CHAPTER x.x.xI

MEN OF NOTE IN BERLIN AND ELSEWHERE--1879-1881

My acquaintance at Berlin extended into regions which few of my diplomatic colleagues explored, especially among members of the university faculty and various other persons eminent in science, literature, and art.

Writing these lines, I look back with admiration and affection upon three generations of Berlin professors: the first during my student days at the Prussian capital in 1855-1856, the second during my service as minister, 1879-1881, and the third during my term as amba.s.sador 1897-1902.

The second of these generations seems to me the most remarkable of the three. It was a wonderful body of men.

A few of them I had known during my stay in Berlin as a student; and of these, first in the order of time, Lepsius, the foremost Egyptologist of that period, whose lectures had greatly interested me, and whose kindly characteristics were the delight of all who knew him.

Ernst Curtius, the eminent Greek scholar and historian, was also very friendly. He was then in the midst of his studies upon the famous Pergamon statues, which, by skilful diplomacy, the German Government had obtained from the Turkish authorities in Asia Minor, and brought to the Berlin Museum. He was also absorbed in the excavations at Olympia, and above all in the sculptures found there. One night at court he was very melancholy, and on my trying to cheer him, he told me, in a heartbroken tone, that Bismarck had stopped the appropriations for the Olympia researches; but toward the end of the evening he again sought me, his face radiant, and with great glee told me that all was now right, that he had seen the Emperor, and that the n.o.ble old monarch had promised to provide for the excavations from his own purse.

Still another friend was Rudolf von Gneist, the most eminent authority of his time upon Roman law and the English const.i.tution. He had acted, in behalf of the Emperor William, as umpire between the United States and Great Britain, with reference to the northwestern boundary, and had decided in our favor. In recognition of his labor, the American Government sent over a large collection of valuable books on American history, including various collections of published state papers; and the first duty I ever discharged as minister was to make a formal presentation of this ma.s.s of books to him. So began one of my most cherished connections.

Especially prized by me was a somewhat close acquaintance with the two most eminent professors of modern history then at the university--Von Sybel and Droysen.

Each was a man of great ability. One day, after I had been reading Lanfrey's ''Histoire de Napolon,'' which I then thought, and still think, one of the most eloquent and instructive books of the nineteenth century, Von Sybel happened to drop in, and I asked his opinion of it. He answered: ''It does not deserve to be called a history; it is a rhapsody.'' Shortly after he had left, in came Droysen, and to him I put the same question, when he held up both hands and said: ''Yes, there is a history indeed!That is a work of genius; it is one of the books which throw a bright light into a dark time: that book will live.''Professor Hermann Grimm was then at the climax of his fame, and the G.o.ds of his idolatry were Goethe and Emerson; but apparently he did not resemble them in soaring above the petty comforts and vexations of life.Any one inviting him to dine was likely to receive an answer asking how the dining-room was lighted--whether by gas, oil, or wax; also how the lights were placed-- whether high or low; and what the princ.i.p.al dishes were to be: and on the answer depended his acceptance or declination.Dining with him one night, I was fascinated by his wife; it seemed to me that I had never seen a woman of such wonderful and almost weird powers: there was something exquisitely beautiful in her manner and conversation; and, on my afterward speaking of this to another guest, he answered: ''Why, of course; she is the daughter of Goethe's Bettina, to whom he wrote the 'Letters to a Child.' ''Another historian was Treitshke, eminent also as a member of parliament--a man who exercised great power in various directions, and would have been delightful but for his deafness. A pistol might have been fired beside him, and he would never have known it. Wherever he was, he had with him a block of paper leaves and a pencil, by means of which he carried on conversation; in parliament he always had at his side a shorthand-writer who took down the debates for him.Some of the most interesting information which I received regarding historical and current matters in Berlin was from the biologist Du Bois-Reymond. He was of Huguenot descent, but was perhaps the most anti-Gallic man in Germany. Discussing the results of the expulsion of the Huguenots under Louis XIV, the details he gave me were most instructive. Showing me the vast strength which the Huguenots transferred from France to Germany, he mentioned such men as the eminent lawyer Savigny, the great merchant Raven, and a mult.i.tude of other men of great distinction, who, like himself, had retained their French names; and he added very many prominent people of Huguenot descent who had changed their French names into German. He then referred to a similar advantage given to various other countries, and made a most powerful indictment against the intolerance for which France has been paying such an enormous price during more than two hundred years.Interesting in another way were two men eminent in physical science--Helmholtz and Hoffmann. Meeting them one evening at a court festivity, I was told by Hoffmann of an experience of his in Scotland. He had arrived in Glasgow late on Sat.u.r.day night, and on Sunday morning went to call on Professor Sir William Thomson, now Lord Kelvin. The door-bell was answered by a woman servant, of whom Hoffmann asked if Sir William was at home. To this the servant answered, ''Sir, he most certainly is not.'' Hoffmann then asked, ''Could you tell me where I might find him?'' She answered, ''Sir, you will find him at church, where YOU ought to be.''My acquaintance with university men was not confined to Berlin; at Leipsic, Halle, Giessen, Heidelberg, and elsewhere, I also found delightful professorial circles. In my favorite field, I was especially struck with the historian Oncken. As a lecturer he was perfect; and I have often advised American historical students to pa.s.s a semester, if not more, at Giessen, in order to study his presentation of historical subjects. As to manner, he was the best lecturer on history I heard in Germany; and, with the exception of Laboulaye at the Collge de France, Seelye at English Cambridge, and Goldwin Smith at Cornell, the best I ever heard anywhere.Especially delightful were sundry men of letters. Of these I knew best Auerbach, whose delightful ''Dorfgeschichten''were then in full fame. He had been a warm personal friend of Bayard Taylor, and this friendship I inherited. Many were the walks and talks we took together in the Thiergarten, and he often lighted up my apartment with his sunny temper. But one day, as he came in, returning from his long vacation, I said to him: ''So you have been having a great joy at the unveiling of the Spinoza statue at The Hague.'' ''A great joy!'' he said. ''Bewahre! far from it; it was wretched-- miserable.'' I asked, ''How could that be?'' He answered, ''Renan, Kuno Fischer, and myself were invited to make addresses at the unveiling of the statue; but when we arrived at the spot, we found that the Dutch Calvinist domi- nies and the Jewish rabbis had each been preaching to their flocks that the judgments of Heaven would fall upon the city if the erection of a statue to such a monstrous atheist were permitted, and the authorities had to station troops to keep the mob from stoning us and pulling down the statue. Think of such a charge against the 'Gottbetrunkener Mensch,' who gave new proofs of G.o.d's existence, who saw G.o.d in everything!''Another literary man whom I enjoyed meeting was Julius Rodenberg; his ''Reminiscences of Berlin,'' which I have read since, seem to me the best of their kind.I also came to know various artists, one of them being especially genial. Our first meeting was shortly after my arrival, at a large dinner, where, as the various guests were brought up to be introduced to the new American minister, there was finally presented a little, gentle, modest man as ''Herr Knaus.'' I never dreamed of his being the foremost genre-painter in Europe; and, as one must say something, I said, ''You are, perhaps, a relative of the famous painter.'' At this he blushed deeply, seemed greatly embarra.s.sed, and said: ''A painter I am; famous, I don't know. (Maler bin ich; berhmt, das weiss ich nicht.)''So began a friendship which has lasted from that day to this. I saw the beginning, middle, and end of some of his most beautiful pictures, and, above all, of the ''Hinter den Coulissen,'' which conveys a most remarkable philosophical and psychological lesson, showing how near mirth lies to tears. It is the most comic and most pathetic of pictures. I had hoped that it would go to America; but, after being exhibited to the delight of all parts of Germany, it was bought for the royal gallery at Dresden.Very friendly also was Carl Becker. His ''Coronation of Ulrich von Hutten,'' now at Cologne, of which he allowed me to have a copy taken, has always seemed to me an admirable piece of historical painting. In it there is a portrait of a surly cardinal-bishop; and once, during an evening at Becker's house, having noticed a study for this bishop's head, I referred to it, when he said: ''Yes, that bishop is simply the sacristan of an old church in Venice, and certainly the most dignified ecclesiastic I have ever seen.'' The musical soires at Becker's beautiful apartments were among the delights of my stay both then and during my more recent emba.s.sy.Very delightfully dwell in my memory, also, some evenings at the palace, when, after the main ceremonies were over, Knaus, Becker, and Auerbach wandered with me through the more distant apartments and galleries, pointing out the beauties and characteristics of various old portraits and pictures. In one long gallery lined with the portraits of brides who, during the last three centuries, had been brought into the family of Hohenzollern, we lingered long.Then began also my friendship with Anton von Werner.He had been present at the proclamation of the Emperor William I in the great ''Hall of Mirrors'' at Versailles, by express invitation, in order that he might prepare his famous painting of that historic scene. I asked him whether the inscription on the shield in the cornice of the Galerie des Glaces, ''Pa.s.sage du Rhin,'' which glorified one of the worst outrages committed by Louis XIV upon Germany, was really in the place where it is represented in his picture. He said that it was. It seemed a divine prophecy of retribution.The greatest genius in all modern German art--Adolf Menzel--I came to know under rather curious circ.u.mstances.He was a little man, not more than four feet high, with an enormous head, as may be seen by his bust in the Berlin Museum. On being presented to him during an evening at court, I said to him: ''Herr Professor, in America I am a teacher of history; and of all works I have ever seen on the history of Frederick the Great, your ill.u.s.trations of Kugler's history have taught me most.''This was strictly true; for there are no more striking works of genius in their kind than those engravings which throw a flood of light into that wonderful period. At this he invited me to visit his studio, which a few days later I did, and then had a remarkable exhibition of some of his most curious characteristics.Entering the room, I saw, just at the right, a large picture, finely painted, representing a group of Frederick's generals, and in the midst of them Frederick himself, merely outlined in chalk. I said, ''There is a picture nearly finished.'' Menzel answered, ''No; it is not finished and never will be.'' I asked, ''Why not?'' He said, ''I don't deny that there is some good painting in it. But it is on the eve of the battle of Leuthen; it is the consultation of Frederick the Great with his generals just before that terrible battle; and men don't look like that just before a struggle in which the very existence of their country is at stake, and in which they know that most of them must lay down their lives.''We then pa.s.sed on to another. This represented the great Gens d'Armes Church at Berlin; at the side of it, piled on scaffoldings, were a number of coffins all decked with wreaths and flowers; and in the foreground a crowd of beholders wonderfully painted. All was finished except one little corner; and I said, ''Here is one which you will finish.'' He said, ''No; never. That represents the funeral of the Revolutionists killed here in the uprising of 1848. Up to this point''--and he put his finger on the unfinished corner--''I believed in it; but when I arrived at this point, I said to myself, 'No; nothing good can come out of that sort of thing; Germany is not to be made by street fights.' I shall never finish it.''We pa.s.sed on to another. This was finished. It represented the well-known scene of the great Frederick blundering in upon the Austrian bivouac at the castle of Lissa, when he narrowly escaped capture. I said to him, ''There at least is a picture which is finished.'' ''Yes,'' he said; ''but the man who ordered it will never get it.'' I saw that there was a story involved, and asked, ''How is that?'' He answered, ''That picture was painted on the order of the Duke of Ratibor, who owns the castle. When it was finished he came to see it, but clearly thought it too quiet. What he wanted was evidently something in the big, melodramatic style. I said nothing; but meeting me a few days afterward, he said, 'Why don't you send me my picture?' 'No,' I said; 'Serene Highness, that picture is mine.' 'No, said he; 'you painted it for me; it is mine.' 'No,' said I; 'I shall keep it.' His Highness shall never have it.''My princ.i.p.al recreation was in excursions to historical places. Old studies of German history had stimulated a taste for them, and it was a delight to leave Berlin on Sat.u.r.day and stay in one of these towns over Sunday.Frequently my guide was Frederick Kapp, a thoughtful historian and one of the most charming of men.A longer pilgrimage was made to the mystery-play at Oberammergau. There was an immense crowd; and, as usual, those in the open, in front of our box, were drenched with rain, as indeed were many of the players on the stage. I had ''come to scoff, but remained to pray.''There was one scene where I had expected a laugh-- namely, where Jonah walks up out of the whale's belly.But when it arrived we all remained solemn. It was really impressive. We sat there from nine in the morning until half-past twelve, and then from half-past one until about half-past four, under a spell which banished fatigue. The main point was that the actors BELIEVED in what they represented; there was nothing in it like that vague, wearisome exhibition of ''religiosity''which, in spite of its wonderful overture, gave me, some years afterward, a painful disenchantment--the ''Parsifal''at Bayreuth.At the close of the Pa.s.sion Play, I sought out some of the princ.i.p.al actors, and found them kindly and interesting.To the Christus I gave a commission for a carved picture-frame, and this he afterward executed beautifully.With the Judas, who was by far the best actor in the whole performance, I became still better acquainted. Visiting his workshop, after ordering of him two carved statuettes I said to him: ''You certainly ought to have a double salary, as the Judas had in the miracle-plays of the middle ages; this was thought due him on account of the injury done to his character by his taking that part.'' At this the Oberammergau Judas smiled pleasantly, and said: ''No; I am content to share equally with the others; but the same feeling toward the Judas still exists''; and he then told me the following story: A few weeks before, while he was working at his carving-bench, the door of his workshop opened, and a peasant woman from the mountains came in, stood still, and gazed at him intently. On his asking her what she wanted, she replied: ''I saw you in the play yesterday; I wished to look at you again; you look so like my husband. He is dead. HE, TOO, WAS A VERY BAD MAN.''Occasionally, under leave of absence from the State Department, I was able to make more distant excursions, and first of all into France. The President during one of these visits was M. Grvy. Some years before I had heard him argue a case in court with much ability; but now, on my presentation to him at the palace of the lyse, he dwelt less ably on the relations of the United States with France, and soon fell upon the question of trade, saying, in rather a reproachful way, ''Vous nous inondez de vos produits.''To this I could only answer that this inundation of American products would surely be of mutual benefit to both nations, and he rather slowly a.s.sented.Much more interesting to me was his minister of foreign affairs, Barthlemy-Saint-Hilaire, a scholar, a statesman, and a man of n.o.ble character. We talked first of my intended journey to the south of France; and on my telling him that I had sent my eldest son to travel there, for the reason that at Orange, Arles, Nmes, and the like, a better idea of Roman power can be obtained than in Italy itself, he launched out on that theme most instructively.The conversation having turned toward politics, he spoke much of Bismarck and Moltke, p.r.o.nouncing the name of the latter in one syllable. He said that Bismarck was very kind personally to Thiers during the terrible negotiations; that if Bismarck could have had his way he would have asked a larger indemnity,--say, seven milliards,--and would have left Alsace-Lorraine to France; that France would gladly have paid a much larger sum than five milliards if she could have retained Alsace- Lorraine; that Bismarck would have made concessions; but that ''Molkt'' would not. He added that Bismarck told ''Molkt'' that he--the latter--had, by insisting on territory, made peace too difficult. Saint-Hilaire dwelt long on the fearful legacy of standing armies left by the policy which Germany finally adopted, and evidently considered a great international war as approaching.[16][16] December, 1880.Dining afterward at the Foreign Office with my old friend Millet, who was second in command there, I met various interesting Frenchmen, but was most of all pleased with M. Ribot. Having distinguished himself by philosophical studies and made a high reputation in the French parliament, he was naturally on his way to the commanding post in the ministry which he afterward obtained. His wife, an American, was especially attractive.It is a thousand pities that a country possessing such men is so widely known to the world, not by these, but by novelists and dramatists largely retailing filth, journalists largely given to the invention of sensational lies, politicians largely obeying either atheistic demagogues or clerical intriguers; and all together acting like a swarm of obscene, tricky, mangy monkeys chattering, squealing, and tweaking one another's tails in a cage. Some of these monkeys I saw performing their antics in the National a.s.sembly then sitting at Versailles; and it saddened me to see the n.o.bler element in that a.s.semblage thwarted by such featherbrained creatures.[16][16] December, 1880.Another man of note, next whom I found myself at a dinner-party, was M. de Lesseps. I still believe him to have been a great and true man, despite the cloud of fraud which the misdeeds of others drew over his latter days. Among sundry comments on our country, he said that he had visited Salt Lake City, and thought a policy of force against the Mormons a mistake. In this I feel sure that he was right. Years ago I was convinced by Bishop Tuttle of the Protestant Episcopal Church, who had been stationed for some years at Salt Lake City, that a waiting policy, in which proper civilization can be brought to bear upon the Mormons, is the true course.On the following Sunday I heard Pre Hyacinthe preach, as at several visits before; but the only thing at all memorable was a rather happy application of Voltaire's remark on the Holy Roman Empire, ''Ni Saint, ni Empire, ni Romain.''At the salon of Madame Edmond Adam, eminent as a writer of review articles and as a hater of everything Teutonic, I was presented to a crowd of literary men who, though at that moment striking the stars with their lofty heads, have since dropped into oblivion. Among these I especially remember mile de Girardin, editor, spouter, intriguer--the ''Grand mile,'' who boasted that he invented and presented to the French people a new idea every day. This futile activity of his always seemed to me best expressed in the American simile: ''Busy as a bee in a tar-barrel.'' There was, indeed, one thing to his credit: he had somehow inspired his former wife, the gifted Delphine Gay, with a belief in his greatness; and a pretty story was current ill.u.s.trating this. During the revolution of 1848, various men of note, calling on Madame Girardin, expressed alarm at the progress of that most foolish of overturns, when she said, with an air of great solemnity, and pointing upward, ''Gentlemen, there is one above who watches over France. (Il y a un lmile, whose study was just above her parlor.This reminds me that, during my student days at Paris, I attended the funeral of this gifted lady, and in the crowd of well-known persons present noticed especially Alexandre Dumas. He was very tall and large, with an African head, thick lips, and bushy, crisp hair. He evidently intended to be seen. His good-natured vanity was as undisguised as when his famous son said of him in his presence, ''My father is so vain that he is capable of standing in livery behind his own carriage to make people think he sports a negro footman.''Going southward, I stopped at Bourges, and was fascinated by the amazing stonework of the crypt. How the mediaeval cathedral-builders were able to accomplish such intricate work with the means at their command is still one of the great mysteries. There is to-day in the United States no group of workmen who could execute anything approaching this work, to say nothing of such pieces as the vaulting of Henry VII's Chapel at Westminster or of King's College Chapel at Cambridge.