# Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3825/The Real Reason

THE REAL REASON.
Mr. Arthur Grayson, recently returned from Bad Nauheim, brings an interview with His Excellency Herr von Bode, which he obtained under curious circumstances. It seems that the famous Director of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin, and for long the ultimate arbiter of taste in Germany, wishing to send a message to the American people, wrote to an American journalist, also, as it chanced, named Grayson, and also a resident in the other Grayson's hotel, making an appointment. But the American Grayson had then gone, and the English Grayson having opened his letter by mistake, and being not unwilling to see Berlin for himself during war-time, carried the missive to the capital, met the illustrious virtuoso and received the confidences intended for the instruction of New York and Washington, correcting their preposterous view of the German origin of the war.
We now give Mr. Grayson's words: "'To make you understand the situation clearly,' said Herr von Bode, we must go back a little into history. Some years ago I was offered by an English dealer a wax bust of Flora, which I saw in a moment was by Leonardo da Vinci. No trained eye could have mistaken it for anything else. I therefore bought it and made it the very jewel of this superb collection. England, however, always envious and acquisitive, in matters of connoisseurship dense, and now mad with rage to think that I alone had sufficient culture to discern the true and beautiful, at once set up the cry that the bust was the work not of Leonardo in the fifteenth century, but of an Englishman named Lucas in the nineteenth. They stopped at nothing in defence of this claim. The English sculptor's son was even produced to remember his father at work on it; while it was affirmed that a piece of his father's waistcoat had been used as an internal support for the bust. The campaign of calumny and mis-information, in short, was as thorough as if Wolff's Bureau—I mean it was very thorough."
"'And what happened?' I asked.
"'We had no doubt ourselves,' said my companion. 'Had Mr. Tussaud himself sworn that he was the modeller only yesterday we should have had no doubt, so indelibly, to the competent German eye, was the genius of Leonardo stamped upon it. But we permitted the bust to be opened from the back, and true enough a piece of modern cloth was found within. That, however, as I say, could not affect the authenticity of the work, for it might easily have been sent to Lucas for renomvation, and it is well known that a renovator often stuffs something inside the shell of these busts to keep it from falling in while he is at work.'
"'Still it was, perhaps, awkward for you?' I asked.
"'In the contemptible English art circles some cry of triumph was raised,' he replied, 'but no on in Germany was shaken. Moreover, they knew—what I knew—that England raised these doubts merely to cover her own original stupidity and ignorance. She was now convinced that it was by Leonardo, because she knew I could not err, and her game was to belittle the bust. How barbaric! how devilish! ​but how characteristic! And why did she belittle it?" he continued.
"'Why, indeed, go to that trouble?' I said.
"'Because'—his words were slow and impressive—'because she wanted it! She wanted it, hungered for it, thirsted for it. She had let it go and she could not forgive herself. How much she wanted it no one will every know!' He paused.
"'What then did she do?' he resumed. 'Finding that her bitter attack on the bust was useless, and served only to make us prize it the more, she began to plot to steal it. I could not tell you the number of attempts that have been made to get possession of this world-wonder. No one could tell you. Day after day Englishmen, disguised even as German gentlemen, thronged the museum, all asking the way to the bust. We were continually on our guard. Attendants patrolled the room day and night. Our efforts were successful.'
"He paused again and looked at me in triumph.
"'Yes, he resumed, the bust remained where it was. England, in despair, then decided that a supreme effort must be made, and began to arm and mobilize. The art faction got hold of Sir Edward Grey—nobbled him, as you say. It was upon learning of this treacherous preparation and its dastardly motive, that our sublime Kaiser took the action he did. I say it with conviction, there would have been no war but for England's mad desire to possess again the Leonardo wax bust.'
"'But what about the violation of Belgium?' I asked.
"'Ah!' he said darkly. 'It was England's intention to march through Belgium to Berlin to get the bust. Fortunately we knew that. We therefore marched through Belgium first.'
"With these words the famous virtuoso sat back in his chair.
"'If you will consent to be blindfolded for a part of the journey—a necessary precaution which I am sure you will appreciate,' he remarked a moment or so later,—'I will show you the priceless masterpiece in its hiding-place. Then you will understand. Also I should like the world to know how Germany reveres and guards its choicest treasures."
"Naturally I consented, and a bandage being bound over my eyes I took the hand of my companion and was led away.
"You may wonder that after everything that has been happening recently I was willing thus to entrust myself to a German, but you must remember that so far as he knew I was an American, a member of a country whose goodwill has been angled for with every conceivable bait. It is not as if I had been a cathedral or a French priest or a Belgian mother.
"For how far I was led I cannot say, but we seemed to descend an incredible distance into the earth and then pass along interminable passages. At last my eyes were unbound and I discovered myself to be in the midst of a company of soldiers aimed to the teeth, obviously underground, and I saw opposite me, in the light of an electric torch, a massive iron gate, which the supreme expert proceeded to unlock.
"We entered a gloomy cavern and again were confronted by a massive gate, which in its turn was also unlocked, revealing an inner chamber in the midst of which was a glass case.
"My companion reverently uncovered. 'The triumph of my career,' he murmured. 'The coping-stone of my virtuosity. The cause of my ennoblement.'
"Before us was the famous wax bust, fresh from the hands of Luc—I mean Leonardo.
"'And the early-Victorian waistcoat,' I said, 'which the clumsy fellow who renovated this bust always stuffed into the Leonardos which he was called upon to botch—you still have that?"
"'Oh no,' replied the enthusiast hastily, 'we threw that away. Why keep that? But you can understand," he continued, "why we have taken all the precautions we have? Whatever else might be lost in any attack on Berlin—should one be within the bounds of possibility—this must be saved.'
"'Not only must,' I replied, 'but will be saved. I feel certain that your plans have been sufficient. England, whatever else she may take from Berlin, will leave this bust with you.'
"He wrung my hand. 'You hearten me,' he said. 'But now for the return journey;' and again the bandage was applied."