The Chief then referred to the danger of the Reichstag rejecting, or even merely amending, the treaty with Bavaria. “I am very anxious about it. People have no idea what the position is. We are balancing ourselves on the point of a lightning conductor. If we lose the equilibrium, which at much pains I have succeeded in establishing, we fall to the ground. They want more than can be obtained without coercion, and more than they would have been very pleased to accept before 1866. If at that time they had got but half what they are getting to-day! No; they must needs improve upon it and introduce more unity, more uniformity; but if they change so much as a comma, fresh negotiations must be undertaken. Where are they to take place? Here in Versailles? And if we cannot bring them to a close before the 1st of January—which many of the people in Munich would be glad of—then German unity is lost, probably for years, and the Austrians can set to work again in Munich.”
Mushrooms dressed in two ways were the first dish after the soup. “These must be eaten in a thoughtful spirit,” said the Chief, “as they are a present from some soldiers who found them growing in a quarry or a cellar. The cook has made an excellent sauce for them. A still more welcome gift, and certainly a rare one, was made to me the other day by the—what a shame! I have quite forgotten. What regiment was it sent me the roses?” “The 46th,” replied Bohlen. “Yes; it was a bouquet of roses plucked under fire, probably in a garden near the outposts.” “By the way, that reminds me that I met a Polish soldier in the hospital who cannot read German. He would very much like to have a Polish prayer book. Does anybody happen to have something of that kind?” Alten said no, but he could give him some Polish newspapers. The Chief: “That won’t do. He would not understand them, and besides they stir up the people against us. But perhaps Radziwill has something. A Polish novel would do—Pan Twardowski or something of that kind.” Alten promised to see if he could get anything.
Mention was made of Ducrot, who in all likelihood commanded the French forces engaged in to-day’s sortie, and it was suggested he had good reason not to allow himself to be made prisoner. “Certainly,” said the Minister. “He will either get himself killed in action; or if he has not courage enough for that, which I am rather inclined to believe, he will make off in a balloon.”
Some one said Prince Wittgenstein (if I am not mistaken, a Russian aide-de-camp) would also be glad to leave Paris.
Alten added: “Yes, in order that he might go in again. I fancy it is a kind of sport for him.”
The Chief: “That might be all very well for a person who inspired confidence. But I never trusted him, and when he wished to return to Paris recently, neither I nor the general staff wanted to let him through. He succeeded in obtaining permission surreptitiously through the good nature of the King. Never mind. Possibly things may yet be discovered about him that will ruin him in St. Petersburg.”
The subject of Stock Exchange speculation was again introduced, and the Chief once more denied the possibility of turning to much account the always very limited knowledge which one may have of political events beforehand. Such events only affect the Bourse afterwards, and the day when that is going to happen cannot be foreseen. “Of course, if one could contrive things so as to produce a fall—but that is dishonourable! Grammont has done so, according to what Russell recently stated. He doubled his fortune in that way. One might almost say that he brought about the war with that object. Moustier also carried on that sort of business—not for himself, but with the fortune of his mistress—and when it was on the point of being discovered, he poisoned himself. One might take advantage of one’s position in a rather less dishonest way by arranging to have the Bourse quotations from all the Stock Exchanges sent off with the political despatches by obliging officials abroad. The political despatches take precedence of the Bourse telegrams, so that one would gain from twenty minutes to half an hour. One would then want a quick-footed Jew to secure this advantage. I know people who have done it. In that way one might earn fifteen hundred to fifteen thousand thalers daily, and in a few years that makes a handsome fortune. But, all the same, it remains ugly; and my son shall not say of me that that was how I made him a rich man. He can become rich in some other way—through speculation with his own property, through the sale of timber, by marriage, or something of the kind. I was much better off before I was made Chancellor than I am now. My grants have ruined me. My affairs have been embarrassed ever since. Previously I regarded myself as a simple country gentleman; now that I, to a certain extent, belong to the peerage, my requirements are increasing and my estates bring me in nothing. As Minister at Frankfurt I always had a balance to my credit, and also in St. Petersburg, where I was not obliged to entertain, and did not.”
In the afternoon Friedlander called upon me with an invitation, which I was obliged to decline. Our fat friend knew exactly why the bombardment did not take place. “Blumenthal will not agree to it because the Crown Prince does not want it,” he said; “and behind him are the two Victorias.” So an Artillery officer told him a few days ago.
Addendum.—According to a pencil note which I have now laid hands on, Bohlen remarked yesterday at dinner that he understood many valuable pictures and manuscripts removed by the French from Germany had not been returned. Some one else observed that it would be difficult to put this right now. “Well,” said the Chief, “we could take others of equal value in their stead. We could, for instance, pack up the best of the pictures out of the Gallery here.” “Yes, and sell them to the Americans,” added Bohlen; “they would give us a good price for them.”
According to another note the Chancellor related (doubtless on the occasion when Holnstein dined with us): “In Crehanges the Augustenburger again tricked me into shaking hands with him. A Bavarian Colonel or General came over to me and held out his hand, which I took. I could not put a name to the face, and when I had, it was too late. If I could only come across him again, I would say to him, ‘You treacherously purloined a hand from me at Crehanges; will you please restore it?’”