A gentlemen’s club is an association of – well – gentlemen.” Hasso von Deweritz was nonplussed. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “Admissions need to apply certain standards.”
“Indeed, I see.” The terrifying presence of Field Marshal von der Goltz, was undiminished by his seeming to agree. There were greater men than von Deweritz in Berlin who would quake in their boots at an unannounced visit from the great man. His smiling affability hid steel, and the eyes behind the pince-nez were downright predatory. “I fully understand. It does say ‘Herrenclub’, after all.”
A servant brought in chilled champagne, allowing for a temporary respite in the conversation. The club’s president felt unsure where things were going. The field marshal smacked his lips in an appreciative, if undignified fashion and turned to General Mackensen seated to his left. “August, this is quite good. Better than what we get at the Wilhelmstrasse.”
Mackensen returned the smile and sipped. “Indeed. The Herrenclub is known for good taste in wine, horseflesh and tobacco, I have heard.”
Hasso von Deweritz nodded gratefully. “We try, Herr General. Our members have standards to uphold.”
“I was wondering about that.” Von der Goltz set down the glass and inspected the monogrammed napkin with a pretense of attention. “Colonel von Walcker must have fallen short in some regard.”
Mackensen was gratified to spot the glass in von Deweritz’s hand tremble momentarily.
“It is a policy of our association to only admit those of unquestioned nobility of birth. In the case of the colonel…” The defense was interrupted peremptorily by the cavalry general.
“Sir, how did you receive your title of nobility?”
“I… but … how does this relate….” Von Deweritz was visibly shaken. “I inherited it.”
“I see. And how did your ancestors come by it?” The trap was obvious, but nothing that could be said now would prevent it from closing around von Deweritz.
“Through valour and prowess in the emperor’s service. Herr General.”
Mackensen nodded, smiling. Von der Goltz interjected: “Then, sir, you now have the opportunity to admit a man who did precisely this himself. A man whose family tree does not yet resemble a potato plant.” That slur was current among bourgeois officers these days: Families whose best members were underground.
“I know von Walcker personally.” Mackensen pointed out. “He is a man of impeccable taste, significant personal wealth, and enough courage for an entire regimental staff, and then some. It would be a signial disappointment to mwe if the members of this club did not come to share this assessment.”
Von Deweritz smiled hopelessly, a desperate man: “Much as I regret, the modalities of adlection allow for member vetos, and I believe there is no law to prevent them.”
The two demi-gods nodded sagely. “Indeed, there is none.” Von der Goltz confirmed. “Just as there is none to prevent the officers of the guards regiments to choose not to patronise certain clubs based on the estimate of their commanding officers. I am merely voicing a personal opinion.”
Mackensen now fixed his unfortunate victim with a ferocious stare: “An opinion I share, as you should know.” he said. “To be honest, I believe a great deal is going to have to change in this country. A great deal indeed. But I assume we can trust the sound judgement of men of quality in this matter.” He rose. “Good day, Herr von Deweritz. I am sure we will hear only good things from your club in the future.”
