CHAPTER VI

AT VARZIN AND FRIEDRICHSRUH

At the beginning of June, 1877, I had completed my plans for the

_Gartenlaube_ article. These had, in the interval, undergone a

considerable change, inasmuch as I now proposed to give reminiscences

from my diary during the campaign, and then to add a description of the

houses and estates belonging to the Prince. I wrote to Bucher in Berlin

respecting the visits I proposed to pay to the latter, and on the 6th

of July received from him the following answer: “At the beginning of

August the Prince will go to a watering place for about six weeks. Your

visit should therefore be arranged for the latter half of the month

of September. It would not be advisable to mention the matter now.

Report yourself about a week in advance, addressing yourself not to the

amanuensis who may happen to be at Varzin, but to the Chief personally.”

Seeing from the newspapers in the early part of October that the

Chancellor had returned from Gastein to Varzin, I wrote to him and

begged to be informed whether and when my visit would be agreeable. By

return of post I received the following, dated Varzin October 11th:--

“Dear Sir,--My father has received your friendly letter of

the 10th, for which he returns his best thanks. He has instructed me

to inform you in reply that he will be pleased to see you here in the

course of next week. He begs of you to let him know the time of your

arrival, if possible on the previous day, as otherwise we may not be

at home. Next Sunday or Monday, for example, we propose to drive out

to one of my father’s farms about four (German) miles from here, which

will occupy the whole day.

“With the most profound esteem,

“your devoted

“Count Herbert Bismarck.”

I acted on these suggestions. Before my departure, however, I requested

Bucher to make an appointment for me to see him in Berlin, so that he

might explain to me the customs of the house at Varzin, and the proper

way of behaving there. He replied on the 14th of October: “Owing to

the absence of the Secretary of State I must spend practically the

whole day at No. 76. A meeting there would, however, not be desirable.

As you may perhaps bring back instructions from Varzin, it will be

better that your journey thither should not be known. I will be at the

confectioner’s at the corner of the Leipzigerstrasse and Wilhelmstrasse

on Monday at 4 o’clock.” He had not arrived, however, when I went to

meet him, having been detained by business; but I was able to obtain

from him later on the necessary information.

On the 16th of October, shortly before 1 P.M., I started from

Berlin, first to Stettin, and from there to the little town of Schlawe,

in Further Pomerania, whence at that time one proceeded in the post

cart or in a private conveyance, whereas later on a connection was

established by railway _viâ_ Stolp.

In the period of nine years from the autumn of 1867 to spring 1877 the

Imperial Chancellor spent the greater part of his time at Varzin, from

the budding of the leaves until their fall, and sometimes well into

the winter. It was, therefore, a celebrated place to which the eyes of

the whole nation were directed. It was also to be expected that later

on the Prince would seldom, if ever, go there, as Friedrichsruh, his

estate in the Sachsenwald, was more convenient as a summer resort.

Varzin may accordingly undergo considerable change, and it therefore

seemed to me that it would be well to draw, for future generations, a

picture of it as it then appeared.

On the way to Schlawe, which I reached at 10 o’clock at night, there

was little to note, as I only proposed to occupy myself with the

Chancellor and his immediate surroundings. All that I found worth

recording were some pretty anecdotes. They belonged to Bismarck’s

Storm and Stress period, myths that had gathered in Pomerania about

the Kniephof estate and the “mad squire” who lived there from 1838 on.

The young Fräuleins and their mothers and cousins at the neighbouring

country seats shuddered, while their fathers and uncles shook their

heads and prophesied a horrible end, as they heard of extravagant

drinking bouts, of floods of champagne and porter mixed in “war bowls,”

of furious rides as if the wild huntsman were tearing past, of the

routing up of guests by pistol shots in the middle of the night, and

of all kinds of mischief and wantonness perpetrated in audacious

mockery of traditional usage. The old manor house of Kniephof, not

inappropriately rechristened “Kneiphof” by the boon companions, as

well as by the censors of the Junker (it has long ago been replaced

by a more elegant structure), could doubtless bear witness that a

great many of these stories were true, but also that many of them

were largely the product of imaginative neighbours. The misfortunes

predicted by staid folks have also remained mere fancy. As the world

knows, in spite of all the froth and foam of that period of ferment,

the young wine cleared itself in due time.

The old legends of the “wild Junker,” however, still wander up and

down the country, and one of them took a seat by me in the railway

carriage at a station between Koeslin and Schlawe, in the form of a

sturdy peasant. Among various other stories he told me that Bismarck,

on one occasion, instead of having a rickety old building at Kniephof

removed in the ordinary way, brought it down with cannon shot. A

reader of a critical turn will probably inquire where he could have

obtained possession of this piece of ordnance. I reply with the

counter-question: Whether my honest peasant had not merely heard the

sound though he did not see the shot fired? and whether the popular

legend which speaks through him had not, in the obscure impulses of its

creative activity, confounded the Minister Bismarck with the Junker?

We all dwelt with the latter in an old and rickety house known as the

“Germanic Confederation,” and that, indeed, as it could not be removed

otherwise, he was forced to bring down with the cannon of Königgrätz

(Sadowa).

On the 17th of October, at 9.30 A.M., a cold, wet morning,

which afterwards cleared up, I continued my journey to Varzin in a

hired conveyance. We reached the village in about three hours, and

another few hundred yards along the paved road brought us to the centre

of a group of buildings which formed the principal courtyard of the

Varzin country seat. The postilion wished to stop here. I told him,

however, to drive further on to the inn, in order that I might change

my clothes and send word of my arrival. I found quartered in this

miserable hut some Berlin policemen, who kindly vacated their room for

me, and reported my advent. After a while, their chief, a man with a

long beard, whom I had met at Versailles, came back and said: “His

Serene Highness begs you to come.” I had in the meantime pulled on a

dress-coat which I had brought with me, and now drove back to the door

of the house, where I was received by two servants, who took me and

my travelling bag to a room on the first floor. It was a large and

handsome chamber, divided into a sitting and bedroom by a curtain which

reached to the ceiling.

In a quarter of an hour I was called to lunch, which was laid in a

salon downstairs. Here I met, at first, only Count Herbert, General

Erkert, Geheimer-Regierungsrath Tiedemann, and a Miss Jenny Fatio, a

Frenchwoman from Orb, in West Switzerland, who had been for years in

the Prince’s service, and who now managed the house in the absence of

his wife, who was taking the waters at Toelz.

After a few minutes he himself came, having just returned from his

morning walk. He wore plain clothes, in which I had not previously seen

him--black coat, waistcoat, and trousers, and a white necktie with

blue and red spots. He shook hands, and was very friendly. After he

had sat down and eaten a few mouthfuls he observed: “As I was walking

in the wood and heard your horn, doctor, I thought to myself, that is

certainly some Croat or Magyar who wishes to discuss politics with me,

and come to my assistance with his advice. I was just on the point

of making myself scarce when I remembered that you had written from

Leipzig that you were coming. Once a man came to see me who sent word

that if I would not receive him he would hang himself. My reply was,

that if he must needs do so, I would have the newest and strongest rope

brought down from the garret for his use. He did not get to see me

all the same, and went off again without, so far as I am aware, doing

himself any harm.”

While he drank his milk and black coffee he read the letters, reports,

and telegrams received that morning, and instructed his son as to the

replies, at the same time discussing matters with Tiedemann, who, as

I afterwards learned, acted as kind of second amanuensis, principally

in administrative affairs. The Prince looked fresh and strong, and

seemed also to be in good humour. In reply to my question how Gastein

had agreed with him, he said that up to the present it was highly

satisfactory, and in particular that he slept better than formerly.

“It would have been still better,” he continued, “if a great deal

had not happened between Gastein and here. The next time I have to

go to Gastein, I shall let the King do what he likes afterwards, and

come straight back here, where I have no need to worry myself over

preconceived notions that cannot be altered.” As we stood up, observing

that I was in evening dress, he smiled and said: “Dress clothes!” and

then invited me to accompany him to the new wing that had been added

to the house, and in which he had taken up his own residence. After he

had shown me those rooms, I asked if he had received the “friction”

articles in the _Grenzboten_, and if he was satisfied with them. He

replied: “Yes; only they followed each other too rapidly, and in one

of them you allowed it to be seen too clearly in what quarter you had

received your information.” I expressed my regret, excusing myself by

stating that Dietze’s communication in the _Magdeburger Zeitung_ would

have considerably weakened their effect upon the public if I had passed

it over in silence.

In the afternoon Erkert started for St. Petersburg. After he had gone

the Prince asked me, “Do you ride, doctor?” “I do not fall off, your

Serene Highness,” I said, “and in the East I have repeatedly, for a

fortnight at a time, spent eight to ten hours daily on horseback; but

I am afraid I should not cut too good a figure, and I should not like

to make an exhibition of myself before you.” He then gave orders that I

should be taken over part of his estate in a carriage. He himself and

Count Herbert proceeded on horseback in another direction, the Prince

wearing a soft green-grey felt hat with a very broad brim, a grey

jacket lined with fur, which made him look stouter than he really is,

and a quilted silk vest.

We went to dinner between 5 and 6, and were afterwards joined by the

Councillor of Embassy, von Holstein. The Chief was in high good humour

and very talkative. He first spoke about Moritz von Blankenburg, whom

he described as “my oldest and dearest friend” (I now forget how

his name came up), asserting that he had “acted very imprudently in

the affair with that shabby Diest.” “I had told him,” he said, “in

the course of conversation on the Bodencredit shares, that possibly

Bleichröder, who had the administration of my money, might have bought

some such securities for me on one occasion. I could not really know,

however, as all my surplus income went to Bleichröder, who made all

large payments on my behalf, and acted on his own discretion in these

matters. There would therefore be nothing wrong in it if he made

some money for me without my knowledge in securities of this kind.

Blankenburg had related what I had said as a fact, and Diest made use

of this in Court. Bleichröder ultimately proved from his books that no

such purchase was ever made. That was of course very satisfactory, but

in the meantime Blankenburg’s clumsiness had thrown a temporary slur

upon my good name, and that led to our falling out.”

This reminded him of an attempt that had been made by one Löwenstein

to bribe him after he had been appointed Minister at St. Petersburg

and was about to start for his post. The Prince said: “He was an agent

who worked at the same time for Buol and Manteuffel, spying, carrying

out commissions, &c. He came to me with a letter of introduction from

Buol. On my asking what I could do for him, he said he had come to tell

me how I could do a good business whereby I might make 20,000 thalers

or even more. I replied that I did not speculate, and, moreover, had

no money for that purpose. Oh! I did not need any, I could manage it

in another way. I said I could not follow him--what was I to do? If I

would use my influence in St. Petersburg to bring about good relations

between Russia and Austria. I pretended that I wished to consider the

proposal, but did not trust him. Löwenstein pointed to his letter

of introduction. I considered that insufficient, and wished to have

a promise in writing. The Jew, however, was too sharp for that, and

said the letter was a sufficient guarantee. I then turned rough, and

as he was leaving told him the truth, viz., that I never dreamt of

accepting his offer, and threatened to pitch him down the stairs. He

thereupon took himself off, but not before he had threatened me with

the anger of Austria. His proposal was better appreciated by Manteuffel

and Schleinitz, who doubtless may still be receiving subventions from

Vienna.”

There was then some question of telegraphing to the Crown Prince,

congratulating him on his birthday, the Chief being in favour of doing

so “for form’s sake.” He then added, “I purposely omitted to do that

in his mother’s case--from a feeling of what is due to my personal

honour--(turning to me, who sat at his right) for Augusta’s intrigues

against me still continue, and that is one of the reasons why I have no

wish to return to Berlin.”

Afterwards, at tea, we were joined by the Prince, who spoke on a

variety of subjects, and particularly of his estates and their

relatively poor returns. Apart from the mills, Varzin brought him in

nothing. It was hardly possible to dispose of the grain, as the railway

tariffs for foreign corn were too low. It was just the same with

timber, which realised very little, owing to competition, and even the

neighbourhood of Hamburg to the Sachsenwald was of little use to him at

present. He then spoke about the powder factory which a Würtemberger

had established on a piece of ground belonging to him on the banks of

the Elbe, describing it and the manner in which it was worked. He said

that the Würtemberger paid him an annual rent of 12,000 marks, and

that after a certain number of years the factory would become his, the

Prince’s, property. The lessee was doing a very good business during

the present war, as he was earning 150 per cent.

The time passed in this way up to 11 o’clock, when the Prince, looking

at his watch said, “The gentlemen will excuse a sleepy man,” and went

off to bed. Count Herbert, Holstein and I remained sitting for some

time longer over a glass of grog; and I handed the Count, for his

father, Nos. 1 and 2 of the “Reminiscences,” which had in the meantime

appeared in the _Gartenlaube_, after the Chief had seen them in proof,

made a few alterations, and struck out about a dozen lines.

On Thursday, the 18th of October, we had bright sunshine in the

morning, then rain, and finally, towards 10 o’clock, a heavy fall of

snow, which came down in thick flakes, covering the ground three inches

deep in less than half an hour. I thus had an opportunity of seeing

Varzin in its winter dress.

When the snow had stopped I inspected the exterior of the house and the

buildings annexed to it, taking a walk round the whole premises.

Internally as well as externally, there is no pretension, no love of

luxury about the residence of the Chancellor and his family, though

it is at the same time pleasant and comfortable throughout. It is the

house of a prosperous country gentleman, rather than the château of a

Prince. The floors, it is true, are almost all inlaid, but the ceilings

of the smaller rooms are simply whitewashed. There are no luxurious

carpets, portières or curtains, or artistic carving, or clocks of great

value. Gilt chairs covered with silk, marble tables and consoles are

only to be found in the reception-rooms and in the apartment of the

Princess. There are very few oil paintings, but on the other hand,

there are numerous comfortable niches affording a pleasant prospect

from the windows. Nearly all the sitting-rooms are well supplied

with cushioned seats, rocking-chairs, divans and sofas, and all have

earthenware stoves with chimney-pieces. These are heated on the first

approach of even moderately cool weather, as the Prince--like all

nervous people--is fond of warmth, which is probably necessary for his

health. The autumn here is also considerably colder than in Central

Germany.

Having returned to the ground floor, let us first visit the

dining-room. This is of medium size. The wall-paper shows a design in

brown and dark blue arabesques on a grey-blue ground. The furniture

consists of a yellow table over which hangs a lamp with a shade and

globe in opalescent glass; a carpet with a design in black and red; a

leather armchair, in which the Prince presides at dinner; about a dozen

plain yellow cane-bottom chairs; two ancient-looking cupboards in dark

oak, and a buffet of the same material. An owl perched on the corner of

one cupboard, and another bird of prey that occupies a similar position

on the second, watch the guests at the table with their glassy eyes. On

the wall opposite the two windows hang a number of framed lithographs

of scenes in the North American prairies.

Dinner was served here at 5 to 6 o’clock in the evening, and during my

stay at Varzin it usually lasted till after 7, the conversation being

for the most part very lively, and sometimes of memorable interest.

At the end of the dinner the Prince used to feed his dogs with his

own hands, giving them cooked meat from a plate. If I confess that

the tall figure in the armchair at the head of the table and the two

big dogs on the right and left with their eyes fixed upon his face

recalled to my mind pictures which I had seen of the god Odin and his

two wolves, I shall possibly incur the censure of severe critics with

“masculine souls” and hyper-serious (or hyper-comical) self-conceit,

who are accustomed to fling about such polite terms as “flunkeyism” and

so forth. Their disapproval will disturb or affect me as little as the

chatter of our literary financiers in the less distinguished organs of

the daily press about my views of the Chancellor. First plunder, and

then abuse--such is their wont. Let them clap their hands or hiss, it

will always remain a matter of complete indifference to me!

So far as possible nothing was consumed at table that was not bred,

grown or shot on the property. The Prince himself said to me one

evening: “Almost everything that is eaten here comes from my estates,

including Schönhausen--meat, fowl, game and fish, the vegetables, the

artichokes, which of course do not thrive so well here as in the south,

the peaches, the walnuts and the hazel nuts. But I must occasionally

buy a sheep from the farmers, and my household is not large enough for

me to kill an ox. It is only Dietze who can do that, as he employs so

many people in his distillery and sugar factory, and feeds them.” It is

scarcely necessary to add that the cellar at Varzin is well stocked.

We now continue our stroll through the house. Passing through the

folding doors in the wall with the pictures of prairie life we enter

the drawing-room, which is about the same size as the dining-room.

The wall-paper, which is surrounded by a narrow gold border, shows a

flowered design of a conventional pattern, in reddish-brown and gold

upon a fawn-coloured ground. The furniture consists of tables with

marble tops and gilt legs, cushioned chairs and divans covered in

bright red silk, a large mirror in a gold frame, and a marble console.

On the latter stands a lamp with a bronze figure of one of the soldiers

that stormed the Danish redoubts at Düppel in Schleswig, a present from

the King, and two rose-coloured porcelain vases encircled by white

serpents. In a corner stands a large vase in blue and gold porcelain,

with a half-length picture of the Emperor William, who presented it to

the Prince on the occasion of his silver wedding. In another corner

there is a terra-cotta statue of the Emperor. On the walls are a few

oil paintings, a woodland scene from the Varzin district, a view of

Gastein, two types of female beauty, an incident of the battle of Mars

la Tour, and near it a full-length figure of a soldier of the last

century, in a yellowish-white uniform, cuirass, three-cornered hat and

jack boots, holding a musket in his hand. If I rightly understood,

this is a great grandfather of the Chancellor’s, who met his death at

Czaslau as a colonel of dragoons. In the corner of the breakfast- and

billiard-room, where the conservatory joins on to the verandah, there

is a bronze statue, a copy of Rand’s goddess of victory, also presented

by the old Emperor.

I do not know how it came to pass that on seeing this statue I thought

less of its beauty than of an instance of the Prince’s graciousness. In

the summer of 1871, when the triumphal procession of the German army

passed the stand that had been erected in the Königgrätzer Strasse

against the wall of the garden attached to the Foreign Office for the

officials of the Ministry, the Imperial Chancellor looked up to us as

he was riding by, and taking one of three laurel wreaths that were

hanging on the pommel of his saddle, threw it across to us.

Another work of art in the room also evoked strange memories. On

the wall opposite the windows in a niche between the two stoves, a

bright-coloured porcelain vase on a pedestal draped in red attracts

the eye. It is about four or five feet high. The front shows a seated

female figure, a Germania, perhaps, and the back some trophies in gold.

As the Prince himself explained, this figure has a history with a

certain symbolic significance. It was presented to the Chancellor in

1870, having been at first intended for Hardenberg, for some reason or

through some dispensation of fate to whom it was never given. Looked

at more closely, the trophies turned out to be French arms captured in

the war of liberation from 1813 to 1815. The female figure at that time

represented Borussia.

Near the second stove against the wall by which this historic vase

stands, and opposite one end of the billiard table, begins a large

recess, three sides of which are occupied by a rather lengthy divan,

while opposite to it stands a piano of the Princess, who has the

reputation of being an excellent player. During my stay the Chancellor

was accustomed to seat himself in a large easy chair when taking his

coffee, which was served immediately after dinner, and lighting one of

his long student’s pipes, while another was held ready in reserve, he

smoked and conversed with his guests, making--as was almost always the

case on such occasions--many memorable remarks and statements. I will

here reproduce some of these which I noted down before going to bed on

the evenings upon which they were made.

On the 18th of October, on my remarking that one of his first services

had been to keep the King from attending the Congress of Princes at

Frankfurt, the Chancellor’s reply agreed in all important particulars

with the statement he made to us during the campaign in France. “Yes,”

he said, “that was a difficult task. The Most Gracious insisted on

going (to Frankfurt) at any cost; a crowned head, the King of Saxony,

had come to him as a messenger, and there was now no help for it. I

managed to talk him out of the idea, but with the greatest difficulty,

and he was quite nervous about it. I said to Beust, however, ‘If you

do not leave us in peace now, I will send to Rastatt for a detachment

and post a sentry outside the King’s door, who will let no one in.’”

I then turned the conversation to the portraits in the Chief’s study

in Berlin, and he related first how he came into possession of that

of King Victor Emmanuel. When the later visited Berlin he brought as

a present for him, the Chancellor, a snuff-box set with diamonds, but

first made inquiry as to whether he would be prepared to accept it.

“Of course I declined,” he continued, “as if it had become known it

would have looked like bribery. The snuff-box, with the brilliants,

was believed to be worth about fifty thousand francs. He then merely

gave me a small picture, writing his name and a few friendly words

under it. The King of Bavaria, however, is grateful to me for having

saved him from a loss of territory in 1866. Our most gracious master

would insist upon having Ansbach and Bayreuth, because they had been

in the possession of his ancestors. I said to him that the people

there had long since forgotten that, and had grown accustomed to

the union with Bavaria. The King wished that each (of the defeated

German Princes) should cede a slice of territory--as a punishment.

He wanted to play the part of divine justice. I remarked to him that

that would not do, it must be left to God, and that no more territory

should be taken than was required. He then wanted to take Northern

Bohemia--Reichenberg--Karlsbad--or Austrian Silesia from Austria, and,

on military grounds, to take Lausitz from Saxony. I said, however, that

either the whole country should be kept, or, if that was impossible,

none of it. For a long time he was not at all disposed to agree to

this. Saxony owes her preservation to the Austrians, who for once

behaved in a decent way. The Ultramontane sentiments at Court, and

the friendship between the Emperor Francis Joseph and the then Crown

Prince Albert doubtless also contributed to this result. But I am

not to blame for the terms of peace. At that time I lay dangerously

ill at Putbus. Savigny is responsible, having, as an Ultramontane,

spared the Ultramontane Dresden Court as much as he possibly could,

and in particular allowed them more military independence than was

desirable. When I heard roughly what had been agreed I offered him my

congratulations, but when I read the paragraphs more closely I withdrew

them.”

We then spoke of the Bohemian campaign, and in the course of the

conversation the Chief, among other things, recalled the following

characteristic episodes: “In the council of war at Nikolsburg, which

was held in my room, the others wished to continue the campaign,

proceeding right into Hungary. I was, however, against this. The

cholera, the Hungarian steppes, the questionable change of front, as

well as political and other considerations, gave me pause. But they

held to their plan, and it was in vain that I spoke once more against

it. I then left them and went into the bedroom, which was only divided

from where they sat by a wooden partition, closed the door and threw

myself on the bed, where I sobbed aloud from nervous excitement. After

a while they became quite silent in the other room, and their plan

was subsequently dropped. When it was feared that the French would

intervene, Moltke wished to retire to the Elbe, let the Austrians be,

and turn upon the French, who were then weak. I convinced him, however,

that that would be a mistake, as 100,000 South Germans, with at least

25,000 red-breeches, might prove extremely inconvenient to us.”

The Imperial Chancellor is regarded as a man of iron character, whose

self-confidence never fails. Many will think that he must look back

upon his deeds and creations with something of the feeling with which

God the Father on the seventh day regarded the world He had made. I am

not disposed to question that. But he has also softer moments--moments

of apparent or real dissatisfaction with his achievements and his

fate--a vein of melancholy or, perhaps we should say, pensive

sentiment, that finds expression as _Weltschmerz_. He sometimes recalls

Achilles in his tent, sometimes Solomon, exclaiming: “Then I looked on

all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labour that I had

laboured to do: and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit,

and there was no profit under the sun.” Many of these expressions also

recall the spirit in which Hamlet sadly meditates:--

“How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable

Seem to me all the uses of this world!

Fye on’t! O fye! ’Tis an unweeded garden

That grows to seed: things rank and gross in nature

Possess it merely.”

Perhaps it is some mystic change in his spirit, or possibly it may be

an affection of the nerves, arising from bodily conditions such as

over-excitement and fatigue.

Thus on Sunday, the 21st of October, while seated in the position

I have already described, and after gazing for a while into space,

he complained to us that he had had little pleasure or satisfaction

from his political life. He had made no one happy thereby, neither

himself, nor his family, nor others. We protested, but he continued as

follows:--

“There is no doubt, however, that I have caused unhappiness to great

numbers. But for me three great wars would not have taken place, eighty

thousand men would not have been killed and would not now be mourned

by parents, brothers, sisters, and widows.” “And sweethearts,” I

added, somewhat prosaically and inconsiderately. “And sweethearts,” he

repeated. “I have settled that with God, however. But I have had little

if any pleasure from all that I have done, while on the other hand I

have had a great deal of worry, anxiety, and trouble,” a theme upon

which he then dwelt at some length.

We kept silent, and I was greatly surprised. I afterwards heard from

Holstein and Bucher that during the last few years he frequently

expressed himself in a similar strain. But I would repeat that such

utterances can surely be but symptoms of a temporary and sentimental

estimate of his mission and success. He is nevertheless a man of deep

feeling, as Fräulein Jenny told me on the morning after this outburst

that the “tears ran down his cheeks” when he first spoke of his falling

out with Moritz von Blankenburg.... The principal room in the new

building is a large hexagonal chamber, used by the Chancellor when he

is working by himself. Here also the prevailing characteristic of the

arrangements is a refined simplicity. The most prominent object in the

room is a huge fireplace, nearly four metres in width and about five

in height. It consists of green glazed earthenware, and, according

to the Prince, was manufactured at the Friedenthal Pottery Works at

Gussmansdorf in Silesia. It is adorned on both sides with fluted

columns, over which two small coats of arms have been placed. In the

middle of the chimney piece appears the motto: “In trinitate robur”;

and over this, in a yellow field, the eagle of the new German Empire;

while the whole is surmounted by a white plaster bust of the Emperor

William. The cornice upon which it rests is supported upon each side

by eagles on laurel branches which form part of the chimney piece

itself. The arms and motto have a history of their own. The former are

the escutcheons of Alsace and Lorraine. When the Imperial Chancellor

was raised to the rank of Prince, the Emperor thought of having these

emblems embodied in his new arms. “But,” as the Prince informed me

while standing before this chimney piece, “I considered the title of

Duke of Lorraine too grand for me. His Majesty then wished to put

the eagle in my escutcheon. But that too seemed to me a questionable

measure. I feared that the eagle might devour my clover. A way out of

the difficulty was then found by giving me supporters with the banners

of Alsace and Lorraine.”

The motto, on the other hand, dates from an earlier period, though

it is not that of the Bismarcks. When Bismarck was at Frankfurt as

Minister to the Diet, the King of Denmark invested him with the Grand

Cross of the Danebrog. Now, it is customary to have the names and

arms of the holders of this decoration set up in the Cathedral at

Copenhagen, with a device which each member is to select for himself.

“I then pitched upon this one, ‘In trinitate robur,’”--said the

Chancellor “the oak in the trefoil, the old blazon of our family.” “And

‘my trust is in the Triune God’” I suggested. “Quite right, I meant it

so,” he added, thus confirming my suggestion in a friendly but serious

tone.

Near the fire, in which huge beech logs splutter and blaze, stand a

number of high cushioned chairs. In the next wall is a door which opens

into the Chancellor’s bedroom. Between this and the window there is

a glass case with arms and antiquities, its most noteworthy contents

being, to my mind, a collection of prehistoric lance heads and a heavy

gold arm ring of spiral form with a green patina, which had been found

in a barrow; a rifled pistol with which the Prince, while he was still

a Junker, performed all sorts of miracles of marksmanship; a hunting

knife which used to accompany him when out bear hunting in Russia,

and two large Japanese Daimio swords of the finest steel, with which

the Chancellor was invested by the Mikado in the year 1872--invested,

inasmuch as these took the place of the decorations bestowed by other

potentates upon those whom they desire to honour. Near the swords lay

a scimitar in a violet velvet sheath. The Prince took it out and drew

it from its cover. It was a genuine Damascus blade. “This was presented

to me by the Bey of Tunis,” he said. “It is believed to be a fine old

weapon of the time of the Crusades. I have also received an Order from

him, but not the right one. He sent two, one for the Emperor and the

other for me. The one was set with brilliants as large as hazel nuts,

the other was common tinsel. Curiously enough he had not said to whom

they should be given. I mentioned it to my gracious master, and asked

what he thought. He said that of course the one with the brilliants was

for him. It was doubtless worth some 50,000 thalers.”

The large window that now follows has double curtains--white on the

outside, and lined with the same flowered chintz with which the

furniture in the room is covered. In this bay window stand a walnut

writing-table, inlaid with designs in ivory, and a small sofa and easy

chair; while on the wall hangs a plan of Varzin and of the estates

attached thereto. This is said to be one of the Chief’s favourite

haunts. It is easy to believe it, as it offers a pleasant prospect--a

pond in the foreground, on one side a corner of the park with two fine

trees, an oak and a beech, standing alone, and under them a bench which

invites to rest, while in the background a stretch of rising arable

land, which in summer delights the eye with waving fields of corn,

leads to dark wooded heights beyond.

Opposite the bay window, and with its back turned towards it, there

is a large sofa with a number of cushions. Among them is one of light

blue velvet, on which the following is embroidered in silver thread:

“Exodus xxxiii. 12; Psalms xviii. 28.” Beneath this inscription is a

crown, and a monogram formed of the letters O, B and E, with the date

“28 July, 1847-1872.” It is a gift presented to the Chancellor on his

silver wedding. As I can hardly expect all my gentle readers to have a

Bible at hand, I quote the passages referred to: “And Moses said unto

the Lord, See, thou sayest unto me, Bring up this people: and thou hast

not let me know whom thou wilt send with me. Yet thou hast said, I know

thee by name, and thou hast found grace in my sight.” “For thou wilt

light my candle: the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness.”

A narrow dark passage leads from the Chancellor’s bedroom, which also

opens on to the park, down a few steps on the right to the bathroom.

On the same side, through a mysterious little doorway at the head of

a narrow winding staircase, the eye loses itself in the darkness of

what seems to be a bottomless abyss. Inspired by the spirit of George

Louis Hesekiel, I suggested “The dungeon keep?” The Prince smiled as

he replied, “Only a postern gate.” And he then explained it enables him

to retreat unobserved when he is threatened with tiresome visits. The

prospect of such visits suggested the idea of providing an escape when

the house was being built. “When unwelcome acquaintances make their

appearance,” he said, “I slip out here, and bring myself in safety to a

certain bench in the park, where I wait till I am told that the danger

is over. We have named this door after Senfft-Pilsach, a loquacious

bore; but you must not publish that, as he is still living.” The length

of this subterranean passage, the exit from it, and the place of safety

to which the pursued makes his escape, must remain untold so long as

the Prince spends part of his time at Varzin, as otherwise the object

of the contrivance would be frustrated. The particulars now given are

intended to warn those who may consider this contrivance to be directed

against them.

I now continue the notes of my stay at Varzin....

_Friday, October 19th._--At lunch while the Chief was reading his

letters and despatches, he mentioned to us among other things that

his wife had written to him from Toelz that King Lewis had recently

sent her a magnificent bouquet, at least three-quarters of a metre in

diameter. We learnt at the same time that the Ruler of all the Bavarias

still sends the Chancellor letters, expressing his anxiety about the

continued existence of his country by the side of or incorporated with

the German Empire. Hermann von Arnim was then mentioned, and the Chief

said: “Yes, the Commercial Court at Leipzig (sitting as a Disciplinary

Court) has had the case before it for an age without coming to any

decision, although he does not deny the authorship (of the insulting

pamphlet against the Prince, which he published whilst holding an

appointment at the Foreign Office). That, however, is conceivable. Pape

(the President of the Court at Leipzig), now that he feels himself

safe in harbour, displays his Westphalian Ultramontanism. Formerly

he affected great loyalty to the Empire, and was a stout radical.”

The Prince’s remarks on the Russian campaign against Turkey were also

deserving of notice. On mention being made of the unfavourable turn

which things had taken for Russia, he said: “If I were the Emperor

Alexander I should now withdraw my troops to the left bank of the

Danube and remain there for the winter, at the same time announcing

in a manifesto to the Powers that if necessary I should continue the

war for seven years, even if I were obliged in the end to carry it on

with peasants armed with pitchforks and flails. I could depend upon my

Russians. Next spring I should seize a few of the large fortifications

on the Danube and then gradually push forward.”

In the evening the Prince had four other guests in addition to Holstein

and myself, Tiedemann having departed in the meantime. These were

_Regierungspräsident_ von Auerswald, a landed proprietor, a high Post

Office official from Köslin, and the Post and Telegraph clerk from

Wussow. Among other things we drank some Rhine wine of the year 1811,

which came from Borchard’s in Berlin. In conversation with the Köslin

gentlemen the Chief spoke chiefly of a redistribution of districts in

Pomerania--a subject which I did not understand, with the result that

I failed to remember what was said. He then mentioned that in a short

time he would probably make similar arrangements in the Sachsenwald to

those which now existed at Varzin, as Friedrichsruh was nearer Berlin

and the climate there was milder than that of Further Pomerania, while

his private interests and business there were also of more importance.

He then again complained of the small returns he received from Varzin.

In the course of the subsequent conversation he remarked: “I have a

mind to get the King to appoint me Aide-de-Camp General. That would

be quite constitutional, and I should exercise more influence in that

position than as Minister. How was it under Frederick William IV.? At

that time Manteuffel could do nothing against the will of Gerlach, who

was Aide-de-Camp General.”

While taking our coffee after the Köslin gentlemen had left, the Chief

gave a somewhat different version to that which he related at Ferrières

of the cigar incident at Frankfurt. He said: “It was in the Military

Commission. At first only Buol smoked. Then one day I pulled a cigar

out of my case, and asked him to give me a light. With a look of

surprise at my audacity he gave it to me, to the profound astonishment

of the other Powers. The incident was reported to the various Courts

and also to Berlin. Then followed an inquiry from the late King, who

did not smoke himself, and probably did not appreciate the thing.

Thereupon the two Great Powers alone smoked for perhaps six months.

Then suddenly Bavaria also appeared with a cigar, and after a time

Saxony followed suit. Finally, Würtemberg also felt it necessary not to

remain behind, but this was obviously compulsory sacrifice to dignity,

for he puffed his yellow weed with an air of surly determination, and

afterwards laid it down half smoked. It was only Hesse-Darmstadt that

abstained altogether, probably not feeling equal to such competition.”

At tea, which was served in the Princess’s room, the Prince suddenly

stood up, went to his wife’s writing-table, and began to scribble away

on a large sheet of paper. He then came to me, handed me the writing,

and said, “There, but take care, it is still wet.” It was the letter

of introduction to Schönhausen and Friedrichsruh which I had asked

for on the previous afternoon, as I wished to start next morning. I

was very pleased, and thanked him. “I find it very difficult to write

with a pen,” he said; “but then you wished to have it in my own hand.”

“All the more honour for me, your Serene Highness,” I replied. “Now I

have the souvenir I desire.” “But why do you wish to leave so soon?”

he said. “Stay a little longer. You are not at all in the way, and you

should see a little more of Varzin.” I thanked him and said I should be

delighted to remain a day or two longer, as I was only too happy to be

near him. He said: “But you must allow me sometimes to go out walking

or riding alone.”

_Saturday, October 20th._--The snow still lies to a considerable depth

about the house and grounds, but it is thawing. In the morning I

took another turn through the park, going farther and in a different

direction. Back to lunch early, and finding only Fräulein Fatio, had

a chat with her. She said the Prince was very pleased at my visit.

She related part of her own biography, and gave me some particulars

of the Princess, who is very simple in her habits, dresses herself,

and is a diligent housekeeper, &c. Her mother was greatly opposed to

her marriage with Bismarck, and said one day she would rather see her

daughter married to a swineherd than to him. She then spoke of the

Countess Marie, who, according to her account, was very musical, but

did not play as well as her mother. She had also other accomplishments,

but was somewhat phlegmatic, and neglected many things, as, for

instance, languages. But she could be extremely energetic when she took

anything into her head. For example, once when they refused to let her

have the carriage in which she was accustomed to drive to the future

mother-in-law’s, she immediately jumped into a cab.

After lunch another run through the park as far as the large pond on

the edge of the big clearing. After that an excursion with Holstein

beyond the clearing and into the beechwood on the Schwarzenberg. The

Baron told me that at present the Chief was not on good terms with the

King, but that, on the other hand, he was on an excellent footing with

the Crown Prince and also with the Princess. It was desirable that

this should continue, as the Prince intended to resign on the death

of the Emperor. He did not believe the Chancellor’s statement that he

would then return as the Leader of the Opposition was meant seriously.

If he ever saw one stone after another of the structure he had raised

crumbling away he would soon die of grief--_quod Deus bene vertat!_

On our return we learnt that the Chief had intended to take a drive

with us. At dinner we mentioned where we had been, and I praised

the park for its great extent and variety. The Prince said: “It is

certainly beautiful, and formerly it was even larger than it is now.

My predecessor could wander for seven or eight miles through his own

forests, mostly deciduous trees. He had those great clearings made and

turned into arable land, as it was believed that where beeches had

grown the soil would prove good. But the wind dried up the thin layer

of mould and blew it away, and I am now replanting it.”

He then spoke of the Chorow farm, which Count Blumenthal had bought

“out of the heart of the estate,” and which had now been repurchased by

him. “I afterwards let it,” he said, “to the woman who had previously

farmed it. She is also one of those by whose death I should benefit,

as I am receiving a thousand thalers less rent from her than I could

get if she died and I were no longer bound to her, as I have been for

fourteen years.”

Of his further remarks during dinner the following are of special

interest. We were talking of the result of the war with France, and

the Chief said: “When I was made Prince, the King wished to put Alsace

and Lorraine into my armorial bearings. I should have preferred

Schleswig-Holstein, as that is the diplomatic campaign of which I am

most proud.” Holstein asked: “You wished that from the beginning?”

“Yes, certainly,” replied the Prince, “immediately after the death

of the King of Denmark. But it was difficult. Everything was against

me--the Crown Prince and Princess on account of the relationship, the

King himself at first and, indeed, for a long time, Austria, the small

German States, and the English, who grudged us such an acquisition.

It would have been possible to arrange matters with Napoleon,--he

thought he could place us under an obligation to him in that way. And

finally at home the Liberals were opposed to it, suddenly discovering

the legitimacy of princely rights--but that was only their hatred and

envy of me--and the Schleswig-Holsteiners themselves would not hear of

it either. All these, and I know not who else besides. At that time

we had a sitting of the Council of State, at which I made one of the

longest speeches of which I ever delivered myself, and said a great

deal that to my audience must have seemed unheard of and impossible.

I pointed out to the King, for instance, that all his predecessors,

with the exception of his late brother, had added to their territories,

and asked him whether he wished to follow that brother’s example. To

judge from the amazement depicted on their faces they evidently thought

I had made too free with the bottle that morning. Costenoble drew up

the protocol, and when I looked through it afterwards I found that the

passages in which I had expressed myself most clearly and forcibly

were omitted. They contained precisely my best arguments. I called his

attention to this and protested. Yes, he said, that was so, but he

thought I should be glad if he left it out. I replied, ‘Not at all. You

must have thought, I suppose, that I had taken a little too much. But I

insist upon all that I said appearing exactly as I said it.’”

It is true, the Minister observed, as we were afterwards talking of

our adventures in France, that he has no longer a good memory, except

for matters of business. (“If I have read anything in a despatch or

elsewhere in the course of business, I remember it,” he said, “but

in other things I am not sure of myself.”) The foregoing statement,

however, agrees in all important particulars with what he told me at

Reims on the 11th of September, 1870, about those events.

Including the time spent over our coffee in the billiard-room, this

sitting was an exceptionally long one. We sat together for nearly two

and a half hours, and the Prince spoke on a great number of interesting

topics, especially political movements, events, and personages. He

described exhaustively the way in which Manteuffel (the Minister, not

the general) tried to make money on the Stock Exchange, utilising

his official position for that purpose. “The Embassies had to send

him the Bourse quotations or something of that kind, extracts,

reports on special securities, which he received from the telegraph

office with the despatches earlier than the bankers. He then got his

agent--Löwenstein, who tried to bribe me on behalf of Buol--to make use

of this information without delay. He also wished to employ me in these

manœuvres when I was at Frankfurt, but I took no part in them.” He then

repeated his former statement that Manteuffel was bribed by foreign

Governments, and asserted the same of Schleinitz, whom he had always

regarded with disgust, as an individual who was physically unclean,

with dirty linen, a face that was never properly washed, “the grease

oozing out of his pores.” Speaking of the corruptibility of mankind,

he suspected that there were also some rotten fish of that description

on the press. He said: “I have never had any doubt so far as Brass is

concerned. He took whatever was offered to him by friend and foe. And

doubtless the _Kölnische Zeitung_ was not much better. It was in favour

of the Danes because the English were on their side; and Kruse, who was

formerly a private tutor at Palmerston’s, was drawing a pension from

Broadlands. Now it was in favour of the Turks, because Oppenheim had

Turkish securities which he wished to unload on to other people.”

At tea he spoke again of the “conflict” and his conversation with

the King at that time, which he had related to me on my last visit

to him in Berlin. He now said: “During the ‘conflict’ they thought

out a variety of measures which they intended to take against me--the

scaffold, or at least the confiscation of my property. I consequently

raised as much money as I possibly could upon my estates. I was then

called the Prussian Strafford--you remember Parliament condemned him

to the block in the Revolution of 1641. The King was also afraid of

being beheaded--the women had talked him into it at Baden. He wished to

abdicate if he could not find any one who would govern with him. When I

went to meet him on the railway he was quite discouraged and depressed.

At length he asked me: ‘But what if they were to send us both to the

scaffold?’ At first I merely said, ‘What then?’ but I afterwards added,

‘You are thinking of Louis XVI., but I would remind you of Charles I.

He died with honour, at all events.’ That produced a very sobering

effect upon him. I had touched his conscience as an officer.”

From this incident he came to speak of the behaviour of the King at

Ems in presence of the attacks of Benedetti, and said: “I soon noticed

that he was beginning to take fright and was ready to pocket another

Olmütz. I was at that time in Varzin, and as I drove through Wussow, on

the way to Berlin, the Pastor stood outside his house and saluted me

as I passed. I described a sabre cut in the air to show that we meant

business. But the news in Berlin was by no means good. I accordingly

telegraphed to him (the King) that I requested my dismissal from office

if he received Benedetti again. No answer came, and I telegraphed once

more that if he had now received Benedetti I should regard it as an

acceptance of my resignation and return to Varzin. Then came a telegram

of two hundred lines (doubtless words) from Abeken. I thereupon invited

Moltke and Roon to a dinner of three, and told them how the matter

stood. Roon was beside himself, and so was Moltke. I asked if we were

quite prepared for such a war. He replied that so far as it was humanly

possible to foresee we might hope for victory. I then took the two

hundred lines, and, without altering a word of the King’s, reduced

them to twenty, which I read over to them. They said it would do in

that form. I then had it sent to all our Embassies, with the exception

of Paris, of course, and got it inserted in the Berlin papers. And it

really did do. The French took it excessively ill.”

_Sunday, October 21st._--A beautiful bright day. The snow has

disappeared. At lunch the Chief, while reading through despatches and

telegrams as usual, said to Holstein: “Write that it would be desirable

for the press to let it be understood that it is intended, in case of a

French _coup d’état_, to recommend the Emperor to convoke the Reichstag

for the consideration of such eventualities as may then arise.”

Towards 12 o’clock there appeared before the door a carriage for

Holstein and myself, and two saddle horses for the Chancellor and his

son. We were to make an excursion to the south-eastern part of the

estate towards the long chain of hills which I noticed on the horizon

as I drove here from Schlawe. We first drove through a beech wood, then

through fields and meadows, afterwards through more beeches with some

marshy ground, and finally, after crossing old and new fir plantations,

we reached a bare height in the neighbourhood of Annenhof, the ranger’s

house. From this point it is possible to see the château of Crangen

with its four towers and blue lake nestling in the valley beneath:

while on turning to the other side one has a view of the entire estate

of Varzin. On my saying that this was quite a magnificent little realm,

the Prince replied: “Why, yes. If I had bought Varzin merely for riding

and driving it would have been a good acquisition; but as it is--potato

land!”

It was 4 o’clock when we got back from Annenhof to Varzin. The proofs

of No. 3 of the “Reminiscences” had in the meantime been received from

Kiel. After a while the Chief called me to his room and explained some

of the corrections he had made. Among other things he had struck out

some of the opinions he had expressed with regard to Radowitz, and the

passage about the six shots and the six cartridges in reserve of which

he had spoken in his account of the battle of Gravelotte. “I certainly

said that,” he observed, “and the remarks about Radowitz are also quite

accurate. But please omit them all the same. His son is now serving

under me.”

As I wished to leave next morning I took this opportunity of thanking

him for having allowed me to spend some days with him, which had

been a source of great happiness to me. He reached me his hand and

said: “I hope we have not seen each other for the last time. I have

a great regard for honourable men.” “You have placed a great deal of

confidence in me,” I replied, “and I beg of you to continue to do so,

and to remember me should there be anything to do in the press that

ought not to be generally known.” I also added: “Your Serene Highness

has imparted to me a great number of important facts. These must all

be kept secret for the present, but nevertheless will not be lost for

the future. You make history, but do not write any, perhaps not even

memoirs.[18] Bucher also seems to have made no notes.” He was silent.

Then he spoke of the power of the press, which had done a great deal

of harm. “It was the cause of the last three wars,” he said, “the

Danish press forced the King and the Government to annex Schleswig; the

Austrian and South German press agitated against us; and the French

press contributed to the prolongation of the campaign in France.”

I broached another subject. “Your Serene Highness believed once at

Versailles that you knew how long you would live. You mentioned various

figures, seven and nine, but I cannot now remember the year. I fancy

it was seventy-six--the year of your life, I mean.” “Seventy-one,” he

replied; “but God alone knows that.”

When dinner was announced he let me go in front of him, and as he

walked behind patted me a couple of times on the back, caressingly,

evidently in the humour in which he was at Ferrières, when he called me

“Büschlein,” his little Busch.

Of what he said this evening at dinner and afterwards over our coffee I

have only retained one delightful anecdote. Once upon a time the Junker

of Kniephof had a visit from a lieutenant of hussars who was about to

call upon an uncle in the neighbourhood. The uncle was particularly

punctilious in the matter of etiquette and good manners, and he was

next day to give an entertainment that would be attended by a number of

guests of similar character and opinions. Overnight Bismarck induced

the lieutenant to drink freely, and primed him so well with good liquor

(if I remember rightly it was “Kriegsbohle”--war-bowl--composed of

champagne and porter) that in the end he had considerably more than

he could carry. Next morning Bismarck drove his guest to his uncle’s

country-house in a car without springs. The roads were not good, the

rain having transformed them into seas of mud, so that the two young

gentlemen were badly bespattered when they arrived, while in addition

to this the lieutenant was decidedly sea-sick. As they entered the

drawing-room, the company of some forty persons (the ladies _en grande

toilette_, the gentlemen in evening dress) regarded them with mixed

amazement and disgust. The hussar presently disappeared. Bismarck,

however, sat down to table with an air of careless gaiety, in spite

of the evident disgust which the good people manifested, and acted as

if there were nothing in his appearance that anybody could object to.

People wondered at the time how it was he failed to have any idea of

the unpleasant impression he had made.

I left Varzin on Monday morning at 11 o’clock, again taking the post to

Schlawe, proceeding thence by rail to Berlin and to Schönhausen.

Before I ask the reader to accompany me further, I wish to make a

few more remarks on the Varzin estate which I noted down on various

occasions from statements made by the Imperial Chancellor. First, a

few words as to its history, and then as to the manner in which it is

administered and governed by its owner, and as to the life he led there

in other respects, in 1877, and shortly before and after that year.

In former times Varzin formed part of a much larger and more valuable

group of estates, some of which were originally held by the Zitzewitz

family, the greater portion, however, being in the possession of

the Counts Podewils, who, up to the year 1805, were large landed

proprietors here. Tradition has it that this old family of Pomeranian

nobles obtained the nucleus of their possessions through an act of

bravery. According to an account given to us by the Chancellor, a Duke

of Pomerania was attacked by Saracen pirates during a pilgrimage to the

Holy Land. They had boarded his ship, and one of them was on the point

of making an end of the Duke, when the faithful Ritter von Podewils

rushed from the kitchen, spit in hand, and transfixed the heathen

with the weapon in question. He was then told that he might ask a

favour, and he begged to be invested with the land surrounding Crangen

Castle (about four kilometres from Varzin as the crow flies), in the

vicinity of which, at that time, there was a great deal of forest and

game. Subsequently this estate was considerably enlarged, _per fas et

nefas_, by the Counts Podewils, who repeatedly held the helm of State,

and were consequently powerful and influential. At the commencement

of the present century, however, the estate, which had dwindled away

again, passed into the possession of Herr von Blumenthal, who, in

1814, received the title of Count. The estate, further reduced in the

interval by the sale of Chorow, was purchased from a member of this

family by the Imperial Chancellor in the spring of 1867, out of the

national grant bestowed upon him by the Prussian Diet for his services

in the reorganisation of German affairs.

At that time the property, the area of which had been reduced from

over 100,000 acres to something more than a fifth of that extent,

included, in addition to Varzin, the estates of Wussow, Pudiger, and

Misdow, together with the farm manor of Charlottenthal. Since then

the Prince has been at pains to gradually extend it by purchase. In

1868 he acquired the Selitz estate, and in 1874 he bought back Chorow,

which had been sold by his predecessor, so that the total extent of his

landed property here, at the present time, is some 30,000 acres.

But the Prince has not only added to his little realm, but he has also

been an active and circumspect reformer. He always was and still

is a capable landlord, displaying in agricultural pursuits the same

qualities which have marked his creative work in politics. As his early

management of Kniephof showed, in spite of youthful excesses, Bismarck

always understood how to make a neglected estate prosper, and his

administration of Varzin is a fresh proof. Whoever can do that will in

favourable circumstances, that is to say, given the necessary political

education, knowledge, and position, generally be found equally capable

of restoring the prosperity and dignity of nations.

In what follows, many analogies may possibly be traced between his work

as a landowner and his last two campaigns in the Reichstag, as well as

earlier indications of his bent without expressly directing attention

to them in each instance. Before his time, for example, the beautiful

woods were cut down and transformed into bad arable land, which, in

spite of all the theory upon which these proceedings were based,

yielded no returns or only very poor ones.

The present owner of Varzin, who has been careful to remedy this

mistake, has also in other places planted fir trees in light sandy

soil, which previously grew nothing but bushes and heather. If Nature

be not disposed to assist his work, he compels her to do so, a thing

which, by the way, as Imperial Chancellor, he has repeatedly done in

other fields, viz., in those of political and economic reform. He

forces Nature’s will to bend before his own by skilful strategy and

stubborn perseverance. In several places I saw fir plantations in

which the young trees were of different heights, nearly three-fourths

of the plants having failed in the first year, owing to the sand and

wind, while scarcely half of those planted in the second year ever

throve. Perseverance, however, and persistent replanting got over the

difficulty, and now the third and fourth years’ seedlings gave every

promise of as healthy and fine a plantation as any of those in the

neighbourhood occupying a more sheltered situation and better soil.

The forest is at present rather a plantation than a game preserve.

There has, however, been a considerable improvement in the latter

respect also during the decade 1866-77. Formerly deer were very scarce

here, indeed had almost disappeared. But the new owner of the Varzin

forest, in co-operation with his neighbours on all sides, succeeded in

maintaining a close season, and now there is a fair number along the

course of the Wipper and the Grabow and on the wooded heights, where a

stag is also met with occasionally, as well as wild boar. The herons,

large numbers of which formerly decimated the fish in the ponds, have

been mostly destroyed or have left a district no longer safe for them.

It would appear that efforts to check the devastation caused by the

otter have not yet met with the desired success.

The Chancellor has also devoted a great deal of attention to the arable

land which he acquired. Whole tracts that hitherto lay fallow have now

been cultivated and made tolerably productive. Thanks to the system

of drainage he has introduced, marshy ground has been turned into

good meadow land; and irrigation has also been provided where it was

necessary and possible. Nevertheless, the agricultural returns from

the estate remain small compared with its extent, and the surplus left

after the indispensable outlay is probably not very considerable. The

Prince’s territory with its hills and uplands (rising, in one instance,

over 500 feet above the level of the Baltic), with its dells and

valleys, its beech groves, forest glades, and clear streams, is, on

the whole, more picturesque than profitable.

Up to 1878 it was hardly possible to dispose of such corn as was grown,

the railways conveying the crops raised in South Poland and in Hungary

with cheaper labour to our markets for less than it costs our farmers

to grow their own.

Timber is also very low in price--the Varzin forest consisting of not

more than one-quarter beech to three-quarters fir trees. This timber

was formerly floated down the Wipper to the Baltic, where it was cut

into railway sleepers and shipped to England. This trade, however, did

not yield much to the landlord. The same may be said of the glass works

at Chomitz and Misdow, which are now closed. They turned out excellent

window-glass, but swallowed up huge quantities of wood, so that the

profit realised was very small.

The owner of Varzin has found a better use for his timber and at

the same time more profitable employment for his water-power in

the three paper mills on the Wipper. The railway between Stolp and

Rummelsburg, which was in course of construction in 1877, now sends

its goods trains through the Varzin district, and it is intended to

form a connection between Further Pomerania and Posen. This has, of

course, somewhat increased the value of a portion of the agricultural

and industrial products of this district. At a not very distant date

the paper mills, in connection with which the Prince already draws a

considerable rent from his water-power and to which he sells a not

inconsiderable proportion of his timber, will, under the contract with

the present holder, come into his possession, together with all their

appurtenances. It is this rent, I was told, which alone forms the

annual surplus income of the whole estate. This, doubtless, means that

the other profits, which are indeed comparatively slight, are swallowed

up by the cost of improvements, drainage, irrigation, plantations, &c.

The present owner, therefore, as a matter of fact, derives probably

little or no direct profit from the estate, though he is making it more

productive and valuable for his successors.

The village of Varzin lies for the most part to the north and east of

the Prince’s residence. It consists merely of a double row of houses

along the highway, and, if I rightly understood, there are only five

farmers among the inhabitants. The rest of the population consists of

“small people,” as they are usually called--tenants of a house and

garden, day labourers and village artisans. The policemen, who live

in the village inn, are there for the protection of the Prince, and

only remain while he is at Varzin. Of course Varzin is connected by

telegraph with the capital of the Empire, and there is a Post Office

official in the place or in the neighbouring village of Wussow. I

was told that recently, in the course of one year, no less than some

6,500 letters and packets, and over 10,000 telegrams passed through

this man’s hands, and it should be remembered that, with very few

exceptions, these were all received during the five or six months which

the Chancellor spent here in that year.

There is no church in the village. Whoever wants to hear the sermon

must go to Wussow, which is at a distance of about three-quarters

of an hour. Although the Prince, as I have already indicated, is

a God-fearing man, whose strength and sense of duty are based on

religion, and who regards death as the _janua vitæ_, he seldom attends

divine service--possibly out of consideration for his health.

The Chancellor’s life, during his retirement at Varzin, is very simple.

It is devoted largely to recuperating in a good climate, amid green

woods and fields, from overwork, Parliamentary speeches, and the strain

of notorious and deplorable friction; also to the active pursuit of

his favourite occupation of farming, and finally to the enjoyment of

Nature, by which he has also felt himself strongly attracted. It is

generally known that he has for years past suffered from insomnia.

His Gastein cure in the summer of 1877 produced a great improvement

in this and other respects. Consequently the Chancellor rose earlier

than he had been accustomed to do, and went for a walk about 9 o’clock

in the morning, a habit which a little wind and rain did not appear

to interrupt. On these occasions he was accompanied by his two Ulmar

dogs, Sultel and Floerchen, the former a present from Count Holnstein,

Master of the Horse to the King of Bavaria. Shortly after my visit to

Varzin, the newspapers reported that some ill-disposed fellow, who

remained undiscovered, injured the dog, to which the Prince was very

much attached, in such a way that it died soon afterwards. Since then,

however, it has been replaced by another of the same breed, only less

good-natured, or perhaps one should say, more suspicious. Many of our

members of Parliament will have met it (I only speak from hearsay) at

the Saturday receptions in the Wilhelmstrasse.

The order of the day at Varzin is somewhat as follows: Between 10

and 11 A.M. the Prince sits down to an English breakfast

with his family and any guest who may be staying with him. I have,

however, only seen him take milk, one or two cups of black coffee,

a little dry toast, and a couple of soft boiled eggs. He takes this

opportunity of reading the letters and important communications

that reach him by post or wire, respecting which, as a rule, he

immediately gives the necessary instructions. Shortly before or after

this meal personal affairs are discussed with officials of the estate,

farmers and peasants of Varzin, and any workpeople engaged on the

premises, important political questions being subsequently considered

and disposed of. Between 1 and 2 P.M., if the weather is

favourable, he usually takes a drive in an open carriage or a long ride

sometimes to inspect a new building or plantation, to see the progress

made by the labourers, to watch the fishing in one of the ponds in the

wood, or to look in at the paper mills, and frequently also for the

mere sake of exercise and fresh air. Visits to or from the neighbours

seem to occur very rarely, perhaps because of political differences.

Before his stay at Varzin in the summer and autumn of 1877 the

Chancellor found it difficult to ride far, and galloping in particular

affected him very much. The Gastein waters brought about an improvement

in this respect. In the expedition to Annenhof on Sunday, the two

horsemen galloped for a considerable distance both at the beginning and

end of the ride. With the exception of a few short breaks they were

nearly four hours in the saddle.

Dinner begins between 5 and 6 in the evening, and during my stay at

Varzin it usually continued up to 7 o’clock, the conversation being as

a rule very bright and sometimes most memorable. When dinner was over

the Prince would join his hands together as if he were offering up a

short prayer. After dinner nearly an hour is spent in the billiard-room

over a cup of coffee. Here the Chancellor, as already mentioned,

generally sits by the stove, smokes a couple of pipes of tobacco, and

occasionally feeds the fire with some fir cones from the basket, which

stands ready at his side. At about 10 o’clock tea is served in the

Princess’s boudoir. The Prince himself, however, did not partake of it

while I was at Varzin, but took a glass of milk instead. Generally at

about half-past 11 every one retires for the night.

The Chancellor has given up shooting for some time past, leaving it

to his sons. On the other hand, he still enjoys taking long strolls

through his park, which indeed fully deserves his affection. It is

as extensive as it is beautiful, full of secrecy, variety and forest

music. Stately beeches and oaks, and in some places red-stemmed firs

raise their crowns high over the underwood on the hills and the grass

and moss of the open glades. All the heights and hollows are connected

by winding bridle paths, in addition to the narrower footpaths that

pierce the woods. On the edge of that part of the park which adjoins

the large clearing made by the Chancellor’s predecessor--with its dark

green furrows and its ditches overgrown with heather--is a broad still

fish-pond which reflects the tree-tops and the clouds above them, the

reeds and the water-lilies. Here and there a bench under a beech tree,

adorned with mementoes, initials, &c., invites the wanderer to rest

and meditate. The Prince knows every beautiful tree in his park, which

he seems to have studied thoroughly. The moon and stars have seen him

wandering here, and doubtless during these solitary walks many pregnant

ideas have arisen and many a plan ripened which have afterwards borne

fruit for us, his people. He unconsciously takes his favourite haunts

with him wherever he goes--even during the campaign in France, when

they appeared to him in dreams with the glint of the sunshine on the

trees. At Varzin he spoke repeatedly of what he had noticed in the

park, and could tell many pleasant stories about the rooks in the

tree-tops, how they “taught their children to fly,” and how they

afterwards “took them to the sea-side in order to give them a diet of

worms,” and how, “like people of position, they take a town residence

during the winter in the church towers of Stolp and Schlawe.”

I have finished my account of Varzin, and take leave of that hospitable

country seat in order to show the reader over some other possessions

of the Prince. In taking their departure, I hope they will join with

me in calling down blessings and prosperity upon the house and its

master--_Slawa_ and _Wawrezin_--fame and laurels for evermore!

We will omit the visit to Schönhausen, as the Chancellor himself was

not there at the time, and has indeed for many years past been seldom

seen there, and then only for short periods.

I proceeded from Schönhausen by way of Stendal and Wittenberg to the

third large estate of the Prince, the extensive domain of forest land

known as the Sachsenwald in Lauenburg, of which the little village of

Friedrichsruh forms the centre. Owing to my letter of recommendation

from the Prince, I met with a good reception at the hands of the head

forester Lange, who showed me through the Chancellor’s residence,

the nearest parts of the forest, and some adjoining farms that had

been recently purchased. Here, however, a great deal was still in a

preparatory stage. The little château was being altered and extended,

the park behind it was being embellished, and the small stream that

flowed at one side of it was being dredged and regulated. I therefore

stayed but a short time and was able to note but little of permanent

interest.... So I shall draw my picture of Friedrichsruh and the life

there from materials collected during a later visit to the Prince when

everything which was in course of preparation in 1877 had gradually

been completed. But I will first relate a characteristic anecdote as it

was told to me in Berlin by Lothar Bucher, who also published it in the

_New York Tribune_.

When Bismarck was in the United Diet and afterwards in the Prussian

and Erfurt Parliaments the opponents of the principles which he then

represented denounced him as a “Junker,” and George von Vinke went so

far as to declare in a debate in the Lower Chamber that he regarded

Bismarck as the “incarnation of Junkerdom,” _i.e._, an extreme

adherent of the party which was at that time opposing desperate

resistance to the efforts made by the Prussian National Assembly and

its Parliamentary successors to abolish feudal rights, aristocratic

privileges and other relics of the middle ages. Our anecdote will

show how little there was left even in 1865 of the fine old Junker.

Under the Gastein Convention the Duchy of Lauenburg passed to the

Prussian Crown. This little country was a judicial curiosity, and in

comparison with the neighbouring States including even Mecklenburg,

a monstrosity. It was a petrified specimen of the Germany of the

seventeenth century, and well deserved to find a place in the Museum

of the German antiquities. It had never occurred to any one to make a

clearance of the mass of feudal lumber under which all the relations

of life were smothered. From whatever point of view the institutions

of the Duchy were examined, the observer saw the genuine spirit of

the mediævalism holding unrestricted and unmitigated sway under the

sun of the nineteenth century, and witnessed the exploitation of the

majority by a small privileged minority. Lauenburg was the Pompeii of

German constitutional history, or, what amounts practically to the

same thing, it was the paradise of Junkerdom. The monstrous privileges

of the nobility which were set forth in a certain parchment entitled

“The Compact” (“Der Recess”) had been confirmed without examination by

successive sovereigns at Copenhagen on their accession to the throne.

The German Confederation, which occupied the little country in 1863,

and the Austro-Prussian Commissioners by which it was afterwards

administered, had been unable to provide any remedy for these evils.

Their time had been too short, and the difficulties of the situation

too great, as it was still uncertain to whom the territory would

eventually fall. Therefore up to the final occupation of the Duchy by

Prussia, apart from the chaotic condition of laws which no attempt

had ever been made to codify, it was the custom to fill the numerous

overpaid official positions with members of certain “fine families,”

of course for the most part aristocratic, who farm out the extensive

domains amongst themselves, naturally at a rent far below their real

value, thus monopolising a great part of the wealth of the country.

On the 25th of September, 1865, King William went to Ratzeburg, the

chief town of the Duchy, in order to receive the oath of homage and

allegiance of his new subjects. He was met at Buchen, on the frontier,

by a deputation of the Estates, who delivered an address, in which they

said, _inter alia_: “We have your Majesty’s word that you will rule

over us justly, according to the customs and laws of the country.”

By this they unquestionably meant the preservation of their feudal

privileges rather than reasonable justice. In his reply the King made

no reference whatever to that passage. This was in itself enough to

cause uneasiness, and a change was indeed at hand.

On the afternoon of the 25th, the day preceding the ceremony of homage,

which was to take place at the Church of St. Peter at Ratzeburg,

Bismarck, who had accompanied the monarch, was enjoying the freshness

of the evening on the banks of the beautiful little lake near the town,

in company with a Herr von Bülow, Hereditary Marshal of the Duchy, a

typical Junker of those parts. As the latter had as yet heard nothing

to show that the new ruler of the country intended to confirm the

privileges, and was much concerned at this uncertainty, he at length

took heart and said:--

“_À propos_, Excellency, how is it with our Compact? I hope his Majesty

will confirm it before he demands our homage.”

“I imagine that the King will not do so,” observed Bismarck.

“In that case,” replied the Junker von Bülow, “we shall refuse to take

the oath to-morrow in the church.”

“In that case,” retorted the Minister, coolly, “you shall hear

to-morrow in the church that you have been incorporated in the nearest

Prussian province.”

The two gentlemen then continued their conversation on the beauties

of the district, the Hereditary Marshal being probably ill at ease

and out of humour, as was to be gathered from the slight acrimony of

his subsequent remarks. Immediately on his return to his quarters,

Bismarck drew up a decree announcing the incorporation of Lauenburg

with the province of Brandenburg, so that in case the aristocratic

Estate really had the audacity to refuse the oath and the lawful

hereditary homage, it should be read next day in the church, when a

demand would be addressed to all present to take the oath of allegiance

_en masse_, a demand which the popular Estate would immediately comply

with. He assured himself of the approval of the King, and with this

little torpedo in his pocket he entered the church next day. First a

hymn is sung. A sermon by the pastor follows. Then the vassals are

called upon to take the oath, and Bülow has to make a start. He steps

forward hesitatingly, pauses for an instant, and glances at Bismarck,

meets, however, with a look of determination probably not unmixed with

just a shade of contempt, and then proceeds to the altar and swears

allegiance. All the other members of the Estates do the same. No

confirmation of the Compact! Bucher had this delightful little story

from the best imaginable source--the Chief himself.

And now for a description of Friedrichsruh as I came to know it during

my somewhat lengthy visits to the Prince between 1883 and 1893,

together with a few words respecting its history....

When the railway station was opened at Friedrichsruh, and it had

thus become a favourite Sunday excursion and summer resort for the

inhabitants of Hamburg, a man named Specht, from the neighbouring

town of Bergedorf, erected, at a short distance from the local inn, a

lodging-house, or hotel, somewhat in the Swiss cottage style, which he

called “The Frascati.” This venture failed, however, in a few years,

when the building was purchased by the Chancellor, to whom the Emperor

William--who was at that time still exercising absolute rule as Duke

of Lauenburg--had shortly after the war with France made a present

of the Sachsenwald domains. The Chancellor, by means of additions

and alterations, converted it into the present not very stately but

pleasant and comfortable residence for the summer and autumn.

The forest presents a great variety of timber, including many members

of the pine family, deciduous trees, beeches (of which there are

several very beautiful groves, with tall stems like pillars in a

cathedral) oak, ash, and birch. There are also some peat bogs, one

of which, lying along the road to Dassendorf, has been turned into a

preserve for deer and wild boar. In other parts the shooting has been

let. The returns from the forest in the way of timber vary with the

prices received. The wood is not only sent to the market to be sold

for firing and other purposes, but a portion of it is also used in the

powder manufactory that has been erected by a Würtemberger on that

part of the Elbe that flows through the Prince’s estate, and in the

steam saw mills. I was told in 1877 by the head forester Lange, who,

with seven assistants, administers and has charge of the Sachsenwald,

that if there were an improvement in the low prices then prevailing he

would feel justified in cutting down trees to the annual value of over

300,000 marks. In each of the twelve years preceding 1891 he must have

felled timber to three times that value. There is good fish to be had

in the two rivers of the district, trout being also found in the Bille.

Agriculture and cattle breeding are only carried on at the two small

farms of Silk and Schönau, situated on the edge of the forest across

the Bille, which, together with their farmhouses and outbuildings, were

purchased by the Prince in the seventies.

The Chancellor’s residence is a two-storied building, painted yellow,

and consists of two parts--the old Specht inn and the new building.

These meet at right angles and have the stairs in common. The upper

story in the old building has for the most part remained much as

it formerly was when it was an inn, and, indeed, still serves for

the reception of the Prince’s guests. At the top of the stairs one

enters a long, gloomy corridor, to the right and left of which are

rooms of various sizes, more or less elegantly furnished. At the

further end, to the right, is another staircase. On the ground floor

are a number of family rooms, which contain among other things the

handsome “grandfather’s” clock, and the large oak cupboard with writing

materials, paper of all sorts and sizes, envelopes, pens, penholders,

and pencils, &c., presented to the Prince a short time ago by the

manufacturers of Germany as a token of their veneration. Here also is a

good-sized room opening on to the park, in which the meals are usually

served. The kitchen and appurtenances are situated in the basement

beneath. The Chancellor’s apartments are on the ground floor of the new

building. Passing from the hall up a few steps we enter an antechamber,

to the left of which is a room used as an office by the clerks, while

on the right a second antechamber leads into the very roomy study, and

beyond it again to the Prince’s bedroom. The Princess’s apartments

are on the first floor, where her daughter, the Countess Rantzau, and

her three little sons also occupy a few rooms occasionally. Even the

corridors are provided with Berlin stoves, those in the rooms being so

constructed that the fire can be seen as in an open fireplace, for the

Prince is fond of warmth and of the visible living flame. Doubtless

this thorough heating of his residence is no longer a necessary

of health. At least his physical condition during the three years

preceding 1890, and particularly in the autumn of 1888, when I was his

guest for nearly five weeks, was very much better than in the late

autumn of 1883, when I also spent a few days with him here. He was

then obliged, in accordance with the instructions of his doctor, to

follow a strict diet, and to give up, not only shooting, to which he

was formerly much addicted, but even long walks in the open air, and in

particular riding. So far as I am aware, he is not at present obliged

to impose any such restrictions upon himself.

When the Chancellor took a holiday, his object was to find recreation

in the solitude of Nature, to feel himself once more a country

gentleman, and to seek daily in the stillness of the wood “a nook

in which only the woodpecker is heard.” It is true that he never

quite succeeded in securing this isolation, and indeed still less at

Friedrichsruh than in Varzin, which is far from cities and the great

lines of communication. The world followed him by railway and over the

telegraph lines, for it needed him as its Atlas, even when he did not

want the burden and would rather have shaken it from off his shoulders.

It came to him in letters and bundles of telegrams, and in the form of

visits from native and foreign Ministers, Ambassadors and Councillors,

who all brought with them questions of greater or less importance, and

who were mostly in a great hurry. There was therefore at all times

work to be done here, not so much, and in particular not such a load

of petty matters, as in Berlin, but more than enough all the same. He

was accompanied by Privy Councillor von Rottenburg, Chief Clerk of

the Imperial Chancellerie, and a secretary, to assist in disposing

of this work, which often gave them plenty to do. And the hours of

labour which were not claimed by the great Empire were wanted for the

Prince’s own smaller realm, with its needs and cares, its creations and

developments. The duties of a great landed proprietor are performed

by the Prince with intelligence and diligence, while he is no less

strict in insisting upon the corresponding rights of his position.

He receives regular reports on the administration of his forests and

arable land, and when riding, driving and walking through his property,

he sees personally how things are going on and what is lacking, what

progress is being made with this or that improvement, how the crops are

prospering, how their new pasture agrees with the cows, and so on.

The Imperial Chancellor’s daily life in Friedrichsruh, as at Varzin,

was somewhat as follows. In the morning at work at his desk, then, if

the weather were fine, a walk or ride, or a drive in the neighbourhood,

where the roads are for the most part good, many being kept like public

roads. Then luncheon, at two o’clock, with the family, Rottenburg, the

secretary, and any guests who might have arrived. During this meal the

Chancellor would read his letters and telegrams, and give Rottenburg

instructions as to dealing with them. The Prince then retired once more

to his study, or, sometimes, he went on a second excursion alone, or

with a guest. Dinner was served at 7 o’clock, followed by coffee in the

next room, and while the guests smoked their cigars, the Prince retired

to the little sofa behind the table, and selected one of the three long

porcelain-headed pipes prepared for him. He took little or no part

in the conversation of the others, which was mostly carried on in a

whisper, but read the papers, including the leading Hamburg journals.

He retired after about an hour (instead of coming in to tea, which was

served at 10 o’clock), as he now went to bed early.