Monday, December 5th.—The Chief sent for me, and gave me his instructions for a démenti with regard to the Bavarian Treaty, in which his ideas were to be somewhat differently expressed. It was to the following effect. The rumour that the Chancellor of the Confederation only concluded the treaties with the South German States, in anticipation that they would be rejected, or at least amended in the Reichstag, is entirely without foundation. The debate on the treaties must be brought to a close during the month of December, and they must be adopted in their entirety, in order that they may come into force on the 1st of January. Otherwise, everything will remain uncertain. If the representatives of North Germany alter the treaties, the South German Diets will be entitled to make further amendments in a contrary sense, and there is no knowing how far that right might not be exercised. In such circumstances, the nation might have still to wait a long time for its political unity. (“Perhaps ten years,” said the Chief, “and interim aliquid fit.”) In that case, also the Treaty of Peace might not be what we desire. The treaties may be deficient, but they can always be gradually improved by the Reichstag, in co-operation with the Bundesrath, and through the pressure of public opinion and national sentiment. There is no hurry about that. If public opinion brings no pressure to bear in that direction, it is obvious that the present arrangement meets the views of the majority of the nation. Men of national sentiment at Versailles are very anxious and uneasy at the prevailing dispositions in Berlin. They are, however, to some extent reassured by the fact that the Volkszeitung opposes the Bavarian Treaty, as people have gradually grown accustomed to find that all persons of political insight as a rule reject whatever that journal praises and recommends, and are disposed to adopt whatever it deprecates and censures.
At dinner Bamberger, the member of the Reichstag, was on the Chief’s left. He is also going to Berlin in order to plead for the adoption, without alteration, of the treaties with South Germany. The conversation first turned on doctors and their knowledge, whereupon the Chief (I cannot now remember on what grounds) delivered the following weighty judgment: “Ah, yes, if doctors were only sensible men; but as it is, they are dolts.” The question of the treaties was then discussed, and the attitude of the Princes in this matter was admitted to be correct. “Yes, but the Reichstag,” said the Chancellor; “it reminds me of Kaiser Heinrich and his ‘Gentlemen, you have spoiled my sport.’[17] In that instance it ultimately turned out all right, but in this! All the members of the Reichstag might sacrifice themselves one after another upon the altar of the Fatherland—it would be all to no purpose.” After reflecting for a moment, the Minister continued, with a smile: “Members of the Diet and the Reichstag should be made responsible, like Ministers, no more and no less, and placed on a footing of absolute equality. A Bill should provide for the impeachment for treason of members of Parliament when they reject important State treaties, or, as in Paris, approve of a war undertaken on frivolous pretexts. They were all in favour of the war, with the exception of Jules Favre. Perhaps I shall bring in some such measure one day.”
The conversation then turned upon the approaching capitulation of Paris, which must take place, at latest, within a month. “Ah!” sighed the Chancellor, “it is then that my troubles will begin in earnest.”... Bamberger was of opinion that they should not be allowed merely to capitulate, but should immediately be called upon to conclude peace. “Quite so,” said the Chief. “That is exactly my view, and they should be forced to do so by starvation. But there are people who want, above all else, to be extolled for their humane feelings, and they will spoil everything—altogether forgetting the fact that we must think of our own soldiers, and take care that they shall not suffer want and be shot down to no purpose. It is just the same with the bombardment. And then we are told to spare people who are searching for potatoes; they should be shot too, if we want to reduce the city by starvation.”
After 8 o’clock, I was called to the Chief several times, and wrote two paragraphs for the Spenersche Zeitung in accordance with his instructions. The first ran as follows:—“The Vienna newspapers recently stated that ‘the German Austrians did not wish for war, and the majority of the Austrian Slavs just as little.’ But there is in Austria, and in Hungary, a not very numerous but influential party which does desire war. When inquiry is made as to their real motive for doing so, it is found to arise from pride and arrogance, from a kind of frivolous chivalry, from a real hunger for political luxuries, from the determination to play the Grand Seigneur before the world. The Austrians of this party, in which very distinguished personages are the moving spirits, seem to us to resemble the princely family of Esterhazy. It is an ancient house, of high rank, with great estates and a large fortune. Its members might well have been content to occupy so eminent a position. But the evil genius of the family continually drove them into extravagance, into making too great demands upon their resources, into squandering enormous sums on horses, diamonds, &c., with the object of displaying their wealth and importance; so that they fell into debt, and, finally, came to the verge of bankruptcy. The Esterhazy Lottery was then resorted to, and actually did tide them over their difficulties. The family was saved. But scarcely have they begun to breathe freely, and to regain their footing, when their evil genius once more inspires them, and the old game goes on again, until, at length, a time will come when even a lottery will no longer save them. The Austrian party to which we have already referred seems to us to present a close resemblance to the Esterhazys. The State is a fine property, with excellent natural advantages, a rich soil, and a great variety of valuable resources. But the policy of the proprietors is exactly the same as that of the Esterhazys. They must always overreach themselves, and try to be more than they really are. The evil genius of the State regards as a necessity what is in reality mere luxury, self-conceit, and the desire to cut a great figure in the world. In that way, the ancient and wealthy house has become a comparatively poor one, with a touch of the Quixotic, and a still stronger flavour of unfair dealing, which is very badly suited to our matter-of-fact age, when so much importance is attached to the ability to pay one’s way. Every now and then, the State, like its prototype the Esterhazys, escapes out of its troubles by means of a lottery, or of some not particularly respectable financial manœuvre; but then it suddenly puts forward fresh claims to a position beyond its means, presumes to play the part of a great Power, squanders millions on mobilisation, as its prototype does on stables and diamonds, and thus sinks deeper and deeper into financial difficulties. Instead of being able to satisfy its creditors by good management and a modest bearing, it moves steadily forward, without pause or rest, towards that bankruptcy which for a considerable space has only been a question of time.”
The foregoing is an almost literal reproduction of the Chief’s own words. I did not venture, however, to incorporate his concluding remarks, which were as follows: “The Hapsburgs have really become great through plundering old families—the Hungarians, for instance. At bottom they are only a family of police spies (polizeilich-Spitzelfamilie) who lived upon and made their fortune by confiscations.”
The second paragraph, which referred to a statement in the Indépendance Belge, pointed out that the relationship between the Orleans and the House of Hapsburg-Lorraine through the Duc d’Alençon, could not induce us Germans to regard them with any special favour. The paragraph was to the following effect. It is known that Trochu declined the offer of the Princes of the House of Orleans to take part in the struggle against us. The Indépendance Belge now states that the Duc d’Alençon, second son of the Duc de Nemours, who was at that time incapacitated by illness from joining his uncles and cousins in their offer of service, has now sought salvation by adopting a similar course. The Brussels organ adds the significant remark: “It will be remembered that the Duc d’Alençon is married to a sister of the Empress of Austria.” We understand that hint, and believe we shall be speaking in the spirit of German policy in replying to it as follows:—The Orleans are quite as hostile to us as the other dynasties that are fishing for the French throne. Their journals are filled with lies and abuse directed against us. We have not forgotten the hymn of praise which the Duc de Joinville raised after the battle of Wörth to the franctireurs who had acted like assassins. The only French Government we care for is that which can do us the least harm, because it is most occupied with its own affairs, and with maintaining its own position against its rivals. Otherwise Orleanists, Legitimists, Imperialists, and Republicans are all of the same value or no value to us. And as for those who throw out hints about the Austrian relationship, they would do well to be on their guard, as we are on ours. There is in Austria-Hungary one party in favour of Germany and another hostile to her,—a party that wants to continue the policy of Kaunitz in the Seven Years’ War, a policy of constant conspiracy with France against German interests, and particularly against Prussia. That is the policy which has recently been connected with Metternich’s name, and which was pursued from 1815 to 1866. Since then more or less vigorous attempts have been made to continue it. It is the party of which the younger Metternich is regarded as the leader. He has for years past been looked upon as the most ardent advocate of a Franco-Austrian alliance against Germany, and one of the principal instigators of the present war. If the Orleans believe that their prospects are improved by their connection with Austria, they ought also to know that for that very reason they have nothing to hope from us.
After Bucher, Keudell and myself had been for some time at tea, we were joined by the Chief, and afterwards by Hatzfeldt, who had been with the King. He said it was intolerably dull there.
“Grimm, the Russian Councillor of State, gave us a variety of wearisome particulars about Louis Quatorze and Louis Quinze. The W. worried us, and me in particular, with silly questions.” (He pouted his lips, assumed a killing smile, and bent his head to one side, imitating the Grand Duke’s affectations.) “He informed us that the students at St. Cyr all received a portrait of Madame Maintenon, and that he himself had one also. The King, who had occasionally rubbed his eyes, observed somewhat pointedly, ‘I suppose they were photographs.’ ‘No, oh no, engravings.’ ‘Well, then, what did you do with yours?’ the King asked. ‘Why, nothing, I kept it.’ The Grand Duke then asked me—he had obviously prepared the question in advance, and perhaps learnt it by heart—‘Is the Revue des Deux Mondes still published? An interesting newspaper.’ I replied, ‘I do not know, your Royal Highness.’ ‘Who is the editor?’ ‘I do not know that either.’ ‘So-o-o!’ The aides-de-camp were cruelly bored, and one of them nudged Lehndorff, begging him in a whisper to give the old fool a rap on the head with his crutch.”
“Yes, he is a fearful bore,” added the Chief. “What a miserable position it must be for a man whose father was a Court official to him or one like him, and who has to assume the same office himself—a chamberlain or something of that kind, who has to listen day after day to all that twaddle, and has no prospect of ever becoming anything else! The Queen is just such another. She was educated in the same school. I remember she once questioned me on a literary subject, I believe it was about some French book or other. ‘I do not know, your Majesty,’ I replied. ‘Ah, I suppose that does not interest you.’ ‘No, your Majesty.’ Radowitz was very strong on those subjects. He boldly gave every kind of information, and in that way secured a great deal of his success at Court. He was able to tell exactly what Maintenon or Pompadour wore on such and such a day; such and such a gewgaw on her neck, her head-dress trimmed with colibris or grapes, her gown pearl-grey or peacock-green with furbelows or lace of this or that description—exactly as if he had been there at the time. The ladies were all ear for these toilette lectures, which he poured forth with the utmost fluency.”
The conversation then turned upon Alexander von Humboldt, who appears to have been a courtier too, but not of the amusing variety. The Chief said: “Under the late King I was the sole victim when Humboldt chose to entertain the company in his own style. He usually read, often for hours at a time, the biography of some French savant or architect in whom nobody in the world except himself took the slightest interest. He stood by the lamp holding the paper close to the light, and occasionally paused for the purpose of making some learned observation. Although nobody listened to him he had the ear of the house. The Queen was all the time at work on a piece of tapestry, and certainly did not understand a word of what he said. The King looked through his portfolios of engravings, turning them over as noisily as possible, evidently with the intention of not hearing him. The young people on both sides and in the background enjoyed themselves without the least restraint, so that their cackling and giggling actually drowned his reading, which however rippled on without break or stop like a brook. Gerlach, who was usually present, sat on his small round chair which could barely accommodate his voluminous person, and slept so soundly that he snored. The King was once obliged to wake him, and said, ‘Pray, Gerlach, don’t snore so loud!’ I was Humboldt’s only patient listener, that is to say I sat silent and pretended to listen, at the same time following my own thoughts, until at length cold cake and white wine were served. It put the old gentleman in very bad humour not to be allowed to have the talk all to himself. I remember once there was somebody there who managed to monopolise the conversation, quite naturally, it is true, as he was a clever raconteur and spoke about things that interested everybody. Humboldt was beside himself. In a peevish surly temper he piled his plate so high (pointing with his hand) with pâté de foie gras, fat eels, lobsters’ tails, and other indigestible stuff,—a real mountain,—it was astounding that an old man could put it all away. At last his patience was exhausted, and he could not stand it any longer. So he tried to interrupt the speaker. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl,’ he began,—but the other went on with his story. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl, seven thousand fathoms above’—but he again failed to make any impression, and the narrative maintained its easy flow. ‘On the peak of Popocatapetl, seven thousand fathoms above the level of the sea,’ he exclaimed in a loud and excited tone,—but with as little success as before. The talker talked on, and the company had no ears for anybody else. That was something unheard of, outrageous! Humboldt threw himself back in morose meditation over the ingratitude of mankind, and shortly afterwards left. The Liberals made a great deal of him, and counted him as one of themselves. He was however a sycophant who aspired to the favour of Princes and who was only happy when basking in the sunshine of royalty. That did not prevent him however from criticising the Court afterwards to Varnhagen, and repeating all sorts of discreditable stories about it. Varnhagen worked these up into books, which I also bought. They are fearfully dear when one thinks how few lines in large type go to the page.” Keudell observed that they were nevertheless indispensable for historical purposes. “Yes, in a certain sense,” replied the Chief. “Taken individually the stories are not worth much, but as a whole they are an expression of the sourness of Berlin at a period when nothing of importance was happening. At that time everybody talked in that maliciously impotent way. It was a society which it would be hardly possible to realise to-day without the assistance of such books, unless one had personal experience of it. A great deal of outward show with nothing genuine behind it. I remember, although I was a very little fellow at the time, it must have been in 1821 or ’22. Ministers were still like strange animals, regarded with wonder as something mysterious. There was once a large party, which was at that time called an assemblée, given at Schuckmann’s—what a monstrous huge beast he was as a Minister! My mother also went there. I remember it as if it were to-day. She wore long gloves that went up to here.” (He pointed to the upper part of his arm.) “A dress with a short waist, her hair puffed out on both sides, and a big ostrich feather on her head.” (The Chief left this anecdote unfinished, if indeed there was any conclusion to it, and returned to his former subject.) “Humboldt, however,” he continued, “had a great many interesting things to tell when one was alone with him, about the times of Frederick William III., and in particular about his own first sojourn in Paris. As he liked me, owing to the attention with which I listened to him, he told me a number of pretty anecdotes. It was the same with old Metternich, with whom I spent a few days at Johannisberg. Thun afterwards said to me, ‘I do not know how you have managed to get round the old Prince, but he has indeed looked into you as if you were a golden goblet, and he told me if you do not come to an understanding with him then I really don’t know what to say.’ ‘I can explain that to you,’ I replied. ‘I listened to all his stories, and often prompted him to continue them. That pleases the garrulous old people.’”