The conversation then turned on Vienna and Count Beust. The Chief said Beust had apologised for the recent discourteous note. It was written by Biegeleben, and not by himself. The reference to Biegeleben led to the discussion of the Gagern family and to the once celebrated Heinrich von Gagern (President of the Reichstag in the Paulskirche at Frankfurt). “I remember,” the Chief said, “in 1850 or 1851, Manteuffel was instructed to bring about an understanding between the Gagern and the Conservative sections of the Prussian party—at least, as far as the King was disposed to go in the cause of German unity. Manteuffel selected Gagern and myself for this purpose, and so we were both invited one day to a souper à trois at his place. At first there was little or no mention of politics, but Manteuffel afterwards made some excuse for leaving us alone. When he left I immediately began to talk politics, explaining my standpoint to Gagern in a plain, business-like way. You should have heard Gagern! He assumed his Jove-like aspect, lifted his eyebrows, ran his fingers through his hair, rolled his eyes and cast them up to heaven so perpendicularly that you could hear the joints in his neck crack, and poured out his grand phrases to me as if I were a public meeting. Of course, that did not help him much with me. I replied coolly, and we remained divided as before. When Jupiter had retired, Manteuffel asked, ‘Well, what arrangement have you come to together?’ ‘Oh,’ I replied, ‘no arrangement at all. The man is a fool. He takes me for a public meeting! A mere watering-can of fine phrases! Nothing can be done with him.’”
The subject of the bombardment having been introduced, the Chief said: “I told the King again yesterday that it was time to begin, and he had no objection to make. He replied that he had given orders to begin, but that the generals said they could not. I know exactly how it is. It is Stosch, Treskow, and Podbielski.”
Some one asked: “And Hindersin?”
“He is also against it,” said the Chief. “Podbielski” (so I understood him to say) “could be brought round. But the other two are influenced by considerations affecting their own future.”
It appeared from some further remarks of the Minister that, in his opinion, first Queen Victoria, and then, at her instance the Crown Princess, and, finally, the Crown Prince, persuaded by his consort, will not have Paris bombarded; while the generals “cannot” bombard the city out of consideration for the views of the Crown Prince, who will, of course, be the future King, and will have the appointment of Ministers of War, commandants of army corps, and field marshals.
The late General von Möllendorff having been mentioned, the Minister related the following anecdote: “I remember after the March rising, when the King and the troops were at Potsdam, I went there too. A council was being held as to what was to be done. Möllendorff was present, and sat not far from me. He seemed to be in pain, and could scarcely sit down for the beating he had received. All kinds of suggestions were made, but no one knew exactly what was to be done. I sat near the piano and said nothing, but played a few bars” (he hummed the opening of the infantry march for the charge). “Old Möllendorff suddenly stood up, his face beaming with pleasure, and, hobbling over, threw his arms round my neck, and said: ‘That’s right. I know what you mean. March on Berlin!’ There was nothing to be done with the King, however, and the others had not the pluck.”
After a while the Chancellor asked Werder: “How much does each visit to the Tsar cost you?” I do not know what Werder’s answer was, but the Chief went on: “It was always a rather costly business for me—particularly in Zarskoje. There I had always to pay from 15 to 20 and sometimes 25 roubles, according as I drove out to see the Emperor with or without an invitation. It was always more expensive in the former case. I had to fee the coachman and footman who brought me, the majordomo who received me—he wore a sword when I came on invitation, and then the running footman who conducted me through the whole length of the castle—it must be about a thousand yards—to the Emperor’s apartments. Well, he really earned his five roubles. And one never got the same coachman twice. I could never recover these expenses. We Prussians were altogether badly paid. Twenty-five thousand thalers salary and 8,000 thalers for rent. For that sum I certainly had a house as large and fine as any palace in Berlin. But all the furniture was old, shabby, and faded, and when I had paid for repairs and other odds and ends it cost me 9,000 a year. I found, however, that I was not obliged to spend more than my salary, and so I helped myself out of the difficulty by not entertaining. The French Minister had 300,000 francs, and was in addition allowed to charge his Government with the expense of any receptions which he chose to look upon as official.”
“But you had at least free firing,” said Werder, “and at St. Petersburg that amounts to something considerable in the course of the year.”
“Excuse me, but I had not,” replied the Chief, “I was obliged to pay for that too. Food would not have been so dear if the officials had not made it so. I remember once seeing some very good timber in a Finnish boat. I asked the peasants what the price was and they mentioned a very moderate figure. But when I wanted to buy it they asked if it was for the Treasury (he used the Russian term). I was imprudent enough to reply that it was not for the Imperial Treasury (he again used the Russian words) but for the Royal Prussian Legation. When I came back to have the wood removed they had disappeared. Had I given them the address of a tradesman, with whom I could afterwards have made an arrangement, I might have got the wood at a third of the price I usually paid. They evidently regarded the Prussian Minister as one of the Tsar’s officials and thought to themselves: ‘No, when it comes to payment he will say that we have stolen the wood, and have us locked up until we give it to him for nothing.’” The Chief then gave some instances of the way in which the Tschinowniks harassed and exploited the peasantry, and afterwards returned to the subject of the poor pay of Prussian Ministers as compared with those of other countries. “It is just the same in Berlin,” he said. “The Prussian Minister has 10,000 thalers, but the English Ambassador has 63,000, and the Russian 44,000, while the latter’s Government bears the cost of all entertainments, and if the Tsar stays with him he usually receives a full year’s salary as compensation. Of course, in such circumstances, we cannot keep pace with them.”
Tuesday, November 22nd.—Prince Pless, Major von Alten, and a Count Stolberg dine with us. Mention is made of a great discovery of first-rate wine in a cellar near Bougival, which has been confiscated in accordance with the laws of war. Bohlen complains that none of it has reached us. Altogether the Foreign Office is as badly provided as possible. Care is always taken to set apart the most uncomfortable lodgings for the Chief, and they have been invariably lucky in finding such. “Yes,” said the Chancellor, laughing, “it is pure churlishness on their part to treat me like that. And so ungrateful, as I have always looked after their interests in the Diet. But they shall see me thoroughly transformed. I started for the war devoted to the military, but I shall go home a convinced Parliamentarian. No more military budgets.”