could see a depth of several hundred feet beneath us. Further on, however, the stones had fallen off and we had to pick our way along the narrow ledge. Then we came to another stretch of relatively easy going, but after there was another very bad bit on an unsafe ledge. Screwing up my courage I stepped out quickly after the Princess, and grasping her with one arm, jumped down with her into the channel some four to five feet deep. Our companions below, who had suddenly lost sight of us, were in the greatest anxiety until at length we came out on the other side.”
In the evening I was called to the Chief to receive instructions respecting Garibaldi, who, according to a telegram from Tours, had arrived there and offered his services to the French Republic. The Chancellor said: “But just tell me why you sometimes write in such a sledge-hammer style? It is true I have not seen the text of your telegram about Russell, but your recent article on the Ultramontanes in the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung was very strongly worded. Surely the Saxons are usually regarded as a very polite race, and if you have any ambition to become Court Historian to the Foreign Office, you must not be so violent.” I ventured to reply that I could also be polite, and was capable of irony without rudeness. “Well, then,” he said, “be polite but without irony. Write diplomatically. Even in a declaration of war one observes the rules of politeness.”
Tuesday, October 11th.—It appears from the conversation at dinner that an assembly of a congress of German Princes at Versailles has been for some time past under consideration. It is hoped that the King of Bavaria will also come. In that case Delbrück thinks “it would be well to place at his disposal one of the historic apartments in the palace—possibly the bedroom of Louis XIV. With his character he would be certainly delighted at such an arrangement, and would not be too exacting in the matter of comfort.” The Chief dined to-day with the Crown Prince, and did not return until 10 o’clock, when he had an interview with Burnside.
Wednesday, October 12th.—Amongst other things I wrote to-day another article on the hostile attitude assumed by the Ultramontanes towards us in this war.
It was directed against the Schlesische Haus-Blätter, and concluded as follows: “We should have thought that it was impossible at this time of day to be misunderstood in using the terms ‘ultramontane’ and ‘ultramontanism.’ We should have thought that honest Catholics would as clearly understood what was meant thereby as do other Christians, and that as honest Catholics they could not possibly take offence at strictures upon ultramontane agitation and attacks. Acting on this supposition, we called attention to the resistance offered by that party to the latest development of German affairs. To our great astonishment, however, we learn through a Silesian journal that our article, in which the party in question was described as ultramontane, has actually given offence, and been regarded as a censure and impeachment of Catholicism itself. We deprecate any such interpretation of our meaning. Nothing was more remote from our intention. From our standpoint Ultramontanism has just as little in common with the faith of the Catholic Church as Atheism and Nihilism have with the Protestant Church. Ultramontanism is of a purely political character. It is the spirit of a sect with exclusively worldly aims, namely, the restoration as far as possible of universal empire on a mediæval theocratic basis. It does not recognise the claims of patriotism, and it considers the end to justify the means. In speaking of the Ultramontanes as zealous opponents of Germany in the present war, the examples which we gave made it sufficiently clear to whom we referred. For the purpose of removing all doubt on this point, however, and to prevent the possibility in future of circles for whom we entertain feelings of respect taking unnecessary offence at remarks which were not intended for them, we will here add a few further examples.