BISMARCK
[From a painting by F. Von Lenbach.]

Heroes of the Nations

EDITED BY

BISMARCK

AND THE FOUNDATION OF THE GERMAN EMPIRE

BY

JAMES WYCLIFFE HEADLAM

PREFACE.

The greater portion of the following pages were completed before the death of
Prince Bismarck; I take this opportunity of apologising to the publishers and the
editor of the series, for the unavoidable delay which has caused publication to be
postponed for a year.

During this period, two works have appeared to which some reference is necessary.
The value of Busch’s Memoirs has been much exaggerated; except for quite the
last years of Bismarck’s life they contain little new information which is of any
importance. Not only had a large portion of the book already been published in
Busch’s two earlier books, but many of the anecdotes and documents in those parts
which were new had also been published elsewhere.

Bismarck’s own Memoirs have a very different value: not so much because of
the new facts which they record, but because of the light they throw on Bismarck’s
character and on the attitude he adopted towards men and political problems. With his
letters and speeches, they will always remain the chief source for our knowledge of
his inner life.

The other authorities are so numerous that it is impossible here to enumerate even
the more important. I must, however, express the gratitude which all students of
Bismarck’s career owe to Horst Kohl; in his Bismarck-Regesten he has collected
and arranged the material so as infinitely to lighten the labours of all others who
work in the same field. His Bismarck-Jahrbuch is equally indispensable;
without this it would be impossible for anyone living in England to use the
innumerable letters, documents, and anecdotes which each year appear in German
periodicals. Of collections of documents and letters, the most important are those by
Herr v. Poschinger, especially the volumes containing the despatches written from
Frankfort and those dealing with Bismarck’s economic and financial policy. A full
collection of Bismarck’s correspondence is much wanted; there is now a good edition
of the private letters, edited by Kohl, but no satisfactory collection of the
political letters.

For diplomatic history between 1860 and 1870, I have, of course, chiefly depended
on Sybel; but those who are acquainted with the recent course of criticism in Germany
will not be surprised if, while accepting his facts, I have sometimes ventured to
differ from his conclusions.

J.W.H.

September, 1899.

CONTENTS.

• PREFACE.
• CONTENTS.
• ILLUSTRATIONS.
• CHAPTER I.
• CHAPTER II.
• CHAPTER III.
• CHAPTER IV.
• CHAPTER V.
• CHAPTER VI.
• CHAPTER VII.
• CHAPTER VIII.
• CHAPTER IX.
• CHAPTER X.
• CHAPTER XI.
• CHAPTER XII.
• CHAPTER XIII.
• CHAPTER XIV.
• CHAPTER XV.
• CHAPTER XVI.
• CHAPTER XVII.
• FOOTNOTES:
• INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS.

BISMARCK.

CHAPTER I.

Otto Eduard Leopold Von Bismarck was born at the manor-house of Schoenhausen, in
the Mark of Brandenburg, on April 1, 1815. Just a month before, Napoleon had escaped
from Elba; and, as the child lay in his cradle, the peasants of the village, who but
half a year ago had returned from the great campaign in France, were once more called
to arms. A few months passed by; again the King of Prussia returned at the head of
his army; in the village churches the medals won at Waterloo were hung up by those of
Grossbehren and Leipzig. One more victory had been added to the Prussian flags, and
then a profound peace fell upon Europe; fifty years were to go by before a Prussian
army again marched out to meet a foreign foe.

The name and family of Bismarck were among the oldest in the land. Many of the
great Prussian statesmen have come from other countries: Stein was from Nassau, and
Hardenberg was a subject of the Elector of Hanover; even Blücher and Schwerin
were Mecklenburgers, and the Moltkes belong to Holstein. The Bismarcks are pure
Brandenburgers; they belong to the old Mark, the district ruled over by the first
Margraves who were sent by the Emperor to keep order on the northern frontier; they
were there two hundred years before the first Hohenzollern came to the north.

The first of the name of whom we hear was Herbort von Bismarck, who, in 1270, was
Master of the Guild of the Clothiers in the city of Stendal. The town had been
founded about one hundred years before by Albert the Bear, and men had come in from
the country around to enjoy the privileges and security of city life. Doubtless
Herbort or his father had come from Bismarck, a village about twenty miles to the
west, which takes its name either from the little stream, the Biese, which runs near
it, or from the bishop in whose domain it lay. He was probably the first to bear the
name, which would have no meaning so long as he remained in his native place, for the
von was still a mark of origin and had not yet become the sign of nobility.
Other emigrants from Bismarck seem also to have assumed it; in the neighbouring town
of Prenzlau the name occurs, and it is still found among the peasants of the Mark; as
the Wends were driven back and the German invasion spread, more adventurous colonists
migrated beyond the Oder and founded a new Bismarck in Pomerania.

BISMARCK’S COAT OF
ARMS

Of the lineage of Herbort we know nothing^[1]; his ancestors must have been among the
colonists who had been planted by the Emperors on the northern frontier to occupy the
land conquered from the heathen. He seems himself to have been a man of substance and
position; he already used the arms, the double trefoil, which are still borne by all
the branches of his family. His descendants are often mentioned in the records of the
Guild; his son or grandson, Rudolph or Rule, represented the town in a conflict with
the neighbouring Dukes of Brunswick. It was his son Nicolas, or Claus as he is
generally called, who founded the fortunes of the family; he attached himself closely
to the cause of the Margrave, whom he supported in his troubles with the Duke of
Brunswick, and whose interests he represented in the Town Council. He was amply
rewarded for his fidelity. After a quarrel between the city and the Prince, Bismarck
left his native home and permanently entered the service of the Margrave. Though
probably hitherto only a simple citizen, he was enfiefed with the castle of
Burgstall, an important post, for it was situated on the borders of the Mark and the
bishopric of Magdeburg; he was thereby admitted into the privileged class of the
Schlossgesessenen, under the Margrave, the highest order in the feudal
hierarchy. From that day the Bismarcks have held their own among the nobility of
Brandenburg. Claus eventually became Hofmeister of Brandenburg, the chief officer at
the Court; he had his quarrels with the Church, or rather with the spiritual lords,
the bishops of Havelburg and Magdeburg, and was once excommunicated, as his father
had been before him, and as two of his sons were after him.

Claus died about the year 1385. For two hundred years the Bismarcks continued to
live at Burgstall, to which they added many other estates. When Conrad of
Hohenzollern was appointed Margrave and Elector, he found sturdy supporters in the
lords of Burgstall; he and his successors often came there to hunt the deer and wild
boars, perhaps also the wolves and bears, with which the forests around the castle
abounded; for the Hohenzollerns were keen sportsmen then as now, as their vassals
found to their cost. In 1555, Hans George, son of the reigning Elector, Albert
Achilles, bought the neighbouring estate of Letzlingen from the Alvenslebens; there
he built a house which is still the chief hunting-lodge of the Kings of Prussia. Soon
he cast envious eyes on the great woods and preserves which belong to Burgstall, and
intimated that he wished to possess them. The Bismarcks resisted long. First they
were compelled to surrender their hunting rights; this was not sufficient; the
appetite of the Prince grew; in his own words he wished “to be rid of the Bismarcks
from the moor and the Tanger altogether.” He offered in exchange some of the
monasteries which had lately been suppressed; the Bismarcks (the family was
represented by two pairs of brothers, who all lived together in the great castle)
long refused; they represented that their ancestors had been faithful vassals; they
had served the Electors with blood and treasure; they wished “to remain in the
pleasant place to which they had been assigned by God Almighty.” It was all of no
use; the Prince insisted, and his wrath was dangerous. The Bismarcks gave in; they
surrendered Burgstall and received in exchange Schoenhausen and Crevisse, a
confiscated nunnery, on condition that as long as the ejected nuns lived the new
lords should support them; for which purpose the Bismarcks had annually to supply a
certain quantity of food and eighteen barrels of beer.

Of the four co-proprietors, all died without issue, except Friedrich, called the
Permutator, in whose hands the whole of the family property was again collected; he
went to live at Schoenhausen, which since then has been the home of the family. No
remains of the old castle exist, but the church, built in the thirteenth century, is
one of the oldest and most beautiful in the land between the Havel and the Elbe.
House and church stand side by side on a small rising overlooking the Elbe. Here they
took up their abode; the family to some extent had come down in the world. The change
had been a disadvantageous one; they had lost in wealth and importance. For two
hundred years they played no very prominent part; they married with the neighbouring
country gentry and fought in all the wars. Rudolph, Friedrich’s son, fought in France
in behalf of the Huguenots, and then under the Emperor against the Turks. His
grandson, August, enlisted under Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar; afterwards he fought in the
religious wars in France and Germany, always on the Protestant side; lastly, he took
service under the Elector of Brandenburg.

It was in his lifetime that a great change began to take place which was to alter
the whole life of his descendants. In 1640, Frederick William, known as the great
Elector, succeeded his father. He it was who laid the foundations for that system of
government by which a small German principality has grown to be the most powerful
military monarchy in modern Europe. He held his own against the Emperor; he fought
with the Poles and compelled their King to grant him East Prussia; he drove the
Swedes out of the land. More than this, he enforced order in his own dominions; he
laid the foundation for the prosperity of Berlin; he organised the administration and
got together a small but efficient military force. The growing power of the Elector
was gained to a great extent at the expense of the nobles; he took from them many of
the privileges they had before enjoyed. The work he began was continued by his son,
who took the title of King; and by his grandson, who invented the Prussian system of
administration, and created the army with which Frederick the Great fought his
battles.

The result of the growth of the strong, organised monarchy was indeed completely
to alter the position of the nobles. The German barons in the south had succeeded in
throwing off the control of their territorial lords; they owned no authority but the
vague control of the distant Emperor, and ruled their little estates with an almost
royal independence; they had their own laws, their own coinage, their own army.

SHÖNHAUSEN
CHURCH-Interior

They might well consider that the State which they had helped to make, and which
they had saved by their blood, belonged to them. But if they had become Prussians,
they did not cease to be Brandenburgers; their loyalty to their king never swerved,
for they knew that he belonged to them as he did to no other of his subjects. He
might go to distant Königsberg to assume the crown, but his home was amongst
them; other provinces might be gained or lost with the chances of war, but while a
single Hohenzollern lived he could not desert his subjects of the Mark. They had the
intense local patriotism so characteristic of the German nation, which is the surest
foundation for political greatness; but while in other parts the Particularists, as
the Germans called them, aimed only at independence, the Brandenburger who had become
a Prussian desired domination.

Among them the Bismarcks lived. The family again divided into two branches: one,
which became extinct about 1780, dwelling at Crevisse, gave several high officials to
the Prussian Civil Service; the other branch, which continued at Schoenhausen,
generally chose a military career. August’s son, who had the same name as his father,
rebuilt the house, which had been entirely destroyed by the Swedes during the Thirty
Years’ War; he held the position of Landrath, that is, he was the head of the
administration of the district in which he lived. He married a Fräulein von
Katte, of a well-known family whose estates adjoined those of the Bismarcks. Frau von
Bismarck was the aunt of the unfortunate young man who was put to death for helping
Frederick the Great in his attempt to escape. His tomb is still to be seen at Wust,
which lies across the river a few miles from Schoenhausen; and at the new house,
which arose at Schoenhausen and still stands, the arms of the Kattes are joined to
the Bismarck trefoil. The successor to the estates, August Friedrich, was a thorough
soldier; he married a Fräulein von Diebwitz and acquired fresh estates in
Pomerania, where he generally lived.

He rose to the rank of colonel, and fell fighting against the Austrians at
Chotusitz in 1742. “Ein ganzer Kerl” (a fine fellow), said the King, as he stood by
the dying officer. His son, Carl Alexander, succeeded to Schoenhausen; the next
generation kept up the military traditions of the family; of four brothers, all but
one became professional officers and fought against France in the wars of liberation.
One fell at Möckern in 1813; another rose to the rank of lieutenant-general; the
third also fought in the war; his son, the later Count Bismarck-Bohlen, was wounded
at Grossbehren, and the father at once came to take his place during his
convalescence, in order that the Prussian army might not have fewer Bismarcks. When
the young Otto was born two years later, he would often hear of the adventures of his
three uncles and his cousin in the great war. The latter, Bismarck-Bohlen, rose to
very high honours and was to die when over eighty years of age, after he had
witnessed the next great war with France. It is a curious instance of the divisions
of Germany in those days that there were Bismarcks fighting on the French side
throughout the war. One branch of the family had settled in South Germany; the head
of it, Friedrich Wilhelm, had taken service in the Wurtemburg army; he had become a
celebrated leader of cavalry and was passionately devoted to Napoleon. He served with
distinction in the Russian campaign and was eventually taken prisoner by the Germans
in the battle of Leipzig.

The youngest of the four brothers, Karl Wilhelm Friedrich v. Bismarck, had retired
from the army at an early age: he was a quiet, kindly man of domestic tastes; on the
division of the estates, Schoenhausen fell to his lot, and he settled down there to a
quiet country life. He took a step which must have caused much discussion among all
his friends and relations, for he chose as wife not one of his own rank, not a
Kleist, or a Katte, or a Bredow, or an Arnim, or an Alvensleben, or any other of the
neighbouring nobility; he married a simple Fräulein Mencken. She was, however,
of no undistinguished origin. Her father, the son of a professor at the University of
Leipzig, had entered the Prussian Civil Service; there he had risen to the highest
rank and had been Cabinet Secretary to both Frederick William II. and Frederick III.
He was a man of high character and of considerable ability; as was not uncommon among
the officials of those days, he was strongly affected by the liberal and even
revolutionary doctrines of France.

Fräulein Mencken, who was married at the age of sixteen, was a clever and
ambitious woman. From her her son inherited his intellect; from his father he derived
what the Germans call Gemüth, geniality, kindliness, humour. By his two
parents he was thus connected with the double foundation on which Prussia had been
built: on his father’s side he had sprung from the fighting nobles; on his
mother’s,

LUISE VON WILHELMINE
BISMARCK
bismarck’s Mother

The early life of the young pair was not altogether fortunate. Several children
died at a very early age; the defeat of Prussia brought foreign occupation;
Schoenhausen was seized by French troopers; the marks of their swords are still to be
seen in a beam over one of the doors, and Rittmeister v. Bismarck had to take his
wife away into the woods in order to escape their violence.

Of all the children of the marriage only three lived: Bernhard, who was born in
1810, Otto, and one sister, Malvina, born in 1827.

Otto did not live at Schoenhausen long; when he was only a year old, his father
moved to Pomerania and settled on the estates Kniephof and Kulz, which had come into
the family on his grandfather’s marriage. Pomerania was at that time a favourite
residence among the Prussian nobility; the country was better wooded than the Mark,
and game more plentiful; the rich meadows, the wide heaths and forests were more
attractive than the heavy corn-lands and the sandy wastes of the older province.
Here, in the deep seclusion of country life, the boy passed his first years; it was
far removed from the bustle and turmoil of civilisation. Naugard, the nearest town,
was five miles distant; communication was bad, for it was not till after 1815 that
the Prussian Government began to construct highroads. In this distant province, life
went on as in the olden days, little altered by the changes which had transformed the
State. The greater portion of the land belonged to large proprietors; the noble as in
old days was still all-powerful on his own estate; in his hands was the
administration of the law, and it was at his manorial court that men had to seek for
justice, a court where justice was dealt not in the name of the King but of the Lord
of the Manor. He lived among his people and generally he farmed his own lands. There
was little of the luxury of an English country-house or the refinement of the French
noblesse; he would be up at daybreak to superintend the work in the fields, his wife
and daughters that of the household, talking to the peasants the pleasant Platt
Deutsch of the countryside. Then there would be long rides or drives to the
neighbours’ houses; shooting, for there was plenty of deer and hares; and
occasionally in the winter a visit to Berlin; farther away, few of them went. Most of
the country gentlemen had been to Paris, but only as conquerors at the end of the
great war.

They were little disturbed by modern political theories, but were contented, as in
old days, to be governed by the King. It was a religious society; among the peasants
and the nobles, if not among the clergy, there still lingered something of the simple
but profound faith of German Protestantism; they were scarcely touched by the
rationalism of the eighteenth or by the liberalism of the nineteenth century; there
was little pomp and ceremony of worship in the village church, but the natural
periods of human life—birth, marriage, death—called for the blessing of
the Church, and once or twice a year came the solemn confession and the
sacrament.

KARL WILHELM FERD. VON
BISMARCK
[Bismarck’s father]

To the inhabitants of South Germany, and the men of the towns, these nobles of
Further Pomerania, the Junker as they were called, with their feudal life,
their medieval beliefs, their simple monarchism, were the incarnation of political
folly; to them liberalism seemed another form of atheism, but in this solitude and
fresh air of the great plain was reared a race of men who would always be ready, as
their fathers had been, to draw their sword and go out to conquer new provinces for
their King to govern.

CHAPTER II.

Of the boy’s early life we know little. His mother was ambitious for her sons;
Otto from his early years she designed for the Diplomatic Service; she seems to have
been one of those women who was willing to sacrifice the present happiness of her
children for their future advancement. When only six years old the boy was sent away
from home to a school in Berlin. He was not happy there; he pined for the free life
of the country, the fields and woods and animals; when he saw a plough he would burst
into tears, for it reminded him of his home. The discipline of the school was hard,
not with the healthy and natural hardships of life in the open air, but with an
artificial Spartanism, for it was the time when the Germans, who had suddenly awoke
to feelings of patriotism and a love of war to which they had long been strangers,
under the influence of a few writers, were throwing all their energies into the
cultivation of physical endurance. It was probably at this time that there was laid
the foundation of that dislike for the city of Berlin which Bismarck never quite
overcame; and from his earliest years he was prejudiced against the exaggerated and
affected Teutonism which was the fashion after the great war. A few years later his
parents came to live altogether in the town; then the boy passed on to the Gymnasium,
boarding in the house of one of the masters. The teaching in this school was
supplemented by private tutors, and he learned at this time the facility in the use
of the English and French languages which in after years was to be of great service
to him. The education at school was of course chiefly in the classical languages; he
acquired a sufficient mastery of Latin. There is no evidence that in later life he
continued the study of classical literature. In his seventeenth year he passed the
Abiturienten examination, which admitted him as a student to the university and
entitled him to the privilege of serving in the army for one instead of three years.
His leaving certificate tells us that his conduct and demeanour towards his comrades
and teachers were admirable, his abilities considerable, and his diligence fair.

The next year he passed in the ordinary course to the university, entering at
Göttingen; the choice was probably made because of the celebrity which that
university had acquired in law and history. It is said that he desired to enter at
Heidelberg, but his mother refused her permission, because she feared that he would
learn those habits of beer-drinking in which the students of that ancient seat of
learning have gained so great a proficiency; it was, however, an art which, as he
found, was to be acquired with equal ease at Göttingen. The young Bismarck was
at this time over six feet high, slim and well built, of great physical strength and
agility, a good fencer, a bold rider, an admirable swimmer and runner, a very
agreeable companion; frank, cheerful, and open-hearted, without fear either of his
comrades or of his teachers. He devoted his time at Göttingen less to learning
than to social life; in his second term he entered the Corps of the Hanoverians and
was quickly noted for his power of drinking and fighting; he is reported to have
fought twenty-six duels and was only wounded once, and that wound was caused by the
breaking of his opponent’s foil. He was full of wild escapades, for which he was
often subjected to the ordinary punishments of the university.

To many Germans, their years at the university have been the turning-point of
their life; but it was not so with Bismarck. To those who have been brought up in the
narrow surroundings of civic life, student days form the single breath of freedom
between the discipline of a school and the drudgery of an office. To a man who, like
Bismarck, was accustomed to the truer freedom of the country, it was only a passing
phase; as we shall see, it was not easy to tie him down to the drudgery of an office.
He did not even form many friendships which he continued in later years; his
associates in his corps must have been chiefly young Hanoverians; few of his comrades
in Prussia were to be found at Göttingen; his knowledge of English enabled him
to make the acquaintance of the Americans and English with whom Göttingen has
always been a favourite university; among his fellow-students almost the only one
with whom in after life he continued the intimacy of younger days was Motley. We hear
little of his work; none of the professors seem to have left any marked influence on
his mind or character; indeed they had little opportunity for doing so, for after the
first term his attendance at lectures almost entirely ceased. Though never a student,
he must have been at all times a considerable reader; he had a retentive memory and
quick understanding; he read what interested him; absorbed, understood, and retained
it. He left the university with his mind disciplined indeed but not drilled; he had a
considerable knowledge of languages, law, literature, and history; he had not
subjected his mind to the dominion of the dominant Hegelian philosophy, and to this
we must attribute that freshness and energy which distinguishes him from so many of
his ablest contemporaries; his brain was strong, and it worked as easily and as
naturally as his body; his knowledge was more that of a man of the world than of a
student, but in later life he was always able to understand the methods and to
acquire the knowledge of the subjects he required in his official career. History was
his favourite study; he never attempted, like some statesmen, to write; but if his
knowledge of history was not as profound as that of a professed historian, he was
afterwards to shew as a parliamentary debater that he had a truer perception of the
importance of events than many great scholars who have devoted their lives to
historical research, and he was never at a loss for an illustration to explain and
justify the policy he had assumed. For natural science he shewed little interest, and
indeed at that time it scarcely could be reckoned among the ordinary subjects of
education; philosophy he pursued rather as a man than as a student, and we are not
surprised to find that it was Spinoza rather than Kant or Fichte or Hegel to whom he
devoted most attention, for he cared more for principles of belief and the conduct of
life than the analysis of the intellect.

His university career does not seem to have left any mark on his political
principles; during just those years, the agitation of which the universities had long
been the scene had been forcibly repressed; it was the time of deep depression which
followed the revolution of 1830, and the members of the aristocratic corps to which
he belonged looked with something approaching contempt on this Burschenschaft,
as the union was called, which propagated among the students the national
enthusiasm.

After spending little more than a year at Göttingen, he left in September,
1833; in May of the following year he entered as a student at Berlin, where he
completed his university course; we have no record as to the manner in which he spent
the winter and early spring, but we find that when he applied to Göttingen for
permission to enter at Berlin, it was accorded on condition that he sat out a term of
imprisonment which he still owed to the university authorities. During part of his
time in Berlin he shared a room with Motley. In order to prepare for the final
examination he engaged the services of a crammer, and with his assistance, in 1835,
took the degree of Doctor of Law and at once passed on to the public service.

BISMARCK IN 1834

He had, as we have seen, been destined for the Diplomatic Service from early life;
he was well connected; his cousin Count Bismarck-Bohlen stood in high favour at
Court. He was related to or acquainted with all the families who held the chief posts
both in the military and civil service; with his great talents and social gifts he
might therefore look forward to a brilliant career. Any hopes, however, that his
mother might have had were destined to be disappointed; his early official life was
varied but short. He began in the judicial department and was appointed to the office
of Auscultator at Berlin, for in the German system the judicature is one department
of the Civil Service. After a year he was at his own request transferred to the
administrative side and to Aix-la-Chapelle; it is said that he had been extremely
pained and shocked by the manner in which the officials transacted the duties of
their office and especially by their management of the divorce matters which came
before the court. The choice of Aix-la-Chapelle was probably owing to the fact that
the president of that province was Count Arnim of Boytzenburg, the head of one of the
most numerous and distinguished families of the Mark, with so many members of which
Bismarck was in later years to be connected both for good and evil. Count Arnim was a
man of considerable ability and moderate liberal opinions, who a few years later rose
to be the first Minister-President in Prussia. Under him Bismarck was sure to receive
every assistance. He had to pass a fresh examination, which he did with great
success. His certificate states that he shewed thoroughly good school studies, and
was well grounded in law; he had thought over what he had learnt and already had
acquired independent opinions. He had admirable judgment, quickness in understanding,
and a readiness in giving verbal answers to the questions laid before him; we see all
the qualities by which he was to be distinguished in after life. He entered on his
duties at Aix-la-Chapelle at the beginning of June; at his own request Count Arnim
wrote to the heads of the department that as young Bismarck was destined for a
diplomatic career they were to afford him every opportunity of becoming acquainted
with all the different sides of the administrative work and give him more work than
they otherwise would have done; he was to be constantly occupied. His good
resolutions did not, however, continue long; he found himself in a fashionable
watering-place, his knowledge of languages enabled him to associate with the French
and English visitors, he made excursions to Belgium and the Rhine, and hunting
expeditions to the Ardennes, and gave up to society the time he ought to have spent
in the office. The life at Aix was not strict and perhaps his amusements were not
always edifying, but he acquired that complete ease in cosmopolitan society which he
could not learn at Göttingen or Berlin, and his experiences during this year
were not without use to him when he was afterwards placed in the somewhat similar
society of Frankfort. This period in his career did not last long; in June, 1837, we
find him applying for leave of absence on account of ill-health. He received leave
for eight days, but he seems to have exceeded this, for four months afterwards he
writes from Berne asking that his leave may be prolonged; he had apparently gone off
for a long tour in Switzerland and the Rhine. His request was refused; he received a
severe reprimand, and Count Arnim approved his resolution to return to one of the
older Prussian provinces, “where he might shew an activity in the duties of his
office which he had in vain attempted to attain in the social conditions of
Aachen.”

He was transferred to Potsdam, but he remained here only a few weeks; he had not
as yet served in the army, and he now began the year as a private soldier which was
required from him; he entered the Jaeger or Rifles in the Garde Corps which
was stationed at Potsdam, but after a few weeks was transferred to the Jaeger at
Stettin. The cause seems to have been partly the ill-health of his mother; she was
dying, and he wished to be near her; in those days the journey from Berlin to
Pomerania took more than a day; besides this there were pecuniary reasons. His
father’s administration of the family estates had not been successful; it is said
that his mother had constantly pressed her husband to introduce innovations, but had
not consistently carried them out; this was a not unnatural characteristic in the
clever and ambitious woman who wished to introduce into agricultural affairs those
habits which she had learnt from the bureaucrats in Berlin. However this may be,
matters had now reached a crisis; it became necessary to sell the larger part of the
land attached to the house at Schoenhausen, and in the next year, after the death of
Frau von Bismarck, which took place on January 1, 1839, it was decided that Herr von
Bismarck should in future live at Schoenhausen with his only daughter, now a girl of
twelve years of age, while the two brothers should undertake the management of the
Pomeranian estates.

So it came about that at the age of twenty-four all prospect of an official career
had for the time to be abandoned, and Otto settled down with his brother to the life
of a country squire. It is curious to notice that the greatest of his contemporaries,
Cavour, went through a similar training. There was, however, a great difference
between the two men: Cavour was in this as in all else a pioneer; when he retired to
his estate he was opening out new forms of activity and enterprise for his
countrymen; Bismarck after the few wild years away from home was to go back to the
life which all his ancestors had lived for five hundred years, to become steeped in
the traditions of his country and his caste. Cavour always points the way to what is
new, Bismarck again brings into honour what men had hastily thought was antiquated.
He had to some extent prepared himself for the work by attending lectures at a newly
founded agricultural college in the outskirts of Greifswald. The management of the
estate seems to have been successful; the two brothers started on their work with no
capital and no experience, but after three or four years by constant attention and
hard work they had put the affairs in a satisfactory state. In 1841, a division was
made; Otto had wished this to be done before, as he found that he spent a good deal
more money than his brother and was gaining an unfair advantage in the common
household; from this time he took over Kniephof, and there he lived for the next four
years, while his brother took up his abode four miles off at Kulz, where he lived
till his death in 1895. Otto had not indeed given up the habits he had learnt at
Göttingen; his wild freaks, his noisy entertainments, were the talk of the
countryside; the beverage which he has made classical, a mixture of beer and
champagne, was the common drink, and he was known far and wide as the mad Bismarck.
These acts of wildness were, however, only a small part of his life; he entered as a
lieutenant of Landwehr in the cavalry and thereby became acquainted with another form
of military service. It was while he was at the annual training that he had an
opportunity of shewing his physical strength and courage. A groom, who was watering
horses in the river, was swept away by the current; Bismarck, who was standing on a
bridge watching them, at once leaped into the river, in full uniform as he was, and
with great danger to himself saved the drowning man. For this he received a medal for
saving life. He astonished his friends by the amount and variety of his reading; it
was at this time that he studied Spinoza. It is said that he had among his friends
the reputation of being a liberal; it is probable enough that he said and did many
things which they did not understand; and anything they did not understand would be
attributed to liberalism by the country gentlemen of Pomerania; partly no doubt it
was due to the fact that in 1843 he came back from Paris wearing a beard. We can see,
however, that he was restless and discontented; he felt in himself the possession of
powers which were not being used; there was in his nature also a morbid restlessness,
a dissatisfaction with himself which he tried to still but only increased by his wild
excesses. As his affairs became more settled he travelled; one year he went to
London, another to Paris; of his visit to England we have an interesting account in a
letter to his father. He landed in Hull^[2], thence he went to Scarborough and York, where
he was hospitably received by the officers of the Hussars; “although I did not know
any of them, they asked me to dinner and shewed me everything”; from York he went to
Manchester, where he saw some of the factories.

“Generally speaking I cannot praise too highly the extraordinary courtesy
and kindness of English people, which far surpass what I had expected; even the
poor people are pleasant, very unassuming, and easy to get on with when one talks
to them. Those who come much into intercourse with strangers–cab-drivers, porters,
etc.–naturally have a tendency to extortion, but soon give in when they see that
one understands the language and customs and is determined not to be put upon.
Generally I find the life much cheaper than I expected.”

In 1844, his sister, to whom he was passionately devoted, was married to an old
friend, Oscar von Arnim. Never did an elder brother write to his young sister more
delightful letters than those which she received from him; from them we get a
pleasant picture of his life at this time. Directly after the wedding, when he was
staying with his father at Schoenhausen, he writes:

“Just now I am living here with my father, reading, smoking, and walking; I
help him to eat lamperns and sometimes play a comedy with him which it pleases him
to call fox-hunting. We start out in heavy rain, or perhaps with 10 degrees of
frost, with Ihle, Ellin, and Karl; then in perfect silence we surround a clump of
firs with the most sportsmanlike precautions, carefully observing the wind,
although we all, and probably father as well, are absolutely convinced that there
is not a living creature in it except one or two old women gathering firewood. Then
Ihle, Karl, and the two dogs make their way through the cover, emitting the most
strange and horrible sounds, especially Ihle; father stands there motionless and on
the alert with his gun cocked, just as though he really expected to see something.
Ihle comes out just in front of him, shouting ‘Hoo lala, hey heay, hold him, hie,
hie,’ in the strangest and most astonishing manner. Then father asks me if I have
seen nothing, and I with the most natural tone of astonishment that I can command,
answer ‘No, nothing at all.’ Then after abusing the weather we start off to another
wood, while Ihle with a confidence that he assumes in the most natural manner
praises its wealth in game, and there we play over the game again dal segno.
So it goes on for three or four hours; father’s, Ihle’s, and Fingal’s passion does
not seem to cool for a moment. Besides that, we look at the orange house twice a
day and the sheep once a day, observe the four thermometers in the room once every
hour, set the weather-glass, and, since the weather has been fine, have set all the
clocks by the sun and adjusted them so closely that the clock in the dining-room is
the only one which ever gives a sound after the others have struck. Charles V. was
a stupid fellow. You will understand that with so multifarious an occupation I have
little time left to call on the clergymen; as they have no vote for the election it
was quite impossible.

“The Elbe is full of ice, the wind E.S.E., the latest thermometer from Berlin
shews 8 degrees, the barometer is rising and at 8.28. I tell you this as an example
how in your letters you might write to father more the small events of your life;
they amuse him immensely; tell him who has been to see you, whom you have been
calling on, what you had for dinner, how the horses are, how the servants behave,
if the doors creak and the windows are firm–in short, facts and events. Besides
this, he does not like to be called papa, he dislikes the expression. Avis au
lecteur.”

On another occasion he says:

“Only with difficulty can I resist the temptation of filling a whole letter
with agricultural lamentations over frosts, sick cattle, bad reap, bad roads, dead
lambs, hungry sheep, want of straw, fodder, money, potatoes, and manure; outside
Johann is persistently whistling a wretched schottische out of tune, and I have not
the cruelty to interrupt it, for he seeks to still by music his violent
love-sickness.”

SHÖNHAUSEN
CASTLE

Then we have long letters from Nordeney, where he delighted in the sea, but space
will not allow us to quote more. It is only in these letters, and in those which he
wrote in later years to his wife, that we see the natural kindliness and simplicity
of his disposition, his love of nature, and his great power of description. There
have been few better letter-writers in Germany or any other country.

His ability and success as an agriculturist made a deep impression on his
neighbours. As years went on he became much occupied in local business; he was
appointed as the representative of his brother, who was Landrath for the district; in
1845 he was elected one of the members for the Provincial Diet of Pomerania. He also
had a seat in the Diet for the Saxon province in which Schoenhausen was situated.
These local Diets were the only form of representative government which existed in
the rural districts; they had little power, but their opinion was asked on new
projects of law, and they were officially regarded as an efficient substitute for a
common Prussian Parliament. Many of his friends, including his brother, urged him
again to enter the public service, for which they considered he was especially
adapted; he might have had the post of Royal Commissioner for Improvements in East
Prussia.

He did make one attempt to resume his official career. At the beginning of 1844 he
returned to Potsdam and took up his duties as Referendar, but not for long; he seems
to have quarrelled with his superior. The story is that he called one day to ask for
leave of absence; his chief kept him waiting an hour in the anteroom, and when he was
admitted asked him curtly, “What do you want?” Bismarck at once answered, “I came to
ask for leave of absence, but now I wish for permission to send in my resignation.”
He was clearly deficient in that subservience and ready obedience to authority which
was the best passport to promotion in the Civil Service; there was in his disposition
already a certain truculence and impatience. From this time he nourished a bitter
hatred of the Prussian bureaucracy.

This did not, however, prevent him carrying out his public duties as a landed
proprietor. In 1846 we find him taking much interest in proposals for improving the
management of the manorial courts; he wished to see them altered so as to give
something of the advantages of the English system; he regrets the “want of corporate
spirit and public feeling in our corn-growing aristocracy”; “it is unfortunately
difficult among most of the gentlemen to awake any other idea under the words
‘patrimonial power’ but the calculation whether the fee will cover the expenses.” We
can easily understand that the man who wrote this would be called a liberal by many
of his neighbours; what he wanted, however, was a reform which would give life,
permanency, and independence to an institution which like everything else was
gradually falling before the inroads of the dominant bureaucracy. The same year he
was appointed to the position of Inspector of Dykes for Jerichow. The duties of this
office were of considerable importance for Schoenhausen and the neighbouring estate;
as he writes, “it depends on the managers of this office
whether from time to time we come under water or not.” He often refers
to the great damages caused by the floods; he had lost many of his
fruit-trees, and many of the finest elms in the park had been destroyed
by the overflowing of the Elbe.

As Bismarck grew in age and experience he associated more with the neighbouring
families. Pomerania was at this time the centre of a curious religious movement; the
leader was Herr von Thadden, who lived at Triglaff, not many miles from Kniephof. He
was associated with Herr von Semft and three brothers of the family of Below. They
were all profoundly dissatisfied with the rationalistic religion preached by the
clergy at that time, and aimed at greater inwardness and depth of religious feeling.
Herr von Thadden started religious exercises in his own house, which were attended
not only by the peasants from the village but by many of the country gentry; they
desired the strictest enforcement of Lutheran doctrine, and wished the State directly
to support the Church. This tendency of thought acquired greater importance when, in
1840, Frederick William IV succeeded to the throne; he was also a man of deep
religious feeling, and under his reign the extreme Lutheran party became influential
at Court. Among the ablest of these were the three brothers von Gerlach. One of them,
Otto, was a theologian; another, Ludwig, was Over-President of the Saxon province,
and with him Bismarck had much official correspondence; the third, Leopold, who had
adopted a military career, was attached to the person of the King and was in later
years to have more influence upon him than anyone except perhaps Bunsen. The real
intellectual leader of the party was Stahl, a theologian.

From about the year 1844 Bismarck seems to have become very intimate with this
religious coterie; his friend Moritz v. Blankenburg had married Thadden’s daughter
and Bismarck was constantly a visitor at Triglaff. It was at Blankenburg’s wedding
that he first met Hans v. Kleist, who was in later years to be one of his most
intimate friends. He was, we are told, the most delightful and cheerful of
companions; in his tact and refinement he shewed an agreeable contrast to the
ordinary manners of Pomerania. He often rode over to take part in Shakespeare
evenings, and amused them by accounts of his visit to England^[3]. He was present
occasionally at the religious meetings at Triglaff, and though he never quite adopted
all the customs of the set the influence on him of these older men was for the next
ten years to govern all his political action. That he was not altogether at one with
them we can understand, when we are told that at Herr von Thadden’s house it would
never have occurred to anyone even to think of smoking. Bismarck was then, as in
later life, a constant smoker.

The men who met in these family parties in distant Pomerania were in a few years
to change the whole of European history. Here Bismarck for the first time saw
Albrecht von Roon, a cousin of the Blankenburgs, then a rising young officer in the
artillery; they often went out shooting together. The Belows, Blankenburgs, and
Kleists were to be the founders and leaders of the Prussian Conservative party, which
was Bismarck’s only support in his great struggle with the Parliament; and here, too,
came the men who were afterwards to be editors and writers of the Kreuz
Zeitung.

The religious convictions which Bismarck learnt from them were to be lasting, and
they profoundly influenced his character. He had probably received little religious
training from his mother, who belonged to the rationalistic school of thought. It was
by them that his monarchical feeling was strengthened. It is not at first apparent
what necessary connection there is between monarchical government and Christian
faith. For Bismarck they were ever inseparably bound together; nothing but religious
belief would have reconciled him to a form of government so repugnant to natural
human reason. “If I were not a Christian, I would be a Republican,” he said many
years later; in Christianity he found the only support against revolution and
socialism. He was not the man to be beguiled by romantic sentiment; he was not a
courtier to be blinded by the pomp and ceremony of royalty; he was too stubborn and
independent to acquiesce in the arbitrary rule of a single man. He could only obey
the king if the king himself held his authority as the representative of a higher
power. Bismarck was accustomed to follow out his thought to its conclusions. To whom
did the king owe his power? There was only one alternative: to the people or to God.
If to the people, then it was a mere question of convenience whether the monarchy
were continued in form; there was little to choose between a constitutional monarchy
where the king was appointed by the people and controlled by Parliament, and an
avowed republic. This was the principle held by nearly all his contemporaries. He
deliberately rejected it. He did not hold that the voice of the people was the voice
of God. This belief did not satisfy his moral sense; it seemed in public life to
leave all to interest and ambition and nothing to duty. It did not satisfy his
critical intellect; the word “people” was to him a vague idea. The service of the
People or of the King by the Grace of God, this was the struggle which was soon to be
fought out.

Bismarck’s connection with his neighbours was cemented by his marriage. At the
beginning of 1847, he was engaged to a Fräulein von Puttkammer, whom he had
first met at the Blankenburgs’ house; she belonged to a quiet and religious family,
and it is said that her mother was at first filled with dismay when she heard that
Johanna proposed to marry the mad Bismarck. He announced the engagement to his sister
in a letter containing the two words, “All right,” written in English. Before the
wedding could take place, a new impulse in his life was to begin. As representative
of the lower nobility he had to attend the meeting of the Estates General which had
been summoned in Berlin. From this time the story of his life is interwoven with the
history of his country.

CHAPTER III.

Bismarck was a subject of the King of Prussia, but Prussia was after all only one
part of a larger unit; it was a part of Germany. At this time, however, Germany was
little more than a geographical expression. The medieval emperors had never succeeded
in establishing permanent authority over the whole nation; what unity there had been
was completely broken down at the Reformation, and at the Revolution the Empire
itself, the symbol of a union which no longer existed, had been swept away. At the
restoration in 1815 the reorganisation of Germany was one of the chief tasks before
the Congress of Vienna. It was a task in which the statesmen failed. All proposals to
restore the Empire were rejected, chiefly because Francis, who had taken the style of
Emperor of Austria, did not desire to resume his old title. Germany emerged from the
Revolution divided into thirty-nine different States; Austria was one of the largest
and most populous monarchies in Europe, but more than half the Austrian Empire
consisted of Italian, Slavonic, and Hungarian provinces. The Emperor of Austria ruled
over about 20,000,000 Germans. The next State in size and importance was Prussia.
Then came four States, the Kingdoms of Saxony, Hanover, Bavaria, and Würtemberg,
varying in size from five to two million inhabitants; below them were some thirty
principalities of which the smallest contained only a few thousand inhabitants. By
the principles adopted in the negotiations which preceded the Congress of Vienna,
every one of these States was recognised as a complete independent monarchy, with its
own laws and constitutions. The recognition of this independence made any common
government impossible. Neither Austria nor Prussia would submit to any external
authority, or to one another; the Kings of Bavaria and Würtemberg were equally
jealous of their independence. All that could be done was to establish a permanent
offensive and defensive alliance between these States. For the management of common
concerns, a Diet was appointed to meet at Frankfort; the Diet, however, was only a
union of diplomatists; they had to act in accordance with instructions from their
governments and they had no direct authority over the Germans; each German was
officially regarded as a subject, as the case might be, of the King of Prussia, the
Prince of Reuss, the Grand Duke of Weimar. There was no German army, no German law,
no German church. No development of common institutions was possible, for no change
could be introduced without the universal consent of every member of the
Confederation.

This lamentable result of the Congress of Vienna caused much dissatisfaction among
the thinking classes in Germany. A very strong national feeling had been aroused by
the war against Napoleon. This found no satisfaction in the new political
institutions. The discontent was increased when it was discovered that the Diet, so
useless for all else, was active only against liberty. Prince Metternich, a very able
diplomatist, knew that the Liberal and National ideas, which were so generally held
at that time, would be fatal to the existence of the Austrian Empire; he therefore
attempted to suppress them, not only in Austria, but also in Germany, as he did in
Italy. Unfortunately the King of Prussia, Frederick William III., whose interests
were really entirely opposed to those of Austria, was persuaded by Metternich to
adopt a repressive policy. The two great powers when combined could impose their will
on Germany; they forced through the Diet a series of measures devoted to the
restriction of the liberty of the press, the control of the universities, and the
suppression of democratic opinion.

The result of this was great discontent in Germany, which was especially directed
against Prussia; in 1830 the outbreak of revolution in Paris had been followed by
disturbances in many German States; Austria and Prussia, however, were still strong
enough to maintain the old system. The whole intellect of the country was diverted to
a policy of opposition; in the smaller States of the south, Parliamentary government
had been introduced; and the great aim of the Liberals was to establish a Parliament
in Prussia also.

In 1840 the old King died; the son, Frederick William IV., was a man of great
learning, noble character, high aspirations; he was, however, entirely without
sympathy or understanding for the modern desires of his countrymen; he was a child of
the Romantic movement; at the head of the youngest of European monarchies, he felt
himself more at home in the Middle Ages than in his own time. There could be no
sympathy between him and the men who took their politics from Rousseau and Louis
Blanc, and their religion from Strauss. It had been hoped that he would at once
introduce into Prussia representative institutions. He long delayed, and the delay
took away any graciousness from the act when at last it was committed. By a royal
decree published in 1822 it had been determined that no new loan could be made
without the assent of an assembly of elected representatives; the introduction of
railways made a loan necessary, and at the beginning of 1847 Frederick William
summoned for the first time the States General.

The King of Prussia had thereby stirred up a power which he was unable to control;
he had hoped that he would be able to gather round him the representatives of the
nobles, the towns, and the peasants; that this new assembly, collecting about him in
respectful homage, would add lustre to his throne; that they would vote the money
which was required and then separate. How much was he mistaken! The nation had
watched for years Parliamentary government in England and France; this was what they
wished to have, and now they were offered a modern imitation of medieval estates.
They felt themselves as grown men able and justified in governing their own country;
the King treated them as children. The opening ceremony completed the bad impression
which the previous acts of the King had made. While the majority of the nation
desired a formal and written Constitution, the King in his opening speech with great
emphasis declared that he would never allow a sheet of paper to come between him and
God in heaven.

Bismarck was not present at the opening ceremony; it was, in fact, owing to an
accident that he was able to take his seat at all; he was there as substitute for the
member for the Ritterschaft of Jerichow, who had fallen ill. He entered on his
Parliamentary duties as a young and almost unknown man; he did not belong to any
party, but his political principles were strongly influenced by the friends he had
found in Pomerania. They were soon to be hardened by conflict and confirmed by
experience; during the first debates he sat silent, but his indignation rose as he
listened to the speeches of the Liberal majority. Nothing pleased them; instead of
actively co-operating with the Government in the consideration of financial measures,
they began to discuss and criticise the proclamation by which they had been summoned.
There was indeed ample scope for criticism; the Estates were so arranged that the
representatives of the towns could always be outvoted by the landed proprietors; they
had not even the right of periodical meetings; the King was not compelled to call
them together again until he required more money. They not only petitioned for
increased powers, they demanded them as a right; they maintained that an assembly
summoned in this form did not meet the intentions of previous laws; when they were
asked to allow a loan for a railway in East Prussia, they refused on the ground that
they were not a properly qualified assembly.

This was too much for Bismarck: the action of the King might have been
inconclusive; much that he said was indiscreet; but it remained true that he had
taken the decisive step; no one really doubted that Prussia would never again be
without a Parliament. It would be much wiser, as it would be more chivalrous, to
adopt a friendly tone and not to attempt to force concessions from him. He was
especially indignant at the statement made that the Prussian people had earned
constitutional government by the part they took in the war of liberation; against
this he protested:

“In my opinion it is a bad service to the national honour to assume that the
ill-treatment and degradation that the Prussians suffered from a foreign ruler were
not enough to make our blood boil, and to deaden all other feelings but that of
hatred for the foreigners.”

When told that he was not alive at the time, he answered:

“I cannot dispute that I was not living then, and I have been genuinely
sorry that I was not born in time to take part in that movement; a regret which is
diminished by what I have just heard. I had always believed that the slavery
against which we fought lay abroad; I have just learned that it lay at home, and I
am not grateful for the explanation.”

The ablest of the Liberal leaders was George v. Vincke; a member of an old
Westphalian family, the son of a high official, he was a man of honesty and
independence, but both virtues were carried to excess; a born leader of opposition,
domineering, quarrelsome, ill to please, his short, sturdy figure, his red face and
red hair were rather those of a peasant than a nobleman, but his eloquence, his
bitter invective, earned the respect and even fear of his opponents. Among these
Bismarck was to be ranged; in these days began a rivalry which was not to cease till
nearly twenty years later, when Vincke retired from the field and Bismarck stood
triumphant, the recognised ruler of the State. At this time it required courage in
the younger man to cross swords with the experienced and powerful leader.

Vincke was a strong Liberal, but in the English rather than the Prussian sense;
his constant theme was the rule of law; he had studied English history, for at that
time all Liberals prepared themselves for their part by reading Hallam or Guizot and
Dahlmann; he knew all about Pym and Hampden, and wished to imitate them. The English
Parliament had won its power by means of a Petition of Right and a Bill of Rights; he
wished they should do the same in Prussia; it escaped him that the English could
appeal to charters and ancient privileges, but that in Prussia the absolute power of
the King was the undisputed basis on which the whole State had been built up, and
that every law to which they owed their liberty or their property derived its
validity from the simple proclamation of the King.

Bismarck, if he had read less, understood better the characteristics of England,
probably because he knew better the conditions of his own country. He rose to protest
against these parallels with England; Prussia had its own problems which must be
settled in its own way.

“Parallels with foreign countries have always something disagreeable…. At
the Revolution, the English people were in a very different condition from that of
Prussia to-day; after a century of revolution and civil war, it was in a position
to be able to give away a crown and add conditions which William of Orange
accepted. On the other hand, we are in possession of a crown whose rights were
actually unlimited, a crown held by the grace not of the people but of God, and
which of its own free-will has given away to the people a portion of its rights–an
example rare in history.”

It shows how strong upon him was the influence of his friends in Pomerania that
his longest and most important speech was in defence of the Christian monarchy. The
occasion was a proposal to increase the privileges of the Jews. He said:

“I am no enemy of the Jews; if they become my enemies I will forgive them.
Under certain circumstances I love them; I am ready to grant them all rights but
that of holding the magisterial office in a Christian State. This they now claim;
they demand to become Landrath, General, Minister, yes even, under circumstances,
Minister of Religion and Education. I allow that I am full of prejudices, which, as
I have said, I have sucked in with my mother’s milk; I cannot argue them away; for
if I think of a Jew face to face with me as a representative of the King’s sacred
Majesty, and I have to obey him, I must confess that I should feel myself deeply
broken and depressed; the sincere self-respect with which I now attempt to fulfil
my duties towards the State would leave me. I share these feelings with the mass of
the lower strata of the people, and I am not ashamed of their society.”

And then he spoke of the Christian State:

“It is as old as every European State; it is the ground in which they have
taken root; no State has a secure existence unless it has a religious foundation.
For me, the words, ‘by the Grace of God,’ which Christian rulers add to their name,
are no empty phrase; I see in them a confession that the Princes desire to wield
the sceptre which God has given them according to the will of God on earth. As the
will of God I can only recognise that which has been revealed in the Christian
Gospel–I believe that the realisation of Christian teaching is the end of the
State; I do not believe that we shall more nearly approach this end by the help of
the Jews…. If we withdraw this foundation, we retain in a State nothing but an
accidental aggregate of rights, a kind of bulwark against the war of all against
all, which ancient philosophy has assumed. Therefore, gentlemen, do not let us
spoil the people of their Christianity; do not let us take from them the belief
that our legislation is drawn from the well of Christianity, and that the State
aims at the realisation of Christianity even if it does not attain its
end.”

We can well understand how delighted Herr von Thadden was with his pupil. “With
Bismarck I naturally will not attempt to measure myself,” he writes; “in the last
debates he has again said many admirable things”; and in another letter, “I am quite
enthusiastic for Otto Bismarck.” It was more important that the King felt as if these
words had been spoken out of his own heart.

Among his opponents, too, he had made his mark; they were never tired of repeating
well-worn jests about the medieval opinions which he had sucked in with his mother’s
milk.

At the close of the session, he returned to Pomerania with fresh laurels; he was
now looked upon as the rising hope of the stern and unbending Tories. His marriage
took place in August, and the young Hans Kleist, a cousin of the bride, as he
proposed the bridegroom’s health, foretold that in their friend had arisen a new Otto
of Saxony who would do for his country all that his namesake had done eight hundred
years before. Careless words spoken half in jest, which thirty years later Kleist,
then Over-President of the province, recalled when he proposed the bridegroom’s
health at the marriage of Bismarck’s eldest daughter. The forecast had been more than
fulfilled, but fulfilled at the cost of many an early friendship; and all the glory
of later years could never quite repay the happy confidence and intimacy of those
younger days.

Followed by the good wishes of all their friends, Bismarck and his young wife
started on their wedding tour, which took them through Austria to Italy. At Venice he
came across the King of Prussia, who took the opportunity to have more than one
conversation with the man who had distinguished himself in the States General. At the
beginning of the winter they returned to Schoenhausen to settle down to a quiet
country life. Fate was to will it otherwise. The storm which had long been gathering
burst over Europe. Bismarck was carried away by it; from henceforth his life was
entirely devoted to public duties, and we can count by months the time he was able to
spend with his wife at the old family house; more than forty years were to pass
before he was able again to enjoy the leisure of his early years.

The revolution which at the end of February broke out in Paris quickly spread to
Germany; the ground was prepared and the news quickly came to him, first of disorder
in South Germany, then of the fall of the Ministry in Dresden and Munich; after a few
days it was told that a revolution had taken place in Vienna itself. The rising in
Austria was the signal for Berlin, and on the 18th of March the revolution broke out
there also. The King had promised to grant a Constitution; a fierce fight had taken
place in the streets of the city between the soldiers and the people; the King had
surrendered to the mob, and had ordered the troops to withdraw from the city. He was
himself almost a prisoner in his castle protected only by a civilian National Guard.
He was exposed to the insults of the crowd; his brother had had to leave the city and
the country. It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm and wild delight with which
the people of Germany heard of these events. Now the press was free, now they also
were going to be free and great and strong. All the resistance of authority was
overthrown; nothing, it seemed, stood between them and the attainment of their ideal
of a united and free Germany. They had achieved a revolution; they had become a
political people; they had shewn themselves the equals of England and of France. They
had liberty, and they would soon have a Constitution. Bismarck did not share this
feeling; he saw only that the monarchy which he respected, and the King whom, with
all his faults, he loved and honoured, were humiliated and disgraced. This was worse
than Jena. A defeat on the field of battle can be avenged; here the enemies were his
own countrymen; it was Prussian subjects who had made the King the laughing-stock of
Europe. Only a few months ago he had pleaded that they should not lose that
confidence between King and people which was the finest tradition of the Prussian
State; could this confidence ever be restored when the blood of so many soldiers and
citizens had been shed? He felt as though someone had struck him in the face, for his
country’s dishonour was to him as his own; he became ill with gall and anger. He had
only two thoughts: first to restore to the King courage and confidence, and
then—revenge on the men who had done this thing. He at least was not going to
play with the revolution. He at once sat down and wrote to the King a letter full of
ardent expressions of loyalty and affection, that he might know there still were men
on whom he could rely. It is said that for months after, through all this terrible
year, the King kept it open by him on his writing-table. Then he hurried to Berlin,
if necessary to defend him with the sword. This was not necessary, but the situation
was almost worse than he feared; the King was safe, but he was safe because he had
surrendered to the revolution; he had proclaimed the fatal words that Prussia was
to be dissolved in Germany.

At Potsdam Bismarck found his old friends of the Guard and the Court; they were
all in silent despair. What could they do to save the monarchy when the King himself
had deserted their cause? Some there were who even talked of seeking help from the
Czar of Russia, who had offered to come to the help of the monarchy in Prussia and
place himself at the head of the Prussian army, even if necessary against their own
King. There was already a Liberal Ministry under Count Arnim, Bismarck’s old chief at
Aachen; the Prussian troops were being sent to support the people of
Schleswig-Holstein in their rebellion against the Danes; the Ministers favoured the
aspirations of Poland for self-government; in Prussia there was to be a Constituent
Assembly and a new Constitution drawn up by it. Bismarck did what he could; he went
down to Schoenhausen and began to collect signatures for an address of loyalty to the
King; he wished to instil into him confidence by appealing to the loyalty of the
country against the radicalism of the town. Then he hurried back to Berlin for the
meeting of the Estates General, which had been hastily summoned to prepare for the
new elections. An address was proposed thanking the King for the concessions he had
made; Bismarck opposed it, but he stood almost alone.

“I have not changed my opinion,” he said, “in the last six months; the past
is buried, and I regret more bitterly than any of you that no human power can
reawaken it, now that the Crown itself has cast the earth on its coffin.”

Two men alone voted against the address—Bismarck and Herr von Thadden. “It
is easy to get fame nowadays,” said the latter; “a little courage is all one
requires.”

Courage it did require; Berlin was terrorised; the new National Guard was unable
to maintain order; men scarcely dared to appear in the streets in the ordinary dress
of a gentleman. The city was full of Polish insurgents, many of whom had only just
been released from prison. When the National Assembly came together, it became the
organ of the extreme Republican party; all the more moderate men and more
distinguished had preferred to be elected for that general German Assembly which at
the same time was sitting at Frankfort to create a new Constitution for the whole
Confederation. How quickly had the balance of parties altered: Vincke, until a few
months ago the leader of the Liberals, found himself at Frankfort regarded as an
extreme Conservative; and Frankfort was moderate compared to Berlin. At this time an
ordinary English Radical would have been looked upon in Germany as almost
reactionary. Bismarck did not seek election for either of the Assemblies; he felt
that he could do no good by taking part in the deliberations of a Parliament, the
very meeting of which seemed to him an offence against the laws and welfare of the
State. He would indeed have had no logical position; both Parliaments were
Constituent Assemblies; it was the duty of the one to build up a new Germany, of the
other a new Prussia; their avowed object was the regeneration of their country.
Bismarck did not believe that Prussia wanted regenerating; he held that the roots for
the future greatness of the State must be found in the past. What happened to Germany
he did not much care; all he saw was that every proposal for the regeneration of
Germany implied either a dissolution of Prussia, or the subjection of the Prussian
King to the orders of an alien Parliament.

During the summer he did what he could; he contributed articles to the newspapers
attacking the Polish policy of the Government, and defending the landlords and
country gentry against the attacks made on them. As the months went by, as the
anarchy in Berlin increased, and the violence of the Assembly as well as the
helplessness of the Government became more manifest, he and some of his friends
determined to make their voices heard in a more organised way. It was at the house of
his father-in-law at Rheinfeld that he, Hans Kleist, and Herr von Below determined to
call together a meeting of well-known men in Berlin, who should discuss the situation
and be a moral counterpoise to the meetings of the National Assembly; for in that the
Conservative party and even the Moderate Liberals were scarcely represented; if they
did speak they were threatened by the mob which encumbered the approaches to the
House. Of more permanent importance was the foundation of a newspaper which should
represent the principles of the Christian monarchy, and in July appeared the first
number of the New Prussian Gazette, or, as it was to be more generally known,
the Kreuz Zeitung, which was to give its name to the party of which it was the
organ. Bismarck was among the founders, among whom were also numbered Stahl, the
Gerlachs, and others of his older friends; he was a frequent contributor, and when he
was at Berlin was almost daily at the office; when he was in the country he
contributed articles on the rural affairs with which he was more specially qualified
to deal.

These steps, of course, attracted the attention and the hostility of the dominant
Liberal and Revolutionary parties; the Junker, as they were called, were
accused of aiming at reaction and the restoration of the absolute monarchy. As a
matter of fact, this is what many of them desired; they were, however, only doing
their duty as members of society; it would have been mere cowardice and indolence had
they remained inactive and seen all the institutions they valued overthrown without
attempting to defend them. It required considerable courage in the middle of so
violent a crisis to come forward and attempt to stop the revolution; it was a good
example that they began to do so by constitutional and legal means. They shewed that
Prussia had an aristocracy, and an aristocracy which was not frightened; deserted by
the King they acted alone; in the hour of greatest danger they founded a Conservative
party, and matters had come to this position that an organised Conservative party was
the chief necessity of the time.

At first, however, their influence was small, for a monarchical party must depend
for its success on the adhesion of the King, and the King had not yet resolved to
separate himself from his Liberal advisers. Bismarck was often at Court and seems to
have had much influence; both to his other companions and to the King himself he
preached always courage and resolution; he spoke often to the King with great
openness; he was supported by Leopold von Gerlach, with whom at this time he
contracted a close intimacy. For long their advice was in vain, but in the autumn
events occurred which shewed that some decision must be taken: the mob of Berlin
stormed the Zeughaus where the arms were kept; the Constitution of the
Assembly was being drawn up so as to leave the King scarcely any influence in the
State; a resolution was passed calling on the Ministers to request all officers to
leave the army who disliked the new order of things. The crisis was brought about by
events in Vienna; in October the Austrian army under Jellachich and
Windischgrätz stormed the city, proclaimed martial law, and forcibly overthrew
the Revolutionary Government; the King of Prussia now summoned resolution to adopt a
similar course. It is said that Bismarck suggested to him the names of the Ministers
to whom the task should be entrusted. The most important were Count Brandenburg, an
uncle of the King’s, and Otto v. Manteuffel, a member of the Prussian aristocracy,
who with Bismarck had distinguished himself in the Estates General. He seems to have
been constantly going about among the more influential men, encouraging them as he
encouraged the King, and helping behind the scenes to prepare for the momentous step.
Gerlach had suggested Bismarck’s name as one of the Ministers, but the King rejected
it, writing on the side of the paper the characteristic words, “Red reactionary;
smells of blood; will be useful later.” Bismarck’s language was of such a nature as
to alarm even many of those who associated with him. Count Beust, the Saxon Minister,
was at this time in Berlin and met Bismarck for the first time; they were discussing
the conduct of the Austrian Government in shooting Robert Blum, a leading demagogue
who had been in Vienna during the siege. Beust condemned it as a political blunder.
“No, you are wrong,” said Bismarck; “when I have my enemy in my power I must destroy
him.”

The event fully justified Bismarck’s forecast that nothing was required but
courage and resolution. After Brandenburg had been appointed Minister, the Prussian
troops under Wrangel again entered Berlin, a state of siege was proclaimed, the
Assembly was ordered to adjourn to Brandenburg; they refused and were at once ejected
from their meeting-place, and as a quorum was not found at Brandenburg, were
dissolved. The Crown then of its own authority published a new Constitution and
summoned a new Assembly to discuss and ratify it. Based on the discipline of the army
the King had regained his authority without the loss of a single life.

Bismarck stood for election in this new Assembly, for he could accept the basis on
which it had been summoned; he took his seat for the district of the West Havel in
which the old city of Brandenburg, the original capital of the Mark, was situated. He
had come forward as an opponent of the Revolution. “Everyone,” he said in his
election address, “must support the Government in the course they have taken of
combating the Revolution which threatens us all.” “No transaction with the
Revolution,” was the watchword proposed in the manifesto of his party. He appealed to
the electors as one who would direct all his efforts to restore the old bond of
confidence between Crown and people. He kept his promise. In this Assembly the
Extreme Left was still the predominant party; in an address to the Crown they asked
that the state of siege at Berlin should be raised, and that an amnesty to those who
had fought on the 18th of March should be proclaimed. Bismarck did not yet think that
the time for forgiveness had come; the struggle was indeed not yet over. He opposed
the first demand because, as he said, there was more danger to liberty of debate from
the armed mob than there was from the Prussian soldiers. In one of the most careful
of his speeches he opposed the amnesty. “Amnesty,” he said, “was a right of the
Crown, not of the Assembly”; moreover the repeated amnesties were undermining in the
people the feeling of law; the opinion was being spread about that the law of the
State rested on the barricades, that everyone who disliked a law or considered it
unjust had the right to consider it as non-existent. Who that has read the history of
Europe during this year can doubt the justice of the remark? Then he continues:

“My third reason for voting against the amnesty is humanity. The strife of
principles which during this year has shattered Europe to its foundations is one in
which no compromise is possible. They rest on opposite bases. The one draws its law
from what is called the will of the people, in truth, however, from the law of the
strongest on the barricades. The other rests on authority created by God, an
authority by the grace of God, and seeks its development in organic connection with
the existing and constitutional legal status … the decision on these principles
will come not by Parliamentary debate, not by majorities of eleven votes; sooner or
later the God who directs the battle will cast his iron dice.”

These words were greeted with applause, not only by the men who sat on his side of
the House, but by those opposite to him. The truth of them was to be shewn by the
events which were taking place at that very time. They were spoken on the 22d of
March. The next day was fought the battle of Novara and it seemed that the last hopes
of the Italian patriots were shattered. Within a few months the Austrian army subdued
with terrible vengeance the rising in Lombardy and Venetia; Hungary was prostrate
before the troops whom the Czar sent to help the young Austrian Emperor, and the last
despairing outbreak of rebellion in Saxony and in Baden was to be subdued by the
Prussian army. The Revolution had failed and it had raised up, as will always happen,
a military power, harder, crueller, and more resolute than that it had overthrown.
The control over Europe had passed out of the hands of Metternich and Louis Philippe
to fall into those of Nicholas, Schwarzenberg, and Napoleon III.

In Prussia the King used his power with moderation, the conflict of parties was
continued within legal limits and under constitutional forms.

The Parliament which still claimed that control over the executive government
which all Parliaments of the Revolution had exercised, was dissolved. A new Assembly
met in August; the King had of his own authority altered the electoral law and the
new Parliament showed a considerable majority belonging to the more moderate Liberal
party. Bismarck retained his old seat. He still found much to do; his influence was
increasing; he opposed the doctrines of the more moderate Liberalism with the same
energy with which he had attacked the extreme Revolution. The most important debates
were those concerning the Constitution; he took part in them, especially opposing the
claim of the Parliament to refuse taxes. He saw that if the right was given to the
Lower House of voting the taxes afresh every year they would be able to establish a
complete control over the executive government; this he did not wish. He was willing
that they should have the right of discussing and rejecting any new taxes and also,
in agreement with the Crown and the Upper House, of determining the annual Budget. It
was maintained by the Liberals that the right to reject supplies every year was an
essential part of a constitutional system; they appealed to the practice in England
and to the principles adopted in the French and Belgian Constitutions. Their argument
was that this practice which had been introduced in other countries must be adopted
also in Prussia. It was just one of those arguments which above all offended
Bismarck’s Prussian patriotism. Why should Prussia imitate other countries? Why
should it not have its own Constitution in its own way? Constitution, as he said, was
the mot d’ordre of the day, the word which men used when they were in want of
an argument. “In Prussia that only is constitutional which arises from the Prussian
Constitution; whatever be constitutional in Belgium, or in France, in Anhalt Dessau,
or there where the morning red of Mecklenburg freedom shines, here that alone is
constitutional which rests on the Prussian Constitution.” If he defended the
prerogative of the Crown he defended the Constitution of his country. A constitution
is the collection of rules and laws by which the action of the king is governed; a
state without a constitution is a mere Oriental despotism where each arbitrary whim
of the king is transmuted into action; this was not what Bismarck desired or
defended; there was no danger of this in Prussia. He did not even oppose changes in
the law and practice of the Constitution; what he did oppose was the particular
change which would transfer the sovereignty to an elected House of Parliament. “It
has been maintained,” he once said, “that a constitutional king cannot be a king by
the Grace of God; on the contrary he is it above all others.”

The references to foreign customs were indeed one of the most curious practices of
the time; the matter was once being discussed whether the Crown had the power to
declare a state of siege without the assent of the Chambers; most speakers attempted
to interpret the text of the Prussian Constitution by precedents derived from the
practice in France and England; we find the Minister of Justice defending his action
on the ground of an event in the French Revolution, and Lothar Bucher, one of the
ablest of the Opposition, complained that not enough attention had been paid to the
procedure adopted in England for repealing the Habeas Corpus Act, entirely
ignoring the fact that there was no Habeas Corpus Act in Prussia. We can easily
understand how repulsive this was to a man who, like Bismarck, wished nothing more
than that his countrymen should copy, not the details of the English Constitution,
but the proud self-reliance which would regard as impertinent an application of
foreign notions.

The chief cause for this peculiarity was the desire of the Liberal party to attain
that degree of independence and personal liberty which was enjoyed in England or
France; the easiest way to do this seemed to be to copy their institutions. There
was, however, another reason: the study of Roman law in Germany in which they had
been educated had accustomed them to look for absolute principles of jurisprudence
which might be applied to the legislation of all countries; when, therefore, they
turned their minds to questions of politics, they looked for absolute principles of
constitutional government, on which, as on a law of nature, their own institutions
might be built up. To find these they analysed the English Constitution, for England
was the classical land of representative government; they read its rules as they
would the institutions of a Roman Jurisconsult and used them to cast light on the
dark places of their own law. Bismarck did not share this type of thought; his mind
was rather of the English cast; he believed the old Prussian Constitution was as much
a natural growth as that of England, and decided dark points by reference to older
practice as an Englishman would search for precedents in the history of his own
country.

At that time the absolute excellence of a democratic constitution was a dogma
which few cared to dispute; it appeared to his hearers as a mere paradox when
Bismarck pointed out how little evidence there was that a great country could prosper
under the government of a Parliament elected by an extended franchise. Strictly
speaking, there was no evidence from experience; France, as he said, was the parent
of all these theories, but the example of France was certainly not seductive. “I see
in the present circumstances of France nothing to encourage us to put the
Nessus robe of French political teaching over our healthy body.” (This was in
September, 1849, when the struggle between the Prince President and the Assembly was
already impending.) The Liberals appealed to Belgium; it had, at least, stood the
storm of the last year, but so had Russia, and, after all, the Belgian Constitution
was only eighteen years old, “an admirable age for ladies but not for constitutions.”
And then there was England.

“England governs itself, although the Lower House has the right of refusing
taxes. The references to England are our misfortune; give us all that is English
which we have not, give us English fear of God and English reverence before the
law, the whole English Constitution, but above all the complete independence of
English landed property, English wealth and English common-sense, especially an
English Lower House, in short everything which we have not got, then I will say,
you can govern us after the English fashion.”

But this was not all. How could they appeal to England as a proof that a
democratic Parliament was desirable? England had not grown great under a democratic
but under an aristocratic constitution.

“English reform is younger than the Belgian Constitution; we have still to
wait and see whether this reformed Constitution will maintain itself for centuries
as did the earlier rule of the English aristocracy.”

That, in Bismarck’s opinion, it was not likely to do so, we see a few years later;
with most Continental critics of English institutions, he believed that the Reform
Bill had destroyed the backbone of the English Constitution. In 1857 he wrote:

“They have lost the ‘inherited wisdom’ since the Reform Bill; they maintain
a coarse and violent selfishness and the ignorance of Continental
relations.”

It was not merely aristocratic prejudice; it was a wise caution to bid his
countrymen pause before they adopted from foreign theorists a form of government so
new and untried, and risked for the sake of an experiment the whole future of
Prussia.

In later years Bismarck apologised for many of the speeches which he made at this
period: “I was a terrible Junker in those days,” he said; and biographers generally
speak of them as though they required justification or apology. There seems no reason
for this. It would have been impossible for him, had he at that time been entrusted
with the government of the State, entirely to put into practice what he had said from
his place in the Chamber. But he was not minister; he was only a party leader; his
speeches were, as they were intended to be, party speeches; they had something of the
exaggeration which conflict always produces. They were, moreover, opposition
speeches, for he was addressing not so much the Government as the Chamber and the
country, and in them the party to which he belonged was a very small minority. But
why was there not to be a Conservative party in Prussia?

It was necessary for the proper development of constitutional life that the
dominant Liberal doctrines should be opposed by this bold criticism. Bismarck was
only doing what in England was done by the young Disraeli, by Carlyle, and by Ruskin;
the world would not be saved by constitutional formulæ.

There were some of his party whose aims went indeed beyond what may be considered
morally legitimate and politically practicable. The Gerlachs and many of their
friends, and the purely military party which was headed by Prince Charles Frederick,
the King’s youngest brother, desired to do away with the Constitution, to dismiss the
Parliament, and to restore the absolute monarchy in a form which would have been more
extreme than that which it had had since 1815. The King himself sympathised with
their wishes and he probably would have acted according to them were it not that he
had sworn to maintain the Constitution. He was a religious man and he respected his
oath. There does not appear any evidence that Bismarck wished for extreme action of
this kind. Even in his private correspondence, at least in that part of it which has
been published, one finds no desire to see Prussia entirely without a Parliament. It
was a very different thing to wish as he did that the duties of the Parliament should
be strictly limited and that they should not be allowed completely to govern the
State. We must always remember how much he owed to representative assemblies. Had the
Estates General never been summoned, had the Revolution never taken place, he would
probably have passed his life as a country gentleman, often discontented with the
Government of the country but entirely without influence. He owed to Parliament his
personal reputation, but he owed to it something more than that. Up to 1847 the only
public career open to a Prussian subject was the Civil Service; it was from them that
not only the subordinate officials but the Ministers of the State were selected. Now
we have seen that Bismarck had tried the Civil Service and deliberately retired from
it. The hatred of bureaucracy he never overcame, even when he was at the head of the
Prussian State. It arose partly from the natural opposition between the nobleman and
the clerk. Bismarck felt in this like Stein, the greatest of his predecessors, who
though he had taken service under the Prussian Crown never overcame his hatred of
“the animal with a pen” as he called Prussian Civil Servants, and shed tears
of indignation when he was first offered a salary. Bismarck was never a great
nobleman like Stein and he did not dislike receiving a salary; but he felt that the
Civil Servants were the enemies of the order to which he belonged. He speaks a few
years later of “the biting acid of Prussian legislation which in a single generation
can reduce a mediatised Prince to an ordinary voter.” He is never tired of saying
that it was the bureaucracy which was the real introducer of the Revolution into
Prussia. In one of his speeches he defends himself and his friends against the charge
of being enemies to freedom; “that they were not,” he says;

“Absolutism with us is closely connected with the omnipotence of the
Geheimrath and the conceited omniscience of the Professors who sit behind
the green table, a product, and I venture to maintain a necessary product, of the
Prussian method of education. This product, the bureaucracy, I have never
loved.”

When, as he often does, he maintains that the Prussian Parliament does not
represent the people, he is thinking of the predominance among them of officials, for
we must always remember that many of the extreme Liberal party and some of their most
active leaders were men who were actually at that time in the service of the
Crown.

It was the introduction of a Representative Assembly that for the first time in
Prussian history made possible a Conservative opposition against the Liberalism of
the Prussian Government. There are two kinds of Liberalism. In one sense of the word
it means freedom of debate, freedom of the press, the power of the individual as
against the Government, independence of character, and personal freedom. Of
Liberalism in this sense of the word there was indeed little in the Prussian
Government. But Liberalism also meant the overthrow of the old established
institutions inherited from the Middle Ages, especially the destruction of all
privileges held by the nobility; it meant on the Continent opposition to all form of
dogmatic religious teaching; it meant the complete subjection of the Church to the
State; it meant the abolition of all local distinctions and the introduction of a
uniform system of government chiefly imitated from French institutions. It was in
this sense of the word that, with the exception of the first few years of the reign
of Frederick William IV., the Prussian Government had been Liberal, and it was this
Liberalism which Bismarck and his friends hated almost as much as they did the
Liberalism of the Revolution.

The clearest instance of his attitude on such matters is to be found in his
opposition to the Bill introduced for making civil marriage compulsory. He opposed it
in a speech which was many years later to be quoted against him when he himself
introduced a measure almost identical with that which he now opposed. Civil marriage,
he said, was a foreign institution, an imitation of French legislation; it would
simply serve to undermine the belief in Christianity among the people, “and” he said,
“I have seen many friends of the illumination during the last year or two come to
recognise that a certain degree of positive Christianity is necessary for the common
man, if he is not to become dangerous to human society.” The desire for introducing
this custom was merely an instance of the constant wish to imitate what is
foreign.

“It would be amusing,” he said, “if it were not just our own country which
was subjected to these experiments of French charlatanism. In the course of the
discussion it has often been said by gentlemen standing in this place that Europe
holds us for a people of thinkers. Gentlemen, that was in old days. The popular
representation of the last two years has deprived us of this reputation. They have
shown to a disappointed Europe only translators of French stucco but no original
thinkers. It may be that when civil marriage also rejoices in its majority, the
people will have their eyes opened to the swindle to which they have been
sacrificed; when one after another the old Christian fundamental rights have been
taken from them: the right to be governed by Christian magistrates; the right to
know that they have secured to their children a Christian education in schools
which Christian parents are compelled to maintain and to use; the right of being
married in the Christian fashion which his faith requires from everyone, without
being dependent on constitutional ceremonies. If we go on in this way I hope still
to see the day when the fool’s ship of the time will be wrecked on the rock of the
Christian Church; for the belief in the revealed Word of God still stands firmer
among the people than the belief in the saving power of any article of the
Constitution.”

In the same way he was able from his place in Parliament to criticise the
proposals of the Government for freeing the peasants from those payments in kind, and
personal service which in some of the provinces still adhered to their property; he
attacked their financial proposals; he exposed the injustice of the land tax; he
defended the manorial jurisdiction of the country gentlemen. Especially he defended
the nobles of Prussia themselves, a class against whom so many attacks had been made.
He pointed out that by them and by their blood the Prussian State had been built up;
the Prussian nobles were, he maintained, not, as so often was said, unpopular; a
third of the House belonged to them; they were not necessarily opposed to freedom;
they were, at least, the truest defenders of the State. Let people not confuse
patriotism and Liberalism. Who had done more for the true political independence of
the State, that independence without which all freedom was impossible, than the
Prussian nobles? At the end of the Seven Years’ War boys had stood at the head of the
army, the only survivors of their families. The privileges of the nobles had been
taken from them, but they had not behaved like the democrats; their loyalty to the
State had never wavered; they had not even formed a Fronde. He was not ashamed of the
name of Junker: “We will bring the name to glory and honour,” were almost the last
words he spoke in Parliament.

Bismarck soon became completely at home in the House. Notwithstanding the strength
of his opinions and the vigour with which he gave expression to them, he was not
unpopular, even among his opponents. He was always a gentleman and a man of the
world; he did not dislike mixing with men of all classes and all parties; he had none
of that stiffness and hauteur which many of his friends had acquired from their
military pursuits. His relations with his opponents are illustrated by an anecdote of
which there are many versions. He found himself one day while in the refreshment room
standing side by side with d’Ester, one of the most extreme of the Republican party.
They fell into conversation, and d’Ester suggested that they should make a compact
and, whichever party succeeded in the struggle for power, they should each agree to
spare the other. If the Republicans won, Bismarck should not be guillotined; if the
monarchists, d’Ester should not be hung. “No,” answered Bismarck, “that is no use; if
you come into power, life would not be worth living. There must be hanging, but
courtesy to the foot of the gallows.”

If he was in after years to become known as the great adversary of Parliamentary
government, this did not arise from any incapacity to hold his own in Parliamentary
debate. He did not indeed aim at oratory; then, as in later years, he always spoke
with great contempt of men who depended for power on their rhetorical ability. He was
himself deficient in the physical gifts of a great speaker; powerful as was his
frame, his voice was thin and weak. He had nothing of the actor in him; he could not
command the deep voice, the solemn tones, the imposing gestures, the Olympian mien by
which men like Waldeck and Radowitz and Gagern dominated and controlled their
audience. His own mind was essentially critical; he appealed more to the intellect
than the emotions. His speeches were always controversial, but he was an admirable
debater. It is curious to see how quickly he adopts the natural Parliamentary tone.
His speeches are all subdued in tone and conversational in manner. Many of them were
very carefully prepared, for though he did not generally write them out, he said them
over and over again to himself or to Kleist, with whom he lived in Berlin. They are
entirely unlike any other speeches—he has, in fact, in them, as in his letters,
added a new chapter to the literature of his country, hitherto so poor in prose.

They shew a vivid imagination and an almost unequalled power of illustration. The
thought is always concrete, and he is never satisfied with the vague ideas and
abstract conceptions which so easily moved his contemporaries.

BISMARCK IN 1848
[From a painting by F. Von Lenbach.]

No speeches, either in English or in German, preserve so much of their freshness.
He is almost the only Parliamentary orator whose speeches have become to some extent
a popular book; no other orator has enriched the language as he has done with new
phrases and images. The great characteristic of his speeches, as of his letters, is
the complete absence of affectation and the very remarkable intellectual honesty.
They are often deficient in order and arrangement; he did not excel in the logical
exposition of a connected argument, but he never was satisfied till he had presented
the idea which influenced him in words so forcible and original that it was impressed
on the minds of his audience, and he was often able to find expressions which will
not be forgotten so long as the German language is spoken.

We can easily imagine that under other circumstances, or in another country, he
would have risen to power and held office as a Parliamentary Minister. He often
appeals to the practice and traditions of the English Parliament, and there are few
Continental statesmen who would have been so completely at home in the English House
of Commons; he belonged to the class of men from whom so many of the great English
statesmen had come and whom he himself describes:

“What with us is lacking is the whole class which in England carries on
politics, the class of gentlemen who are well-to-do and therefore Conservative, who
are independent of material interests and whose whole education is directed towards
making them English statesmen, and the object of whose life is to take part in the
Commonwealth of England.”

They were the class to whom he belonged, and he would gladly have taken part in a
Parliamentary government of this kind.

The weakness of his position arose from the fact that he was really acquainted
with and represented the inhabitants of only one-half of the monarchy. So long as he
is dealing with questions of landed property, or of the condition of the peasants, he
has a minute and thorough knowledge. He did not always, however, avoid the danger of
speaking as though Prussia consisted entirely of agriculturists. The great difficulty
then as now of governing the State, was that it consisted of two parts: the older
provinces, almost entirely agricultural, where the land was held chiefly by the great
nobles, and the new provinces, the Rhine and Westphalia, where there was a large and
growing industrial population. To the inhabitants of these provinces Bismarck’s
constant appeal to the old Prussian traditions and to the achievements of the
Prussian nobility could have little meaning. What did the citizens of Cologne and
Aachen care about the Seven Years’ War? If their ancestors took part in the war, it
would be as enemies of the Kings of Prussia. When Bismarck said that they were
Prussians, and would remain Prussian, he undoubtedly spoke the opinion of the Mark
and of Pomerania. But the inhabitants of the Western Provinces still felt and thought
rather as Germans than as Prussians; they had scarcely been united with the monarchy
thirty years; they were not disloyal, but they were quite prepared—nay, they
wished to see Prussia dissolved in Germany. No one can govern Prussia unless he is
able to reconcile to his policy these two different classes in the State. It was this
which the Prussian Conservatives, to which Bismarck at that time belonged, have
always failed to do. The Liberals whom he opposed failed equally. In later years he
was very nearly to succeed in a task which might appear almost impossible.

CHAPTER IV.

Bismarck, however, did not confine himself to questions of constitutional reform
and internal government. He often spoke on the foreign policy of the Government, and
it is in these speeches that he shews most originality.

The Revolution in Germany, as in Italy, had two sides; it was Liberal, but it was
also National. The National element was the stronger and more deep-seated. The
Germans felt deeply the humiliation to which they were exposed owing to the fact that
they did not enjoy the protection of a powerful Government; they wished to belong to
a national State, as Frenchmen, Englishmen, and Russians did. It was the general hope
that the period of revolution might be used for establishing a government to which
the whole of Germany would pay obedience. This was the task of the Constituent
Assembly, which since the spring of 1848 had with the permission of the Governments
been sitting at Frankfort. Would they be able to succeed where the diplomatists of
Vienna had failed? They had at least good-will, but it was to be shewn that something
more than honest endeavour was necessary. There were three great difficulties with
which they had to contend. The first was the Republican party, the men who would
accept no government but a Republic, and who wished to found the new state by
insurrection. They were a small minority of the German people; several attempts at
insurrection organised by them were suppressed, and they were outvoted in the
Assembly. The second difficulty was Austria. A considerable portion of Germany was
included in the Austrian Empire. If the whole of Germany were to be included in the
new State which they hoped to found, then part of the Austrian Empire would have to
be separated from the rest, subjected to different laws and a different government;
nothing would remain but a personal union between the German and Slavonic provinces.
The Government of Austria, after it had recovered its authority at the end of 1848,
refused to accept this position, and published a new Constitution, binding all the
provinces together in a closer union. The Assembly at Frankfort had no power to
coerce the Emperor of Austria; they therefore adopted the other solution, viz.: that
the rest of Germany was to be reconstituted, and the Austrian provinces left out. The
question, however, then arose: Would Austria accept this—would she allow a new
Germany to be created in which she had no part? Surely not, if she was able to
prevent it. The third difficulty was the relation between the individual States and
the new central authority. It is obvious that whatever powers were given to the new
Government would be taken away from the Princes of the individual States, who
hitherto had enjoyed complete sovereignty. Those people who in Germany were much
influenced by attachment to the existing governments, and who wished to maintain the
full authority of the Princes and the local Parliaments, were called
Particularists. During the excitement of the Revolution they had been almost
entirely silenced. With the restoration of order and authority they had regained
their influence. It was probable that many of the States would refuse to accept the
new Constitution unless they were compelled to do so. Where was the power to do this?
There were many in the National Assembly who wished to appeal to the power of the
people, and by insurrection and barricades compel all the Princes to accept the new
Constitution. There was only one other power in Germany which could do the work, and
that was the Prussian army. Would the King of Prussia accept this task?

The German Constitution was completed in March, 1849. By the exercise of much tact
and great personal influence, Heinrich von Gagern, the President of the Assembly and
the leader of the Moderate party in it, had procured a majority in favour of an
hereditary monarchy, and the King of Prussia was elected to the post of first German
Emperor. At the beginning of April there arrived in Berlin the deputation which was
to offer to him the crown, and on his answer depended the future of Germany. Were he
to accept, he would then have undertaken to put himself at the head of the
revolutionary movement; it would be his duty to compel all the other States to accept
the new Constitution, and, if necessary, to defend it on the field of battle against
Austria. Besides this he would have to govern not only Prussia but Germany; to govern
it under a Constitution which gave almost all the power to a Parliament elected by
universal suffrage, and in which he had only a suspensive veto. Can we be surprised
that he refused the offer? He refused it on the ground that he could not accept
universal suffrage, and also because the title and power of German Emperor could not
be conferred on him by a popular assembly; he could only accept it from his equals,
the German Princes.

The decision of the King was discussed in the Prussian Assembly, and an address
moved declaring that the Frankfort Constitution was in legal existence, and
requesting the King to accept the offer. It was on this occasion that Bismarck for
the first time came forward as the leader of a small party on the Extreme Right. He
at once rose to move the previous question. He denied to the Assembly even the right
of discussing this matter which belonged to the prerogative of the King.

He was still more strongly opposed to the acceptance of the offered crown. He saw
only that the King of Prussia would be subjected to a Parliamentary Assembly, that
his power of action would be limited. The motto of his speech was that Prussia must
remain Prussia. “The crown of Frankfort,” he said, “may be very bright, but the gold
which gives truth to its brilliance has first to be won by melting down the Prussian
crown.” His speech caused great indignation; ten thousand copies of it were printed
to be distributed among the electors so as to show them the real principles and
objects of the reactionary party.

His opposition to any identification of Prussia and Germany was maintained when
the Prussian Government itself took the initiative and proposed its own solution.
During the summer of 1849, the Prussian programme was published. The Government
invited the other States of Germany to enter into a fresh union; the basis of the new
Constitution was to be that of Frankfort, but altered so far as might be found
necessary, and the union was to be a voluntary one. The King in order to carry out
this policy appointed as one of his Ministers Herr von Radowitz. He was a man of the
highest character and extreme ability. An officer by profession, he was distinguished
by the versatility of his interests and his great learning. The King found in him a
man who shared his own enthusiasm for letters. He had been a member of the Parliament
at Frankfort, and had taken a leading part among the extreme Conservatives; a Roman
Catholic, he had come forward in defence of religion and order against the Liberals
and Republicans; a very eloquent speaker, by his earnestness and eloquence he was
able for a short time to give new life to the failing hopes of the German
patriots.

Bismarck always looked on the new Minister with great dislike. Radowitz, indeed,
hated the Revolution as much as he did; he was a zealous and patriotic Prussian; but
there was a fundamental difference in the nature of the two men. Radowitz wished to
reform Germany by moral influence. Bismarck did not believe in the possibility of
this. To this perhaps we must add some personal feeling. The Ministry had hitherto
consisted almost entirely of men who were either personal friends of Bismarck, or
whom he had recommended to the King. With Radowitz there entered into it a man who
was superior to all of them in ability, and over whom Bismarck could not hope to have
any influence. Bismarck’s distrust, which amounted almost to hatred, depended,
however, on his fear that the new policy would bring about the ruin of Prussia. He
took the extreme Particularist view; he had no interest in Germany outside Prussia;
Würtemberg and Bavaria were to him foreign States. In all these proposals for a
new Constitution he saw only that Prussia would be required to sacrifice its complete
independence; that the King of Prussia would become executor for the decrees of a
popular and alien Parliament. They were asked to cease to be Prussians in order that
they might become Germans. This Bismarck refused to do. “Prussians we are,” he said,
“and Prussians we will remain.” He had no sympathy with this idea of a United Germany
which was so powerful at the time; there was only one way in which he was willing
that Germany should be united, and that was according to the example which Frederick
the Great had set. The ideals of the German nation were represented by Arndt’s famous
song, “Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?” The fatherland of the Germans was not Suabia
or Prussia, not Austria or Bavaria, it was the whole of Germany wherever the German
tongue was spoken. From this Bismarck deliberately dissociated himself. “I have never
heard,” he said, “a Prussian soldier singing, ‘Was ist des Deutschen Vaterland?'” The
new flag of Germany was to be the German tricolour, black and white and gold.

“The Prussian soldiers,” cried Bismarck, “have no tricoloured enthusiasm;
among them you will find, as little as in the rest of the Prussian people, the
desire for a national regeneration; they are contented with the name of Prussia,
and proud of the name of Prussia. These troops follow the black and white flag, not
the tricolour; under the black and white they die with joy for their country. The
tricolour they have learnt since the 18th of March to look on as the colours of
their foes.”

These words aroused intense indignation. One of the speakers who followed referred
to him as the Prodigal Son of the German Fatherland, who had deserted his father’s
house. Bismarck repudiated the epithet. “I am not a prodigal son,” he said; “my
father’s house is Prussia and I have never left it.” He could not more clearly
repudiate the title German. The others were moved by enthusiasm for an idea, he by
loyalty to an existing State.

Nothing was sound, he said, in Germany, except the old Prussian institutions.

“What has preserved us is that which is specifically Prussian. It was the
remnant of the Stock-Preussenthum which has survived the Revolution, the
Prussian army, the Prussian treasure, the fruits of many years of intelligent
Prussian administration, and the living co-operation between King and people. It
was the attachment of the Prussian people to their hereditary dynasty, the old
Prussian virtues of honour, loyalty, obedience, and the courage which, emanating
from the officers who form its bone and marrow, permeates the army down to the
youngest recruit.”

He reminded the House how the Assembly at Frankfort had only been saved from the
insurgent mob by a Prussian regiment, and now it was proposed to weaken and destroy
all these Prussian institutions in order to change them into a democratic Germany. He
was asked to assent to a Constitution in which the Prussian Government would sink to
the level of a provincial council, under the guidance of an Imperial Ministry which
itself would be dependent on a Parliament in which the Prussian interests would be in
a minority. The most important and honourable duties of the Prussian Parliament would
be transferred to a general Parliament; the King would lose his veto; he would be
compelled against his will to assent to laws he disliked; even the Prussian army
would be no longer under his sole command. What recompense were they to gain for
this?

“The pleasant consciousness of having followed an unselfish and noble
policy; of having satisfied the requirements of a national regeneration; of having
carried out the historical task of Prussia, or some such vague expression.”

With this he contrasted what would have been a true Prussian policy, a policy
which Frederick the Great might have followed.

“He would have known that now as in the day of our fathers the sound of the
trumpets which summoned them to their sovereign’s flag has not lost its power for
Prussian ears; he would have had the choice either of joining our old comrade
Austria, and undertaking the brilliant part which the Emperor of Russia has played,
and destroying the cause of the Revolution, or by the same right by which he took
Silesia, he might, after refusing to accept the crown, have ordered the Germans
what constitution they should have, and thrown the sword into the scale; then
Prussia would have been in the position to win for Germany its place in the Council
of Europe.

“We all wish the same. We all wish that the Prussian eagle should spread out his
wings as guardian and ruler from the Memel to the Donnersberg, but free will we
have him, not bound by a new Regensburg Diet. Prussians we are and Prussians will
we remain; I know that in these words I speak the confession of the Prussian army
and the majority of my fellow-countrymen, and I hope to God that we will still long
remain Prussian when this sheet of paper is forgotten like a withered autumn
leaf.”

The policy of Radowitz was doomed to failure, not so much because of any inherent
weakness in it, but because Prussia was not strong enough to defend herself against
all the enemies she had called up. The other Courts of Germany were lukewarm, Austria
was extremely hostile. The Kings of Hanover and Saxony retreated from the alliance on
the ground that they would enter the union only if the whole of Germany joined;
Bavaria had refused to do so; in fact the two other Kings had privately used all
their influence to prevent Bavaria from joining, in order that they might always have
an excuse for seceding. Prussia was, therefore, left surrounded by twenty-eight of
the smaller States. A Parliament from them was summoned to meet at Erfurt in order to
discuss the new Constitution. Bismarck was elected a member of it; he went there
avowedly to protect the Prussian interests. He had demanded from the Government that
at least the Constitution agreed on in Erfurt should again be submitted to the
Prussian Chamber; he feared that many of the most important Prussian rights might be
sacrificed. His request was refused, for it was obvious that if, after the Parliament
of Erfurt had come to some conclusion, the new Constitution was to be referred back
again to the twenty-eight Parliaments of the allied States, the new union would never
come into effect at all. It is curious here to find Bismarck using the rights of the
Prussian Parliament as a weapon to maintain the complete independence of Prussia.
Sixteen years later, when he was doing the work in which Radowitz failed, one of his
chief difficulties arose from the conduct of men who came forward with just the same
demand which he now made, and he had to refuse their demands as Radowitz now refused
his.

He did not take much part in the debates at Erfurt; as he was one of the youngest
of the members, he held the position of Secretary; the President of the Assembly was
Simpson, a very distinguished public man, but a converted Jew. “What would my father
have said,” observed Bismarck, “if he had lived to see me become clerk to a Jewish
scholar?” On one occasion he became involved in what might have been a very serious
dispute, when he used his power as Secretary to exclude from the reporters’ gallery
two journalists whose reports of the meeting were very partial and strongly opposed
to Austria. His attitude towards the Assembly is shewn by the words:

“I know that what I have said to you will have no influence on your votes,
but I am equally convinced that your votes will be as completely without influence
on the course of events.”

The whole union was, as a matter of fact, broken down by the opposition of
Austria. Bismarck had, in one of his first speeches, warned against a policy which
would bring Prussia into the position which Piedmont had held before the battle of
Novara, when they embarked on a war in which victory would have brought about the
overthrow of the monarchy, and defeat a disgraceful peace. It was his way of saying
that he hoped the King would not eventually draw the sword in order to defend the new
Liberal Constitution against the opposition of Austria. The day came when the King
was placed in this position. Austria had summoned the old Diet to meet at Frankfort;
Prussia denied that the Diet still legally existed; the two policies were clearly
opposed to one another: Austria desiring the restoration of the old Constitution,
Prussia, at the head of Liberal Germany, summoning the States round her in a new
union. There were other disputes about Schleswig-Holstein and the affairs of Hesse,
but this was the real point at issue. The Austrians were armed, and were supported by
the Czar and many of the German States; shots were actually exchanged between the
Prussian and Bavarian outposts in Hesse. The Austrian ambassador had orders to leave
Berlin; had he done so, war could not have been avoided. He disobeyed his orders,
remained in Berlin, asked for an interview with the King, and used all his influence
to persuade him to surrender. The Ministry was divided; Radowitz stood almost alone;
the other Ministers, Bismarck’s friends, had always distrusted his policy. They
wished to renew the old alliance with Austria; the Minister of War said they could
not risk the struggle; it was rumoured that he had deliberately avoided making
preparations in order to prevent the King putting himself at the head of the Liberal
party. During the crisis, Bismarck was summoned to the King at Letzlingen; there can
be no doubt what his advice was; eventually the party of peace prevailed, and
Radowitz resigned. Bismarck on hearing the news danced three times round the table
with delight. Brandenburg died almost immediately after; Manteuffel became
Minister-President; he asked Schwarzenberg for an interview, travelled to Olmütz
to meet him, and an agreement was come to by which practically Prussia surrendered
every object of dispute between the two great Powers.

The convention of Olmütz was the most complete humiliation to which any
European State has ever been subjected. Prussia had undertaken a policy, and with the
strong approval of the great majority of the nation had consistently maintained it
for over a year; Austria had required that this policy should be surrendered; the two
States had armed; the ultimatum had been sent, everything was prepared for war, and
then Prussia surrendered. The cause for this was a double one. It was partly that
Prussia was really not strong enough to meet the coalition of Austria and Russia, but
it was also that the King was really of two minds; he was constitutionally unable to
maintain against danger a consistent course of policy.

Bismarck was one of the few men who defended the action of the Ministry. In the
ablest of all his speeches he took up the gauntlet, and exposed all the weakness and
the dangers of Radowitz’s policy. This was not a cause in which Prussia should risk
its existence. Why should they go to war in order to subject Prussia not to the
Princes but to the Chambers of the smaller States? A war for the Union would, he
said, remind him of the Englishman who had a fight with the sentry in order that he
might hang himself in the sentry-box, a right which he claimed for himself and every
free Briton. It was the duty of the councillors of the King to warn him from a policy
which would bring the State to destruction.

“Still I would not shrink, from the war; I would advise it, were anyone able
to prove to me the necessity for it, or to point out a worthy end which could be
attained by it and in no other way. Why do great States wage war nowadays? The only
sound principle of action for a great State is political egoism and not
Romanticism, and it is unworthy of a great State to fight for any matter which does
not concern its own interests. Shew us, gentlemen, an object worthy of war and you
have my vote. It is easy for a statesman in his office or his chamber to blow the
trumpet with the breath of popularity and all the time to sit warming himself by
his fireside, while he leaves it to the rifleman, who lies bleeding on the snow,
whether his system attains victory and glory. Nothing is easier; but woe to the
statesman who at such a time does not look about for a reason for the war which
will be valid when the war is over. I am convinced you will see the questions which
now occupy us in a different light a year hence, when you look back upon them
through a long perspective of battle-fields and conflagrations, misery and
wretchedness. Will you then have the courage to go to the peasant by the ashes of
his cottage, to the cripple, to the childless father, and say: ‘You have suffered
much, but rejoice with us, the Union is saved. Rejoice with us, Hassenpflug is no
longer Minister, Bayernhofer rules in Hesse.'”

Eloquent words; but what a strange comment on them his own acts were to afford. In
1850 Prussia had a clearer and juster cause of war than in 1866; every word of his
speech might have been used with equal effect sixteen years later; the Constitution
of 1850 was little different from that which Bismarck himself was to give to Germany.
The policy of Radowitz was the only true policy for Prussia; if he failed, it was
because Prussia’s army was not strong enough; war would have been followed by defeat
and disaster. There was one man who saw the evils as they really were; the Prince of
Prussia determined that if ever he became King the army of Prussia should be again
made strong and efficient.

It was probably this speech which determined Bismarck’s future career. He had
defended the agreement with Austria and identified himself with the policy of the
Government; what more natural than that they should use him to help to carry out the
policy he had upheld. Prussia consented to recognise the restoration of the Diet; it
would be necessary, therefore, to send an envoy. Now that she had submitted to
Austria the only wise policy was to cultivate her friendship. Who could do this
better than Bismarck? Who had more boldly supported and praised the new rulers of
Austria? When the Gotha party, as they were called, had wished to exclude Austria
from Germany, he it was who said that Austria was no more a foreign State than
Würtemberg or Bavaria. The appointment of Bismarck would be the best proof of
the loyal intentions of the Prussian Government.

A few years later he himself gave to Motley the following account of his
appointment:

“In the summer of 1851,” Motley writes, “he told me that the Minister,
Manteuffel, asked him one day abruptly, if he would accept the post of Ambassador
at Frankfort, to which (although the proposition was as unexpected a one to him as
if I should hear by the next mail that I had been chosen Governor of Massachusetts)
he answered, after a moment’s deliberation, ‘yes,’ with out another word. The King,
the same day, sent for him, and asked him if he would accept the place, to which he
made the same brief answer, ‘Ja.’ His Majesty expressed a little surprise that he
made no inquiries or conditions, when Bismarck replied that anything which the King
felt strong enough to propose to him, he felt strong enough to accept. I only write
these details, that you may have an idea of the man. Strict integrity and courage
of character, a high sense of honour, a firm religious belief, united with
remarkable talents, make up necessarily a combination which cannot be found any day
in any Court; and I have no doubt that he is destined to be Prime Minister, unless
his obstinate truthfulness, which is apt to be a stumbling-block for politicians,
stands in his way.”

CHAPTER V.

Bismarck when he went to Frankfort was thirty-six years of age; he had had no
experience in diplomacy and had long been unaccustomed to the routine of official
life. He had distinguished himself by qualities which might seem very undiplomatic;
as a Parliamentary debater he had been outspoken in a degree remarkable even during a
revolution; he had a habit of tearing away the veil from those facts which everyone
knows and which all wish to ignore; a careless good-fellowship which promised little
of that reserve and discretion so necessary in a confidential agent; a personal and
wilful independence which might easily lead him into disagreement with the Ministers
and the King. He had not even the advantage of learning his work by apprenticeship
under a more experienced official; during the first two months at Frankfort he held
the position of First Secretary, but his chief did not attempt to introduce him to
the more important negotiations and when, at the end of July, he received his
definite appointment as envoy, he knew as little of the work as when he arrived at
Frankfort.

He had, however, occupied his time in becoming acquainted with the social
conditions. His first impressions were very unfavourable. Frankfort held a peculiar
position. Though the centre of the German political system it was less German than
any other town in the country. The society was very cosmopolitan. There were the
envoys of the German States and the foreign Powers, but the diplomatic circle was not
graced by the dignity of a Court nor by the neighbourhood of any great administrative
Power. Side by side with the diplomatists were the citizens of Frankfort; but here
again we find indeed a great money-market, the centre of the finance of the
Continent, dissociated from any great productive activity. In the neighbourhood were
the watering-places and gambling-tables; Homburg and Wiesbaden, Soden and
Baden-Baden, were within an easy ride or short railway journey, and Frankfort was
constantly visited by all the idle Princes of Germany. It was a city in which
intrigue took the place of statesmanship, and never has intrigue played so large a
part in the history of Europe as during the years 1850-1870. Half the small States
who were represented at Frankfort had ambitions beyond their powers; they liked to
play their part in the politics of Europe. Too weak to stand alone, they were also
too weak to be quite honest, and attempted to gain by cunning a position which they
could not maintain by other means. This was the city in which Bismarck was to serve
his diplomatic apprenticeship.

Two extracts from letters to his wife give the best picture of his personal
character at this time:

“On Saturday I drove with Rochow to Rüdesheim; there I took a boat and
rowed out on the Rhine, and bathed in the moonlight–only nose and eyes above the
water, and floated down to the Rat Tower at Bingen, where the wicked Bishop met his
end. It is something strangely dreamlike to lie in the water in the quiet, warm
light, gently carried along by the stream; to look at the sky with the moon and
stars above one, and, on either side, to see the wooded mountain-tops and castle
parapets in the moonlight, and to hear nothing but the gentle rippling of one’s own
motion. I should like a swim like this every evening. Then I drank some very good
wine, and sat long talking with Lynar on the balcony, with the Rhine beneath us. My
little Testament and the starry heavens brought us on Christian topics, and I long
shook at the Rousseau-like virtue of his soul.” “Yesterday I was at Wiesbaden, and
with a feeling of melancholy revisited the scenes of former folly. May it please
God to fill with His clear and strong wine this vessel in which the champagne of
twenty-one years foamed so uselessly…. I do not understand how a man who reflects
on himself, and still knows, and will know, nothing of God, can endure his life for
contempt and weariness. I do not know how I endured this in old days; if, as then,
I were to live without God, thee, and the children, I do not know why I should not
put life aside like a dirty shirt; and yet most of my acquaintances live
thus.”

PRINCESS
BISMARCK

Now let us see what he thinks of his new duties:

“Our intercourse here is at best nothing but a mutual suspicion and
espionage; if only there was anything to spy out and to hide! It is pure trifles
with which they worry themselves, and I find these diplomatists with their airs of
confidence and their petty fussiness much more absurd than the member of the Second
Chamber in his conscious dignity. Unless some external events take place, and we
clever men of the Diet can neither direct nor foresee them, I know already what we
shall bring about in one or two or three years, and will do it in twenty-four hours
if the others will only be reasonable and truthful for a single day. I am making
tremendous progress in the art of saying nothing in many words; I write reports
many pages long, which are smooth and finished like leading articles, and if
Manteuffel after reading them can say what they contain, he can do more than I. We
all do as though we believed of each other that we are full of thoughts and plans,
if only we would express them, and all the time we none of us know a hair’s breadth
more what will become of Germany.”

Of the Austrian Envoy who was President of the Diet he writes:

“Thun in his outward appearance has something of a hearty good fellow mixed
with a touch of the Vienna roué. Underneath this he hides, I will not
say great political power and intellectual gifts, but an uncommon cleverness and
cunning, which with great presence of mind appears from underneath the mask of
harmless good-humour as soon as politics are concerned. I consider him as an
opponent who is dangerous to anyone who honestly trusts him, instead of paying back
in his own coin.”

His judgment on his other colleagues is equally decisive; of the Austrian
diplomatists he writes:

“one must never expect that they will make what is right the foundation of
their policy for the simple reason that it is the right. Cautious dishonesty is the
characteristic of their association with us. They have nothing which awakens
confidence. They intrigue under the mask of good-fellowship.”

It was impossible to look for open co-operation from them;

“their mouths are full of the necessity for common action, but when it is a
question of furthering our wishes, then officially it is, ‘We will not oppose,’ and
a secret pleasure in preparing obstacles.”

It was just the same with the envoys of the other countries: with few exceptions
there is none for whom right has any value in itself.

“They are caricatures of diplomatists who put on their official physiognomy
if I ask them for a light, and select gestures and words with a truly Regensburg
caution, if they ask for the key of the water-closet.” Writing to Gerlach he speaks
of “the lying, double-tongued policy of the Austrians. Of all the lies and
intrigues that go on up and down the Rhine an honest man from the old Mark has no
conception. These South German children of nature are very corrupt.”

His opinion of the diplomatists does not seem to have improved as he knew them
better. Years later he wrote:

“There are few diplomatists who in the long run do not prefer to capitulate
with their conscience and their patriotism, and to guard the interests of their
country and their sovereign with somewhat less decision, rather than, incessantly
and with danger to their personal position, to contend with the difficulties which
are prepared for them by a powerful and unscrupulous enemy.”

He does not think much better of his own Prussian colleagues; he often complains
of the want of support which he received. “With us the official diplomacy,” he
writes, “is capable of playing under the same roof with strangers against their own
countrymen.”

These letters are chiefly interesting because of the light they throw on his own
character at the beginning of his diplomatic career; we must not take them all too
seriously. He was too good a raconteur not to make a good story better, and too good
a letter-writer not to add something to the effect of his descriptions; besides, as
he says elsewhere, he did not easily see the good side of people; his eyes were
sharper for their faults than their good qualities.^[4] After the first few
passages of arms he got on well enough with Thun; when he was recalled two years
later Bismarck spoke of him with much warmth. “I like him personally, and should be
glad to have him for a neighbour at Schönhausen.”

It is however important to notice that the first impression made on him by
diplomatic work was that of wanton and ineffective deceit. Those who accuse him, as
is so often done, of lowering the standard of political morality which prevails in
Europe, know little of politics as they were at the time when Schwarzenberg was the
leading statesman.

It was his fate at once to be brought in close contact with the most disagreeable
side of political life. In all diplomatic work there must be a good deal of espionage
and underhand dealing. This was a part of his duties which Bismarck had soon to
learn. He was entrusted with the management of the Press. This consisted of two
parts: first of all, he had to procure the insertion of articles in influential
papers in a sense agreeable to the plans of the Prussian Government; secondly, when
hostile articles appeared, or inconvenient information was published, he had to trace
the authors of it,—find out by whom the obnoxious paper had been inspired, or
who had conveyed the secret information. This is a form of activity of which it is of
course not possible to give any full account; it seems, however, clear that in a
remarkably short time Bismarck shewed great aptitude for his new duties. His letters
to Manteuffel are full of curious information as to the intrigues of those who are
hostile to Prussia. He soon learns to distrust the information supplied by the
police; all through his life he had little respect for this department of the
Prussian State. He soon had agents of his own. We find him gaining secret information
as to the plans of the Ultramontane party in Baden from a compositor at Freiburg who
was in his pay. On other occasions, when a Court official at Berlin had conveyed to
the newspapers private information, Bismarck was soon able to trace him out. We get
the impression, both from his letters and from what other information we possess,
that all the diplomatists of Germany were constantly occupied in calumniating one
another through anonymous contributions to a venal Press.

It is characteristic of the customs of the time that he had to warn his wife that
all her letters to him would be read in the post-office before he received them. It
was not only the Austrians who used these methods; each of the Prussian Ministers
would have his own organ which he would use for his own purposes, and only too
probably to attack his own colleagues. It was at this time that a curious fact came
to light with regard to Herr von Prokesch-Osten, the Austrian Ambassador at Berlin.
He had been transferred from Berlin to Frankfort, and on leaving his house sold some
of his furniture. In a chest of drawers was found a large bundle of papers consisting
of newspaper articles in his handwriting, which had been communicated to different
papers, attacking the Prussian Government, to which he at the time was accredited. Of
Prokesch it is that Bismarck once writes: “As to his statements I do not know how
much you will find to be Prokesch, and how much to be true.” On another occasion,
before many witnesses, Bismarck had disputed some statement he made. “If it is not
true,” cried Prokesch, “then I should have lied in the name of the Royal and Imperial
Government.” “Certainly,” answered Bismarck. There was a dead pause in the
conversation. Prokesch afterwards officially admitted that the statement had been
incorrect.

This association with the Press formed in him a habit of mind which he never lost:
the proper use of newspapers seemed to him, as to most German statesmen, to be not
the expression of public opinion but the support of the Government; if a paper is
opposed to the Government, the assumption seems to be that it is bribed by some other
State.

“The whole country would rejoice if some of the papers which are supported
by foreign sources were suppressed, with the express recognition of their
unpatriotic attitude. There may be opposition in the internal affairs, but a paper
which in Prussia takes part against the policy of the King on behalf of foreign
countries, must be regarded as dishonoured and treated as such.”

Politically his position was very difficult; the Diet had been restored by Austria
against the will of Prussia; the very presence of a Prussian Envoy in Frankfort was a
sign of her humiliation. He had indeed gone there full of friendly dispositions
towards Austria; he was instructed to take up again the policy which had been pursued
before 1848, when all questions of importance had been discussed by the two great
Powers before they were laid before the Diet. Bismarck, however, quickly found that
this was no longer the intention of Austria; the Austria which he had so chivalrously
defended at Berlin did not exist; he had expected to find a warm and faithful
friend—he found a cunning and arrogant enemy. Schwarzenberg had spared Prussia
but he intended to humble her; he wished to use the Diet as a means of permanently
asserting the supremacy of Austria, and he would not be content until Prussia had
been forced like Saxony or Bavaria to acquiesce in the position of a vassal State.
The task might not seem impossible, for Prussia appeared to be on the downward
path.

Of course the Diet of Frankfort was the place where the plan had to be carried
out; it seemed an admirable opportunity that Prussia was represented there by a young
and untried man. Count Thun and his successors used every means to make it appear as
though Prussia was a State not of equal rank with Austria. They carried the war into
society and, as diplomatists always will, used the outward forms of social
intercourse as a means for obtaining political ends. On this field, Bismarck was
quite capable of meeting them. He has told many stories of their conflicts.

As President of the Diet, Thun claimed privileges for himself which others did not
dare to dispute.

“In the sittings of the military commission when Rochow was Prussian envoy,
Austria alone smoked. Rochow, who was a passionate smoker, would also have gladly
done so, but did not venture. When I came I did not see any reason against it; and
asked for a light from the Presiding State; this seemed to be noticed with
astonishment and displeasure by him and the other gentlemen; it was obviously an
event for them. This time only Austria and Prussia smoked. But the others obviously
held it so important that they sent home a report on it. Someone must have written
about it to Berlin, as a question from the late King arrived; he did not smoke
himself and probably did not find the affair to his taste. It required much
consideration at the smaller Courts, and for quite half a year only the two great
Powers smoked. Then Schrenk, the Bavarian envoy, began to maintain the dignity of
his position by smoking. The Saxon Nostitz would doubtless have liked to begin too,
but I suppose he had not yet received permission from his Minister. But when next
time he saw that Bothmer, the Hanoverian, allowed himself a cigar, he must have
come to an understanding with his neighbour (he was a good Austrian, and had sons
in the Austrian army), for he brought out his pouch and lit up. There remained only
the Würtemberger and the Darmstadter, and they did not smoke at all, but the
honour and the importance of their States required it, and so on the following day
the Würtemberger really brought out his cigar. I can see him with it now, a
long, thin, yellow thing, the colour of rye-straw,–and with sulky determination,
as a sacrifice for his Swabian fatherland, he smoked at least half of it.
Hesse-Darmstadt alone refrained.”

On another occasion Thun received Bismarck in his shirt sleeves: “You are quite
right,” said Bismarck, “it is very hot,” and took off his own coat.

In the transaction of business he found the same thing. The plan seemed to be
deliberately to adopt a policy disadvantageous to Prussia, to procure the votes of a
majority of the States, thereby to cause Prussia to be outvoted, and to leave her in
the dilemma of accepting a decision which was harmful to herself or of openly
breaking with the Federation. On every matter which came up the same scenes repeated
themselves; now it was the disposal of the fleet, which had to a great extent been
provided for and maintained by Prussian money; Austria demanded that it should be
regarded as the property of the Confederation even though most of the States had
never paid their contribution. Then it was the question of the Customs’ Union; a
strong effort was made by the anti-Prussian party to overthrow the union which
Prussia had established and thereby ruin the one great work which she had achieved.
Against these and similar attempts Bismarck had constantly to be on the defensive.
Another time it was the publication of the proceedings of the Diet which the
Austrians tried to make a weapon against Prussia. The whole intercourse became
nothing but a series of disputes, sometimes serious, sometimes trivial.

Bismarck was soon able to hold his own; poor Count Thun, whose nerves were not
strong, after a serious discussion with him used to go to bed at five o’clock in the
afternoon; he complained that his health would not allow him to hold his post if
there were to be continuous quarrels. When his successor, Herr v. Prokesch, left
Frankfort for Constantinople, he said that “it would be like an Eastern dream of the
blessed to converse with the wise Ali instead of Bismarck.”

As soon as the first strangeness had passed off Bismarck became reconciled to his
position. His wife and children joined him, he made himself a comfortable home, and
his house soon became one of the most popular in the town; he and his wife were
genial and hospitable and he used his position to extend his own influence and that
of his country. His old friend, Motley, visited him there in 1855 and wrote to his
wife:

“FRANKFORT,
“Monday, July 30, 1855.

” … The Bismarcks are as kind as ever–nothing can be more frank and cordial
than her manners. I am there all day long. It is one of those houses where everyone
does what he likes. The show apartments where they receive formal company are on
the front of the house. Their living rooms, however, are a salon and
dining-room at the back, opening upon the garden. Here there are young and old,
grandparents and children and dogs all at once, eating, drinking, smoking,
piano-playing, and pistol-firing (in the garden), all going on at the same time. It
is one of those establishments where every earthly thing that can be eaten or drunk
is offered you; porter, soda water, small beer, champagne, burgundy, or claret are
about all the time, and everybody is smoking the best Havana cigars every
minute.”

He had plenty of society, much of it congenial to him. He had given up playing
since his marriage, and was one of the few diplomatists who was not found at the
Homburg gaming-tables, but he had a sufficiency of sport and joined with the British
envoy, Sir Alexander Malet, in taking some shooting. A couple of years later in
contradicting one of the frequent newspaper reports, that he aimed at supplanting the
Minister, he says:

“My castle in the air is to spend three to five years longer at Frankfort,
then perhaps the same time in Vienna or Paris, then ten years with glory as
Minister, then die as a country gentleman.”

A prospect which has been more nearly fulfilled than such wishes generally
are.

He was for the first year still a member of the Second Chamber and occasionally
appeared in it; his interest in his diplomatic work had, however, begun to overshadow
his pleasure in Parliamentary debate.

“I am thoroughly tired of my life here,” he writes in May, 1853, to his wife
from Berlin, “and long for the day of my departure. I find the intrigues of the
House immeasurably shallow and undignified; if one always lives among them, one
deceives oneself and considers them something wonderful. When I come here from
Frankfort and see them as they really are, I feel like a sober man who has fallen
among drunkards. There is something very demoralising in the air of the Chambers;
it makes the best people vain without their knowing it.”

So quickly has he outgrown his feelings of a year ago: then it was the intrigues
of diplomatists that had seemed to him useless and demoralising. Now it was
Parliamentary debates; in the opinion he formed at this time he never wavered.

His distaste for Parliamentary life was probably increased by an event which took
place about this time. As so often before in the course of debate he had a sharp
passage of words with Vincke; the latter referred contemptuously to Bismarck’s
diplomatic achievements. “All I know of them is the famous lighted cigar.”

Bismarck answered with some angry words and at the close of the sitting sent a
challenge. Four days later a duel with pistols took place—the only one he ever
fought. Neither was injured. It seems that Vincke, who had the first shot, seeing
that Bismarck (who had received the sacrament the night before) was praying, missed
on purpose; Bismarck then shot into the air.

For these reasons he did not stand for re-election when the Chamber was dissolved
in 1852, although the King was very much displeased with his determination. He was
shortly afterwards appointed member of the newly constituted House of Lords, but
though he occasionally voted, as in duty bound, for Government measures, he never
spoke; he was not to be heard again in the Parliament until he appeared there as
President of the Ministry. He was glad to be freed from a tie which had interfered
with his duties at Frankfort; to these he devoted himself with an extraordinary
energy; all his old repugnance to official life had disappeared; he did not confine
himself to the mere routine of his duties, or to carrying out the instructions sent
to him from Berlin.

His power of work was marvellous: there passed through his hands a constant series
of most important and complicated negotiations; up to this time he had no experience
or practice in sedentary literary work, now he seems to go out of the way to make
fresh labours for himself. He writes long and careful despatches to his Minister on
matters of general policy; some of them so carefully thought out and so clearly
expressed that they may still be looked on as models. He is entirely free from that
circumlocution and involved style which makes so much diplomatic correspondence
almost worthless. His arguments are always clear, complete, concise. He used to work
long into the night, and then, when in the early morning the post to Berlin had gone,
he would mount his horse and ride out into the country. It was in these years that he
formed those habits to which the breakdown of his health in later years was due; but
now his physical and intellectual vigour seemed inexhaustible.

He never feared to press his own views as to the policy which should be pursued.
He also kept up a constant correspondence with Gerlach, and many of these letters
were laid before the King, so that even when absent he continued as before to
influence both the official and unofficial advisers. He soon became the chief adviser
on German affairs and was often summoned to Berlin that his advice might be taken;
within two years after his appointment he was sent on a special mission to Vienna to
try and bring about an agreement as to the rivalry concerning the Customs’ Union. He
failed, but he had gained a knowledge of persons and opinions at the Austrian Court
which was to be of much use to him.

During these years, indeed, he acquired a most remarkable knowledge of Germany;
before, he had lived entirely in Prussia, now he was at the centre of the German
political system, continually engaged in important negotiations with the other
Courts; after a few years there was not a man of importance in German public life
whose character and opinions he had not gauged.

Further experience only confirmed in him the observations he had made at the
beginning, that it was impossible to maintain a good understanding with Austria. The
tone of his letters soon changes from doubt and disappointment to settled and
determined hostility. In other matters also he found that the world was not the same
place it had seemed to him; he had been accustomed to regard the Revolution as the
chief danger to be met; at Frankfort he was in the home of it; here for nearly a year
the German Assembly had held its meetings; in the neighbouring States of Baden,
Hesse, and in the Palatinate, the Republican element was strong; he found them as
revolutionary as ever, but he soon learnt to despise rather than fear them:

“The population here would be a political volcano if revolutions were made
with the mouth; so long as it requires blood and strength they will obey anyone who
has courage to command and, if necessary, to draw the sword; they would be
dangerous only under cowardly governments. “I have never seen two men fighting in
all the two years I have been here. This cowardice does not prevent the people, who
are completely devoid of all inner Christianity and all respect for authority, from
sympathising with the Revolution.”

His observations on the character of the South Germans only increased his
admiration for the Prussian people and his confidence in the Prussian State.

He had not been at Frankfort a year before he had learnt to look on this hostility
of Austria as unsurmountable. As soon as he had convinced himself of this, he did not
bewail and bemoan the desertion of their ally; he at once accustomed himself to the
new position and considered in what way the Government ought to act. His argument was
simple. Austria is now our enemy; we must be prepared to meet this enmity either by
diplomacy or war; we are not strong enough to do so alone; therefore we must have
allies. There was no sure alliance to be had in Germany; he despised the other German
States. If there were to be a war he would rather have them against him than on his
side. He must find help abroad; Austria had overcome Prussia by the alliance with
Russia. Surely the only thing to be done was to seek support where it could be got,
either with Russia or with France, if possible with both. In this he was only
reverting to the old policy of Prussia; the alliance with Austria had only begun in
1813. From now until 1866 his whole policy was ceaselessly devoted to bringing about
such a disposition of the forces of Europe that Austria might be left without allies
and Prussia be able to regain the upper hand in German affairs.

The change was in his circumstances, not in his character; as before he was moved
by a consuming passion of patriotism; something there was too of personal
feeling,—his own pride, his own ambitions were engaged, though this was as
nothing compared to love of his country and loyalty to the King. He was a soldier of
the Prussian Crown: at Berlin he had to defend it against internal enemies; now the
danger had shifted, the power of the Government was established, why waste time in
fighting with Liberalism? Other enemies were pressing on. When Jellachich and
Windischgätz had stood victorious by the blood-stained altar of St. Stephen’s,
the Austrian army had destroyed the common foe; now it was the same Austrian army and
Austrian statesmen who desired to put a limit to Prussian ambition. Bismarck threw
himself into the conflict of diplomacy with the same courage and relentless
persistence that he had shewn in Parliamentary debates. He had already begun to
divine that the time might come when the Prussian Crown would find an ally in Italian
patriots and Hungarian rebels.

It was the Eastern complications which first enabled him to shew his diplomatic
abilities in the larger field of European politics. The plans for the dismemberment
of the Turkish Empire which were entertained by the Czar were opposed by England,
France, and Austria; Prussia, though not immediately concerned, also at first gave
her assent to the various notes and protests of the Powers; so that the ambition of
the Czar was confronted by the unanimous voice of Europe.

Bismarck from the beginning regarded the situation with apprehension; he saw that
Prussia was being entangled in a struggle in which she had much to lose and nothing
to gain. If she continued to support the Western Powers she would incur the hatred of
Russia; then, perhaps, by a sudden change of policy on the part of Napoleon, she
would be left helpless and exposed to Russian vengeance. If war were to break out,
and Prussia took part in the war, then the struggle between France and Russia would
be fought out on German soil, and, whoever was victorious, Germany would be the
loser. What interests of theirs were at stake that they should incur this danger? why
should Prussia sacrifice herself to preserve English influence in the Mediterranean,
or the interests of Austria on the Danube? He wished for exactly the opposite policy;
the embarrassment of Austria must be the opportunity of Prussia; now was the time to
recover the lost position in Germany. The dangerous friendship of Austria and Russia
was dissolved; if Prussia came to an understanding with the Czar, it was now Austria
that would be isolated. The other German States would not desire to be dragged into a
war to support Austrian dominion in the East. Let Prussia be firm and they would turn
to her for support, and she would once more be able to command a majority of the
Diet.

For these reasons he recommended his Government to preserve an armed neutrality,
in union, if possible, with the other German States. If they were to take sides, he
preferred it should not be with the Western Powers, for, as he said,—

“We must look abroad for allies, and among the European Powers Russia is to
be had on the cheapest terms; it wishes only to grow in the East, the two others at
our expense.”

It shews the advance he had made in diplomacy that throughout his correspondence
he never refers to the actual cause of dispute; others might discuss the condition of
the Christians in Turkey or the Holy Places of Jerusalem; he thinks only of the
strength and weakness of his own State. The opening of the Black Sea, the
dismemberment of Turkey, the control of the Mediterranean, the fate of the Danubian
Principalities—for all this he cared nothing, for in them Prussia had no
interests; they only existed for him so far as the new combinations among the Powers
might for good or evil affect Prussia.

The crisis came in 1854: a Russian army occupied Moldavia and Wallachia; England
and France sent their fleets to the Black Sea; they determined on war and they wished
for the alliance of Austria. Austria was inclined to join, for the presence of
Russian troops on the Danube was a menace to her; she did not dare to move unless
supported by Prussia and Germany; she appealed to the Confederacy and urged that her
demands might be supported by the armies of her allies; but the German States were
little inclined to send the levies of their men for the Eastern interests of the
Emperor. If they were encouraged by Prussia, they would refuse; the result in
Germany, as in Europe, depended on the action of Prussia, and the decision lay with
the King.

Was Prussia to take part with Russia or the Western Powers? That was the question
which for many months was debated at Berlin.

The public opinion of the nation was strong for the Western Powers; they feared
the influence of Russia on the internal affairs of Germany; they had not forgotten or
forgiven the part which the Czar had taken in 1849; the choice seemed to lie between
Russia and England, between liberty and despotism, between civilisation and
barbarism. On this side also were those who wished to maintain the alliance with
Austria. Russia had few friends except at the Court and in the army, but the party of
the Kreuz Zeitung, the Court Camarilla, the princes and nobles who commanded
the Garde Corps, wished for nothing better than a close alliance with the
great Emperor who had saved Europe from the Revolution. “Let us draw our sword openly
in defence of Russia,” they said, “then we may bring Austria with us; the old
alliance of the three monarchies will be restored, and then will be the time for a
new crusade against France, the natural enemy of Germany, and the upstart
Emperor.”

The conflict of parties was keenest in the precincts of the Court; society in
Berlin was divided between the Russian and the English; the Queen was hot for Russia,
but the English party rallied round the Prince of Prussia and met in the salons of
his wife. Between the two the King wavered; he was, as always, more influenced by
feeling than by calculation, but his feelings were divided. How could he decide
between Austria and Russia, the two ancient allies of his house? He loved and
reverenced the Czar; he feared and distrusted Napoleon; alliance with infidels
against Christians was to him a horrible thought, but he knew how violent were the
actions and lawless the desires of Nicholas. He could not ignore the opinions of
Western Europe and he wished to stand well with England. The men by whose advice he
was guided stood on opposite sides: Bunsen was for England, Gerlach for Russia; the
Ministry also was divided. No efforts were spared to influence him; the Czar and
Napoleon each sent special envoys to his Court; the Queen of England and her husband
warned him not to forget his duty to Europe and humanity; if he would join the allies
there would be no war. Still he wavered; “he goes to bed an Englishman and gets up a
Russian,” said the Czar, who despised his brother-in-law as much as he was honoured
by him.

While the struggle was at its height, Bismarck was summoned to Berlin, that his
opinion might also be heard. At Berlin and at Letzlingen he had frequent interviews
with the King. In later years he described the situation he found there:

“It was nothing strange, according to the custom of those days, that half a
dozen ambassadors should be living in hotels intriguing against the policy of the
Minister.”

He found Berlin divided into two parties: the one looked to the Czar as their
patron and protector, the other wished to win the approval of England; he missed a
reasonable conviction as to what was the interest of Prussia. His own advice was
against alliance with the Western Powers or Austria; better join Russia than England;
better still, preserve neutrality and hold the balance of Europe. He had the
reputation of being very Russian, but he protested against the term. “I am not
Russian,” he said, “but Prussian.” He spoke with great decision against the personal
adherents of the King, men who looked to the Czar rather than to their own sovereign,
and carried their subservience even to treason. As in former days, courage he
preached and resolution. Some talked of the danger of isolation; “With 400,000 men we
cannot be isolated,” he said. The French envoy warned him that his policy might lead
to another Jena; “Why not to Waterloo?” he answered. Others talked of the danger of
an English blockade of their coasts; he pointed out that this would injure England
more than Prussia.

“Let us be bold and depend on our own strength; let us frighten Austria by
threatening an alliance with Russia, frighten Russia by letting her think we may
join the Western Powers; if it were true that we could never side with Russia, at
least we must retain the possibility of threatening to do so.”

The result was what we might expect from the character of the King; unable to
decide for either of the contending factors, he alternated between the two, and gave
his support now to one, now to the other. In March, when Bismarck was still in
Berlin, sudden disgrace fell upon the English party; Bunsen was recalled from London,
Bonin, their chief advocate in the Ministry, was dismissed; when the Prince of
Prussia, the chief patron of the Western alliance, protested, he was included in the
act of disfavour, and had to leave Berlin, threatened with the loss of his offices
and even with arrest. All danger of war with Russia seemed to have passed; Bismarck
returned content to Frankfort. Scarcely had he gone when the old affection for
Austria gained the upper hand, and by a separate treaty Prussia bound herself to
support the Austrian demands, if necessary by arms. Bismarck heard nothing of the
treaty till it was completed; the Ministers had purposely refrained from asking his
advice on a policy which they knew he would disapprove. He overcame his feelings of
disgust so far as to send a cold letter of congratulation to Manteuffel; to Gerlach
he wrote:

“His Majesty should really see to it that his Ministers should drink more
champagne; none of the gentry ought to enter his Council without half a bottle
under his belt. Our policy would soon get a respectable colour.”

The real weakness lay, as he well knew, in the character of the King. “If here I
say to one of my colleagues, ‘We remain firm even if Austria drives matters to a
breach,’ he laughs in my face and says, ‘As long as the King lives it will not come
to a war between Austria and Prussia.'” And again, “The King has as much leniency for
the sins of Austria as I hope to have from the Lord in Heaven.”

It was a severe strain on his loyalty, but he withstood it; he has, I believe,
never expressed his opinion about the King; we can guess what it must have been. It
was a melancholy picture: a King violent and timid, obstinate and irresolute; his
will dragged now this way, now that, by his favourites, his wife and his brother; his
own Ministers intriguing against each other; ambassadors recommending a policy
instead of carrying out their instructions; and the Minister-President standing
calmly by, as best he could, patching up the appearance of a Consistent policy.

It was probably the experience which he gained at this time which in later years,
when he himself had become Minister, made Bismarck so jealous of outside and
irresponsible advisers; he did not choose to occupy the position of Manteuffel, he
laid down the rule that none of his own subordinates should communicate with the King
except through himself; a Bismarck as Foreign Minister would not allow a Gerlach at
Court, nor a Bismarck among his envoys. He had indeed been careful not to intrigue
against his chief, but it was impossible to observe that complete appearance of
acquiescence which a strong and efficient Minister must demand. Bismarck was often
asked his opinion by the King directly; he was obliged to say what he believed to be
the truth, and he often disapproved of that which Manteuffel advised. In order to
avoid the appearance of disloyalty, he asked Gerlach that his letters should be shewn
to Manteuffel; not all of them could be shewn, still less would it be possible to
repeat all he said. If they were in conflict, his duty to the King must override his
loyalty to the Minister, and the two could not always be reconciled. To Englishmen
indeed it appears most improper that the King should continually call for the advice
of other politicians without the intervention or the knowledge of his Ministers, but
this is just one of those points on which it is impossible to apply to Prussian
practice English constitutional theory. In England it is a maxim of the Constitution
that the sovereign should never consult anyone on political matters except the
responsible Ministry; this is possible only because the final decision rests with
Parliament and the Cabinet and not with the sovereign. It was, however, always the
contention of Bismarck that the effective decision in Prussia was with the King. This
was undoubtedly the true interpretation of the Prussian Constitution; but it followed
from this that the King must have absolute freedom to ask the advice of everyone
whose opinions would be of help to him; he must be able to command the envoys to
foreign countries to communicate with him directly, and if occasion required it, to
consult with the political opponents of his own Ministers. To forbid this and to
require that all requests should come to him by the hands of the Ministers would be
in truth to substitute ministerial autocracy for monarchical government.

Something of this kind did happen in later years when the German Emperor had grown
old, and when Bismarck, supported by his immense experience and success, guided the
policy of the country alone, independent of Parliament, and scarcely allowing any
independent adviser to approach the Emperor. This was exceptional; normally a
Prussian Minister had to meet his opponents and critics not so much in public debate
as in private discussion. Under a weak sovereign the policy of the country must
always be distracted by palace intrigue, just as in England under a weak Cabinet it
will be distracted by party faction. The Ministers must always be prepared to find
their best-laid schemes overthrown by the influence exerted upon the royal mind by
his private friends or even by his family. It may be said that tenure of office under
these conditions would be impossible to a man of spirit; it was certainly very
difficult; an able and determined Minister was as much hampered by this private
opposition as by Parliamentary discussion. It is often the fashion to say that
Parliamentary government is difficult to reconcile with a strong foreign policy; the
experiences of Prussia from the year 1815 to 1863 seem to shew that under monarchical
government it is equally difficult.

Meanwhile he had been maturing in his mind a bolder plan: Why should not Prussia
gain the support she required by alliance with Napoleon?

The Germans had watched the rise of Napoleon with suspicion and alarm; they had
long been taught that France was their natural enemy. When Napoleon seized the power
and assumed the name of Emperor, the old distrust was revived; his very name recalled
memories of hostility; they feared he would pursue an ambitious and warlike policy;
that he would withdraw the agreements on which the peace of Europe and the security
of the weaker States depended, and that he would extend to the Rhine the borders of
France. He was the first ruler of France whose internal policy awoke no sympathy in
Germany; his natural allies, the Liberals, he had alienated by the overthrow of the
Republic, and he gained no credit for it in the eyes of the Conservatives. The
monarchical party in Prussia could only have admiration for the man who had
imprisoned a Parliament and restored absolute government; they could not repudiate an
act which they would gladly imitate, but they could not forgive him that he was an
usurper. According to their creed the suppression of liberty was the privilege of the
legitimate King.

It was the last remnant of the doctrine of legitimacy, the belief that it was the
duty of the European monarchs that no State should change its form of government or
the dynasty by which it was ruled; the doctrine of the Holy Alliance that kings must
make common cause against the Revolution. How changed were the times from the days
when Metternich had used this as a strong support for the ascendancy of the House of
Austria! Austria herself was no longer sound; the old faith lingered only in St.
Petersburg and Berlin; but how weak and ineffective it had become! There was no talk
now of interference, there would not be another campaign of Waterloo or of Valmy;
there was only a prudish reserve; they could not, they did not dare, refuse
diplomatic dealings with the new Emperor, but they were determined there should be no
cordiality: the virgin purity of the Prussian Court should not be deflowered by
intimacy with the man of sin.^[5] If there could not be a fresh crusade against
Buonapartism, at least, there should be no alliance with it.

From the beginning Bismarck had little sympathy with this point of view; he
regarded the coup d’état as necessary in a nation which had left the
firm ground of legitimacy; France could not be governed except by an iron hand. As a
Prussian, however, he could not be pleased, for he saw an enemy who had been weak
strengthened, but he did not believe in Napoleon’s warlike desires. In one way it was
an advantage,—the overthrow of the Republic had broken the bond which joined
the German revolutionists to France. He did not much mind what happened in other
countries so long as Prussia was safe.

There is no ground for surprise that he soon began to go farther; he warned his
friends not to irritate the Emperor; on the occasion of the Emperor’s marriage the
Kreuz Zeitung published a violent article, speaking of it as an insult and
threat to Prussia. Bismarck’s feelings as a gentleman were offended by this useless
scolding; it seemed, moreover, dangerous. If Prussia were to quarrel with France,
they would be obliged to seek the support of the Eastern Powers: if Russia and
Austria should know this, Prussia would be in their hands. The only effect of this
attitude would be to cut off the possibility of a useful move in the game of
diplomacy:

“There is no good in giving our opposition to France the stamp of
irrevocability; it would be no doubt a great misfortune if we were to unite
ourselves with France, but why proclaim this to all the world? We should do wiser
to act so that Austria and Russia would have to court our friendship against France
than treat us as an ally who is presented to them.”

It is a topic to which he often refers:

“We cannot make an alliance with France without a certain degree of
meanness, but very admirable people, even German princes, in the Middle Ages have
used a sewer to make their escape, rather than be beaten or throttled.”

An alliance with Napoleon was, however, according to the code of honour professed,
if not followed, in every German State, the sin for which there was no forgiveness.
It was but a generation ago that half the German princes had hurried to the Court of
the first Napoleon to receive at his hands the estates of their neighbours and the
liberties of their subjects. No one doubted that the new Napoleon would be willing to
use similar means to ensure the power of France; would he meet with willing
confederates? The Germans, at least, do not seem to have trusted one another; no
prince dared show ordinary courtesy to the ruling family of France, no statesman
could visit Paris but voices would be heard crying that he had sold himself and his
country. An accusation of this kind was the stock-in-trade which the Nationalist
press was always ready to bring against every ruler who was obnoxious to them. It
required moral courage, if it also shewed political astuteness, when Bismarck
proposed deliberately to encourage a suspicion from which most men were anxious that
their country should be free. He had already plenty of enemies, and reports were soon
heard that he was in favour of a French alliance; they did not cease for ten years;
he often protests in his private letters against these unworthy accusations; the
protests seem rather absurd, for if he did not really wish for an alliance between
Prussia and France, he at least wished that people should dread such an alliance. A
man cannot frighten his friends by the fear he will rob them, and at the same time
enjoy the reputation for strict probity.

He explains with absolute clearness the benefits which will come from a French
alliance:

“The German States are attentive and attracted to us in the same degree in
which they believe we are befriended by France. Confidence in us they will never
have, every glance at the map prevents that; and they know that their separate
interests and the misuse of their sovereignty always stand in the way of the whole
tendency of Prussian policy. They clearly recognise the danger which lies in this;
it is one against which the unselfishness of our Most Gracious Master alone gives
them a temporary security. The opinions of the King, which ought at least for a
time to weaken their mistrust, will gain his Majesty no thanks; they will only be
used and exploited. In the hour of necessity gratitude and confidence will not
bring a single man into the field. Fear, if it is used with foresight and
clearness, can place the whole Confederacy at our feet, and in order to instil fear
into them we must give clear signs of our good relations with France.”

He objected to Prussia following what was called a German policy, for, as he said,
by a national and patriotic policy is meant that Prussia should do what was for the
interest, not of herself, but of the smaller States.

It was not till after the Crimean War that he was able to press this policy.
Napoleon had now won his position in Europe; Gerlach had seen with pain and disgust
that the Queen of England had visited his Court. The Emperor himself desired a union
with Prussia. In this, sympathy and interest combined: he had much affection for
Germany; his mind, as his education, was more German than French; he was a man of
ideas; he was the only ruler of France who has sincerely desired and deliberately
furthered the interests of other countries; he believed that the nation should be the
basis of the State; his revolutionary antecedents made him naturally opposed to the
House of Austria; and he was ready to help Prussia in resuming her old ambitious
policy.

The affair of Neuchâtel gave him an opportunity of earning the personal
gratitude of the King, and he did not neglect it, for he knew that in the royal
prejudice was the strongest impediment to an alliance. In 1857 Bismarck was sent to
Paris to discuss this and other matters. Two years before he had been presented to
the Emperor, but it had been at the time when he was opposed to the French policy.
Now for the first time the two men who were for ten years to be the leaders, now
friends, then rivals, in the realm of diplomacy, were brought into close connection.
Bismarck was not impressed by the Emperor’s ability. He wrote:

“People exaggerate his intellect, but underrate his heart.” Napoleon was
very friendly; his wish to help the King went farther than his duty to follow
French policy. He said: “Why should we not be friends; let us forget the past; if
everyone were to attach himself to a policy of memories, two nations that have once
been at war must be at war to all eternity; statesmen must occupy themselves with
the future.”

This was just Bismarck’s opinion; he wrote home suggesting that he might prepare
the way for a visit of the Emperor to Prussia; he would like to come and it would
have a good effect. This was going farther than the King, grateful though he was,
would allow; he told Gerlach not to answer this part of the letter at all while
Bismarck was in Paris. Bismarck, however, continued in his official reports and
private letters to urge again and again the political advantages of an understanding
with France; it is Austria that is the natural enemy, for it is Austria whose
interests are opposed to Prussia. If they repel the advance of Napoleon, they will
oblige him to seek an alliance with Russia, and this was a danger which even in those
days Bismarck never ceased to fear. Prince Napoleon, cousin of the Emperor, was at
that time on a visit to Berlin; on his way through Frankfort he had singled out
Bismarck, and (no doubt under instructions) had shown great friendliness to him; the
Kreuz Zeitung again took the opportunity of insulting the ruler of France;
Bismarck again remonstrated against the danger of provoking hostility by these acts
of petty rancour, disguised though they might be under the name of principle. He did
not succeed in persuading the King or his confidant; he was always met by the same
answer: “France is the natural enemy of Germany; Napoleon is the representative of
the Revolution; there can be no union between the King of Prussia and the
Revolution.” “How can a man of your intelligence sacrifice your principles to a
single individual?” asks Gerlach, who aimed not at shewing that an alliance with
France would be foolish, but that it would be wrong. Five years before, Bismarck
would have spoken as Gerlach did; but in these years he had seen and learnt much; he
had freed himself from the influence of his early friends; he had outgrown their
theoretic formalism; he had learned to look at the world with his own eyes, and to
him, defending his country against the intrigues of weaker and the pressure of more
powerful States, the world was a different place from what it was to those who passed
their time in the shadow of the Court. He remembered that it was not by strict
obedience to general principles that Prussia had grown great. Frederick the Second
had not allowed himself to be stopped by these narrow searchings of heart; his
successor had not scrupled to ally himself with revolutionary France. This rigid
insistence on a rule of right, this nice determining of questions of conscience,
seemed better suited to the confessor’s chair than to the advisers of a great
monarch. And the principle to which he was asked to sacrifice the future of his
country,—was it after all a true principle? Why should Prussia trouble herself
about the internal constitution of other States, what did it concern her whether
France was ruled by a Bourbon or an Orleans or a Bonaparte? How could Prussia
continue the policy of the Holy Alliance when the close union of the three Eastern
monarchies no longer existed? If France were to attack Germany, Prussia could not
expect the support of Russia, she could not even be sure of that of Austria. An
understanding with France was required, not by ambition, but by the simplest grounds
of self-preservation.

These and other considerations he advanced in a long and elaborate memorandum
addressed to Manteuffel, which was supplemented by letters to the Minister and
Gerlach. For closeness of reasoning, for clearness of expression, for the wealth of
knowledge and cogency of argument these are the most remarkable of his political
writings. In them he sums up the results of his apprenticeship to political life, he
lays down the principles on which the policy of the State ought to be conducted, the
principles on which in future years he was himself to act.

“What,” he asks, “are the reasons against an alliance with France? The chief
ground is the belief that the Emperor is the chief representative of the Revolution
and identical with it, and that a compromise with the Revolution is as inadmissible
in internal as in external policy.” Both statements he triumphantly overthrows. “Why
should we look at Napoleon as the representative of the Revolution? there is scarcely
a government in Europe which has not a revolutionary origin.”

“What is there now existing in the world of politics which has a complete
legal basis? Spain, Portugal, Brazil, all the American Republics, Belgium, Holland,
Switzerland, Greece, Sweden, England, which State with full consciousness is based
on the Revolution of 1688, are all unable to trace back their legal systems to a
legitimate origin. Even as to the German princes we cannot find any completely
legitimate title for the ground which they have won partly from the Emperor and the
Empire, partly from their fellow-princes, partly from the Estates.”

He goes farther: the Revolution is not peculiar to France; it did not even
originate there:

“It is much older than the historical appearance of Napoleon’s family and
far wider in its extent than France, If we are to assign it an origin in this
world, we must look for it, not in France, but in England, or go back even earlier,
even to Germany or Rome, according as we regard the exaggerations of the
Reformation or of the Roman Church as responsible.”

But if Napoleon is not the sole representative of revolutions, why make opposition
to him a matter of principle? He shews no desire of propagandism.

“To threaten other States by means of the Revolution has been for years the
trade of England, and this principle of not associating with a revolutionary power
is itself quite modern: it is not to be found in the last century. Cromwell was
addressed as Brother by European potentates and they sought his friendship when it
appeared useful. The most honourable Princes joined in alliance with the
States-General before they were recognised by Spain. Why should Prussia now alone,
to its own injury, adopt this excessive caution?”

He goes farther: not only does he reject the principle of legitimacy,—he
refuses to be bound by any principles; he did not free himself from one party to bind
himself to another; his profession was diplomacy and in diplomacy there was no place
for feelings of affection and antipathy.

What is the proper use of principles in diplomacy? It is to persuade others to
adopt a policy which is convenient to oneself.

“My attitude towards Foreign Governments springs not from any antipathy, but
from the good or evil they may do to Prussia.” “A policy of sentiment is dangerous,
for it is one-sided; it is an exclusively Prussian peculiarity.” “Every other
Government makes its own interests the sole criterion of its actions, however much
it may drape them in phrases about justice and sympathy.” “My ideal for foreign
policy is freedom from prejudice; that our decisions should be independent of all
impressions of dislike or affection for Foreign States and their
governments.”

This was the canon by which he directed his own actions, and he expected obedience
to it from others.

“So far as foreigners go I have never in my life had sympathy for anyone but
England and its inhabitants, and I am even now not free from it; but they will not
let us love them, and as soon as it was proved to me that it was in the interest of
a sound and well-matured Prussian policy, I would let our troops fire on French,
English, Russian, or Austrian, with the same satisfaction.”

“I cannot justify sympathies and antipathies as regards Foreign Powers and persons
before my feeling of duty in the foreign service of my country, either in myself or
another; therein lies the embryo of disloyalty against my master or my country. In
my opinion not even the King himself has the right to subordinate the interests of
his country to his own feelings of love or hatred towards strangers; he is,
however, responsible towards God and not to me if he does so, and therefore on this
point I am silent.”

This reference to the King is very characteristic. Holding, as he did, so high an
ideal of public duty himself, he naturally regarded with great dislike the influence
which, too often, family ties and domestic affection exercised over the mind of the
sovereign. The German Princes had so long pursued a purely domestic policy that they
forgot to distinguish between the interests of their families and their land. They
were, moreover, naturally much influenced in their public decisions, not only by
their personal sympathies, but also by the sympathies and opinions of their nearest
relations. To a man like Bismarck, who regarded duty to the State as above
everything, nothing could be more disagreeable than to see the plans of professional
statesmen criticised by irresponsible people and perhaps overthrown through some
woman’s whim. He was a confirmed monarchist but he was no courtier. In his letters at
this period he sometimes refers to the strong influence which the Princess of Prussia
exercised over her husband, who was heir to the throne. He regarded with apprehension
the possible effects which the proposed marriage of the Prince of Prussia’s son to
the Princess Royal of England might have on Prussian policy. He feared it would
introduced English influence and Anglomania without their gaining any similar
influence in England. “If our future Queen remains in any degree English, I see our
Court surrounded by English influence.” He was not influenced in this by any
hostility to England; almost at the same time he had written that England was the
only foreign country for which he had any sympathy. He was only (as so often)
contending for that independence and self-reliance which he so admired in the
English. For two hundred years English traditions had absolutely forbidden the
sovereign to allow his personal and family sympathies to interfere with the interests
of the country. If the House of Hohenzollern were to aspire to the position of a
national monarch it must act in the same way. At this very time the Emperor Napoleon
was discussing the Prussian marriage with Lord Clarendon. “It will much influence the
policy of the Queen in favour of Prussia,” he said. “No, your Majesty,” answered the
English Ambassador. “The private feelings of the Queen can never have any influence
on that which she believes to be for the honour and welfare of England.” This was the
feeling by which Bismarck was influenced; he was trying to educate his King, and this
was the task to which for many years he was devoted. What he thought of the duties of
princes we see from an expression he uses in a letter to Manteuffel: “Only
Christianity can make princes what they ought to be, and free them from that
conception of life which causes many of them to seek in the position given them by
God nothing but the means to a life of pleasure and irresponsibility.” All his
attempts to win over the King and Gerlach to his point of view failed; the only
result was that his old friends began to look on him askance; his new opinions were
regarded with suspicion. He was no longer sure of his position in Court; his
outspokenness had caused offence; after reading his last letter, Gerlach answered:
“Your explanation only shews me that we are now far asunder”; the correspondence,
which had continued for almost seven years, stopped. Bismarck felt that he was
growing lonely; he had to accustom himself to the thought that the men who had
formerly been both politically and personally his close friends, and who had once
welcomed him whenever he returned to Berlin, now desired to see him kept at a
distance. In one of his last letters to Gerlach, he writes: “I used to be a
favourite; now all that is changed. His Majesty has less often the wish to see me;
the ladies of the Court have a cooler smile than formerly; the gentlemen press my
hand less warmly. The high opinion of my usefulness is sunk, only the Minister
[Manteuffel] is warmer and more friendly.” Something of this was perhaps exaggerated,
but there was no doubt that a breach had begun which was to widen and widen: Bismarck
was no longer a member of the party of the Kreuz Zeitung. It was fortunate
that a change was imminent in the direction of the Prussian Government; the old
figures who had played their part were to pass away and a new era was to begin.

CHAPTER VI.

In the autumn of 1857 the health of the King of Prussia broke down; he was unable
to conduct the affairs of State and in the month of September was obliged to appoint
his brother as his representative to carry on the Government. There was from the
first no hope for his recovery; the commission was three times renewed and, after a
long delay, in October of the following year, the King signed a decree appointing his
brother Regent. At one time, in the spring of 1858, the Prince had, it is said,
thought of calling on Bismarck to form a Ministry. This, however, was not done. It
was, however, one of the first actions of the Prince Regent to request Manteuffel’s
resignation; he formed a Ministry of moderate Liberals, choosing as President the
Prince of Hohenzollern, head of the Catholic branch of his own family.

The new era, as it was called, was welcomed with delight by all parties
except the most extreme Conservatives. No Ministry had been so unpopular as that of
Manteuffel. At the elections which took place immediately, the Government secured a
large majority. The Prince and his Ministers were able to begin their work with the
full support of Parliament and country.

Bismarck did not altogether regret the change; his differences with the dominant
faction at Court had extended to the management of home as well as of foreign
affairs; for the last two years he had been falling out of favour. He desired,
moreover, to see fresh blood in the Chamber.

“The disease to which our Parliamentary life has succumbed, is, besides the
incapacity of the individual, the servility of the Lower House. The majority has no
independent convictions, it is the tool of ministerial omnipotence. If our Chambers
do not succeed in binding the public interest to themselves and drawing the
attention of the country, they will sooner or later go to their grave without
sympathy.”

Curious it is to see how his opinion as to the duties and relations of the House
towards the Government were to alter when he himself became Minister. He regarded it
as an advantage that the Ministry would have the power which comes from popularity;
his only fear was that they might draw the Regent too much to the left; but he hoped
that in German and foreign affairs they would act with more decision, that the Prince
would be free from the scruples which had so much influenced his brother, and that he
would not fear to rely on the military strength of Prussia.

One of their first acts was to recall Bismarck from Frankfort; the change was
inevitable, and he had foreseen it. The new Government naturally wished to be able to
start clear in their relations to Austria; the Prince Regent did not wish to commit
himself from the beginning to a policy of hostility. It was, however, impossible for
a cordial co-operation between the two States to be established in German affairs so
long as Bismarck remained at Frankfort; the opinions which he had formed during the
last eight years were too well known. It was, moreover, evident that a crisis in the
relations with Austria was approaching; war between France and Austria was imminent;
a new factor and a new man had appeared in Europe,—Piedmont and Cavour.

In August, 1858, Cavour had had a secret and decisive interview with Napoleon at
Plombières; the two statesmen had come to an agreement by which France engaged
to help the Piedmontese to expel the Austrians from Italy. Bismarck would have
desired to seize this opportunity, and use the embarrassment of Austria as the
occasion for taking a stronger position in Germany; if it were necessary he was
prepared to go as far as an alliance with France. He was influenced not so much by
sympathy with Piedmont, for, as we have seen, he held that those who were responsible
for foreign policy should never give way to sympathy, but by the simple calculation
that Austria was the common enemy of Prussia and Piedmont, and where there were
common interests an alliance might be formed. The Government were, however, not
prepared to adopt this policy. It might have been supposed that a Liberal Ministry
would have shewn more sympathy with the Italian aspirations than the Conservatives
whom they had succeeded. This was not the case, as Cavour himself soon found out.

After his visit to Plombières, Cavour had hurried across the frontier and
spent two days at Baden-Baden, where he met the Prince of Prussia, Manteuffel, who
was still Minister, and other German statesmen. Bismarck had been at Baden-Baden in
the previous week and returned a few days later; he happened, however, on the two
days when Cavour was there, to be occupied with his duties at Frankfort; the two
great statesmen therefore never met. Cavour after his visit wrote to La Marmora
saying that he had been extremely pleased with the sympathy which had been displayed
to him, both by the Prince and the other Prussians. So far as he could foresee, the
attitude of Prussia would not be hostile to Italian aspirations. In December,
however, after the change of Ministry, he writes to the Italian Envoy at Frankfort
that the language of Schleinitz, the new Foreign Minister, is less favourable than
that of his predecessor. The Cabinet do not feel the same antipathy to Austria as
that of Manteuffel did; German ideas have brought about a rapprochement.

“I do not trust their apparently Liberal tendencies. It is possible that
your colleague, Herr von Bismarck, will support us more closely, but I fear that
even if he is kept at Frankfort he will not exercise so much influence as under the
former Ministry.”

BISMARCK IN 1860

Cavour’s insight did not deceive him. The Italian question had for the moment
re-awakened the old sympathy for Austria; Austria, it seemed, was now the champion of
German nationality against the unscrupulous aggression of France. There were few men
who, like Bismarck, were willing to disregard this national feeling and support the
Italians. To have deliberately joined Napoleon in what after all was an unprovoked
attack on a friendly prince of the same nation, was an act which could have been
undertaken only by a man of the calibre of Frederick the Great. After all, Austria
was German; the Austrian provinces in Italy had been assigned to the Emperor by the
same authority as the Polish provinces to Prussia. We can imagine how great would
have been the outcry had Austria joined with the French to set up a united Poland,
taking Posen and West Prussia for the purpose; and yet this act would have been just
of the same kind as that which would have been committed had Prussia at this time
joined or even lent diplomatic support to the French-Italian alliance. It is very
improbable that even if Bismarck had been Minister at this period he would have been
able to carry out this policy.

The Prussian Government acted on the whole correctly. As the war became more
imminent the Prince Regent prepared the Prussian army and eventually the whole was
placed on a war footing. He offered to the Emperor of Austria his armed neutrality
and a guarantee of the Austrian possessions in Italy, In return he required that he
himself should have the command of all the forces of the German Diet. Had Austria
accepted these terms, either the war would have been stopped or the whole force of
Germany under the King of Prussia would have attacked France on the Rhine. The
Emperor however refused to accept them; he required a guarantee not only of his
possessions in Italy but also of his treaties with the other Italian princes.
Moreover, he would accept the assistance of Prussia only on condition that the
Prussian army was placed under the orders of the general appointed by the Diet. It
was absurd to suppose that any Prussian statesman would allow this. The action of
Austria shewed in fact a distrust and hatred of Prussia which more than justified all
that Bismarck had written during his tenure of office at Frankfort. In the end,
rather than accept Prussian assistance on the terms on which it was offered, the
Emperor of Austria made peace with France; he preferred to surrender Lombardy rather
than save it by Prussian help. “Thank God,” said Cavour, “Austria by her arrogance
has succeeded in uniting all the world against her.”

The spring of the year was spent by Bismarck at St. Petersburg. He had been
appointed Prussian Minister to that capital—put out in the cold, as he
expressed it. From the point of dignity and position it was an advance, but at St.
Petersburg he was away from the centre of political affairs. Russia had not yet
recovered from the effects of the Crimean War; the Czar was chiefly occupied with
internal reforms and the emancipation of the serfs. The Eastern Question was dormant,
and Russia did not aim at keeping a leading part in the settlement of Italian
affairs. Bismarck’s immediate duties were not therefore important and he no longer
had the opportunity of giving his advice to the Government upon the general practice.
It is improbable that Herr von Schleinitz would have welcomed advice. He was one of
the weakest of the Ministry; an amiable man of no very marked ability, who owed his
position to the personal friendship of the Prince Regent and his wife. The position
which Bismarck had occupied during the last few years could not but be embarrassing
to any Minister; this man still young, so full of self-confidence, so unremitting in
his labours, who, while other diplomatists thought only of getting through their
routine work, spent the long hours of the night in writing despatches, discussing the
whole foreign policy of the country, might well cause apprehension even to the
strongest Minister.

From the time of Bismarck’s departure from Frankfort our knowledge of his official
despatches ceases; we lose the invaluable assistance of his letters to Manteuffel and
Gerlach. For some time he stood so much alone that there was no one to whom he could
write unreservedly on political matters.

He watched with great anxiety the progress of affairs with regard to Italy. At the
beginning of May he wrote a long letter to Schleinitz, as he had done to Manteuffel,
urging him to bold action; he recounted his experiences at the Diet, he reiterated
his conviction that no good would come to Prussia from the federal tie—the
sooner it was broken the better; nothing was so much to be desired as that the Diet
should overstep its powers, and pass some resolution which Prussia could not accept,
so that Prussia could take up the glove and force a breach. The opportunity was
favourable for a revision of the Constitution. “I see,” he wrote “in our Federal
connection only a weakness of Prussia which sooner or later must be cured, ferro
et igni.” Probably Schleinitz’s answer was not of such a kind as to tempt him to
write again. In his private letters he harps on the same string; he spent June in a
visit to Moscow but he hurried back at the end of the month to St. Petersburg to
receive news of the war. Before news had come of the peace of Villafranca he was
constantly in dread that Prussia would go to war on behalf of Austria:

“We have prepared too soon and too thoroughly, the weight of the burden we
have taken on ourselves is drawing us down the incline. We shall not be even an
Austrian reserve; we shall simply sacrifice ourselves for Austria and take away the
war from her.”

How disturbed he was, we can see by the tone of religious resignation which he
assumes—no doubt a sign that he fears his advice has not yet been acted
upon.

“As God will. Everything here is only a question of time; peoples and men,
wisdom and folly, war and peace, they come and go like rain and water, and the sea
alone remains. There is nothing on earth but hypocrisy and deceit.”

The language of this and other letters was partly due to the state of his health;
the continual anxiety and work of his life at Frankfort, joined to irregular hours
and careless habits, had told upon his constitution. He fell seriously ill in St.
Petersburg with a gastric and rheumatic affection; an injury to the leg received
while shooting in Sweden, became painful; the treatment adopted by the doctor,
bleeding and iodine, seems to have made him worse. At the beginning of July, 1860, he
returned on leave to Berlin; there he was laid up for ten days; his wife was summoned
and under her care he began to improve. August he spent at Wiesbaden and Nauheim,
taking the waters, the greater part of the autumn in Berlin; in October he had to go
Warsaw officially to receive and accompany the Czar, who came to Breslau for an
interview with the Prince Regent. From Breslau he hurried back to Berlin, from Berlin
down to Pomerania, where his wife was staying with her father; then the same week
back to Berlin, and started for St. Petersburg. The result of these long journeys
when his health was not completely reestablished was very serious. He was to spend a
night on the journey to St. Petersburg with his old friend, Herr von Below, at
Hohendorf, in East Prussia; he had scarcely reached the house when he fell
dangerously ill of inflammation of the lungs and rheumatic fever. He remained here
all the winter, and it was not until the beginning of March, 1860, that he was well
enough to return to Berlin. Leopold von Gerlach, who met him shortly afterwards,
speaks of him as still looking wretchedly ill. This prolonged illness forms an epoch
in his life. He never recovered the freshness and strength of his youth. It left a
nervous irritation and restlessness which often greatly interfered with his political
work and made the immense labour which came upon him doubly distasteful. He loses the
good humour which had been characteristic of him in early life; he became irritable
and more exacting. He spent the next three months in Berlin attending the meetings of
the Herrenhaus, and giving a silent vote in favour of the Government measures; he
considered it was his duty as a servant of the State to support the Government,
though he did not agree with the Liberal policy which in internal affairs they
adopted. At this time he stood almost completely alone. His opinions on the Italian
question had brought about a complete breach with his old friends. Since the
conclusion of the war, public opinion in Germany, as in England, had veered round.
The success of Cavour had raised a desire to imitate him; a strong impulse had been
given to the national feeling, and a society, the National Verein, had been
founded to further the cause of United Germany under Prussian leadership. The
question of the recognition of the new Kingdom of Italy was becoming prominent; all
the Liberal party laid much stress on this. The Prince Regent, however, was averse to
an act by which he might seem to express his approval of the forcible expulsion of
princes from their thrones. As the national and liberal feeling in the country grew,
his monarchical principles seemed to be strengthened. The opinions which Bismarck was
known to hold on the French alliance had got into the papers and were much
exaggerated; he had plenty of enemies to take care that it should be said that he
wished Prussia to join with France; to do as Piedmont had done, and by the cession of
the left bank of the Rhine to France to receive the assistance of Napoleon in
annexing the smaller states. In his letters of this period Bismarck constantly
protests against the truth of these accusations. “If I am to go to the devil,” he
writes, “it will at least not be a French one. Do not take me for a Bonapartist, only
for a very ambitious Prussian.” It is at this time that his last letter to Gerlach
was written. They had met at the end of April, and Gerlach wrote to protest against
the opinion to which Bismarck had given expression:

“After the conversation which I have had with you I was particularly
distressed that, by your bitterness against Austria, you had allowed yourself to be
diverted from the simple attitude towards law and the Revolution. For you an
alliance with France and Piedmont is a possibility, a thought which is far from me
and, dear Bismarck, ought to be far from you. For me Louis Napoleon is even more
than his uncle the incarnation of the Revolution, and Cavour is a Rheinbund
Minister like Montgellas. You cannot and ought not to deny the principles of the
Holy Alliance; they are no other than that authority comes from God, and that the
Princes must govern as servants appointed by God.”

Bismarck answers the letter the next day:

“I am a child of other times than you. No one loses the mark impressed on
him in the period of his youth. In you the victorious hatred of Bonaparte is
indelible; you call him the incarnation of the Revolution and if you knew of any
worse name you would bestow it upon him. I have lived in the country from my
twenty-third to my thirty-second year and will never be rid of the longing to be
back again; I am in politics with only half my heart; what dislike I have of France
is based rather on the Orleans than the Bonapartist régime. It is opposed to
bureaucratic corruption under the mask of constitutional government. I should be
glad to fight against Bonaparte till the dogs lick up the blood but with no more
malice than against Croats, Bohemians, and Bamberger fellow-countrymen.”

The two friends were never to meet again. The old King of Prussia died at the
beginning of the next year, and Gerlach, who had served him so faithfully, though
perhaps not always wisely, survived his master scarcely a week.

In the summer of 1860 Bismarck returned to his duties in Russia; and this time,
with the exception of a fortnight in October, he spent a whole year in St.
Petersburg. He had still not recovered from the effects of his illness and could not,
therefore, go out much in society, but he was much liked at Court and succeeded in
winning the confidence both of the Emperor and his family. His wife and children were
now with him, and after the uncertainty of his last two years he settled down with
pleasure to a quieter mode of life. He enjoyed the sport which he had in the Russian
forests; he studied Russian and made himself completely at home. Political work he
had little to do, except what arose from the charge of “some 200,000 vagabond
Prussians” who lived in Russia. Of home affairs he had little knowledge:

“I am quite separated from home politics, as besides the newspapers I
receive scarcely anything but official news which does not expose the foundation of
affairs.”

For the time the reports of his entering the Ministry had ceased; he professed to
be, and perhaps was, quite satisfied.

“I am quite contented with my existence here; I ask for no change in my
position until it be God’s will I settle down quietly at Schönhausen or
Reinfeld and can leisurely set about having my coffin made.”

In October he had to attend the Czar on a journey to Warsaw where he had an
interview with the Prince Regent. The Prince was accompanied by his
Minister-President, the Prince of Hohenzollern, who took the opportunity of having
long conversations with the Ambassador to St. Petersburg. It is said that as a result
of this the Minister, who wished to be relieved from a post which was daily becoming
more burdensome, advised the Prince Regent to appoint Bismarck Minister-President.
The advice, however, was not taken.

Meanwhile events were taking place in Prussia which were to bring about important
constitutional changes. The success of the Ministry of the new era had not
answered the expectations of the country. Their foreign policy had been correct, but
they had shewn no more spirit than their predecessors, and the country was in that
excited state in which people wanted to see some brilliant and exciting stroke of
policy, though they were not at all clear what it was they desired. Then a rift had
begun to grow between the Regent and his Ministers. The Liberalism of the Prince had
never been very deep; it owed its origin in fact chiefly to his opposition to the
reactionary government of his brother. As an honest man he intended to govern
strictly in accordance with the Constitution. He had, however, from the beginning no
intention of allowing the Chambers to encroach upon the prerogatives of the Crown.
The Ministers on the other hand regarded themselves to some extent as a Parliamentary
Ministry; they had a majority in the House and they were inclined to defer to it. The
latent causes of difference were brought into activity by the question of army
reform.

The Prince Regent was chiefly and primarily a soldier. As a second son it had been
doubtful whether he would ever succeed to the throne. He had an intimate acquaintance
with the whole condition of the army, and he had long known that in many points
reform was necessary. His first action on succeeding his brother was to appoint a
Commission of the War Office to prepare a scheme of reorganisation. A memorandum had
been drawn up for him by Albert von Roon, and with some alterations it was accepted
by the Commission. The Minister of War, Bonin (the same who had been dismissed in
1854 at the crisis of the Eastern complications), seems to have been indifferent in
the matter; he did not feel in himself the energy for carrying through an important
reform which he had not himself originated, and of which perhaps he did not
altogether approve. The Prince Regent had set his mind upon the matter; the
experience gained during the mobilisation of 1859 had shewn how serious the defects
were; the army was still on a war footing and it was a good opportunity for at once
carrying through the proposed changes. Bonin therefore resigned his office and Roon,
in December, 1859, was appointed in his place.

GENERAL VON ROON

This appointment was to have far-reaching results; it at once destroyed all
harmony in the Ministry itself. The rest of the Ministers were Liberals. Roon was a
strong Conservative. He was appointed professedly merely as a departmental Minister,
but he soon won more confidence with the Regent than all the others. He was a man of
great energy of character and decision in action. The best type of Prussian officer,
to considerable learning he joined a high sense of duty founded on deep-rooted and
simple religious faith. The President of the Ministry had practically retired from
political life and the Government had no longer a leader. Roon’s introduction was in
fact the beginning of all the momentous events which were to follow. But for him
there would have been no conflict in the Parliament and Bismarck would never have
become Minister.

At the beginning of 1860 the project of law embodying the proposals for army
reform was laid before the Lower House. It was ordered by them in accordance with the
practice to be referred to a small Committee.

The proposals consisted of (a) an increase in the number of recruits to be raised
each year, (b) a lengthening of the term of service with the colours, (c) an
alteration in the relations of the Landwehr to the rest of the army.

The Committee appointed to consider these reforms accepted the first, but rejected
the second and third. They asserted that the three years’ service with the colours
was not necessary, and they strongly disliked any proposal for interfering with the
Landwehr. The report of the Committee was accepted by the House. It was in vain that
the more far-seeing members of the Liberal party tried to persuade their leaders to
support the Government; it was in vain that the Ministers pointed out that the
Liberal majority had been elected as a Government majority, and it was their duty to
support Ministers taken from their own party. The law had to be withdrawn and the
Government, instead, asked for a vote of nine million thalers, provisionally, for
that year only, as a means of maintaining the army in the state to which it had been
raised. In asking for this vote it was expressly stated that the principles of the
organisation should be in no wise prejudiced.

“The question whether in future a two or three years’ service shall be
required; whether the period with the Reserve shall be extended; in what position
the Landwehr shall be placed–all this is not touched by the present
proposal.”

On this condition the House voted the money required, but for one year only. The
Government, however, did not keep this pledge; the Minister of War simply continued
to carry out the reorganisation in accordance with the plan which had been rejected;
new regiments were formed, and by the end of the year the whole army had been
reorganised. This action was one for which the Prince and Roon were personally
responsible; it was done while the other Ministers were away from Berlin, and without
their knowledge.

When the House met at the beginning of the next year they felt that they had been
deceived; they were still more indignant when Roon informed them that he had
discovered that the whole of the reorganisation could be legally carried through in
virtue of the prerogative of the Crown, and that a fresh law was not required; that
therefore the consideration of the changes was not before the House, and that all
they would have to do would be to vote the money to pay for them. Of course the House
refused to vote the money; after long debates the final settlement of the question
was postponed for another year; the House, though this time by a majority of only
eleven votes, granting with a few modifications the required money, but again for one
year only.

All this time Bismarck was living quietly at St. Petersburg; he had no influence
on affairs, for the military law had nothing to do with him, and the Regent did not
consult him on foreign policy. No one, however, profited by Roon’s appointment so
much as he; he had once more a friend and supporter at Court, who replaced the loss
of Gerlach. Roon and he had known one another in the old Pomeranian days. There was a
link in Moritz Blankenburg, who was a “Dutz” friend of Bismarck’s and Roon’s cousin.
We can understand how untenable Roon’s position was when we find the Minister of War
choosing as his political confidants two of the leaders of the party opposed to the
Ministry to which he belonged.

Ever since Roon had entered the Government there had been indeed a perpetual
crisis.

The Liberal Ministers were lukewarm in their support of the military bill; they
only consented to adopt it on condition that the King would give his assent to those
measures which they proposed to introduce, in order to maintain their positions as
leaders of the party; they proposed to bring in bills for the reform of the House of
Lords, for the responsibility of Ministers, for local government. These were opposed
to the personal opinions of the King; he was supported in his opposition by Roon and
refused his assent, but he neither dismissed the Ministers nor did they resign. So
long as they were willing to hold office on the terms he required, there was indeed
no reason why he should dismiss them; to do so would be to give up the last hope of
getting the military Bill passed. All through 1861 the same uncertainty continued;
Roon indeed again and again wrote to his master, pointing out the necessity for
getting rid of his colleagues; he wished for a Conservative Ministry with Bismarck as
President. Here, he thought, was the only man who had the courage to carry through
the army reform. Others thought as he did. Who so fitted to come to the help of the
Crown as this man who, ten years before, had shewn such ability in Parliamentary
debate? And whenever the crisis became more acute, all the Quidnuncs of Berlin shook
their heads and said, “Now we shall have a Bismarck Ministry, and that will be a
coup d’état and the overthrow of the Constitution.”

Bismarck meanwhile was living quietly at St. Petersburg, awaiting events. At last
the summons came; on June 28, 1861, Roon telegraphed to him that the pear was ripe;
he must come at once; there was danger in delay. His telegram was followed by a
letter, in which he more fully explained the situation. The immediate cause of the
crisis was that the King desired to celebrate his accession, as his brother had done,
by receiving the solemn homage of all his people; the Ministry refused their assent
to an act which would appear to the country as “feudal” and reactionary. A solemn
pledge of obedience to the King was the last thing the Liberals wanted to give, just
for the same reasons that the King made a point of receiving it; his feelings were
deeply engaged, and Roon doubtless hoped that his colleagues would at last be
compelled to resign; he wished, therefore, to have Bismarck on the spot.

Bismarck could not leave St. Petersburg for some days; he, however, answered by a
telegram and a long letter; he begins in a manner characteristic of all his letters
at this period:

“Your letter disturbed me in my comfortable meditations on the quiet time
which I was going to enjoy at Reinfeld. Your cry ‘to horse’ came with a shrill
discord. I have grown ill in mind, tired out, and spiritless since I lost the
foundation of my health.”

And at the end:

“Moving, quarrelling, annoyance, the whole slavery day and night form a
perspective, which already makes me homesick for Reinfeld or St. Petersburg. I
cannot enter the swindle in better company than yours; but both of us were happier
on the Sadower Heath behind the partridges.”

So he wrote late at night, but the next morning in a postscript he added: “If the
King will to some extent meet my views, then I will set to the work with pleasure.”
In the letter he discusses at length the programme; he does not attach much
importance to the homage; it would be much better to come to terms on the military
question, break with the Chamber, and dissolve. The real difficulty he sees, however,
is foreign policy; only by a change in the management of foreign affairs can the
Crown be relieved from a pressure to which it must ultimately give way; he would not
himself be inclined to accept the Ministry of the Interior, because no good could be
done unless the foreign policy was changed, and that the King himself would probably
not wish that.

“The chief fault of our policy is that we have been Liberal at home and
Conservative abroad; we hold the rights of our own King too cheap, and those of
foreign princes too high; a natural consequence of the difference between the
constitutional tendency of the Ministers and the legitimist direction which the
will of his Majesty gives to our foreign policy. Of the princely houses from Naples
to Hanover none will be grateful for our love, and we practise towards them a truly
evangelical love of our enemies at the cost of the safety of our own throne. I am
true to the sole of my foot to my own princes, but towards all others I do not feel
in a single drop of blood the slightest obligation to raise up a little finger to
help them. In this attitude I fear that I am so far removed from our Most Gracious
Master, that he will scarcely find me fitted to be a Councillor of his Crown. For
this reason he will anyhow prefer to use me at the Home-Office. In my opinion,
however, that makes no difference, for I promise myself no useful results from the
whole Government unless our attitude abroad is more vigorous and less dependent on
dynastic sympathies.”

Bismarck arrived in Berlin on July 9th. When he got there the crisis was over;
Berlin was nearly empty; Roon was away in Pomerania, the King in Baden-Baden; a
compromise had been arranged; there was not to be an act of homage but a coronation.
There was, therefore, no more talk of his entering the Ministry; Schleinitz, however,
told him that he was to be transferred from Russia, but did not say what post he was
to have. The next day, in obedience to a command, he hurried off to Baden-Baden; the
King wished to have his advice on many matters of policy, and instructed him to draw
up a memorandum on the German question. He used the opportunity of trying to
influence the King to adopt a bolder policy. At the same time he attempted to win
over the leaders of the Conservative party. A general election was about to take
place; the manifesto of the Conservative party was so worded that we can hardly
believe it was not an express and intentional repudiation of the language which
Bismarck was in the habit of using; they desired

“the unity of our German fatherland, though not like the Kingdom of Italy
through ‘blood and fire’ [Blut und Brand; almost the words which Bismarck
had used to describe the policy which must be followed], but in the unity of its
princes and peoples holding firm to authority and law.”

Bismarck, on hearing this, sent to his old friend Herr von Below, one of the
leaders of the party, a memorandum on German affairs, and accompanied it by a letter.
He repeated his old point that Prussia was sacrificing the authority of the Crown at
home to support that of other princes in whose safety she had not the slightest
interest. The solidarity of Conservative interests was a dangerous fiction, unless it
was carried out with the fullest reciprocity; carried out by Prussia alone it was
Quixotry; it prevented King and Government from executing their true task, the
protection of Prussia from all injustice, whether it came from home or abroad; this
was the task given to the King by God.

“We make the unhistorical, the jealous, and lawless mania for sovereignty of
the German Princes the bosom child of the Conservative party in Prussia, we are
enthusiastic for the petty sovereignties which were created by Napoleon and
protected by Metternich, and are blind to the dangers which threaten Prussia and
the independence of Germany.”

He wishes for a clear statement of their policy; a stricter concentration of the
German military forces, reform of the Customs’ Unions, and a number of common
institutions to protect material interests against the disadvantages which arise from
the unnatural configuration of the different states.

“Besides all this I do not see why we should shrink back so bashfully from
the idea of a representation of the people. We cannot fight as revolutionary an
institution which we Conservatives cannot do without even in Prussia, and is
recognised as legitimate in every German State.” ^[6]

This letter is interesting as shewing how nearly his wishes on German affairs
coincided with those of the Liberal party and of the National Verein: he was asking
the Conservatives to adopt the chief points in their opponents’ programme. Of course
they would not do so, and the King himself was more likely to be alarmed than
attracted by the bold and adventurous policy that was recommended to him. Bismarck’s
anticipation was justified; the King was not prepared to appoint him Foreign
Minister. Herr von Schleinitz indeed resigned, but his place was taken by Bernstorff,
Minister at London; he had so little confidence in the success of his office that he
did not even give up his old post, and occupied the two positions, one of which
Bismarck much desired to have.

After attending the coronation at Königsberg, Bismarck, therefore, returned
to his old post at St. Petersburg; his future was still quite uncertain; he was
troubled by his own health and that of his children; for the first time he begins to
complain of the cold.

“Since my illness I am so exhausted that I have lost all my energy for
excitement. Three years ago I would have made a serviceable Minister; when I think
of such a thing now I feel like a broken-down acrobat. I would gladly go to London,
Paris, or remain here, as it pleases God and his Majesty. I shudder at the prospect
of the Ministry as at a cold bath.”

In March he is still in ignorance; his household is in a bad state.

“Johanna has a cough, which quite exhausts her; Bill is in bed with fever,
the doctor does not yet know what is the matter with him; the governess has no hope
of ever seeing Germany again.”

He does not feel up to taking the Ministry; even Paris would be too noisy for
him.

“London is quieter; but for the climate and the children’s health, I would
prefer to stay here. Berne is an old idea of mine; dull places with pretty
neighbourhoods suit old people; only there is no sport there, as I do not like
climbing after chamois.”

The decision depended on the events at home; the position of the Government was
becoming untenable. The elections had been most unfavourable; the Radicals had ceased
to efface themselves, the old leaders of 1848 had appeared again; they had formed a
new party of “Progressives,” and had won over a hundred seats at the expense of the
Conservatives and the moderate Liberals; they were pledged not to carry out the
military reforms and to insist on the two years’ service. They intended to make the
difference of opinion on this point the occasion of a decisive struggle to secure and
extend the control of the House over the administration, and for this purpose to
bring into prominence constitutional questions which both Crown and Parliament had
hitherto avoided. From the day the session opened it was clear that there was now no
chance of the money being voted for the army. Before the decisive debate came on, the
majority had taken the offensive and passed what was a direct vote of want of
confidence in the Ministry. On this the Ministry handed in their resignations to the
King; their place was taken by members of the Conservative party and Parliament again
dissolved after sitting only six weeks. It was the end of the new era.

It was doubtful whether the new Ministers would have the skill and resolution to
meet the crisis; they still were without a leader; Prince von Hohenlohe, a member of
the Protestant branch of the family to which the present Chancellor of the Empire
belongs, was appointed provisional President. The opinions of the country was clear
enough; the elections resulted in the complete defeat not only of the Conservatives
but of the moderate Liberals; not a single one of the Ministers was returned. There
was, therefore, no doubt that the King would either have to give in on the question
of the army or to govern against the will of the majority of the Chamber. The
struggle was no longer confined to the question of the army; it was a formal conflict
for power between the House and the Crown. The attempt to introduce a Parliamentary
government which had been thwarted ten years before was now revived. Who could say
what the end would be? All precedent seemed to shew that in a struggle between Crown
and Parliament sooner or later the King must be beaten, unless, indeed, he was
prepared to adopt the means which Napoleon used. The King would not give in; he
believed that the army reform was necessary to the safety of his country; on the
other hand, he was a man of too loyal a character to have recourse to violence and a
breach of the Constitution. If, however, the Constitution proved to be of such a kind
that it made it impossible for him to govern the country, he was prepared to retire
from his post; the position would indeed be untenable if on his shoulders lay the
responsibility of guiding the policy and defending the interests of Prussia, and at
the same time the country refused to grant him the means of doing so.

The elections had taken place on May 6th; four days later Bismarck arrived in
Berlin; he had at last received his recall. As soon as he was seen in Berlin his
appointment as Minister-President was expected; all those who wished to maintain the
authority of the Crown, looked on him as the only man who could face the danger. Roon
was active, as usual, on his side and was now supported by some of his colleagues,
but Schleinitz, who had the support of the Queen, wished to be President himself;
there were long meetings of the Council and audiences of the King; but the old
influences were still at work; Bismarck did not wish to enter the Ministry except as
Foreign Minister, and the King still feared and distrusted him. An incident which
occurred during these critical days will explain to some extent the apprehensions
which Bismarck so easily awoke. The chronic difficulties with the Elector of Hesse
had culminated in an act of great discourtesy; the King of Prussia had sent an
autograph letter to the Elector by General Willisen; the Elector on receiving it
threw it unopened on the table; as the letter contained the final demands of Prussia,
the only answer was to put some of the neighbouring regiments on a war footing.
Bernstorff took the opportunity of Bismarck’s presence in Berlin to ask his advice;
the answer was: “The circumstance that the Elector has thrown a royal letter on the
table is not a clever casus belli; if you want war, make me your Under
Secretary; I will engage to provide you a German civil war of the best quality in a
few weeks.” The King might naturally fear that if he appointed Bismarck, not Under
Secretary, but Minister, he would in a few weeks, whether he liked it or not, find
himself involved in a German civil war of the best quality. He wanted a man who would
defend the Government before the Chambers with courage and ability; Bismarck, who had
gained his reputation as a debater, was the only man for the post. He could have had
the post of Minister of the Interior; he was offered that of Minister-President
without a Portfolio; but if he did not actually refuse, he strongly disapproved of
the plan; he would not be able to get on with Bernstorff, and Schleinitz would
probably interfere. “I have no confidence in Bernstorff’s eye for political matters;
he probably has none in mine.” Bernstorff was “too stiff,” “his collars were too
high.” During these long discussions he wrote to his wife:

“Our future is obscure as in Petersburg. Berlin is now to the front; I do
nothing one way or another; as soon as I have my credentials for Paris in my pocket
I will dance and sing. At present there is no talk of London, but all may change
again. I scarcely get free of the discussions all day long; I do not find the
Ministers more united than their predecessors were.”

Disgusted with the long waiting and uncertainty he pressed for a decision; after a
fortnight’s delay he was appointed Minister at Paris, but this was in reality only a
fresh postponement; nothing had really been decided; the King expressly told him not
to establish himself there. To his wife he wrote from Berlin:

“I am very much pleased, but the shadow remains in the background. I was
already as good as caught for the Ministry. Perhaps when I am out of their sight
they will discover another Minister-President. I expect to start for Paris
to-morrow; whether for long, God knows; perhaps only for a few months or even
weeks. They are all conspired together that I should stay here. I have had to be
very firm to get away from this hotel life even for a time.”

He did not really expect to be away more than ten days or a fortnight. At a
farewell audience just before he started, the King seems to have led him to expect
that he would in a very few days be appointed as he wished, Foreign Minister.

He arrived in Paris on the 30th, to take up his quarters in the empty Embassy. He
did not wait even to see his wife before starting and he wrote to her that she was
not to take any steps towards joining him.

“It is not decided that I am to stay here; I am in the middle of Paris
lonelier than you are in Reinfeld and sit here like a rat in a deserted house. How
long it will last God knows. Probably in eight or ten days I shall receive a
telegraphic summons to Berlin and then game and dance is over. If my enemies knew
what a benefit they would confer on me by their victory and how sincerely I wish it
for them, Schleinitz out of pure malice would probably do his best to bring me to
Berlin.”

Day after day, however, went by and the summons did not come; on the contrary
Bernstorff wrote as though he were proposing to stay on; he did not however, suggest
giving up his post in London, Roon wrote that he had raised the question in
conversation with the King; that he had found the old leaning towards Bismarck, and
the old irresolution. The Chamber had met, but the first few weeks of the session
passed off with unexpected quiet and it was not till the autumn that the question of
the Budget would come up. Bismarck wrote to Bernstorff to try and find out what was
to happen to him, but the King, before whom the letter was laid, was quite unable to
come to any decision.

Bismarck therefore determined to use his enforced leisure in order to go across to
London for a few days. He had only visited England once as a young man, and,
expecting as he did soon to be responsible for the conduct of foreign affairs, it was
desirable that he should make the personal acquaintance of the leading English
statesmen. Undoubtedly, one of the reasons why he had been sent to Paris was that he
might renew his acquaintance with the Emperor. There was also a second International
Exhibition and everyone was going to London. We have, unfortunately, no letters
written from England; after his return he writes to Roon:

“I have just come back from London; people there are much better informed
about China and Turkey than about Prussia. Loftus must write more nonsense to his
Ministers than I thought.”

The only event of which we have any information was his meeting with Mr. Disraeli,
who at that time was leader of the Opposition in the House of Commons; it took place
at a dinner given by the Russian Ambassador to the Grand Duchess of Saxe-Weimar.
Among the guests was Count Vitzthum, Saxon Envoy; he saw Bismarck and Disraeli
engaged in a long conversation after dinner; afterwards the English statesman told
him the substance of it. Bismarck had spoken as follows:

“I shall soon be compelled to undertake the leadership of the Prussian
Government. My first care will be, with or without the help of Parliament, to
reorganise the army. The King has rightly set himself this task; he cannot however
carry it through with his present councillors. When the army has been brought to
such a state as to command respect, then I will take the first opportunity to
declare war with Austria, burst asunder the German Confederation, bring the middle
and smaller States into subjection, and give Germany a national union under the
leadership of Prussia. I have come here to tell this to the Queen’s
Ministers.”

Disraeli added to Vitzthum, who, of course, as Saxon Envoy was much interested:
“Take care of that man; he means what he says.” It does not appear that Bismarck had
an opportunity of explaining his project either to Lord Palmerston or to Lord
Russell.

All through July he remained in Paris, to which he was called back in order to
receive some despatches which after all never arrived; the same uncertainty
continued; there was no work to be done there, Emperor and Ministers were going away;
he was still all alone in the Embassy without servants, or furniture. As he wrote to
his wife, he did not know what to have for dinner or what to eat it on. He therefore
applied for leave; he was himself of opinion that as the King would not immediately
give him the Foreign Office it was not yet time for him to enter the Ministry.
Writing to Roon he advised that the Government should prolong the conflict, draw the
Chamber into disputes on small matters which would weary the country; then when they
were getting worn out and hoped that the Government would meet them half-way so as to
end the conflict, then would be the time to summon him,

“as a sign that we are far from giving up the battle. The appearance of a
new battalion in the Ministerial array would then perhaps make an impression that
would be wanting now, especially if beforehand a commotion was created by
expressions about a coup d’état and a new Constitution; then my own
reputation for careless violence would help me and people would think, ‘now it is
coming!’ Then, all the half-hearted would be inclined to negotiation. I am
astonished at the political incapacity of our Chambers and yet we are an educated
country. Undoubtedly too much so; others are not cleverer but they have not the
childish self-confidence with which our political leaders publish their incapacity
in its complete nakedness as a model and pattern. How have we Germans got the
reputation of retiring modesty? There is not a single one of us who does not think
that he understands everything, from strategy to picking the fleas off a dog,
better than professionals who have devoted their lives to it.”

It was only with difficulty he could even get leave of absence, for the King was
as irresolute as ever; as to the cause of the difficulty we get some hint in Roon’s
letters. There was a party which was pushing Schleinitz, the only member of the
Liberal Ministry who remained in office; he had very influential support.

“Her Majesty the Queen returns to Babelsburg on Sunday; she is much
agitated, there will be scenes; the temperature towards the Ministry will fall to
zero or below.”

He eventually got away at the end of July with six weeks’ leave of absence; he
travelled down to Bordeaux and Bayonne and across the Pyrenees to San Sebastian; he
was away from all news of the world; for weeks he scarcely saw even a German
paper.

On the 14th of September he was at Toulouse; the sea-bathing, the mountain air,
the freedom from work and anxiety, and the warmth had completely restored his health;
for the first time since he went to St. Petersburg he had recovered his old spirit,
his decision, and directness of action. He wrote that he must have some definite
decision; otherwise he would send in his resignation. “My furniture is at St.
Petersburg and will be frozen up, my carriages are at Stettin, my horses at Berlin,
my family in Pomerania, and I on the highroad.” He was prepared to be his Majesty’s
Envoy at Paris but he was also ready at once to enter the Ministry. “Only get me
certainty, one way or another,” he writes to Roon, “and I will paint angels’ wings on
your photograph.” Two days later, just as a year before, he received a telegram from
Roon telling him to come at once. On the 17th he was in Paris and on the morning of
the 20th he arrived in Berlin.

The long-delayed crisis had at last come; the debates on the Budget and the vote
for the army reform began on September 11th; it was continued for five days, and at
the end the House, by a majority of 273 to 62, refused the money required for the
increased establishment. The result of this vote would be that if the wishes of the
House were carried out, the whole of the expenditure which had already been made for
eight months of the current year was illegal; moreover, the regiments which had
already existed for two years must be disbanded. It was a vote which could not
possibly be carried into effect, as the money had already been spent. At a meeting of
the Ministry which was held the next morning, the majority, including this time even
Roon, seemed to have been inclined to attempt a compromise. The King alone remained
firm. When he had heard the opinion of all the Ministers, he rose and said that in
that case it would be impossible for him to carry on the Government any longer; it
would only remain for him to summon the Crown Prince. As he said this he put his hand
on the bell to call a messenger. The Ministers all sprang from their chairs and
assured him that he might depend upon them, and they would support him to the end.
Such were the circumstances in which Roon summoned Bismarck. None the less the
influence of the Queen and the Crown Prince were so strong that the King still
doubted whether he ought to continue the struggle; on one thing he was determined,
that if he had to give way he would abdicate. Two days later he again asked Roon his
advice. “Appoint Bismarck Minister-President,” was the answer. “But he is not here,
he will not accept,” objected the King, referring doubtless to the difficulties which
Bismarck had raised formerly. “He is in Berlin at this moment,” said Roon. The King
ordered him to come to Potsdam. When Bismarck arrived there he found the King sitting
at his table, and in front of him the act of abdication, already signed. The King
asked him whether he was willing to undertake the Government, even against the
majority of the Parliament and without a Budget. Bismarck said he would do so. It was
one last chance, and the King tore up the act of abdication. Two days later Bismarck
was appointed provisional Minister-President, and, at the beginning of October,
received his definite appointment as President and Foreign Minister.

CHAPTER VII.

The circumstances under which Bismarck accepted office were such as to try the
nerves of the strongest man. The King had not appealed to him so long as there was
anyone else who would carry on the Government; he was the last resource, and had
taken up a burden from which all others shrunk. He had pledged himself to support the
King in a conflict against the whole nation; with the exception of the Upper House he
had no friends or supporters. The opinion in Europe was as decisively against him as
that in Prussia; he was scarcely looked on as a serious politician; everyone believed
that in a few weeks he would have to retire, and the King to give up the useless
conflict on which he was staking his throne.

EMPEROR WILLIAM
I

Bismarck was under no illusion as to his position; he had been summoned by the
King, he depended for his office entirely on the King, but would the King have the
strength of will and courage to resist? Only a few days after his appointment, the
King had gone to Baden-Baden for a week, where he met the Queen. When he came back,
he was completely disheartened. Bismarck, who had travelled part of the way to meet
him, got into the train at a small roadside station. He found that the King, who was
sitting alone in an ordinary first-class carriage, was prepared to surrender. “What
will come of it?” he said. “Already I see the place before my castle on which your
head will fall, and then mine will fall too.” “Well, as far as I am concerned,”
answered Bismarck, “I cannot think of a finer death than one on the field of battle
or the scaffold. I would fall like Lord Strafford; and your Majesty, not as Louis
XVI., but as Charles I. That is a quite respectable historical figure.”

For the moment the centre of interest lay in the House. The new Minister began by
what he intended as an attempt at reconciliation: he announced that the Budget for
1863 would be withdrawn; the object of this was to limit as much as possible the
immediate scope of difference; a fresh Budget for the next year would be laid before
them as soon as possible. There would remain only the settlement of the Budget for
the current year. This announcement was badly received; the House was distrustful,
and they interpreted it as an attempt to return to the old practice of deferring
consideration of the Budget until the beginning of the year to which it applied. The
first discussion in which Bismarck took part was not in the House itself, but in the
Budget Committee. The Committee proposed a resolution requiring the Government at
once to lay before the House the Budget for 1863, and declaring that it was
unconstitutional to spend any money which had been expressly and definitely refused
by the House of Representatives. On this there took place a long discussion, in which
Bismarck spoke repeatedly; for the discussions in Committee, which consisted only of
about thirty members, were conversational in their nature. There was no verbatim
report, but the room was crowded with members who had come to hear the new Minister.
They were not disappointed. He spoke with a wit, incisiveness, and versatility to
which, as one observer remarked, they were not accustomed from Prussian Ministers. He
warned them not to exaggerate their powers. The Prussian Constitution did not give
the House of Representatives the sole power of settling the Budget; it must be
settled by arrangement with the other House and the Crown. There was a difference of
opinion in the interpretation of the Constitution; all constitutional government
required compromise; a constitution was not something dead, it must be enlivened; it
was interpreted by custom and practice; it would be wiser not to hasten this practice
too quickly; then the question of law might easily become one of power. It was not
the fault of the Government that they had got into this position; people took the
situation too tragically, especially in the press; they spoke as though the end of
all things was come; “but,” he added, “a constitutional struggle is not a disgrace,
it is rather an honour; after all we are all children of the same country.” A true
note, but one which he was not always able to maintain in the struggle of the coming
years. Then he expounded the view of the German character which we have learnt from
his letters: it was customary to speak of the sobriety of the Prussian people; yes,
but the great independence of the individual made it difficult in Prussia to govern
with the Constitution; in France it was different; there this individual independence
was wanting; “we are perhaps too educated to endure a constitution; we are too
critical”; the capacity for judging measures of the Government and acts of the
Representatives was too universal; there were in the country too many Catilinarian
existences, which had an interest in revolutions. He reminded them that Germany did
not care for the Liberalism of Prussia, but for its power; Bavaria, Wurtemberg,
Baden, might indulge in Liberalism; Prussia must concentrate its power and hold
itself ready for the favourable moment which had already been passed over more than
once; Prussia’s boundaries, as fixed by the Congress of Vienna, were not favourable
to a sound political life; “not by speeches and majority votes are the great
questions of the time decided—that was the great blunder of 1848 and
1849—but by blood and iron.” He appealed for confidence: “Do not force a
quarrel; we are honest people and you can trust us.”

The effect of these speeches was very unfavourable; the very quickness of thought
and originality of expression produced a bad impression; even the free indulgence in
long foreign words offended patriotic journalists. They seemed to his audience
reckless; what was this reference to the Treaties of Vienna but an imitation of
Napoleonic statesmanship? They had the consciousness that they were making history,
that they were involved in a great and tragic conflict, and they expected the
Minister to play his part seriously and solemnly; instead of that they had listened
to a series of epigrams with no apparent logical connection. We know how dangerous it
is, even in England, for a responsible statesman to allow himself to be epigrammatic
in dealing with serious affairs. Much more was it in Germany, where the Ministers
were nearly always officials by training. Bismarck had the dangerous gift of framing
pregnant and pithy sentences which would give a ready handle to his opponents:
Macht geht vor Recht; he had not said these words, but he had said something
very much like them, and they undoubtedly represented what seemed to his audience the
pith of his speeches. And then these words, blood and iron. He has told us in
later years what he really meant:

“Put the strongest possible military power, in other words, as much blood
and iron as you can, into the hands of the King of Prussia, then he will be able to
carry out the policy you wish; it cannot be done with speeches and celebrations and
songs, it can only be done by blood and iron.” ^[7]

What everyone thought he meant was that blood must be shed and iron used; and
perhaps they were not so far wrong.

The attempt at conciliation failed; the report of the Committee was adopted, and
an amendment proposed by Vincke, which Bismarck was prepared to accept, was rejected.
Bismarck warned the House not to push the conflict too far; the time would come when
the prospect of a peaceful solution would have disappeared; then the Government too
would be prepared to oppose theory to theory and interpretation to
interpretation.

He showed to the President of the House a twig of olive. “I gathered this in
Avignon to bring it to the House; it does not seem to be time yet.”

The Budget was sent up to the House of Lords in the amended form in which the
House of Representatives had passed it; the Lords unanimously threw it out, as they
were legally justified in doing; not content with that, they altered it to the
original form in which it had been proposed by the Government and sent it down again
to the Lower House. This was clearly illegal. Their action, however, was most useful
to the Government. A conflict had now arisen between the two Houses, and technically
the responsibility for the failure to bring the conciliation about was taken away
from the Government; they could entrench themselves behind the impregnable position
that the law required the Budget to be passed by both Houses; until this was done
they could do nothing. The Houses would not agree; the Government was helpless. The
House of Representatives at once passed a motion declaring the vote of the Upper
House for altering the Budget null and void, as indeed it was; in the middle of the
discussion a message was brought down by the President announcing that the House was
to be prorogued that afternoon; they had just time to pass the resolution and to send
it in a cab which was waiting at the door to the Upper House, where it was read out
amidst the boisterous laughter of the Peers; then both Chambers were summoned to the
Palace, and the session closed. The first round in the conflict was over.

The recess was short; the next session was by the Constitution obliged to begin
not later than January 15th; there were many who expected that the Constitution would
be ignored and the Parliament not summoned. This was not Bismarck’s plan; he
fulfilled all the technical requirements in the strictest way; he carefully abstained
from any action which he could not justify by an appeal to the letter of the
Constitution; the government of the country was carried on with vigour and success;
he allowed no loophole by which his opponents might injure his influence with the
King. It is true that they were spending money which had not been voted, but then, as
he explained, that was not his fault; the provisions of the law were quite clear.

It was the duty of the Government to submit the Budget to the Lower House, who
could amend it; it had then to be passed in the form of a law, and for this the
assent of both Houses of Parliament and of the Crown was required. The Upper House
had not the right of proposing amendments, but they had the right of rejecting them.
In this case they had made use of their right; no law had been passed the two Houses
had not agreed. What was to happen? The Constitution gave no help; there was a gap in
it. The Government therefore had to act as best they could. They could not be
expected to close the Government offices, cease to pay the troops, and let the
government of the country come to an end; they must go on as best they could, taking
all the responsibility until they could come to some agreement.

As soon as the House met it began to vote an address to the King. They adopted the
obvious fiction, which, in fact, they could not well avoid, that he was being misled
by his Ministers, and the attitude of the country misrepresented to him; even had
they known as well as we do that the Ministers were only carrying out the orders of
the King, they could not well have said so. Bismarck, however, did not attempt to
conceal the truth; the address, he said, touched the King; the acts complained of
were done in the name of the King; they were setting themselves against him. The
contest was, who was to rule in Prussia, the House of Hohenzollern or the House of
Parliament. He was at once accused of disloyalty; he was, they said, protecting
himself behind the person of the sovereign, but, of course, it was impossible for him
not to do so. The whole justification for his action was that he was carrying out the
King’s orders. What was at the root of the conflict but the question, whether in the
last resort the will of the King or the majority of the House should prevail? To have
adopted the English practice, to have refrained from mentioning the King’s name,
would have been to adopt the very theory of the Constitution for which the House was
contending, the English theory that the sovereign has neither the right of deciding
nor responsibility; it would have been to undermine the monarchical side of the
Constitution which Bismarck was expressly defending. The King himself never attempted
to avoid the responsibility; in a public speech he had already said that the army
organisation was his own work: “It is my own and I am proud of it; I will hold firmly
to it and carry it through with all my energy.” In his answer to the address from the
House, both on this and on later occasions, he expressly withdrew the assumption that
he was not well informed or that he did not approve of his Ministers’ action.

The address was carried by a majority of 255 to 68; the King refused to receive it
in person. The House then proceeded to throw out a Bill for military reorganisation
which was laid before them; they adopted a resolution that they reserved for later
discussion the question, for what part of the money illegally spent in 1862 they
would hold the Ministry personally responsible. They then proceeded to the Budget of
1863, and again rejected the army estimates; they refused the money asked for raising
the salaries of the ambassadors (Bismarck himself, while at St. Petersburg, had
suffered much owing to the insufficiency of his salary, and he wished to spare his
successors a similar inconvenience); and they brought in Bills for the responsibility
of Ministers. The public attention, however was soon directed from these internal
matters to even more serious questions of foreign policy.

At the beginning of February the Poles had once more risen in revolt against the
Russian Government. Much sympathy was felt for them in Western Europe. England,
France, and Austria joined in representations and remonstrances to the Czar; they
expected that Prussia would join them.

Nothing could have been more inconvenient to Bismarck; he was at the time fully
occupied in negotiations about German affairs, and he was probably anxious to bring
to a speedy issue the questions between Prussia and Austria; it was therefore most
important to him to be on good terms with France and England, for he would not
challenge Austria unless he was sure that Austria would have no allies; now he must
quarrel with either Russia or with France. An insurrection in Poland was, however, a
danger to which everything else must be postponed; on this his opinion never varied,
here there could be no compromise. He was perfectly open: “The Polish question is to
us a question of life and death,” he said to Sir Andrew Buchanan. There were two
parties among the Poles; the one, the extreme Republican, wished for the institution
of an independent republic; the other would be content with self-government and
national institutions under the Russian Crown; they were supported by a considerable
party in Russia itself. Either party if successful would not be content with Russian
Poland; they would demand Posen, they would never rest until they had gained again
the coast of the Baltic and deprived Prussia of her eastern provinces. The danger to
Prussia would be greatest, as Bismarck well knew, if the Poles became reconciled to
the Russians; an independent republic on their eastern frontier would have been
dangerous, but Polish aspirations supported by the Panslavonic party and the Russian
army would have been fatal. Russia and Poland might be reconciled, Prussia and Poland
never can be. Prussia therefore was obliged to separate itself from the other Powers;
instead of sending remonstrances to the Czar, the King wrote an autograph letter
proposing that the two Governments should take common steps to meet the common
danger; General von Alvensleben, who took the letter, at once concluded a convention
in which it was agreed that Prussian and Russian troops should be allowed to cross
the frontier in pursuit of the insurgents; at the same time two of the Prussian army
corps were mobilised and drawn up along the Polish frontier.

The convention soon became known and it is easy to imagine the indignation with
which the Prussian people and the House of Representatives heard of what their
Government had done. The feeling was akin to that which would have prevailed in
America had the President offered his help to the Spanish Government to suppress the
insurrection in Cuba. The answers to questions were unsatisfactory, and on February
26th Heinrich von Sybel rose to move that the interests of Prussia required absolute
neutrality. It was indeed evident that Bismarck’s action had completely isolated
Prussia; except the Czar, she had now not a single friend in Europe and scarcely a
friend in Germany. Bismarck began his answer by the taunt that the tendency to
enthusiasm for foreign nationalities, even when their objects could only be realised
at the cost of one’s own country, was a political disease unfortunately limited to
Germany. It was, however, an unjust taunt, for no one had done more than Sybel
himself in his historical work to point out the necessity, though he recognised the
injustice, of the part Prussia had taken in the partition of Poland; nobody had
painted so convincingly as he had, the political and social demoralisation of Poland.
Bismarck then dwelt on the want of patriotism in the House, which in the middle of
complicated negotiations did not scruple to embarrass their own Government. “No
English House of Commons,” he said, “would have acted as they did,” a statement to
which we cannot assent; an English Opposition would have acted exactly as the
majority of the Prussian Parliament did. When a Minister is in agreement with the
House on the general principles of policy, then indeed there rests on them the
obligation not to embarrass the Government by constant interpolation with regard to
each diplomatic step; self-restraint must be exercised, confidence shewn. This was
not the case here; the House had every reason to believe that the objects of Bismarck
were completely opposed to what they wished; they could not be expected to repose
confidence in him. They used this, as every other opportunity, to attempt to get rid
of him.

The question of Poland is one on which Bismarck never altered his attitude. His
first public expression of opinion on foreign affairs was an attack on the Polish
policy of the Prussian Government in 1848.

“No one then,” he wrote, “could doubt that an independent Poland would be
the irreconcilable enemy of Prussia and would remain so till they had conquered the
mouth of the Vistula and every Polish-speaking village in West and East Prussia,
Pomerania, and Silesia.”

Forty years later one of the last of his great speeches in the Reichstag was
devoted to attacking the Polish sympathies of the Catholic party in Prussia. He was
never tired of laughing at the characteristic German romanticism which was so
enthusiastic for the welfare of other nations. He recalled the memories of his
boyhood when, after the rebellion of 1831, Polish refugees were received in every
German town with honours and enthusiasm greater than those paid to the men who had
fought for Germany, when German children would sing Polish national airs as though
they were their own.

Nothing shews the change which he has been able to bring about in German thought
better than the attitude of the nation towards Poland. In the old days the Germans
recollected only that the partition of Poland had been a great crime; it was their
hope and determination that they might be able to make amends for it. In those days
the Poles were to be found in every country in Europe, foremost in fighting on the
barricades; they helped the Germans to fight for their liberty, and the Germans were
to help them to recover independence. In 1848, Mieroslawski had been carried like a
triumphant hero through the streets of Berlin; the Baden rebels put themselves under
the leadership of a Pole, and it was a Pole who commanded the Viennese in their
resistance to the Austrian army; a Pole led the Italians to disaster on the field of
Novara. At a time when poets still were political leaders, and the memory and
influence of Byron had not been effaced, there was scarcely a German poet, Platen,
Uhland, Heine, who had not stirred up the enthusiasm for Poland. It was against this
attitude of mind that Bismarck had to struggle and he has done so successfully. He
has taught that it is the duty of Germany to use all the power of the State for
crushing and destroying the Polish language and nationality; the Poles in Prussia are
to become Prussian, as those in Russia have to become Russian. A hundred years ago
the Polish State was destroyed; now the language and the nation must cease to
exist.

It is a natural result of the predominance of Prussia in Germany. The enthusiasm
for Poland was not unnatural when the centre of gravity of Germany was still far
towards the West. Germany could be great, prosperous, and happy, even if a revived
Poland spread to the shores of the Baltic, but Prussia would then cease to exist and
Bismarck has taught the Germans to feel as Prussians.

The danger during these weeks was real; Napoleon proposed that Austria, England,
and France should present identical notes to Prussia remonstrating with and
threatening her. Lord Russell refused; it was, as Bismarck said in later years, only
the friendly disposition of Lord Russell to Germany which saved Prussia from this
danger. Bismarck’s own position was very insecure; but he withstood this attack as he
did all others, though few knew at what expense to his nerves and health; he used to
attribute the frequent illnesses of his later years to the constant anxiety of these
months; he had a very nervous temperament, self-control was difficult to him, and we
must remember that all the time when he was defending the King’s Government against
this public criticism he had to maintain himself against those who at Court were
attempting to undermine his influence with the King.

He had, however, secured the firm friendship of Russia. When he was in St.
Petersburg he had gained the regard of the Czar; now to this personal feeling was
added a great debt of gratitude. What a contrast between the action of Austria and
Prussia! The late Czar had saved Austria from dissolution, and what had been the
reward? Opposition in the East, and now Austria in the Polish affair was again
supporting the Western Powers. On the other hand Prussia, and Prussia alone, it was
which had saved Russia from the active intervention of France and England. Napoleon
had proposed that a landing should he made in Lithuania in order to effect a junction
with the Poles; Bismarck had immediately declared that if this were done he should
regard it as a declaration of war against Prussia. So deep was the indignation of
Alexander that he wrote himself to the King of Prussia, proposing an alliance and a
joint attack on France and Austria. It must have been a great temptation to Bismarck,
but he now shewed the prudence which was his great characteristic as a diplomatist;
he feared that in a war of this kind the brunt would fall upon Prussia, and that when
peace was made the control of negotiations would be with the Czar. He wished for war
with Austria, but he was determined that when war came he should have the arrangement
of the terms of peace. On his advice the King refused the offer.

The bitterness of the feeling created by these debates on Poland threatened to
make it impossible for Ministers any longer to attend in the House; Bismarck did his
part in increasing it.

“You ask me,” he said, “why, if we disagree with you, we do not dissolve; it
is that we wish the country to have an opportunity of becoming thoroughly
acquainted with you.”

He was tired and angry when during one of these sittings he writes to Motley:

“I am obliged to listen to particularly tasteless speeches out of the mouths
of uncommonly childish and excited politicians, and I have therefore a moment of
unwilling leisure which I cannot use better than in giving you news of my welfare.
I never thought that in my riper years I should be obliged to carry on such an
unworthy trade as that of a Parliamentary Minister. As envoy, although an official,
I still had the feeling of being a gentleman; as [Parliamentary] Minister one is a
helot. I have come down in the world, and hardly know how.

“April 18th. I wrote as far as this yesterday, then the sitting came to an end;
five hours’ Chamber until three o’clock; one hour’s report to his Majesty; three
hours at an incredibly dull dinner, old important Whigs; then two hours’ work;
finally, a supper with a colleague, who would have been hurt if I had slighted his
fish. This morning, I had hardly breakfasted, before Karolyi was sitting opposite
to me; he was followed without interruption by Denmark, England, Portugal, Russia,
France, whose Ambassador I was obliged to remind at one o’clock that it was time
for me to go to the House of phrases. I am sitting again in the latter; hear people
talk nonsense, and end my letter. All these people have agreed to approve our
treaties with Belgium, in spite of which twenty speakers scold each other with the
greatest vehemence, as if each wished to make an end of the other; they are not
agreed about the motives which make them unanimous, hence, alas! a regular German
squabble about the Emperor’s beard; querelle d’Allemand. You Anglo-Saxon
Yankees have something of the same kind also…. Your battles are bloody; ours
wordy; these chatterers really cannot govern Prussia. I must bring some opposition
to bear against them; they have too little wit and too much
self-complacency–stupid and audacious. Stupid, in all its meanings, is not the
right word; considered individually, these people are sometimes very clever,
generally educated–the regulation German university culture; but of politics,
beyond the interests of their own church tower, they know as little as we knew as
students, and even less; as far as external politics go, they are also, taken
separately, like children. In all other questions they become childish as soon as
they stand together in corpore. In the mass stupid, individually
intelligent.”

Recalling these days, Bismarck said in later years:

“I shall never forget how I had every morning to receive the visit of Sir
Andrew Buchanan, the English Ambassador, and Talleyrand, the representative of
France, who made hell hot for me over the inexcusable leanings of Prussian policy
towards Russia, and held threatening language towards us, and then at midday I had
the pleasure of hearing in the Prussian Parliament pretty much the same arguments
and attacks which in the morning the foreign Ambassadors had made against
me.”

Of course the language used in the House weakened his influence abroad, and the
foreign Governments shewed more insistence when they found out that the Prussian
Parliament supported their demands. It was noticed with satisfaction in the English
Parliament that the nation had dissociated itself from the mean and disgraceful
policy of the Government.

At last personal friction reached such a point that the session had to be closed.
In order to understand the cause of this we must remember that in Prussia the
Ministers are not necessarily members of either House; they enjoy, however, by the
Constitution, the right of attending the debates and may at any time demand to be
heard; they do not sit in the House among the other members, but on a raised bench to
the right of the President, facing the members. They have not, therefore, any feeling
of esprit de corps as members of the assembly; Bismarck and his colleagues
when they addressed the House spoke not as members, not as the representatives of
even a small minority, but as strangers, as the representatives of a rival and
hostile authority; it is this which alone explains the almost unanimous opposition to
him; he was the opponent not of one party in the House but of the Parliament itself
and of every other Parliament. In the course of a debate he came into conflict with
the Chair; the President pointed out that some of his remarks had nothing to do with
the subject; Bismarck at once protested: “I cannot allow the President the right to a
disciplinary interruption in my speech. I have not the honour of being a member of
this assembly; I have not helped to vote your standing orders; I have not joined in
electing the President; I am not subject to the disciplinary power of the Chamber.
The authority of the President ends at this barrier. I have one superior only, his
Majesty the King.” This led to a sharp passage with the President, who maintained
that his power extended as far as the four walls; he could not indeed withdraw the
right of speech from a Minister, but could interrupt him. Bismarck at once repeated
word for word the obnoxious passage of his speech. The President threatened, if he
did so again, to close the sitting; Bismarck practically gave way; “I cannot,” he
said, “prevent the President adjourning the House; what I have said twice I need not
repeat a third time”; and the debate continued without further interruption. A few
weeks later a similar scene occurred, but this time it was not Bismarck but Roon, and
Roon had not the same quick feeling for Parliamentary form; Bismarck had defied the
President up to the extreme point where his legal powers went, Roon passed beyond
them. The President wished to interrupt the Minister; Roon refused to stop speaking;
the President rang his bell. “When I interrupt the Minister,” he said, “he must be
silent. For that purpose I use my bell, and, if the Minister does not obey, I must
have my hat brought me.” When the Chairman put on his hat the House would be
adjourned. Roon answered, “I do not mind if the President has his hat brought;
according to the Constitution I can speak if I wish, and no one has the right to
interrupt me.” After a few more angry words on either side, as Roon continued to
dispute the right of the President, the latter rose from his seat and asked for his
hat, which he placed on his head. All the members rose and the House was adjourned.
Unfortunately the hat handed to him was not his own; it was much too large and
completely covered his head and face, so that the strain of the situation was
relieved by loud laughter. After this the Ministers refused to attend the House
unless they received an assurance that the President no longer claimed disciplinary
authority over them; a series of memoranda were exchanged between the House and the
Ministry; the actual point in dispute was really a very small one; it is not even
clear that there was any difference of opinion; everyone acknowledged that the
Ministers might make as many speeches as they liked, and that the Chairman could not
require them to stop speaking. The only question was whether he might interrupt them
in order to make any remarks himself; but neither side was prepared to come to an
understanding. The King, to whom the House appealed, supported the Ministry, and a
few days later the House was prorogued. The second session was over.

Three days later, by Royal proclamation, a series of ordinances was published
creating very stringent regulations for the control of the Press; they gave the
police the right of forbidding a newspaper to appear for no other reason except
disapproval of its general tendency. It was a power more extreme than in the worst
days of the Carlsbad decrees had ever been claimed by any German Government. The
ordinances were based on a clause in the Constitution which gave the Government at
times of crisis, if Parliament were not sitting, the power of making special
regulations for the government of the Press. The reference to the Constitution seemed
almost an insult; the kind of crisis which was meant was obviously a period of civil
war or invasion; it seemed as though the Government had taken the first pretext for
proroguing Parliament to be able to avail themselves of this clause. The ordinances
reminded men of those of Charles X.; surely, they said, this was the beginning of a
reign of violence.

The struggle was now no longer confined to Parliament. Parliament indeed was
clearly impotent; all that could be done by speeches and votes and addresses had been
done and had failed; the King still supported the Ministry. It was now the time for
the people at large; the natural leaders were the corporations of the large towns;
the Liberal policy of the Prussian Government had given them considerable
independence; they were elected by the people, and in nearly every town there was a
large majority opposed to the Government. Headed by the capital, they began a series
of addresses to the King; public meetings were organised; at Cologne a great festival
was arranged to welcome Sybel and the other representatives from the Rhine. It was
more serious that in so monarchical a country the discontent with the personal action
of the King found public expression. The Crown Prince was at this time on a tour of
military inspection in East Prussia; town after town refused the ordinary loyal
addresses; they would not welcome him or take part in the usual ceremonies; the
ordinary loyal addresses to the King and other members of the Royal Family were
refused. It was no longer a conflict between the Ministry and the Parliament, but
between the King and the country.

Suddenly the country learned that the Crown Prince himself, the Heir Apparent to
the throne, was on their side. He had always disliked Bismarck; he was offended by
the brusqueness of his manner. He disliked the genial and careless bonhommie
with which Bismarck, who hated affectation, discussed the most serious subjects; he
had opposed his appointment, and he now held a position towards his father’s
Government similar to that which ten years before his father had held towards his own
brother. He was much influenced by his English relations, and the opinion of the
English Court was strongly unfavourable to Bismarck. Hitherto the Crown Prince had
refrained from any public active opposition; he had, however, not been asked his
opinion concerning the Press ordinances, nor had he even received an invitation to
the council at which they were passed. Bitterly offended at this slight upon himself,
seriously alarmed lest the action of the Government might even endanger the dynasty,
on his entry into Danzig he took occasion to dissociate himself from the action of
the Government. He had not, he said, been asked; he had known nothing about it; he
was not responsible. The words were few and they were moderate, but they served to
shew the whole of Germany what hitherto only those about the Court had known, that
the Crown Prince was to be counted among the opponents of the Government.

An incident followed a few days later which could only serve to increase the
breach. After his speech at Danzig, the Crown Prince had offered to surrender all his
official positions; the King had not required this of him, but had strictly ordered
him not again to come into opposition to his Government. The Crown Prince had
promised obedience, but continued his private protests against “these rude and
insolent Ministers.” The letters on both sides had been affectionate and dignified. A
few days later, however, the Berlin correspondent of the Times was enabled to
publish the contents of them. It is not known who was to blame for this very serious
breach of confidence; but the publication must have been brought about by someone
very closely connected with the Crown Prince; suspicion was naturally directed
towards the Court of Coburg. It was not the last time that the confidence of the
Crown Prince was to be abused in a similar manner.

The event naturally much increased Bismarck’s dislike to the entourage of the
Prince. There was indeed a considerable number of men, half men of letters, half
politicians, who were glad to play a part by attaching themselves to a Liberal
Prince; they did not scruple to call in the help of the Press of the foreign
countries, especially of England, and use its influence for the decision of Prussian
affairs. Unfortunately their connections were largely with England; they had a great
admiration for English liberty, and they were often known as the English party. This
want of discretion, which afterwards caused a strong prejudice against them in
Germany, was used to create a prejudice also against England. People in Germany
confused with the English nation, which was supremely indifferent to Continental
affairs, the opinions of a few writers who were nearly always German. For many years
after this, the relations between Bismarck and the Crown Prince were very distant,
and the breach was to be increased by the very decided line which the Crown Prince
afterwards took with regard to the Schleswig-Holstein affair.

The event shewed that Bismarck knew well the country with which he was dealing;
the Press ordinances were not actually illegal, they were strictly enforced; many
papers were warned, others were suppressed; the majority at once changed their tone
and moderated their expression of hostility to the Government. In England, under
similar circumstances, a host of scurrilous pamphlets have always appeared; the
Prussian police were too prompt for this to be possible. The King refused to receive
the addresses; an order from the Home Office forbade town councils to discuss
political matters; a Bürgermeister who disregarded the order was suspended from
his office; public meetings were suppressed. These measures were successful; the
discontent remained and increased, but there was no disorder and there were no riots.
Great courage was required to defy public opinion, but with courage it could be
defied with as much impunity as that of the Parliament. Englishmen at the time asked
why the people did not refuse to pay the taxes; the answer is easy: there would have
been no legal justification for this, for though, until the estimates had been
passed, the Ministers were not legally enabled to spend a farthing of public money,
the taxes could still be levied; they were not voted annually; once imposed, they
continued until a law was passed withdrawing them. The situation, in fact, was this,
that the Ministry were obliged to collect the money though they were not authorised
in spending it. To this we must add that the country was very prosperous; the revenue
was constantly increasing; there was no distress. The socialist agitation which was
just beginning was directed not against the Government but against society; Lassalle
found more sympathy in Bismarck than he did with the Liberal leaders. He publicly
exhorted his followers to support the Monarchy against these miserable Bourgeois, as
he called the Liberals. Except on the one ground of the constitutional conflict, the
country was well governed; there was no other interference with liberty of thought or
action.

Moreover, there was a general feeling that things could not last long; the
Liberals believed that the future was with them; time itself would bring revenge. At
the worst they would wait till the death of the King; he was already nearly seventy
years of age; the political difficulties had much injured his health. When he was
gone, then with the Crown Prince the constitutional cause would triumph.

How different was the future to be! Year after year the conflict continued. Each
year the House was summoned and the Budget laid before it; each year the House
rejected the Budget; they threw out Government measures, they refused the loans, and
they addressed the King to dismiss his Ministers. The sessions, however, were very
short; that of 1864 lasted only a few weeks.

Each year Bismarck’s open contempt for the Parliament and their unqualified hatred
of him increased. The people still continued to support their representatives. The
cities still continued to withhold their loyal addresses to the King. With each year,
however, the Government gained confidence. It was easy to see that the final result
would depend on the success of the Government in external affairs. To these we must
now turn.

English opinion at that time was unanimously opposed to the King; it is difficult
even now to judge the issue. It was natural for Englishmen to sympathise with those
who wished to imitate them. Their pride was pleased when they found the ablest
Parliamentary leaders, the most learned historians and keenest jurists desirous to
assimilate the institutions of Prussia to those which existed in England. It is just
this which ought to make us pause. What do we think of politicians who try to
introduce among us the institutions and the faults of foreign countries? “Why will
not the King of Prussia be content with the position which the Queen of England
holds, or the King of the Belgians,—then all his unpopularity would be gone?”
was a question asked at the time by an English writer. We may ask, on the other hand,
why should the King of Prussia sacrifice his power and prerogative? The question is
really as absurd as it would be to ask, why is not an English Parliament content with
the power enjoyed by the Prussian Parliament? It was a commonplace of the time, that
the continued conflict shewed a want of statesmanship; so it did, if it is
statesmanship always to court popularity and always to surrender one’s cause when one
believes it to be right, even at the risk of ruining one’s country. It must be
remembered that through all these years the existence of Prussia was at stake. If the
Prussian Government insisted on the necessity for a large and efficient army, they
were accused of reckless militarism. People forgot that the Prussian Monarchy could
no more maintain itself without a large army than the British Empire could without a
large navy. In all the secret diplomatic negotiations of the time, the dismemberment
of Prussia was a policy to be considered. France wished to acquire part of the left
bank of the Rhine, Austria had never quite given up hope of regaining part of
Silesia; it was not fifty years since Prussia had acquired half the kingdom of
Saxony; might not a hostile coalition restore this territory? And then the
philanthropy of England and the intrigues of France were still considering the
possibility of a revived Poland, but in Poland would have to be included part of the
territory which Prussia had acquired.

It is often said that from this conflict must be dated the great growth of
militarism in Europe; it is to the victory of the King and Bismarck that we are to
attribute the wars which followed and the immense armaments which since then have
been built up in Europe. To a certain extent, of course, this is true, though it is
not clear that the presence of these immense armies is an unmixed evil. It is,
however, only half the truth; the Prussian Government was not solely responsible. It
was not they who began arming, it was not they who first broke the peace which had
been maintained in Europe since 1815. Their fault seems to have been, not that they
armed first, but that when they put their hand to the work, they did it better than
other nations. If they are exposed to any criticism in the matter, it must rather be
this, that the Government of the late King had unduly neglected the army; they began
to prepare not too soon but almost too late. It was in Austria in 1848 that the new
military dominion began; Austria was supported by Russia and imitated by France;
Prussia, surrounded by these empires, each at least double herself in population, was
compelled to arm in self-defence. By not doing so sooner she had incurred the
disgrace of Olmütz; her whole policy had been weak and vacillating, because the
Government was frightened at stirring up a conflict in which they would almost
certainly be defeated.

There is one other matter with regard to the conflict so far as regards Bismarck
personally. We must always remember that he was not responsible for it. It had
originated at a time when he was absent from Germany, and had very little influence
on the conduct of affairs. Had he been Minister two years before, there probably
would have been no conflict at all. The responsibility for it lies partly with the
leaders of the Liberal party, who, as we know from memoirs that have since been
published, were acting against their own convictions, in opposing the military
demands of the Government, for they feared that otherwise the party would not follow
them. Much of the responsibility also rests with the Ministry of the new era;
they had mismanaged affairs; the mismanagement arose from the want of union among
them, for the Liberal majority were in many matters opposed to the King and the
throne. It was this want of cordial co-operation in the Ministry which led to the
great blunder by which the Minister of War acted in a way which seemed to be, and in
fact was, a breach of an engagement made by the Minister of Finance. Had Bismarck
been in authority at the time, we can hardly doubt that he would have found some way
of effecting a compromise between the Government and the leaders of the Moderate
Liberal party. At least no blame attached to him for what had happened. Still less
can we afford him anything but the highest commendation, that, when the King had got
into an absolutely untenable position, he came forward, and at the risk of his
reputation, his future, perhaps his life, stood by his side.

CHAPTER VIII.

We have seen that the result of the conflict would eventually depend upon the
management of foreign affairs. Bismarck before his appointment had always said that
the Government could only gain freedom at home by a more vigorous policy abroad. He
was now in a position to follow the policy he desired. The conflict made him
indispensable to the King; if he retired, the King would have to surrender to the
House. This was always present to his mind and enabled him to keep his influence
against all his enemies, who throughout the spring had used every effort to undermine
his authority with the King.

There were many who thought that he deliberately maintained the friction in order
to make himself indispensable, and in truth his relations to the Parliament had this
advantage, that there was no use in attempting to take into consideration their
wishes. Had he been supported by a friendly House he would have had to justify his
policy, perhaps to modify it; as it was, since they were sure to refuse supplies
whatever he did, one or two more votes of censure were a matter of indifference to
him, and he went on his own way directing the diplomacy of the country with as sure
and firm a hand as though no Parliament existed.

In the autumn he had the first opportunity for shewing how great his influence
already was. During the summer holidays, he was in almost constant attendance on the
King, who as usual had gone to Gastein for a cure. Perhaps he did not venture to
leave the King, but he often complained of the new conditions in which his life was
passed; he wished to be back with his wife and children in Pomerania. He writes to
his wife from Baden: “I wish that some intrigue would necessitate another Ministry,
so that I might honourably turn my back on this basin of ink and live quietly in the
country. The restlessness of this life is unbearable; for ten weeks I have been doing
clerk’s work at an inn—it is no life for an honest country gentleman.”

At the end of July, a proposal came from the Emperor of Austria which, but for
Bismarck’s firmness, might have had very far-reaching results. The Emperor had
visited the King and discussed with him proposals for the reform of the
Confederation. He explained an Austrian plan for the reform which was so much needed,
and asked the King if he would join in an assembly of all the German Princes to
discuss the plan. The King for many reasons refused; nevertheless two days afterwards
formal invitations were sent out to all the Princes and to the Burgomasters of the
free cities, inviting them to a Congress which was to meet at Frankfort. All the
other Princes accepted, and the Congress met on the 15th of August. The Emperor
presided in person, and he hoped to be able to persuade them to adopt his proposals,
which would be very favourable for Austria. It was, however, apparent that without
the presence of the King of Prussia the Congress would come to no result; it was
therefore determined to send a special deputation to invite him to reconsider his
refusal. The King had the day before moved from Karlsbad to Baden and was therefore
in the immediate neighbourhood of Frankfort. It was very difficult for him not to
accept this special invitation. “How can I refuse,” he said, “when thirty Princes
invite me and they send the message by a King!”

Personally he wished to go, though he agreed with Bismarck that it would be wiser
to stay away; all his relations pressed him to go. It would have been pleasant for
once to meet in friendly conclave all his fellow Princes. Bismarck, however, was
determined that it should not be. He also had gone to Baden-Baden; the King consulted
him before sending the answer. After a long and exhausting struggle, Bismarck gained
his point and a refusal was sent. He had threatened to resign if his advice were not
taken. As soon as the letter was sealed and despatched, Bismarck turned to a tray
with glasses which stood on the table and smashed them in pieces. “Are you ill?”
asked a friend who was in the room. “No,” was the answer; “I was, but I am better
now. I felt I must break something.” So much were his nerves affected by the
struggle.

The Congress went on without the representative of Prussia.

EMPEROR FRANCIS
JOSEPH

The Kings and Princes discussed the proposals in secret session. They enjoyed this
unaccustomed freedom; for the first time they had been able to discuss the affairs of
their own country without the intervention of their Ministers. The Ministers had, of
course, come to Frankfort, but they found themselves excluded from all participation
in affairs. With what admiration and jealousy must they have looked on Bismarck, but
there was none of them who had done for his Prince what Bismarck had for the King of
Prussia.

Perhaps it was his intention at once to press forward the struggle with Austria
for supremacy in Germany. If so, he was to be disappointed. A new difficulty was now
appearing in the diplomatic world: the Schleswig-Holstein question, which had been so
long slumbering, broke out into open fire, and nearly three years were to pass before
Bismarck was able to resume the policy on which he had determined. Men often speak as
though he were responsible for the outbreak of this difficulty and the war which
followed; that was far from being the case; it interrupted his plans as much as did
the Polish question. We shall have to see with what ingenuity he gained for his
country an advantage from what appeared at first to be a most inconvenient
situation.

We must shortly explain the origin of this question, the most complicated that has
ever occupied European diplomacy.

The Duchy of Holstein had been part of the German Empire; for many hundreds of
years the Duke of Holstein had also been King of Denmark; the connection at first had
been a purely personal union; it was, however, complicated by the existence of the
Duchy of Schleswig. Schleswig was outside the Confederation, as it had been outside
the German Empire, and had in old days been a fief of the Kingdom of Denmark. The
nobles of Holstein had, however, gradually succeeded in extending German influence
and the German language into Schleswig, so that this Duchy had become more than half
German. Schleswig and Holstein were also joined together by very old customs, which
were, it is said, founded on charters given by the Kings of Denmark; it was claimed
that the two Duchies were always to be ruled by the same man, and also that they were
to be kept quite distinct from the Kingdom of Denmark. These charters are not
undisputed, but in this case, as so often happens in politics, the popular belief in
the existence of a right was to be more important than the legal question whether the
right really existed.

The trouble began about 1830. There was a double question, the question of
constitution and the question of inheritance. The Danes, desirous to consolidate the
Monarchy, had neglected the rights of the old local Estates in the Duchies; this led
to an agitation and a conflict. It was a struggle for the maintenance of local
privileges against the Monarchy in Copenhagen. Moreover, a vigorous democratic party
had arisen in Denmark; their object was to incorporate the whole of Schleswig in the
Danish Monarchy; they did not care what happened to Holstein. This party were called
the Eider Danes, for they wished Denmark to be extended to the Eider. Against this
proposed separation of the two Duchies violent protests were raised, and in 1848 a
rebellion broke out. This was the rebellion which had been supported in that year by
Prussia, and it had the universal sympathy of everyone in Germany, Princes and people
alike.

The question of constitution was complicated by one of succession. The male line
of the Royal House which ruled in Denmark was dying out; according to a law
introduced in 1660, descendants of the female branch might succeed in the Kingdom.
This law had probably never been legally enacted for the Duchies; in Schleswig and
Holstein the old Salic law prevailed. In the ordinary course of things, on the death
of Frederick VII., who had succeeded in 1847, the long connection between Holstein
and Denmark would cease. Would, however, Schleswig go with Holstein or with Denmark?
Every Schleswig-Holsteiner and every German declared that the two Duchies must remain
for ever “unvertheilt”; the majority of the Danes determined, whatever the law might
be, that they would keep Schleswig, which had once been Danish. The King took a
different line; he wished to maintain all the possessions in his House, and that the
same man should succeed both in the Kingdom and the Duchies. There was no authority
qualified to decide the legal question; and therefore the question of right was sure
to become one of power. At first, strange as it may seem, the power was on the side
of the Danes. Germany was weak and disunited, the Prussian troops who had been sent
to help the rebellion were withdrawn, and the surrender of Olmütz was fatal to
the inhabitants of the Duchies. The whole question was brought before a European
Congress which met at London. The integrity of the Danish Monarchy was declared to be
a European interest; and the Congress of the Powers presumed to determine who should
succeed to the ducal and royal power. They chose Christian of Glucksburg, and all the
Powers pledged themselves to recognise him as ruler over all the dominions of the
King of Denmark.

Prussia and Austria were among the Powers who signed the Treaty of London, but the
Diet of Frankfort was not bound by it. At the same time, Denmark had entered into
certain engagements pledging itself to preserve the separation between
Schleswig-Holstein and Denmark, and also not to oppress the German people in
Schleswig. The Danes did not keep their engagement; despising the Germans, they
renewed the old policy, attempted to drive back the German language, and introduced
new laws which were inconsistent with the local privileges of Holstein and Schleswig.
The Holstein Estates appealed for protection to the Diet. The Germans protested, but
the Danes were obstinate. As years went on, the excitement of the Germans grew; they
believed, and justly believed, that it was a matter of honour to defend the rights of
the Duchies. Schleswig-Holstein was the symbol of German weakness and disgrace, and
in defence of them the national enthusiasm was again roused.

With this popular enthusiasm Bismarck had no sympathy; and he had no interest for
the cause of Schleswig-Holstein. He had originally considered the inhabitants merely
as rebels against their lawful sovereign. He had learnt at Frankfort sufficient to
make this indifferent to him, but he still regarded them as foreigners and looked on
their claims merely from the point of view of Prussian interests. Both his sympathy
and his reason led him in fact rather to take the Danish side. “The maintenance of
Denmark is in our interest,” he wrote in 1857, but Denmark could only continue to
exist if it were ruled, more or less arbitrarily, with provincial Estates as it has
been for the last hundred years; and in another letter: “We have no reason to desire
that the Holsteiners should live very happily under their Duke, for if they do they
will no longer be interested in Prussia, and under certain circumstances their
interest may be very useful to us. It is important that, however just their cause may
be, Prussia should act with great prudence.” He recognised that if the complaints of
the Duchies led again to a war between Germany and Denmark all the loss would fall on
Prussia; the coast of Prussia was exposed to the attacks of the Danish fleet. If the
war was successful, the result would be to strengthen the Diet and the Federal
Constitution; and, as we know, that was the last thing which Bismarck desired; if it
failed, the disgrace and the blame would fall upon Prussia.

The only thing which would have induced him warmly to take up the cause was the
prospect of winning the Duchies for Prussia, but of that there seemed little
hope.

So long, therefore, as he remained at Frankfort, he had endeavoured to keep the
peace, and he continued this policy after he became Minister. The greater number of
the German States wished to carry out a Federal execution in Holstein; he tried to
avert this and warmly gave his support to Lord Russell in his attempt to settle the
question by English mediation. His efforts, however, were unavailing, for the Danish
Government, presuming on the weakness of Germany, continued their provocative action.
On March 30, 1863, a new Constitution was proclaimed, completely severing Holstein
from the rest of the Monarchy. The Holstein Estates had not been consulted and
appealed to the Diet for protection; the law of the Federation enabled the Diet in a
case like this to occupy the territory of the offending sovereign in order to compel
him to rule according to the Constitution. The national German party wished to go
farther, to confuse the questions of Schleswig and of Holstein, and so bring about a
war with Denmark. Bismarck wrote to the Duke of Oldenburg to explain his objections
to this: it would make the worst impression in England; and he insisted that they
should attempt nothing more than Federal execution in Holstein. As Holstein belonged
to the Federation, this would be a purely German affair and no ground would be given
for interfering to England or France. In consequence, the simple execution in
Holstein was voted. Even now, however, Bismarck did not give up hopes of keeping
peace. He brought pressure to bear on the Danes and was supported by England. If only
they would withdraw the proclamation of March 30th, and accept English mediation for
Schleswig, he promised them that he would use all his influence to prevent the
execution and would probably be successful.

His moderation, which received the warm approval of Lord Russell, of course only
added to his unpopularity in Germany. The Danish Government, however, refused to
accept Bismarck’s proposal; they brought in still another Constitution by which the
complete incorporation of Schleswig with the Monarchy was decreed. This was an overt
breach of their treaty engagements and a declaration of war with Germany. At the
beginning of November, it was carried through the Rigsrad by the required majority of
two-thirds, and was sent up to the King to receive his signature. Before he had time
to sign it the King died.

It was expected that the death of the King would make little difference in the
situation, for it had been agreed that Christian of Glucksburg should succeed to all
the provinces of the Monarchy. The first act he had to perform was the signature of
the new Constitution; it is said that he hesitated, but was told by the Ministers
that if he refused they would answer neither for his crown nor his head. On November
23d he signed.

Before this had happened the situation had received an unexpected change. A new
claimant appeared to dispute his title to the Duchies. The day after the death of the
King, Frederick, eldest son of the Duke of Augustenburg, published a proclamation
announcing his succession to the Duchy under the title of Frederick VIII. No one
seems to have foreseen this step; it was supposed that after the agreement of 1853
the question of succession had been finally settled. The whole of the German nation,
however, received with enthusiasm the news that it was again to be raised.

They believed that the Prince was the lawful heir; they saw in his claim the
possibility of permanently separating the Duchies from Denmark. Nothing seemed to
stand between this and accomplishment except the Treaty of London. Surely the rights
of the Duchies, and the claim of Augustenburg, supported by united Germany, would be
strong enough to bear down this treaty which was so unjust.

The question will be asked, was the claim of Augustenburg valid? No positive
answer can be given, for it has never been tried by a competent court of law. It may,
however, I think, be said that although there were objections, which might invalidate
his right to at least a part of the Duchies, it is almost certain that a quite
impartial tribunal would have decided that he had at least a better claim than any of
his rivals. This at least would have been true fifteen years before. When, however,
the Treaty of London was arranged it was necessary to procure the renunciation of all
the different claimants. That of the Emperor of Russia, the Duke of Oldenburg, and
others was obtained without much difficulty; the Duke of Augustenburg long refused.
In order to compel him to renounce, the Danish Government refused to restore to him
his private property, which had been confiscated owing to the part he had taken in
the late rebellion. He had been enormously wealthy, but was now living in exile and
deprived of his revenues. By this means they had at last induced him to sign a
document, in which he promised, for himself and his successors, not to make any
attempt to enforce his claims to the succession. The document was curiously worded;
there was no actual renunciation, only a promise to abstain from action. In return
for this a sum of money, not equal, however, to that which he had lost, was handed
over to him. Now it was Bismarck who, while envoy at Frankfort, had carried on the
negotiations; he had taken much trouble about the matter, and earned the warm
gratitude both of the King of Denmark and of the Duke. There is, I think, no doubt
that he believed that the agreement was a bona fide one and would be
maintained. Since then the Duke had renounced all his claims in favour of his eldest
son; Prince Frederick had not signed the contract and maintained that he was not
bound by it. Of course Bismarck could not admit this, and his whole attitude towards
the Prince must from the beginning be hostile.

It is only fair to point out that there was no reason whatever why the
Augustenburgs should do anything more than that to which they were bound by the
strict letter of the agreement; they had no ties of gratitude towards Denmark; they
had not, as is often said, sold their rights, for they had received only a portion of
their own possessions. However this may be, his claim was supported, not only by the
people and Parliaments, but by leaders of the German Governments, headed by the King
of Bavaria.

Bismarck was now asked to denounce the Treaty of London to which Prussia had given
her assent; to support the claims of Augustenburg; to carry out the policy of the
Diet, and if necessary to allow the Prussian army to be used in fighting for Prince
Frederick against the King of Denmark. This he had not the slightest intention of
doing. He had to consider first of all that Prussia was bound by treaties. As he
said: “We may regret that we signed, but the signature took place. Honour as well as
wisdom allows us to leave no doubt as to our loyalty to our engagements.” He had
moreover to consider that if he acted as the Germans wished he would find himself
opposed, not only by Denmark, but also by Russia and England, and in military
operations on the narrow peninsula the power of the English fleet would easily
outbalance the superiority of the Prussian army. Moreover, and this was the point
which affected him most, what good would come to Prussia even if she were successful
in this war? “I cannot regard it as a Prussian interest to wage war in order in the
most favourable result to establish a new Grand Duke in Schleswig-Holstein, who out
of fear of Prussian aggression would vote against us at the Diet.”

His policy, therefore, was clearly marked out for him: he must refuse to recognise
the claims of Augustenburg; he must refuse to break the Treaty of London. This,
however, would not prevent him from bringing pressure to bear on the new King of
Denmark, as he had done on his predecessor, to induce him to abide by his treaty
engagements, and, if he did not do so, from declaring war against him.

There was even at this time in his mind another thought. He had the hope that in
some way or other he might be able to gain a direct increase of territory for
Prussia. If they recognised the Augustenburg claims this would be always impossible,
for then either the Duchies would remain under the King of Denmark or, if the Danes
were defeated, they would have to be given to the Prince.

In this policy he was supported by Austria. The Austrian Government was also bound
by the Treaty of London; they were much annoyed at the violent and almost
revolutionary agitation which had broken out in Germany; it was with much relief that
they learned that Prussia, instead of heading the movement as in 1849, was ready to
oppose it. The two great Powers so lately in opposition now acted in close union.

Issue was joined at the Diet between the two parties. The Prince brought his claim
before it, and those who supported him proposed that, as the succession to the
Duchies was in dispute, they should be occupied by a Federal army until the true
ruler had been determined. Against this Austria and Prussia proposed that the Federal
execution in Holstein, which had before been resolved on, should be at once carried
out. If the execution were voted it would be an indirect recognition of Christian as
ruler, for it would be carried out as against his Government; on this point,
execution or occupation, the votes were taken.

Bismarck was, however, greatly embarrassed by the strong influence which the
Prince of Augustenburg had in the Prussian Royal Family; he was an intimate friend of
the Crown Princess, and the Crown Princess and the King himself regarded his claims
with favour. Directly after his proclamation the pretender came to Berlin; he had a
very friendly reception from the King, who expressed his deep regret that he was tied
by the London Convention, but clearly shewed that he hoped this difficulty might be
overcome. Bismarck took another line; he said that he was trying to induce the new
King not to sign the Constitution; the Prince, to Bismarck’s obvious annoyance,
explained that that would be no use; he should maintain his claims just the same.

The King disliked the Treaty of London as much as everyone else did; he had to
agree to Bismarck’s arguments that it would not be safe to denounce it, but he would
have been quite willing, supposing Prussia was outvoted in the Diet, to accept the
vote and obey the decision of the majority; he even hoped that this would be the
result. Bismarck would have regarded an adverse vote as a sufficient reason for
retiring from the Federation altogether. Were Prussia outvoted, it would be forced
into a European war, which he wished to avoid, and made to fight as a single member
of the German Confederation. Rather than do this he would prefer to fight on the
other side; “Denmark is a better ally than the German States,” he said. The two
parties were contending as keenly at the Prussian Court as at Frankfort; Vincke wrote
a long and pressing letter to the King; Schleinitz appeared again, supported as of
old by the Queen; the Crown Prince was still in England, but he and his wife were
enthusiastic on the Prince’s side.

How much Bismarck was hampered by adverse influences at Court we see from a letter
to Roon:

“I am far removed from any hasty or selfish resolution, but I have a feeling
that the cause of the King against the Revolution is lost; his heart is in the
other camp and he has more confidence in his opponents than his friends. For us it
will be indifferent, one year or thirty years hence, but not for our children. The
King has ordered me to come to him before the sitting to discuss what is to be
said; I shall not say much, partly because I have not closed my eyes all night and
am wretched, and then I really do not know what to say. They will certainly reject
the loan, and his Majesty at the risk of breaking with Europe and experiencing a
second Olmütz will at last join the Democracy, and work with it in order to
set up Augustenburg and found a new State. What is the good of making speeches and
scolding? Without some miracle of God the game is lost. Now and with posterity the
blame will be laid upon us. As God will. He will know how long Prussia has to
exist. But God knows I shall be sorry when it ceases.”

The only ally that Bismarck had was Austria. Their combined influence was
sufficiently strong by a majority of one to carry through the Diet execution instead
of occupation; though there was appended to the motion a rider that the question of
succession was not thereby prejudiced.

The execution took place. During the month of December the Hanoverians and Saxons
occupied Holstein; the Danes did not resist but retreated across the Eider. At the
end of the year the occupation was complete. In the rear of the German troops had
come also the Prince of Augustenburg, who had settled himself in the land of which he
claimed to be ruler.

What was now to be done? The Augustenburg party wished at once to press forward
with the question of the succession; let the Diet decide this immediately; then hand
over Holstein to the new Duke and immediately seize Schleswig also and vindicate it
from Christian, the alien usurper. Bismarck would not hear of this; he still
maintained his policy that Prussia should not denounce the London Convention, should
recognise the sovereignty of Christian, and should demand from him as lawful ruler of
all the Danish possessions the repeal of the obnoxious November Constitution. In this
he was still supported by Austria; if the Danes did not acquiesce in these very
moderate demands, the Germans should enter Schleswig and seize it as a security. Then
he would be able when he wished to free himself from the Treaty of London, for war
dissolves all treaties.

The advantage of this plan was that it entirely deprived England of any grounds
for interference; Prussia alone was now defending the London Convention; Prussia was
preventing the Diet from a breach of treaty; the claim of Denmark was one in regard
to which the Danes were absolutely wrong. Bismarck had therefore on his side Austria,
Russia, probably France, and averted the hostility of England. Against him was German
public opinion, the German Diet, and the Prussian Parliament; everyone, that is, whom
he neither feared nor regarded. So long as the King was firm he could look with
confidence to the future, even though he did not know what it would bring forth.

With the Parliament indeed nothing was to be done; they, of course, strongly
supported Augustenburg. They refused to look at the question from a Prussian point of
view. “On your side,” Bismarck said, “no one dares honestly to say that he acts for
the interests of Prussia and as a Prussian.” They feared that he proposed to hand
back the Duchies to Denmark; they refused to consider him seriously as Foreign
Minister; they spoke of him as a rash amateur. It was to attack him on his most
sensitive point. Here, at least, he felt on completely secure ground; diplomacy was
his profession; what did the professors and talkers in the Chamber know of it? They
were trying to control the policy of the State, but, he said, “in these days an
Assembly of 350 members cannot in the last instance direct the policy of a great
Power.” The Government asked for a loan for military operations; he appealed to their
patriotism, but it was in vain; the House voted an address to the King, remonstrating
against the conduct of foreign affairs, and threw out the loan by a majority of 275
to 51. “If you do not vote the money, we shall take it where we can get it,” Bismarck
had warned them. The House was immediately prorogued after a session of only two
months, not to meet again till January, 1865.

This policy of Bismarck was proposed by Austria and Prussia at the Diet; the other
States refused to adopt it, as they wished to raise the question of succession; on a
division Prussia was outvoted. The two great Powers therefore entered into a separate
agreement in which, while still recognising the integrity of the Danish Monarchy,
they undertook to force the King to withdraw the obnoxious Constitution, and, if he
did not consent to do so, they agreed to occupy Schleswig.

The Prussian House, in its address to the King, had declared that the only result
of this policy would be to give back the Duchies to Denmark. Was there no fear of
this? What would have happened had Denmark after all given in, as England strongly
pressed her to do? Had she withdrawn the obnoxious Constitution, and granted all that
Bismarck asked, why then Prussia and Austria would have been bound to support the
integrity of Denmark, and, if necessary, by force of arms to eject the Federal troops
from Holstein. Bismarck had considered this contingency, and guarded himself against
it. Many years later Beust put the question to him. “Oh, I was all right,” he
answered; “I had assured myself that the Danes would not give in. I had led them to
think that England would support them, though I knew this was not the case.” He had,
however, even a surer guarantee than this; the ultimatum presented to Denmark was
couched in such a form that even if he would the King could not comply with it. The
requirement was that the Constitution should be revoked before the 1st of January. By
the Constitution the King could not do this of his own prerogative; he must have the
assent of the Rigsrad. This assent could not be obtained for the following reasons:
the Rigsrad of the old Constitution had been dissolved and had no longer a legal
existence; a new assembly could not be summoned before the 1st of January—there
was not time. If an assembly were summoned after that date, it must be of course
summoned according to the new Constitution. To do this, however, would be to bring
the obnoxious Constitution actually into force, and would mean, so to speak, a
declaration of war against Prussia. If the King wished to give in he must have time;
he must be allowed to summon the new assembly, lay before it the German demands, and
require it to declare its own revocation. The English Government, still anxious to
keep the peace, represented to Bismarck the dilemma in which he had placed the Danes.
Lord Wodehouse, who was in Berlin in December, requested that at least more time
should be allowed. Bismarck refused to listen to the request.

“These constitutional questions,” he said, “had nothing to do with him; the
Danes had put off the Germans for years; they could not wait any longer. The King
could always make a coup d’état; he would have to do so sooner or
later. Germany and Denmark could never be at peace so long as the Democratic party
had the authority.”

Denmark did not give way; the help from England, on which they had reckoned, was
not forthcoming; the fatal day passed; the Austrians and Prussians entered Holstein,
marched across that Duchy, and in the early part of February began the invasion of
Schleswig. The relations of the Allied troops to the Federal army of occupation were
very remarkable. Both were opposed to the Danes, but they were equally opposed to one
another; had they dared to do so, the Saxons would have opposed the Prussian advance.
As it was they sullenly watched the Prussian and Austrian columns marching north to
the invasion of Denmark.

It was the first time that the remodelled Prussian army had been tested on the
field of battle; Bismarck had brought it about that they were fighting for the cause
of Germany and in alliance with Austria. As soon as war began, his own position
improved. The King and the army were, of course, all the more confident in a Minister
who had given them so good a cause of war and allowed them to take the field side by
side with their old ally. Their superiority in number and discipline ensured success
in the military operations; the Danes evacuated their first position at the
Dannewirk; the German troops occupied the whole of Schleswig, then after some further
delay advanced into Jutland, and finally began the siege of the strong fortification
of the Düppel. The taking of this was a difficult piece of work, which, after
some delay, was successfully carried out at the beginning of April.

Meanwhile the diplomatic difficulties had continued. There had now come from
England the proposal of a Conference. This Bismarck, always wishing to preserve the
appearance of moderation, accepted. Before doing so, he knew that he had gained a
very important ally. Napoleon was displeased with the English Government; he it was
who suggested to Bismarck that the best solution of the difficulty would be the
annexation of the Duchies to Prussia. It was just what Bismarck himself desired.
Would he be able to bring it about? This was what was in his mind when he had to
consider the attitude he should adopt at the Conference.

He could not, of course, propose it openly; he might be able to arrange affairs so
that in the universal confusion this solution should be welcomed. He first of all
began to change his attitude towards the German agitation for Augustenburg; hitherto
he had opposed and discouraged it; now he let it have free course. He wrote:

“The present situation is such that it seems to me desirable to let loose
the whole pack against the Danes at the Congress; the joint noise will work in the
direction of making the subjugation of the Duchies to Denmark appear impossible to
foreigners; they will have to consider programmes which the Prussian Government
cannot lay before them.”

What this means is that England and Russia were to be convinced that Denmark could
not regain the Duchies; then they would have to consider who should have them.
Bismarck believed that Austria was irrevocably opposed to Augustenburg. “She would
rather see the Duchies in our hands than in those of the Prince,” he wrote. Austria
and Russia would, therefore, oppose this solution; if both Denmark and Augustenburg
were impossible, then would be the time for France to ask why should they not be
given to Prussia, and to join this proposal with another one for the division of the
Duchies according to nationality.

Napoleon, in accordance with his principles, wished entirely to disregard the
question of law; he was equally indifferent to the Treaty of London, the hereditary
rights of Augustenburg, or the chartered privileges of the Duchies. He wished to
consult the inhabitants and allow each village to vote whether it wished to be German
or Danish; thus, districts in the north where Danish was spoken would then be
incorporated in Denmark; the whole of Holstein and the south of Schleswig would be
permanently united to Germany, and by preference to Prussia. These revolutionary
principles of Napoleon were in the eyes of the Austrian statesmen criminal, for if
applied consistently not only would Austria be deprived of Venetia, but the whole
Empire would be dissolved.

BISMARCK
[From a painting by F. Von Lenbach.]

It required all Bismarck’s ingenuity to maintain the alliance with Austria, which
was still necessary to him, and at the same time to keep Napoleon’s friendship by
giving his assent to doctrines that would be so convenient to Prussia.

In considering Bismarck’s diplomatic work we must not suppose that he ever
deceived himself into thinking that he would be able clearly to foresee all that
would happen; he knew too well the uncertain nature of the pieces with which he had
to deal: no one could quite foretell, for instance, the result of the struggle which
was going on in the English Ministry or the votes of the House of Commons; equally
impossible was it to build on the assurances of Napoleon.

“The longer I work at politics,” he said, “the smaller is my belief in human
calculation. I look at the affair according to my human understanding, but
gratitude for God’s assistance so far, raises in me the confidence that the Lord is
able to turn our errors to our own good; that I experience daily to my wholesome
humiliation.”

This time he had been mistaken in his forecast. In a despatch of May 23d to
Austria he suggested two solutions,—the Augustenburg succession, and annexation
by Prussia; he inclined towards the former, though, as he said, if the Prince was to
be recognised,

“it would be imperatively necessary to obtain guarantees for a Conservative
administration, and some security that the Duchies should not become the home of
democratic agitations.”

As he said elsewhere, “Kiel must not become a second Gotha.” He no doubt
anticipated that Austria would refuse this first alternative; then the annexation by
Prussia would naturally arise for discussion. Had Austria been consistent, all would
have been well, but a change had taken place there; the Government was not
disinclined to win the popularity that would accrue to them if they took up the
Augustenburg cause; after all, Austria would be rather strengthened than weakened by
the establishment of a new Federal State, which, as all the other smaller Princes,
would probably be inclined to take the Austrian side. In answer, therefore, to this
despatch the Austrians, throwing aside all attempt at consistency, proposed
vigorously to press the Augustenburg claim. “It is just what we were going to suggest
ourselves,” they said. Bismarck therefore was compelled now, as best he could, to get
out of the difficulty, and, as Austria had not rejected it, he begins to withdraw the
proposal he had himself made. To Bernstorff, his envoy at the Congress, he
writes:

“Austria is endeavouring to establish irrevocably the candidacy of
Augustenburg in order by this means to render it difficult for Prussia to impose
special conditions. We cannot consent to this. The dynastic questions must be
discussed with special consideration for Prussian interests, and, consequently,
other possibilities cannot be ruled out, until we have negotiated with Augustenburg
and ascertained in what relation to Prussia he intends to place himself and his
country. If the person of Augustenburg meets with more opposition in the Conference
than the project of a division, then let the former drop.”

The proposal, however, had to be made; for once, all the German Powers appeared in
agreement when they demanded from the neutrals the recognition of Augustenburg; but
Bismarck proposed it in such words as to avoid pledging himself to the legality. Of
course the proposal was rejected by the Danes and Russians and it was allowed to fall
to the ground. For Bismarck the interest is for the moment diverted from London to
Berlin.

The time had come when Bismarck should definitely decide on the attitude he was to
adopt toward Augustenburg. Hitherto he had avoided committing himself irrevocably; it
was still open to him either to adopt him as the Prussian candidate on such
conditions as might seem desirable, or to refuse to have any dealings with him. He
had, in fact, kept both plans open, for it was characteristic of his diplomatic work
that he would generally keep in his mind, and, to some extent, carry out in action,
several different plans at the same time. If one failed him he could take up another.
In this case he intended, if possible, to get the Duchies for Prussia; it was always
to be foreseen that the difficulties might be insurmountable; he had therefore to
consider the next best alternative. This would be the creation of a new State, but
one which was bound to Prussia by a special and separate treaty. There were many
demands, some of them legitimate, which Prussia was prepared to make. Bismarck
attributed great importance to the acquisition of Kiel, because he wanted to found a
Prussian navy. Then he was very anxious to have a canal made across Holstein so that
Prussian vessels could reach the North Sea without passing the Sound; and of course
he had to consider the military protection on the north. It would therefore be a
condition that, whoever was made Duke, certain military and other privileges should
be granted to Prussia. On this, all through the summer, negotiations were carried on
unofficially between the Prince of Augustenburg and the Prussian authorities. We
cannot here discuss them in detail, but the Prince seems to have been quite willing
to acquiesce in these naval and military requirements. He made several suggestions
and objections in detail, and he also pointed out that constitutionally he could not
enter into a valid treaty until after he had been made Duke and received the assent
of the Estates. I think, however, that no one can doubt that he was quite loyal to
Prussia and really wished to bring the matter to a satisfactory issue. As might be
expected, he was very cautious in his negotiations with Bismarck, but his letters to
the King are more open. Had Bismarck wished he could at any time have come to an
agreement with the Prince, but he never gave the opportunity for a serious and
careful discussion on the detailed wording of the conditions. He did not wish to be
bound by them, but he kept the negotiations open in case events occurred which might
compel him to accept this solution.

In his treatment of the question he was, to some extent, influenced by the
personal dislike he always felt for the Prince.

What was the cause of this enmity? There was nothing in the Prince’s character to
justify it; he was a modest, honourable, and educated man; though deficient in
practical ability, he had at a very critical time announced his claims to a decision
and maintained them with resolution. Bismarck, who in private life was always able to
do justice to his enemies, recognised this: “I should have acted in just the same way
myself had I been in your place,” he said. He always himself said that his distrust
of the Prince was caused by his dislike of the men whom the latter relied upon for
advice. He was too closely connected with the Progressive party. He had surrounded
himself with a kind of ministry, consisting chiefly of men who, though by birth
inhabitants of the Duchies, had for some years been living at Gotha under the
protection of the Duke of Coburg. They were strong Liberals and belonged to that
party in Germany of which the Court of Coburg was the centre, who maintained a close
connection with the Crown Prince, and who undoubtedly were looking forward to the
time when the Crown Prince would become King of Prussia, Bismarck would be dismissed,
and their party would come into office. This is probably quite sufficient reason to
explain Bismarck’s personal dislike of Augustenburg, though it is probable that he
laid more stress on this aspect of the matter than he otherwise would have done, for
he hoped thereby to prejudice the King against the Prince; as long as the King
recognised Augustenburg’s claims, his own hands would be tied in the attempt to win
the Duchies for Prussia.

He had, as we have seen, had a short interview with the Prince at the end of the
previous year now a new meeting was arranged, avowedly to discuss the conditions
which Prussia would require if she supported the Prince. The Crown Prince, who was
very anxious to help his friend, persuaded him to go to Berlin and if possible come
to some clear understanding with the King and Bismarck. Augustenburg was reluctant to
take this step. Loyal as he was to Prussia he much distrusted Bismarck. He feared
that if he unreservedly placed his cause in Prussia’s hands, Bismarck would in some
way betray him. The position he took up was perfectly consistent. He was, by
hereditary right, reigning Duke; he only wished to be left alone with the Duchies; he
knew that if he was, they would at once recognise him and he would enter into
government. In order to win his dominions, he had required the help of Germany; it
was comparatively indifferent to him whether the help came from Prussia, Austria, or
the Federation. But he quite understood that Prussia must have some recompense for
the help it had given. What he had to fear was that, if he entered into any separate
and secret engagements with Prussia, he would thereby lose the support he enjoyed in
the rest of Germany, and that then Bismarck would find some excuse not to carry out
his promises, so that at the end he would be left entirely without support. We know
that his suspicions were unfounded, for Bismarck was not the man in this way to
desert anyone who had entered into an agreement with him, but Augustenburg could not
know this and had every reason for distrusting Bismarck, who was his avowed
enemy.

On the 30th of May, the Prince, with many misgivings, came to Berlin. The evening
of the next day he had a long interview with Bismarck; it began about nine o’clock
and lasted till after midnight. There is no doubt that this interview was decisive
against his chances. From that time Bismarck was determined that under no
circumstances should he succeed, and we shall see that when Bismarck wished for
anything he usually attained it. We would gladly, therefore, know exactly what
happened; both Bismarck and the Prince have given accounts of what took place, but
unfortunately they differ on very important points, and no one else was present at
the interview. It is clear that the Prince throughout, for the reasons we have named,
observed great reserve. It would undoubtedly have been wiser of him openly to place
himself entirely in Bismarck’s hands, to throw himself on the generosity of Prussia,
and to agree to the terms which Bismarck offered. Why he did not do this we have
explained. The conversation chiefly turned on the Prussian demands for the harbour of
Kiel and certain other concessions; the Prince expressed himself quite willing to
grant most of what was required, but he could not enter into any formal treaty
without the consent of the Estates of the Duchies. When he left the room he seems to
have been fairly satisfied with what had been said. If so he deceived himself
grievously. Scarcely had he gone (it was already midnight) when Bismarck sent off
despatches to St. Petersburg, Paris, and London, explaining that he was not inclined
to support Augustenburg any longer, and instructing the Ambassadors to act
accordingly. Not content with this he at once brought forward an alternative
candidate. Among the many claimants to the Duchies had been the Duke of Oldenburg and
the Czar, who both belonged to the same branch of the family. The Czar had, at the
end of May, transferred his claims to the Duke, and Bismarck now wrote to St.
Petersburg that he would also be prepared to support him. We must not suppose that in
doing this he had the slightest intention of allowing the Duke to be successful. He
gained, however, a double advantage. First of all he pleased the Czar and prevented
any difficulties from Russia; secondly, the very fact of a rival candidate coming
forward would indefinitely postpone any settlement. So long as Augustenburg was the
only German candidate there was always the danger, as at the Congress of London, that
he might suddenly be installed and Bismarck be unable to prevent it. If, however, the
Duke of Oldenburg came forward, Bismarck would at once take up the position that, as
there were rival claimants, a proper legal verdict must be obtained and that Prussia
could not act so unjustly as to prejudice the decision by extending her support to
either. It was not necessary for anyone to know that he himself had induced the Duke
of Oldenburg to revive his claim.

At the same time he took other steps to frustrate Augustenburg’s hopes; he caused
the statement to be published in the Prussian papers that during the conversation of
May 31st the Prince had said that he had never asked the Prussians for help, and that
he could have got on very well without them. It was just the sort of thing which
would strongly prejudice the King against him, and Bismarck was very anxious to
destroy the influence which the Prince still had with the King and with many other
Prussians. At that time, and always later, the Prince denied that he had said
anything of the kind. Even if, in the course of a long conversation, he had said
anything which might have been interpreted to mean this, it was a great breach of
confidence to publish these words from a private discussion taken out of their
context. The Prussian Press received the word, and for years to come did not cease to
pour out its venom against the Prince. This action of Bismarck’s seemed quite to
justify the apprehension with which the Prince had gone to Berlin.

It is not necessary to look for any far-fetched explanation of Bismarck’s action;
the simplest is the most probable. He had not arranged the interview with any
intention of entrapping Augustenburg; he had really been doubtful whether, after all,
it might not be wiser to accept the Prince and make a separate treaty with him. All
depended on his personal character and the attitude he adopted towards Prussia.
Bismarck, who had great confidence in his own judgment of mankind, regarded a
personal interview as the best means of coming to a conclusion; the result of it was
that he felt it impossible to rely on the Prince, who, instead of being open,
positive, and ready to do business, was reserved, hesitating, distrustful, and
critical. Bismarck had given him his chance; he had failed to seize it. Instead of
being a grateful client he was a mere obstacle in the road of Prussian greatness, and
had to be swept away. Against him all the resources of diplomacy were now directed.
His influence must be destroyed, but not by force, for his strength came from his
very weakness; the task was to undermine the regard which the German people had for
him and their enthusiasm for his cause—work to be properly assigned to the
Prussian Press.

The Conference in London separated at the end of June without coming to any
conclusion; it had, however, enabled Bismarck formally to dissociate himself from the
former Treaty of London, and henceforward he had a free hand in his dealings with
Denmark.

Another brilliant feat of arms, the transference of the Prussian troops across the
sea to the island of Alsen, completed the war. Denmark had to capitulate, and the
terms of peace, which were ultimately decided at Vienna, were that Schleswig,
Holstein, and also Lauenburg should be given up. Christian transferred to the Emperor
of Austria and the King of Prussia all the rights which he possessed. As to Lauenburg
the matter was simple—the authority of the King of Denmark over this Duchy was
undisputed; as to Schleswig-Holstein all the old questions still continued; the King
had transferred his rights, but what were his rights? He could only grant that which
belonged to him; if the Prince of Augustenburg was Duke, then the King of Denmark
could not confer another man’s throne. There was, however, this difference: hitherto
the question had been a European one, but since the London Congress no other State
had any claim to interfere. The disputed succession of the Duchies must be settled
between Austria and Prussia. It was a special clause in the terms of peace that it
should be decided by agreement between them and not referred to the Diet.

CHAPTER IX.

Bismarck always looked back with peculiar pleasure on the negotiations which were
concluded by the Peace of Vienna. His conduct of the affair had in fact been
masterly; he had succeeded in permanently severing the Duchies from Denmark; he had
done this without allowing foreign nations the opportunity for interfering; he had
maintained a close alliance with Austria; he had pleased and flattered the Emperors
of Russia and France. What perhaps gave him most satisfaction was that, though the
result had been what the whole of the German nation desired, he had brought it about
by means which were universally condemned, and the rescue of the Duchies had been a
severe defeat to the Democratic and National party.

With the Peace a new stage begins; the Duchies had been transferred to the Allied
Powers; how were they now to be disposed of? We have seen that Bismarck desired to
acquire them for Prussia; if it were absolutely necessary, he would accept an
arrangement which would leave them to be ruled by another Prince, provided very
extensive rights were given to Prussia. He would acquiesce in this arrangement if
annexation would involve a war with one of the European Powers. If, however, a Duke
of Schleswig-Holstein was to be created he was determined that it should not be the
Prince of Augustenburg, whom he distrusted and disliked. The real object of his
diplomacy must be to get the Duchies offered to Prussia; it was, however, very
improbable, as the Czar once said to him, that this would happen.

He wished for annexation, but he wished to have it peacefully; he had not
forgotten his own resolution to have a war with Austria, but he did not wish to make
the Duchies the occasion of a war. Austria, however, refused to assent to annexation
unless the King of Prussia would give her a corresponding increase of territory; this
the King positively refused. It was an unchangeable principle with him that he would
not surrender a single village from the Prussian Monarchy; his pride revolted from
the idea of bartering old provinces for new. If Austria would not offer the Duchies
to Prussia, neither would the Diet; the majority remained loyal to Augustenburg. The
people of the Duchies were equally determined in their opposition to the scheme;
attempts were made by Bismarck’s friends and agents to get up a petition to
incorporate them with Prussia, but they always failed. Even the Prussian people were
not really very anxious for this acquisition, and it required two years of constant
writing in the inspired Press to bring them into such a state of mind that they would
believe that it was, I will not say the most honourable, but the most desirable
solution. The King himself hesitated. It was true that ever since the taking of the
Düppel the lust of conquest had been aroused in his mind; he had visited the
place where so many Prussian soldiers had laid down their lives; and it was a natural
feeling if he wished that the country they had conquered should belong to their own
State. On the other hand, he still felt that the rights of Augustenburg could not be
neglected; when he discussed the matter with the Emperor of Austria and the subject
of annexation was raised, he remained silent and was ill at ease.

If Bismarck was to get his way, he must first of all convince the King; this done,
an opportunity might be found. There was one man who was prepared to offer him the
Duchies, and that man was Napoleon. It is instructive to notice that as soon as the
negotiations at Vienna had been concluded, Bismarck went to spend a few weeks at his
old holiday resort of Biarritz. He took the opportunity of having some conversation
with both the Emperor and his Ministers.

He required rest and change after the prolonged anxieties of the two years; at no
place did he find it so well as in the south of France:

“It seems like a dream to be here again,” he writes to his wife. “I am
already quite well, and would be quite cheerful if I only knew that all was well
with you. The life I lead at Berlin is a kind of penal servitude, when I think of
my independent life abroad.” Seabathing, expeditions across the frontier, and sport
passed three weeks. “I have not for a long time found myself in such comfortable
conditions, and yet the evil habit of work has rooted itself so deeply in my
nature, that I feel some disquiet of conscience at my laziness. I almost long for
the Wilhelmstrasse, at least if my dear ones were there.”

On the 25th he left “dear Biarritz” for Paris, where he found plenty of politics
awaiting him; here he had another of those interviews with Napoleon and his Ministers
on which so much depended, and then he went back to his labours at Berlin.

At that time he was not prepared to break with Austria, and he still hoped that
some peaceful means of acquisition might be found, as he wrote some months later to
Goltz, “We have not got all the good we can from the Austrian alliance.” Prussia had
the distinct advantage that she was more truly in possession of the Duchies than
Austria. This possession would more and more guarantee its own continuance; it was
improbable that any Power would undertake an offensive war to expel her. On the
whole, therefore, Bismarck seems to have wished for the present to leave things as
they were; gradually to increase the hold of Prussia on the Duchies, and wait until
they fell of themselves into his hands. In pursuit of this policy it was necessary,
however, to expel all other claimants, and this could not be done without the consent
of Austria; this produced a cause of friction between the two great Powers which made
it impossible to maintain the co-dominium.

There were in Holstein the Confederate troops who had gone there a year ago and
had never been withdrawn; Augustenburg was still living at Kiel with his phantom
Court; and then there were the Austrian soldiers, Prussia’s own allies. One after
another they had to be removed. Bismarck dealt first with the Confederate troops.

He had, as indeed he always was careful to have, the strict letter of the law on
his side; he pointed out that as the execution had been directed against the
government of Christian, and Christian had ceased to have any authority, the
execution itself must ipso facto cease; he therefore wrote asking Austria to
join in a demand to Saxony and Hanover; he was prepared, if the States refused, to
expel their troops by force. Hanover—for the King strongly disliked
Augustenburg—at once acquiesced; Saxony refused. Bismarck began to make
military preparations; the Saxons began to arm; the Crown treasures were taken from
Dresden to Königstein. Would Austria support Saxony or Prussia? For some days
the question was in debate; at last Austria determined to support a motion at the
Diet declaring the execution ended. It was carried by eight votes to seven, and the
Saxons had to obey. The troops on their return home refused to march across Prussian
territory; and from this time Beust and the King of Saxony must be reckoned among the
determined and irreconcilable enemies of Bismarck.

The first of the rivals was removed; there remained Austria and the Prince.

Just at this time a change of Ministry had taken place in Austria; Rechberg, who
had kept up the alliance, was removed, and the anti-Prussian party came to the front.
It was, therefore, no longer so easy to deal with the Prince, for he had a new and
vigorous ally in Austria. Mensdorf, the new Minister, proposed in a series of lengthy
despatches his solution of the question; it was that the rights of the two Powers
should be transferred to Augustenburg, and that Schleswig-Holstein should be
established as an independent Confederate State. The Austrian position was from this
time clearly defined, and it was in favour of that policy to which Bismarck would
never consent. It remained for him to propose an alternative. Prussia, he said, could
only allow the new State to be created on condition that large rights were given to
Prussia; what these were would require consideration; he must consult the different
departments. This took time, and every month’s delay was so much gain for Prussia; it
was not till February, 1865, that Bismarck was able to present his demands, which
were, that Kiel should be a Prussian port, Rendsburg a Prussian fortress; that the
canal was to be made by Prussia and belong to Prussia, the management of the post and
telegraph service to be Prussian and also the railways; the army was to be not only
organised on the Prussian system but actually incorporated with the Prussian army, so
that the soldiers would take the oath of allegiance not to their own Duke but to the
King of Prussia. The Duchies were to join the Prussian Customs’ Union and assimilate
their system of finance with that of Prussia. The proposals were so drawn up that it
would be impossible for Austria to support, or for the Prince of Augustenburg to
accept them. They were, in fact, as Bismarck himself told the Crown Prince, not meant
to be accepted. “I would rather dig potatoes than be a reigning Prince under such
conditions,” said one of the Austrian Ministers. When they were officially presented,
Karolyi was instructed to meet them with an unhesitating negative, and all discussion
on them ceased.

Prussia and Austria had both proposed their solution; each State even refused to
consider the suggestion made by the other. Meanwhile, since the departure of the
Confederate troops the administration of the Duchies was in their hands; each Power
attempted so to manage affairs as to prepare the way for the final settlement it
desired, Prussia for annexation, Austria for Augustenburg. Prince Frederick was still
living at Kiel. His position was very anomalous: he assumed the style and title of a
reigning Prince, he was attended by something like a Court and by Ministers;
throughout Holstein, almost without exception, and to a great extent also in
Schleswig, he was looked upon and treated by the population as their lawful
sovereign; his birthday was celebrated as a public holiday; he was often prayed for
in church. All this the Austrians regarded with equanimity and indirectly supported;
Bismarck wished to expel him from the country, but could not do so without the
consent of Austria. At the end of March the matter again came up in the Diet; Bavaria
and Saxony brought in a motion that they expected that Austria and Prussia would
transfer the administration to Frederick. The Prussian Envoy rose and explained that
they might expect it, but that Prussia would not fulfil their expectations; he moved
that the claims of all candidates should be considered by the Diet, not only those of
Augustenburg and of the Duke of Oldenburg, but also of Brandenburg.

The claims of Brandenburg were a new weapon of which Bismarck was glad to avail
himself. No one supposed that they had really any foundation; they were not seriously
put forward; but if the motion was carried, the Diet would be involved in the
solution of a very complicated and necessarily very lengthy legal discussion. What
the result was would be known from the beginning, but the Diet and its committees
always worked slowly, and Bismarck could with much force maintain that, until they
had come to a decision, there was no reason for handing over the administration to
Augustenburg; it was at least decent not to do this till the claims of the rivals had
been duly weighed. In the months that must elapse many things might happen. In the
meantime the Diet would be helpless. When it had come to a decision he would then be
able to point out, as he had already done, that they had no legal power for
determining who was the ruler of any State, and that their decision therefore was
quite valueless, and everything would have been again exactly as it was before.
Austria supported the motion of Saxony, which was carried by nine votes to six.
Prussia answered by sending her fleet from Danzig to Kiel, and occupying the harbour;
the Government asked for a vote for the erection of fortifications and docks and for
the building of a fleet; the Chamber refused the money, but Roon declared publicly in
the House that Prussia would retain Kiel,—they had gone there and did not
intend to leave. The occupation of Kiel was an open defiance to Austria; that it was
intended to be so is shewn by the fact that a few days later Bismarck wrote to
Usedom, the Prussian Minister at Florence, instructing him to sound the Italian
Government as to whether they would be willing to join Prussia in war against
Austria. At the same time he wrote to Goltz to find out in Paris whether there was
any alliance between Austria and France. It would be some time before foreign
relations could be sufficiently cleared up for him to determine whether or not war
would be safe. He occupied the intervening period by continuing the negotiations as
to the principles on which the joint administration should be conducted. He came
forward with a new proposal and one which was extremely surprising, that the Estates
of the Duchies should be summoned, and negotiations entered into with them. It is one
of the most obscure of all his actions; he did it contrary to the advice of those on
the spot. Everyone warned him that if the Estates were summoned their first action
would be to proclaim Augustenburg as Duke. Some suppose that the King insisted on his
taking this step; that is, however, very improbable; others that he proposed it in
order that it might be rejected by Austria, so that Austria might lose the great
influence which by her support of Augustenburg she was gaining in Germany. Austria,
however, accepted the proposal, and then negotiations began as to the form in which
the Estates should be called together; what should be the relations to them of the
two Powers? This gave rise to a minute controversy, which could not be settled, and
no doubt Bismarck did not wish that it should be settled. One of his conditions,
however, was that, before the Estates were summoned, Augustenburg should be compelled
to leave Holstein. Of course the Prince refused, for he well knew that, if he once
went away, he would never be allowed to return. The Duke of Oldenburg, who was always
ready to come forward when Bismarck wished it, himself demanded the expulsion of the
Prince. The King of Prussia wrote a severe letter to Augustenburg, intimating his
displeasure at his conduct and warning him to leave the country. The Prince answered,
as he always did to the King, expressing his gratitude and his constant loyalty to
Prussia, but refused, and his refusal was published in the papers. It was still
impossible to remove him except by force, but before he ventured on that Bismarck had
to make secure the position of Prussia.

At the beginning of July events began to move towards a crisis. Bismarck had
appointed a commission of Prussian lawyers to report on the legal claim of the
different candidates for the Ducal throne; their report was now published. They came
to the conclusion, as we might anticipate that they would, that Augustenburg had
absolutely no claim, and that legally the full authority was possessed by the two
Powers who had the de facto government. Their opinion did not carry much
weight even in Prussia itself, but they seem to have succeeded in convincing the
King. Hitherto he had always been haunted by the fear lest, in dispossessing
Augustenburg, he would be keeping a German Prince from the throne which was his
right, and that to him was a very serious consideration. Now his conscience was set
at rest. From this time the last support which Augustenburg had in Prussia was taken
from him, for the Crown Prince, who always remained faithful to him, was almost
without influence. Bismarck was henceforward able to move more rapidly. On the 5th of
July the Prince’s birthday was celebrated throughout the Duchy with great enthusiasm;
this gave bitter offence to the King; shortly afterwards Bismarck left Berlin and
joined the King, who was taking his annual cure at Carlsbad, and for July 28th a
Council of State was summoned to meet at Regensburg. Probably this is the only
instance of a King coming to so important a decision outside his own territories. The
Council was attended not only by the Ministers, but also by some of the generals and
by Goltz, who was summoned from Paris for the purpose. It was determined to send an
ultimatum to Austria; the chief demand was that Austria should withdraw all support
from Augustenburg, and agree immediately to eject him from the Duchies. If Austria
refused to agree, Prussia would do so herself; he was to be seized, put on board a
ship, and carried off to East Prussia. To shew that they were in earnest, a beginning
was made by seizing in Holstein Prussian subjects who had written in the newspapers
in a sense opposed to the wishes of the Prussian Government, and carrying them off to
be tried at Berlin. In order to be prepared for all possibilities, an official
request was sent to Italy to ask for her assistance in case of an outbreak of war.
After these decisions were arrived at, the King continued his journey to Gastein to
complete his cure; there, on Austrian territory in company with Bismarck, he awaited
the answer.

In Austria opinions were divided; the feeling of annoyance with Prussia had been
steadily growing during the last year. The military party was gaining ground; many
would have been only too glad to take up the challenge. It would indeed have been
their wisest plan to do so—openly to support the claim of Augustenburg, to
demand that the Estates of Holstein should be at once summoned, and if Bismarck
carried out his threats, to put herself at the head of Germany and in the name of the
outraged right of a German Prince and a German State to take up the Prussian
challenge.

There were, however, serious reasons against this. The Emperor was very reluctant
to go to war, and, as so often, the personal feelings of the rulers had much to do
with the policy of the Government. Then the internal condition of Austria both
politically and financially was very unsatisfactory; it would have been necessary to
raise a loan and this could not be easily done. There was also the constant danger
from Italy, for Austria knew that, even if there were no alliance, as soon as she was
attacked on one side by Prussia, the Italians on the other side would invade Venetia.
Count Metternich was instructed to ask Napoleon, but received as an answer that they
could not hope for a French alliance; the Austrians feared that he might already be
engaged on the side of Prussia. For all these reasons it was determined to attempt to
bring about a compromise. A change of Ministry took place, and Count Blome, one of
the new Ministers, was sent to Gastein. He found both the King and Bismarck not
disinclined to some compromise. The reports both from Florence and Paris did not seem
to Bismarck to be entirely satisfactory: he did not find such readiness as he had
hoped for; he feared that some secret understanding might be arrived at between
Austria and Napoleon; and then, as we have seen, he was really anxious to avoid war
for the sake of the Duchies; he had not given up his intention of war with Austria
some day, but it would be impossible to find a less agreeable excuse for it.

“Halbuber and Augustenburg are acting so that we shall soon have to apply
force; this will cause bad blood in Vienna; it is not what I wish, but Austria
gives us no choice,”

he had written a few days before. After a few days of indecision a compromise
therefore was agreed upon. The joint administration of the Duchies was to be given
up; Austria was to administer Holstein, Prussia, Schleswig; they both undertook not
to bring the question before the Diet; the Duchy of Lauenburg was to be handed over
absolutely to the King of Prussia, the Emperor of Austria receiving two million
thalers for his share. Lauenburg was the first new possession which Bismarck was able
to offer to the King; the grateful monarch conferred on him the title of Count, and
in later years presented to him large estates out of the very valuable royal domains.
It was from Lauenburg that in later years the young German Emperor took the title
which he wished to confer on the retiring Chancellor.

CHAPTER X.

The arrangement made at Gastein could not be permanent; it was only a temporary
expedient to put off the conflict which henceforward was inevitable—inevitable,
that is, if the Emperor of Austria still refused to sell Holstein to Prussia. It was,
however, so far as it went, a great gain to Prussia, because it deprived Austria of
the esteem of the other German States. Her strength had hitherto lain in her strict
adhesion to popular feeling and to what the majority of the Germans, Princes and
people alike, believed was justice; by coming to a separate agreement with Prussia,
she had shaken their confidence. Bavaria especially was much annoyed by this change
of front, and it seemed probable that the most important of the southern States would
soon be ranged on the side of Prussia. This was a consummation which Bismarck
ardently desired, and to which he addressed himself with much energy.

The attitude of France was more important than that of the German States, and in
the autumn Bismarck made a fresh visit to that country. Just as he had done the year
before, he went to take the sea-baths at Biarritz. This step was the more remarkable
because Napoleon had received the news of the Treaty of Gastein with marked
displeasure, and had given public expression to his opinions. Bismarck saw Drouyn de
Lhuys at Paris and then went on to Biarritz where the Emperor was; for ten days he
lived there in constant association with the Imperial family. The personal impression
which he made was very favourable: “A really great man,” wrote Mérimée,
“free from feeling and full of esprit.” He saw Napoleon again on his return
through Paris; the two succeeded in coming to an understanding. Napoleon assured him
that he might depend on the absolute neutrality of France, in case of a war between
Prussia and Austria; it was agreed also that the annexation of the Duchies to Prussia
would not be an increase of territory which would cause any uneasiness at Paris;
Napoleon would view it with favour. Bismarck went farther than this; he opened the
subject of a complete reform of the German Constitution on the lines that Prussia was
to have a free hand in the north of Germany; he pointed out

“that the acquisition of the Duchies would only be an earnest for the
fulfilment of the pledge which history had laid upon the State of Prussia; for the
future prosecution of it we need the most friendly relations with France. It seems
to me in the interest of France to encourage Prussia in the ambitious fulfilment of
her national duty.”

The Emperor acquiesced; as we know, the division of Europe into large national
States was what he meant by Napoleonic ideas; he was willing enough to help in
Germany a change such as that he had brought about in Italy. It was agreed that
events should be allowed to develop themselves; when the time came it would be easy
enough to come to some definite agreement.

This however was not all; it was not to be expected that Napoleon should render
Prussia so valuable a service without receiving something in exchange; we know
Bismarck’s opinion of a statesman who, out of sympathy for another country, would
sacrifice the interests of his own. The creation of a strong consolidated State in
the north of Germany could not be in the interests of France; the power of France had
always been founded on the weakness of Germany. Even if Napoleon himself, with his
generous and cosmopolitan sympathies, was willing to make the sacrifice, France was
not; Napoleon knew, and Bismarck knew, that Napoleon could not disregard the feeling
of the country; his power was based on universal suffrage and the popularity of his
name; he could not, as a King of Prussia could, brave the displeasure of the people.
France must then have some compensation. What was it to be? What were to be the terms
of the more intimate and special understanding? We do not know exactly what was said;
we do know that Bismarck led both the Emperor and his Ministers to believe that
Prussia would support them in an extension of the frontier. He clearly stated that
the King would not be willing to surrender a single Prussian village; he
probably said that they would not acquiesce in the restoration to France of any
German territory. France therefore must seek her reward in a French-speaking
people. It was perhaps an exaggeration if Drouyn de Lhuys said “he offered us all
kinds of things which did not belong to him,” but Napoleon also in later years
repeated that Bismarck had promised him all kinds of recompenses. No written
agreement was made; that was reserved for later negotiations, but there was a verbal
understanding, which both parties felt was binding. This was the pendant to the
interview of Plombières. But Bismarck had improved on Cavour’s example; he did
not want so much, he asked only for neutrality: the King of Prussia would not be
called upon, like Victor Emmanuel, to surrender the old possessions of his House.

Bismarck returned to Berlin with his health invigorated by the Atlantic winds and
his spirits raised by success. The first step now was to secure the help of Italy; he
had seen Nigra, the Italian Minister, at Paris, and told him that war was inevitable;
he hoped he could reckon on Italian alliance, but there was still, however, much
ground for anxiety that Austria might succeed in arranging affairs with Italy.

The relations of the four Powers at this time were very remarkable. All turned on
Venetia. The new Kingdom of Italy would not rest until it had secured this province.
Napoleon also was bound by honour to complete his promise and “free Italy to the
Adriatic”; neither his throne nor that of his son would be secure if he failed to do
so. A war between Austria and Prussia would obviously afford the best opportunity,
and his whole efforts were therefore directed to preventing a reconciliation between
the two German Powers. His great fear was that Austria should come to terms with
Prussia, and surrender the Duchies on condition that Prussia should guarantee her
Italian possessions. When Bismarck visited Napoleon at Biarritz, the first question
of the Emperor was, “Have you guaranteed Venetia to Austria?” It was the fear of this
which caused his anger at the Treaty of Gastein. On the other hand, Bismarck had his
reasons for anxiety. It was always possible that Austria, instead of coming to terms
with Prussia, might choose the other side; she might surrender Venetia in order to
obtain French and Italian support in a German war. The situation indeed was this:
Austria was liable at any moment to be attacked by both Italy and Prussia; it would
probably be beyond her strength to resist both assailants at the same time. A wise
statesman would probably have made terms with one or the other. He would have either
surrendered Venetia, which was really a source of weakness, to Italy, or agreed with
Prussia over the Duchies and the German problem, thereby gaining Prussian support
against Italy. The honourable pride of Mensdorf and the military party in Austria
refused to surrender anything till it was too late.

None the less, the constant fear lest Austria should make terms with one of her
enemies for a long time prevented an alliance between Prussia and Italy. The Italians
did not trust Bismarck; they feared that if they made a treaty with him, he would
allow them to get entangled in war, and then, as at Gastein, make up his quarrel with
Austria. Bismarck did not trust the Italians; he feared that they and Napoleon would
even at the last moment take Venetia as a present, and, as very nearly happened,
offer Austria one of the Prussian provinces instead. It was impossible to have any
reliance on Napoleon’s promises, for he was constantly being pulled two ways; his own
policy and sympathies would lead him to an alliance with Prussia; the clerical party,
which was yearly growing stronger and had the support of the Empress, wished him to
side with the Catholic power. In consequence, even after his return from France,
Bismarck could not pass a day with full security that he might not find himself
opposed by a coalition of Austria, France, and Italy; the Austrians felt that they
were to be made the victims of a similar coalition between Prussia, France, and
Italy; France always feared a national union between the two great German Powers.

Bismarck began by completing and bringing to a conclusion the arrangements for a
commercial treaty with Italy; at the beginning of January the King of Prussia sent
Victor Emmanuel the order of the Black Eagle; Bismarck also used his influence to
induce Bavaria to join in the commercial treaty and to recognise the Kingdom of
Italy. Then on January 13th he wrote to Usedom that the eventual decision in Germany
would be influenced by the action of Italy; if they could not depend on the
support of Italy, he hinted that peace would be maintained; in this way he hoped to
force the Italians to join him.

Affairs in the Duchies gave Bismarck the opportunity for adopting with good
grounds a hostile attitude towards Austria; Gablenz, the new Governor of Holstein,
continued to favour the Augustenburg agitation. Many had expected that Austria would
govern Holstein as a part of the Empire; instead of doing so, with marked design the
country was administered as though it were held in trust for the Prince; no taxes
were levied, full freedom was allowed to the Press, and while the Prussians daily
became more unpopular in Schleswig the Austrians by their leniency won the affection
of Holstein. At the end of January, they even allowed a mass meeting, which was
attended by over 4000 men, to be held at Altona. This made a very unfavourable
impression on the King, and any action of Austria that offended the King was most
useful to Bismarck. “Bismarck is using all his activity to inspire the King with his
own views and feelings,” wrote Benedetti, the French Ambassador, at this time. At the
end of January he felt sufficiently secure to protest seriously against the Austrian
action in Holstein. “Why,” he asked, “had they left the alliance against our common
enemy, the Revolution?” Austria, in return, refused peremptorily to allow Bismarck
any voice in the administration of Holstein. Bismarck, when the despatch was read to
him, answered curtly that he must consider that henceforth the relations of the two
Powers had lost their intimate character; “we are as we were before the Danish war,
neither worse nor better.” He sent no answer to the Austrian despatch and ceased to
discuss with them the affairs of the Duchies.

This was a fair warning to Austria and it was understood; they took it as an
intimation that hostilities were intended, and from this day began quietly to make
their preparations. As soon as they did this, they were given into Bismarck’s hands;
the Prussians, owing to the admirable organisation of the army, could prepare for war
in a fortnight or three weeks’ time less than the Austrians would require; Austria to
be secure must therefore begin to arm first; as soon as she did so the Prussian
Government would be able, with full protestation of innocence, to point to the fact
that they had not moved a man, and then to begin their own mobilisation, not
apparently for offence but, as it were, to protect themselves from an unprovoked
attack. In a minute of February 22d Moltke writes that it would be better for
political reasons not to mobilise yet; then they would appear to put Austria in the
wrong; Austria had now 100,000 men in Bohemia and it would be impossible to undertake
any offensive movement against Prussia with less than 150,000 or 200,000; to collect
these at least six weeks would be required, and the preparations could not be
concealed. Six days later a great council was held in Berlin. “A war with Austria
must come sooner or later; it is wiser to undertake it now, under these most
favourable circumstances, than to leave it to Austria to choose the most auspicious
moment for herself,” said Bismarck. The rupture, he explained, had already really
been effected; that had been completed at his last interview with Karolyi. Bismarck
was supported by most of the Ministers; the King said that the Duchies were worth a
war, but he still hoped that peace would be kept. The arrangement of the foreign
alliances was now pushed on. The King wrote an autograph letter to Napoleon saying
that the time for the special understanding had come; Goltz discussed with him at
length the terms of French compensation. Napoleon did not ask for any definite
promise, but suggested the annexation of some German territory to France; it was
explained to him that Prussia would not surrender any German territory, but that, if
France took part of Belgium, the Prussian frontier must be extended to the Maas, that
is, must include the north-east of Belgium.

Again no definite agreement was made, but Napoleon’s favouring neutrality seemed
secure. There was more difficulty with Italy, for here an active alliance was
required, and the Italians still feared they would be tricked. It was decided to send
Moltke to Florence to arrange affairs there; this, however, was unnecessary, for
Victor Emmanuel sent one of his generals, Govone, nominally to gain some information
about the new military inventions; for the next three weeks, Govone and Barrel, the
Italian Minister, were engaged in constant discussions as to the terms of the treaty.
Of course the Austrians were not entirely ignorant of what was going on.

GENERAL VON
MOLTKE

The negotiations with Italy roused among them intense bitterness; without actually
mobilising they slowly and cautiously made all preliminary arrangements; a despatch
was sent to Berlin accusing the Prussians of the intention of breaking the Treaty of
Gastein, and another despatch to the German Courts asking for their assistance.
Karolyi waited on Bismarck, assured him that their military preparations, were purely
defensive, and asked point-blank whether Prussia proposed to violate the treaty. The
answer, of course, was a simple “No,” but according to the gossip of Berlin, Bismarck
added, “You do not think I should tell you if I did intend to do so.” On March 24th a
despatch was sent to the envoys at all the German Courts drawing their attention to
the Austrian preparations, for which it was said there was no cause; in view of this
obvious aggression Prussia must begin to arm. That this was a mere pretext is shewn
by a confidential note of Moltke of this same date; in it he states that all the
Austrian preparations up to this time were purely defensive; there was as yet no sign
of an attempt to take the offensive. Two days later, a meeting of the Prussian
Council was held and the orders for a partial mobilisation of the army were given,
though some time elapsed before they were actually carried out.

Under the constant excitement of these weeks Bismarck’s health again began to
break down; except himself, there was in fact scarcely a single man who desired the
war; the King still seized every opportunity of preserving the peace; England, as so
often, was beginning to make proposals for mediation; all the Prussian diplomatists,
he complained, were working against his warlike projects. He made it clear to the
Italians that the result would depend on them; if they would not sign a treaty there
would be no war. The great difficulty in arranging the terms of the treaty was to
determine who should begin. The old suspicion was still there: each side expected
that if they began they would be deserted by their ally. The suspicion was unjust,
for on both sides there were honourable men. The treaty was eventually signed on
April 9th; it was to the effect that if Prussia went to war with Austria within the
next three months, Italy would also at once declare war; neither country was to make
a separate peace; Prussia would continue the war till Venetia was surrendered. On the
very day that this treaty was signed, Bismarck, in answer to an Austrian despatch,
wrote insisting that he had no intention of entering on an offensive war against
Austria. In private conversation he was more open; to Benedetti he said: “I have at
last succeeded in determining a King of Prussia to break the intimate relations of
his House with that of Austria, to conclude a treaty of alliance with Italy, to
accept arrangements with Imperial France; I am proud of the result.”

Suddenly a fresh impediment appeared: the Austrians, on April 18th, wrote
proposing a disarming on both sides; the Prussian answer was delayed for many days;
it was said in Berlin that there was a difference of opinion between Bismarck and the
King; Bismarck complained to Benedetti that he was wavering: when at last the answer
was sent it was to accept the principle, but Bismarck boasted that he had accepted it
under such conditions that it could hardly be carried out.

CAPITULATION AT
SEDAN

The reluctance of the King to go to war caused him much difficulty; all his
influence was required; it is curious to read the following words which he wrote at
this time:

“It is opposed to my feelings, I may say to my faith, to attempt to use
influence or pressure on your paternal feelings with regard to the decision on
peace or war; this is a sphere in which, trusting to God alone, I leave it to your
Majesty’s heart to steer for the good of the Fatherland; my part is prayer, rather
than counsel”;

and then he again lays before the King the insuperable arguments in favour of
war.

Let us not suppose that this letter was but a cunning device to win the consent of
the King. In these words more than in anything else we see his deepest feelings and
his truest character. Bismarck was no Napoleon; he had determined that war was
necessary, but he did not go to the terrible arbitrament with a light heart. He was
not a man who from personal ambition would order thousands of men to go to their
death or bring his country to ruin. It was his strength that he never forgot that he
was working, not for himself, but for others. Behind the far-sighted plotter and the
keen intriguer there always remained the primitive honesty of his younger years. He
may at times have complained of the difficulties which arose from the reluctance of
the King to follow his advice, but he himself felt that it was a source of strength
to him that he had to explain, justify, and recommend his policy to the King.

All anxiety was, however, removed by news which came the next day. A report was
spread throughout the papers that Italy had begun to mobilise, and that a band of
Garibaldians had crossed the frontier. The report seems to have been untrue. How it
originated we know not; when Roon heard of it he exclaimed, “Now the Italians are
arming, the Austrians cannot disarm.” He was right. The Austrian Government sent a
message to Berlin that they would withdraw part of their northern army from Bohemia,
but must at once put the whole of their southern army on a war footing. Prussia
refused to accept this plea, and the order for the mobilisation of the Prussian army
went out.

As soon as Austria had begun to mobilise, war was inevitable; the state of the
finances of the Empire would not permit them to maintain their army on a war footing
for any time. None the less, another six weeks were to elapse before hostilities
began.

We have seen how throughout these complications Bismarck had desired, if he fought
Austria, to fight, not for the sake of the Duchies, but for a reform of the German
Confederation.

In March he had said to the Italians that the Holstein question was not enough to
warrant a declaration of war. Prussia intended to bring forward the reform of the
Confederation. This would take several months. He hoped that among other advantages,
he would have at least Bavaria on his side; for the kind of proposal he had in his
mind, though at this time he seems to have had no clear plan, was some arrangement by
which the whole of the north of Germany should be closely united to Prussia, and the
southern States formed in a separate union with Bavaria at the head. He had always
pointed out, even when he was at Frankfort, that Bavaria was a natural ally of
Prussia. In a great war the considerable army of Bavaria would not be
unimportant.

At the beginning of April Bismarck instructed Savigny, his envoy at the Diet, to
propose the consideration of a reform in the Constitution. The proposal he made was
quite unexpected. No details were mentioned as to changes in the relations of the
Princes, but a Parliament elected by universal suffrage and direct elections was to
be chosen, to help in the management of common German affairs. It is impossible to
exaggerate the bewilderment and astonishment with which this proposal was greeted.
Here was the man who had risen into power as the champion of monarchical government,
as the enemy of Parliaments and Democracy, voluntarily taking up the extreme demand
of the German Radicals. It must be remembered that universal suffrage was at this
time regarded not as a mere scheme of voting,—it was a principle; it was the
cardinal principle of the Revolution; it meant the sovereignty of the people. It was
the basis of the French Republic of 1848, it had been incorporated in the German
Constitution of 1849, and this was one of the reasons why the King of Prussia had
refused then to accept that Constitution. The proposal was universally condemned.
Bismarck had perhaps hoped to win the Liberals; if so, he was disappointed; their
confidence could not be gained by this sudden and amazing change—they
distrusted him all the more; “a Government that, despising the laws of its own
country, comes forward with plans for Confederate reform, cannot have the confidence
of the German people,” was the verdict of the National party. The Moderate Liberals,
men like Sybel, had always been opposed to universal suffrage; even the English
statesmen were alarmed; it was two years before Disraeli made his leap in the dark,
and here was the Prussian statesman making a far bolder leap in a country not yet
accustomed to the natural working of representative institutions. He did not gain the
adhesion of the Liberals, and he lost the confidence of his old friends. Napoleon
alone expressed his pleasure that the institutions of the two countries should become
so like one another.

There was, indeed, ample reason for distrust; universal suffrage meant not only
Democracy,—it was the foundation on which Napoleon had built his Empire; he had
shewn that the voice of the people might become the instrument of despotism. All the
old suspicions were aroused; people began to see fresh meaning in these constant
visits to France; Napoleon had found an apt pupil not only in foreign but in internal
matters. It could mean nothing more than the institution of a democratic monarchy;
this was Bonapartism; it seemed to be the achievement of that change which, years
ago, Gerlach had foreboded. No wonder the King of Hanover began to feel his crown
less steady on his head.

What was the truth in the matter? What were the motives which influenced Bismarck?
The explanation he gave was probably the true one: by universal suffrage he hoped to
attain a Conservative and monarchical assembly; he appealed from the educated and
Liberal middle classes to the peasants and artisans. We remember how often he had
told the Prussian House of Commons that they were not the true representatives of the
people.

“Direct election and universal suffrage I consider to be greater guarantees
of Conservative action than any artificial electoral law; the artificial system of
indirect election and elections by classes is a much more dangerous one in a
country of monarchical traditions and loyal patriotism. Universal suffrage, doing
away as it does with the influence of the Liberal bourgeoisie, leads to monarchical
elections.”

There was in his mind a vague ideal, the ideal of a king, the father of his
country, supported by the masses of the people. He had a genuine interest in the
welfare of the poorest; he thought he would find in them more gratitude and
confidence than in the middle classes. We know that he was wrong; universal suffrage
in Germany was to make possible the Social Democrats and Ultramontanes; it was to
give the Parliamentary power into the hands of an opponent far more dangerous than
the Liberals of the Prussian Assembly. Probably no one had more responsibility for
this measure than the brilliant founder of the Socialist party. Bismarck had watched
with interest the career of Lassalle; he had seen with admiration his power of
organisation; he felt that here was a man who in internal affairs and in the
management of the people had something of the skill and courage which he himself had
in foreign affairs. He was a great demagogue, and Bismarck had already learnt that a
man who aimed at being not only a diplomatist, but a statesman and a ruler, must have
something of the demagogic art. From Lassalle he could learn much. We have letters
written two years before this in which Lassalle, obviously referring to some previous
conversation, says: “Above all, I accuse myself of having forgotten yesterday to
impress upon you that the right of being elected must be given to all Germans. This
is an immense means of power; the moral conquest of Germany.” Obviously there had
been a long discussion, in which Lassalle had persuaded the Minister to adopt
universal suffrage. The letters continue with reference to the machinery of the
elections, and means of preventing abstention from the poll, for which Lassalle
professes to have found a magic charm.

One other remark we must make: this measure, as later events were to prove, was in
some ways characteristic of all Bismarck’s internal policy. Roon once complained of
his strokes of genius, his unforeseen decisions. In foreign policy, bold and decisive
as he could be, he was also cautious and prudent; to this he owes his success; he
could strike when the time came, but he never did so unless he had tested the
situation in every way; he never began a war unless he was sure to win, and he left
nothing to chance or good fortune. In internal affairs he was less prudent; he did
not know his ground so well, and he exaggerated his own influence. Moreover, in
giving up the simpler Conservative policy of his younger years, he became an
opportunist; he would introduce important measures in order to secure the support of
a party, even though he might thereby be sacrificing the interests of his country to
a temporary emergency. He really applied to home affairs the habits he had learned in
diplomacy; there every alliance is temporary; when the occasion of it has passed by,
it ceases, and leaves no permanent effect. He tried to govern Germany by a series of
political alliances; but the alliance of the Government with a party can never be
barren; the laws to which it gives birth remain. Bismarck sometimes thought more of
the advantage of the alliance than of the permanent effect of the laws.

Even after this there was still delay; there were the usual abortive attempts at a
congress, which, as in 1859, broke down through the refusal of Austria to give way.
There were dark intrigues of Napoleon, who even at the last moment attempted to
divert the Italians from their Prussian alliance. In Germany there was extreme
indignation against the man who was forcing his country into a fratricidal war.
Bismarck had often received threatening letters; now an attempt was made on his life;
as he was walking along Unter den Linden a young man approached and fired
several shots at him. He was seized by Bismarck, and that night put an end to his own
life in prison. He was a South German who wished to save his country from the horrors
of civil war. Moltke, now that all was prepared, was anxious to begin. Bismarck still
hesitated; he was so cautious that he would not take the first step. At last the
final provocation came, as he hoped it would, from Austria. He knew that if he waited
long enough they would take the initiative. They proposed to summon the Estates of
Holstein, and at the same time brought the question of the Duchies before the Diet.
Bismarck declared that this was a breach of the Treaty of Gastein, and that that
agreement was therefore void; Prussian troops were ordered to enter Holstein. Austria
appealed for protection to the Diet, and moved that the Federal forces should be
mobilised. The motion was carried by nine votes to seven. The Prussian Envoy then
rose and declared that this was a breach of the Federal law; Prussia withdrew from
the Federation and declared war on all those States which had supported Austria.
Hanover and Hesse had to the end attempted to maintain neutrality, but this Bismarck
would not allow; they were given the alternative of alliance with Prussia or
disarmament. The result was that, when war began, the whole of Germany, except the
small northern States, was opposed to Prussia. “I have no ally but the Duke of
Mecklenburg and Mazzini,” said the King.

CHAPTER XI.

Bismarck had no part in the management of the army. This the King always kept in
his own hands. He was himself Commander-in-Chief, and on all military questions he
took the advice of his Minister of War and the chief of the staff. When his power and
influence in the State were greatest, Bismarck’s authority always ceased as soon as
technical and military matters arose for consideration. He often chafed at this
limitation and even in a campaign was eager to offer his advice; there was soldier’s
blood in his veins, and he would have liked himself to bear arms in the war. At least
he was able to be present on the field of battle with the King and witness part of
the campaign.

With the King he left Berlin on June 30th to join the army in Bohemia. Already the
news had come of the capitulation of the Hanoverians; the whole of North-West Germany
had been conquered in a week and the Prussian flank was secure. The effect of these
victories was soon seen: his unpopularity was wiped out in blood. Night by night as
the bulletins arrived, crowds collected to cheer and applaud the Minister.

The King and his suite reached the army on July 1st; they were just in time to be
present at the decisive battle. At midnight on July 2d it was known that the
Austrians were preparing to give battle near Königgrätz with the Elbe in
their rear. Early the next morning the King with Bismarck, Roon, and Moltke rode out
and took up their positions on the hill of Dub, whence they could view what was to be
the decisive battle in the history of Germany. Here, after the lapse of more than a
hundred years, they were completing the work which Frederick the Great had begun. The
battle was long and doubtful. The army of Prince Frederick Charles attacked the
Austrian division under the eyes of the King, but could make no advance against their
powerful artillery. They had to wait till the Crown Prince, who was many miles away,
could come up and attack the right flank of the Austrians. Hour after hour went by
and the Crown Prince did not come; if he delayed longer the attack would fail and the
Prussians be defeated. We can easily imagine what must have been Bismarck’s thoughts
during this crisis. On the result depended his position, his reputation, perhaps his
life; into those few hours was concentrated the struggle to which he had devoted so
much of his lifetime, and yet he was quite helpless. Success or failure did not
depend on him. It is the crudest trial to the statesman that he must see his best
plans undone by the mistakes of the generals. Bismarck often looked with anxiety at
Moltke’s face to see whether he could read in it the result of the battle. The King,
too, was getting nervous. Bismarck at last could stand it no longer; he rode up to
Moltke, took out a cigar case, and offered it to the General; Moltke looked at the
cigars carefully and took the best; “then I knew we were all right,” said Bismarck in
telling this story. It was after two when at last the cannon of the Crown Prince’s
army came into action, and the Austrian army, attacked on two sides, was
overthrown.

“This time the brave grenadiers have saved us,” said Roon. It was true; but for
the army which he and the King had made, all the genius of Moltke and Bismarck would
have been unavailing.

“Our men deserve to be kissed,” wrote Bismarck to his wife. “Every man is
brave to the death, quiet, obedient; with empty stomachs, wet clothes, little
sleep, the soles of their boots falling off, they are friendly towards everyone;
there is no plundering and burning; they pay what they are able, though they have
mouldy bread to eat. There must exist a depth of piety in our common soldier or all
this could not be.”

Bismarck might well be proud of this practical illustration which was given of
that which he so often in older days maintained. This was a true comment on the
pictures of the loyalty of the Prussian people and the simple faith of the German
peasants, which from his place in Parliament he had opposed to the new sceptical
teaching of the Liberals. As soon as he was able he went about among the wounded; as
he once said, the King of Prussia was accustomed to look into the eyes of wounded men
on the field of battle and therefore would never venture on an unjust or unnecessary
war, and in this Bismarck felt as the King. He writes home for cigars for
distributing among the wounded. Personally he endured something of the hardships of
campaigning, for in the miserable Bohemian villages there was little food and shelter
to be had. He composed himself to sleep, as best he could, on a dung-heap by the
roadside, until he was roused by the Prince of Mecklenburg, who had found more
acceptable quarters.

It was not for long that this life, which was to him almost a welcome reminiscence
of his sporting days, could continue. Diplomatic cares soon fell upon him.

Not two days had passed since the great battle, when a telegram from Napoleon was
placed in the King’s hands informing him that Austria had requested France’s
mediation, that Venetia had been surrendered to France, and inviting the King to
conclude an armistice. Immediately afterwards came the news that the surrender of
Venetia to France had been published in the Moniteur.

If this meant anything, it meant that Napoleon intended to stop the further
progress of the Prussian army, to rescue Austria, and to dictate the terms of peace;
it could not be doubted that he would be prepared to support his mediation by arms,
and in a few days they might expect to hear that the French corps were being
stationed on the frontier. What was to be done? Bismarck neither doubted nor
hesitated; it was impossible to refuse French mediation. West Germany was almost
undefended, the whole of the southern States were still unconquered; however
imperfect the French military preparations might be, it was impossible to run such a
risk. At his advice the King at once sent a courteous answer accepting the French
proposal. He was more disposed to this because in doing so he really bound himself to
nothing. He accepted the principle of French mediation; but he was still free to
discuss and refuse the special terms which might be offered. He said that he was
willing to accept an armistice, but it was only on condition that the preliminaries
of peace were settled before hostilities ceased, and to them the King could not agree
except after consultation with the King of Italy. It was a friendly answer, which
cost nothing, and meanwhile the army continued to advance. An Austrian request for an
armistice was refused; Vienna was now the goal; Napoleon, if he wished to stop them,
must take the next move, must explain the terms of peace he wished to secure, and
shew by what measures he was prepared to enforce them.

By his prompt action, Bismarck, who knew Napoleon well, hoped to escape the
threatened danger. We shall see with what address he used the situation, so that the
vacillation of France became to him more useful than even her faithful friendship
would have been, for now he felt himself free from all ties of gratitude. Whatever
services France might do to Prussia she could henceforth look to him for no voluntary
recompense. Napoleon had deceived him; he would henceforward have no scruples in
deceiving Napoleon. He had entered on the war relying on the friendship and
neutrality of France; at the first crisis this had failed him; he never forgot and he
never forgave; years later, when the news of Napoleon’s death was brought to him,
this was the first incident in their long connection which came into his mind.

Intercourse with Paris was slow and uncertain; the telegraph wires were often cut
by the Bohemian peasants; some time must elapse before an answer came. In the
meanwhile, as the army steadily advanced towards the Austrian capital, Bismarck had
to consider the terms of peace he would be willing to accept. He had to think not
only of what he would wish, but of what it was possible to acquire. He wrote to his
wife at this time:

“We are getting on well. If we are not extreme in our claims and do not
imagine that we have conquered the world, we shall obtain a peace that is worth
having. But we are as easily intoxicated as we are discouraged, and I have the
thankless task of pouring water into the foaming wine and of pointing out that we
are not alone in Europe, but have three neighbours.”

Of the three neighbours there was little to fear from England. With the death of
Lord Palmerston, English policy had entered on a new phase; the traditions of Pitt
and Canning were forgotten; England no longer aimed at being the arbitress of Europe;
the leaders of both parties agreed that unless her own interests were immediately
affected, England would not interfere in Continental matters. The internal
organisation of Germany did not appear to concern her; she was the first to recognise
the new principle that the relations of the German States to one another were to be
settled by the Germans themselves, and to extend to Germany that doctrine of
non-intervention which she had applied to Spain and Italy.

Neither France nor Russia would be so accommodating; France, we have already seen,
had begun to interfere, Russia would probably do so; if they came to some agreement
they would demand a congress; and, as a matter of fact, a few days later the Czar
proposed a congress, both in Paris and in London. Of all issues this was the one
which Bismarck dreaded most. A war with France he would have disliked, but at the
worst he was not afraid of it. But he did not wish that the terms of peace he
proposed to dictate should be subjected to the criticism and revision of the European
Powers, nor to undergo the fate which fell on Russia twelve years later. Had the
congress, however, been supported by Russia and France he must have accepted it. It
is for this reason that he was so ready to meet the wishes of France, for if Napoleon
once entered into separate and private negotiations, then whatever the result of them
might be, he could not join with the other Powers in common action.

With regard to the terms of peace, it was obvious that Schleswig-Holstein would
now be Prussian; it could scarcely be doubted that there must be a reform in the
Confederation, which would be reorganised under the hegemony of Prussia, and that
Austria would be excluded from all participation in German affairs. It might, in
fact, be anticipated that the very great successes of Prussia would enable her to
carry out the programme of 1849, and to unite the whole of Germany in a close union.
This, however, was not what Bismarck intended; for him the unity of Germany was a
matter of secondary importance; what he desired was complete control over the north.
In this he was going back to the sound and true principles of Prussian policy; he, as
nearly all other Prussian statesmen, looked on the line of the Main as a real
division. He, therefore, on the 9th of July, wrote to Goltz, explaining the ideas he
had of the terms on which peace might be concluded.

“The essential thing,” he said, was that they should get control over North
Germany in some form or other.

“I use the term North German Confederation without any hesitation,
because I consider that if the necessary consolidation of the Federation is to be
made certain it will be at present impossible to include South Germany in it. The
present moment is very favourable for giving our new creation just that
delimitation which will secure it a firm union.”

The question remained, what form the Union should take. On this he writes: “Your
Excellency must have the same impression as myself, that public opinion in our
country demands the incorporation of Hanover, Saxony, and Schleswig.” He adds that
this would undoubtedly be the best solution of the matter for all concerned, if it
could be effected without the cession of other Prussian territory, but he did not
himself consider the difference between a satisfactory system of reform and the
acquisition of these territories sufficient to justify him in risking the fate of the
whole monarchy. It was the same alternative which had presented itself to him about
Schleswig-Holstein; now, as then, annexation was what he aimed at, and he was not the
man easily to reconcile himself to a less favourable solution. At the same time that
he wrote this letter he sent orders that Falkenstein should quickly occupy all the
territory north of the Main.

It is important to notice the date at which this letter was sent. It shews us that
these proposals were Bismarck’s own. Attempts have often been made since to suggest
that the policy of annexation was not his, but was forced on him by the King, or by
the military powers, or by the nation. This was not the case. He appeals indeed to
public opinion, but public opinion, had it been asked, would really have demanded,
not the dethronement of the Kings of Hanover and Saxony, but the unity of all
Germany; and we know that Bismarck would never pursue what he thought a dangerous
policy simply because public opinion demanded it. It has also been said that the
dethronement of the King of Hanover was the natural result of the obstinacy of
himself and his advisers, and his folly in going to Vienna to appeal there to the
help of the Austrian Emperor.

This also is not true. We find that Bismarck has determined on this policy some
days before the King had left Thuringia. This, like all he did, was the deliberate
result of the consideration: What would tend most to the growth of Prussian power? He
had to consider three alternatives: that these States should be compelled to come
into a union with Prussia on the terms that the Princes should hand over the command
of their forces to the Prussian King, but he knew that the King of Hanover would
never consent to this, and probably the King of Saxony would also refuse; he might
also require the reigning Kings to abdicate in place of their sons; or he might leave
them with considerable freedom, but cripple their power by taking away part of their
territory. These solutions seemed to him undesirable because they would leave
dynasties, who would naturally be hostile, jealous, and suspicious, with the control
of large powers of government. Surely it would be better, safer, and wiser to sweep
them away altogether. It may be objected that there was no ground in justice for so
doing. This is true, and Bismarck has never pretended that there was. He has left it
to the writers of the Prussian Press to justify an action which was based purely on
policy, by the pretence that it was the due recompense of the crimes of the rival
dynasties.

Sybel says that Bismarck determined on these terms because they were those which
would be most acceptable to France; that he would have preferred at once to secure
the unity of the whole of Germany, but that from his knowledge of French thought and
French character he foresaw that this would be possible only after another war, and
he did not wish to risk the whole. So far as our information goes, it is against this
hypothesis; it is rather true to say that he used the danger of French interference
as a means of persuading the King to adopt a policy which was naturally repugnant to
him. It is true that these terms would be agreeable to Napoleon. It would appear in
France and in Europe as if it was French power which had persuaded Prussia to stop at
the Main and to spare Austria; Bismarck did not mind that, because what was pleasant
to France was convenient to him. He knew also that the proposal to annex the
conquered territories would be very agreeable to Napoleon; the dethronement of
old-established dynasties might be regarded as a delicate compliment to the
principles he had always maintained and to the traditional policy of his house. If,
however, we wish to find Bismarck’s own motives, we must remember that before the war
broke out he had in his mind some such division of Germany; he knew that it would be
impossible at once to unite the whole in a firm union. If Bavaria were to be included
in the new Confederation they would lose in harmony what they gained in extent. As he
said in his drastic way:

“We cannot use these Ultramontanes, and we must not swallow more than we can
digest. We will not fall into the blunder of Piedmont, which has been more weakened
than strengthened by the annexation of Naples.”

Of course he could not express this openly, and even now German writers obscure
the thought, for in Germany, as in Italy, the desire for unity was so powerful that
it was difficult to pardon any statesman who did not take the most immediate path to
this result. It was fortunate for Germany that Bismarck was strong enough not to do
so, for the Confederation of the north could be founded and confirmed before the
Catholic and hostile south was included. The prize was in his hands; he deliberately
refused to pick it up.

Supposing, however, that, after all, France would not accept the terms he
suggested—during the anxious days which passed, this contingency was often
before him. It was not till the 14th that Goltz was able to send him any decisive
information, for the very good reason that Napoleon had not until then made up his
own mind. Bismarck’s anxiety was increased by the arrival of Benedetti. He had
received instructions to follow the King, and, after undergoing the discomfort of a
hasty journey in the rear of the Prussian army, reached headquarters on the 10th at
Zwittau. He was taken straight to Bismarck’s room although it was far on into the
night. He found him sitting in a deserted house, writing, with a large revolver by
his side; for as Roon complains, even during the campaign Bismarck would not give up
his old custom of working all night and sleeping till midday or later. Bismarck
received the French Ambassador with his wonted cordiality and the conversation was
prolonged till three or four o’clock in the morning, and continued on the following
days. Bismarck hoped that he had come with full powers to treat, or at least with
full information on the intentions of his Government; that was not the case; he had
no instructions except to use his influence to persuade Prussia to moderation;
Napoleon was far too much divided in his own mind to be able to tell him anything
further. Bismarck with his usual frankness explained what he wished, laying much
stress on the annexations in North Germany; Benedetti, so little did he follow
Napoleon’s thought, protested warmly against this. “We are not,” he said, “in the
times of Frederick the Great.” Bismarck then tried to probe him on other matters; as
before, he assumed that Napoleon’s support and good-will were not to be had for
nothing. He took it as a matter of course that if France was friendly to Prussia, she
would require some recompense. He had already instructed Goltz to enquire what
non-German compensation would be asked; he was much disturbed when Benedetti met his
overtures with silence; he feared that Napoleon had some other plan. Benedetti in his
report writes:

“Without any encouragement on my part, he attempted to prove to me that the defeat
of Austria permitted France and Prussia to modify their territorial limits and to
solve the greater part of the difficulties which continued to menace the peace of
Europe. I reminded him that there were treaties and that the war which he desired to
prevent would be the first result of a policy of this kind. M. de Bismarck answered
that I misunderstood him, that France and Prussia united and resolved to rectify
their respective countries, binding themselves by solemn engagements henceforth to
regulate together these questions, need not fear any armed resistance either from
England or from Russia.”

What was Bismarck’s motive in making these suggestions and enquiries? German
writers generally take the view that he was not serious in his proposal, that he was
deliberately playing with Napoleon, that he wished to secure from him some
compromising document which he might then be able, as, in fact, was to happen, to use
against him. They seem to find some pleasure in admiring him in the part of Agent
provocateur. Perhaps we may interpret his thought rather differently. We have
often seen that it was not his practice to lay down a clear and definite course of
action, but he met each crisis as it occurred. The immediate necessity was to secure
the friendship of France; believing, as he did, that in politics no one acted simply
on principle or out of friendship, he assumed that Napoleon, who had control of the
situation, would not give his support unless he had the promise of some important
recompense. The natural thing for him, as he always preferred plain dealing, was to
ask straight out what the Emperor wanted. When the answer came, then fresh questions
would arise; if it was of such a kind that Bismarck would be able to accept it, a
formal treaty between the two States might be made; if it was more than Bismarck was
willing to grant, then there would be an opportunity for prolonging negotiations with
France, and haggling over smaller points, and he would be able to come to some
agreement with Austria quickly. If he could not come to any agreement with France,
and war were to break out, he would always have this advantage, that he would be able
to make it appear that the cause of war arose not in the want of moderation of
Prussia, but in the illegitimate claims of France. Finally he had this to consider,
that so long as France was discussing terms with him, there was no danger of their
accepting the Russian proposal for a congress. Probably the one contingency which did
not occur to him was that which, in fact, was nearest to the truth, namely, that
Napoleon did not care much for any recompense, and that he had not seriously
considered what he ought to demand.

He was, however, prepared for the case that France should not be accommodating. He
determined to enter on separate negotiations with Austria. As he could not do this
directly, he let it be known at Vienna by way of St. Petersburg that he was willing
to negotiate terms of peace. At Brunn, where he was living, he opened up a new
channel of intercourse. An Austrian nobleman, who was well disposed towards Prussia,
undertook an unofficial mission, and announced to the Emperor the terms on which
Prussia would make peace. They were extraordinarily lenient, namely, that, with the
exception of Venetia, the territory of Austria should remain intact, that no war
indemnity should be expected, that the Main should form the boundary of Prussian
ambition, that South Germany should be left free, and might enter into close
connection with Austria if it chose; the only condition was that no intervention or
mediation of France should be allowed. If the negotiations with France were
successful, then the French and Prussian armies united would bid defiance to the
world. If those with France failed, then he hoped to bring about an understanding
with Austria; the two great Powers would divide Germany between them, but present a
united front to all outsiders. If both negotiations broke down, he would be reduced
to a third and more terrible alternative: against a union of France and of Austria he
would put himself at the head of the German national movement; he would adopt the
programme of 1849; he would appeal to the Revolution; he would stir up rebellion in
Hungary; he would encourage the Italians to deliver a thrust into the very heart of
the Austrian Monarchy; and, while Austria was destroyed by internal dissensions, he
would meet the French invasion at the head of a united army of the other German
States.

After all, however, Napoleon withdrew his opposition. It was represented to him
that he had not the military force to carry out his new programme; Italy refused to
desert Prussia or even to receive Venetia from the hands of France; Prince Napoleon
warned his cousin against undoing the work of his lifetime. The Emperor himself,
broken in health and racked by pain, confessed that his action of July 5th had been a
mistake; he apologised to Goltz for his proclamation; he asked only that Prussia
should be moderate in her demands; the one thing was that the unity of Germany should
be avoided, if only in appearance. This, we have seen, was Bismarck’s own view.
Napoleon accepted the terms which Goltz proposed, but asked only that the Kingdom of
Saxony should be spared; if this was done, he would not only adopt, he would
recommend them. An agreement was quickly come to. Benedetti went on to Vienna; he and
Gramont had little difficulty in persuading the Emperor to agree to terms of peace by
which the whole loss of the war would fall not upon him, not even upon his only
active and faithful ally, the King of Saxony, but on those other States who had
refused to join themselves to either party. What a triumph was it of Bismarck’s skill
that the addition of 4,000,000 subjects to the Prussian Crown and complete dominion
over Northern Germany should appear, not as the demand which, as a ruthless
conqueror, he enforced on his helpless enemies, but as the solution of all
difficulties which was recommended to him in reward for his moderation by the ruler
of France!

On the 23d of July an armistice was agreed on, and a conference was held at
Nikolsburg to arrange the preliminaries of peace. There was no delay. In olden days
Bismarck had shewn how he was able to prolong negotiations year after year when it
was convenient to him that they should come to no conclusion; now he hurried through
in three days the discussion by which the whole future of Germany and Europe were to
be determined. When all were agreed on the main points, difficulties on details were
easily overcome. It remained only to procure the assent of the King. Here again, as
so often before, Bismarck met with most serious resistance. He drew up a careful
memorandum which he presented to the monarch, pressing on him in the very strongest
terms the acceptance of these conditions, Up to the last moment, however, there seems
to have been a great reluctance; Sybel represents the difficulties as rising from the
immoderate demands of the military party at Court; they were not prepared, after so
great a victory, to leave Austria with undiminished territory; they wished at least
to have part of Austrian Silesia. This account seems misleading. It was not that the
King wanted more than Bismarck had desired; he wanted his acquisition of territory to
come in a different way. He was not reconciled to the dethronement of the King of
Hanover; he wished to take part of Hanover, part of Saxony, part of Bavaria, and
something from Darmstadt; to his simple and honest mind it seemed unjust that those
who had been his bitterest enemies should be treated with the greatest consideration.
It was the old difficulty which Bismarck had met with in dealing with
Schleswig-Holstein: the King had much regard for the rights of other Princes. This
time, however, Bismarck, we are surprised to learn, had the influential support of
the Crown Prince; the scruples which he had felt as regards Schleswig-Holstein did
not apply to Hanover. He was sent in to his father; the interview lasted two hours;
what passed we do not know; he came out exhausted and wearied with the long struggle,
but the King had given in, and the policy of Bismarck triumphed. The preliminaries of
Nikolsburg were signed, and two days afterwards were ratified, for Bismarck pressed
on the arrangements with feverish impetuosity.

He had good reason to do so; he had just received intelligence that the Emperor of
Russia was making an official demand for a congress and fresh news had come from
France. On the 25th Benedetti had again come to him and had sounded him with regard
to the recompense which France might receive. On the 26th, just as Bismarck was going
to the final sitting of the Conference, the French Ambassador again called on him,
this time to lay before him a despatch in which Drouyn de Lhuys stated that he had
not wished to impede the negotiations with Austria, but would now observe that the
French sanction to the Prussian annexations presupposed a fair indemnification to
France, and that the Emperor would confer with Prussia concerning this as soon as his
rôle of mediator was at an end. What madness this was! As soon as the
rôle of mediator was at an end, as soon as peace was arranged with Austria, the
one means which France had for compelling the acquiescence of Prussia was lost.

What had happened was this: Napoleon had, in conversation with Goltz, refused to
consider the question of compensation: it was not worth while, he said; the gain of a
few square miles of territory would not be of any use. He therefore, when he still
might have procured them, made no conditions. Drouyn de Lhuys, however, who had
disapproved of the whole of the Emperor’s policy, still remained in office; he still
wished, as he well might wish, to strengthen France in view of the great increase of
Prussian power. He, therefore, on the 21st again approached Napoleon and laid before
him a despatch in which he brought up the question of compensation. He was encouraged
to this course by the reports which Benedetti had sent of his conversations with
Bismarck; it was clear that Bismarck expected some demand; he had almost asked that
it should be made. “We wish to avoid any injury to the balance of power,” Goltz had
said; “we will either moderate our demands or discuss those of France.” It appeared
absurd not to accept this offer. Napoleon was still reluctant to do so, but he was in
a paroxysm of pain. “Leave me in peace,” was his only answer to his Minister’s
request, and the Minister took it as an assent.

Bismarck, when Benedetti informed him of the demand that was to be made, at once
answered that he was quite ready to consider the proposal. Benedetti then suggested
that it would probably concern certain strips of territory on the left bank of the
Rhine; on this, Bismarck stopped him: “Do not make any official announcements of that
kind to me to-day.” He went away, the Conference was concluded, the preliminaries
were signed and ratified. France had been too late, and when the demand was renewed
Bismarck was able to adopt a very different tone.

Let us complete the history of these celebrated negotiations.

The discussion which had been broken off so suddenly at Nikolsburg was continued
at Berlin; during the interval the matter had been further discussed in Paris, and it
had been determined firmly to demand compensation. Benedetti had warned the
Government that Bismarck would not surrender any German territory; it was no good
even asking for this, unless the demand was supported by urgent and threatening
language. The result of the considerations was that he was instructed categorically
to require the surrender to France of the Palatinate and Mayence. Benedetti undertook
the task with some reluctance; in order to avoid being present at the explosion of
anger which he might expect, he addressed the demand to Bismarck on August 5th, by
letter. Two days he waited for an answer, but received none; on the evening of the
7th, he himself called on the Count, and a long discussion took place. Bismarck
adopted a tone of indignation: “The whole affair makes us doubt Napoleon and
threatens to destroy our confidence.” The pith of it was contained in the last words:
“Do you ask this from us under threat of war?” said Bismarck. “Yes,” said Benedetti.
“Then it will be war.” Benedetti asked to have an interview with the King; it was
granted, and he received the same answer. This was the result he had anticipated, and
the next evening he returned to Paris to consider with the Government what was to be
done. Bismarck meanwhile had taken care that some information as to these secret
negotiations should become known; with characteristic cleverness he caused it to be
published in a French paper, Le Siècle, that France had asked for the
Rhine country and been refused. Of course, the German Press took up the matter; with
patriotic fervour they supported the King and Minister. Napoleon found himself
confronted by the danger of a union of all Germany in opposition to French
usurpation, and his own diplomatic defeat had become known in a most inconvenient
form; he at once travelled to Paris, consulted Benedetti, returned to his former
policy, and asked that the demand of August 5th might be forgotten; it was withdrawn,
and things were to be as if it had never been made.

Were they, however, still to give up all hope of some increase of French
territory? The demand for German soil had been refused; it was not at all clear that
Bismarck would not support the acquisition of at least part of Belgium. In
conversation with Benedetti, on August 7th, he had said: “Perhaps we will find other
means of satisfying you.” Goltz was still very sympathetic; he regarded the French
desire as quite legitimate in principle. It was determined, therefore, now to act on
these hints and suggestions which had been repeated so often during the last twelve
months; Benedetti was instructed to return with a draft treaty; the French demands
were put in three forms; first of all he was to ask for the Saar Valley, Landau,
Luxemburg, and Belgium; if this was too much, he was to be content with Belgium and
Luxemburg, and if it seemed desirable he should offer that Antwerp be made a free
city; by this perhaps the extreme hostility of England would be averted. With this
demand, on August 20th, he again appeared before Bismarck. Of course, the Minister,
as soon as Saarbrück and Landau were mentioned, drew himself up to his full
height, adopted an angry air, and reminded Benedetti of his repeated declaration that
they were not going to give up a single German village. Benedetti, therefore, in
accordance with his instructions, withdrew this clause. The rest of the treaty he and
Bismarck discussed together carefully; they took it line by line and clause by
clause, Bismarck dealing with the matter in a serious and practical manner. After
this had been finished a revised draft was written out by Benedetti, Bismarck
dictating to him the alterations which had been made. This revised draft consisted of
five articles: (1) The Emperor recognised the recent acquisitions of Prussia; (2) the
King of Prussia should bind himself to assist France in acquiring Luxemburg from the
King of Holland by purchase or exchange; (3) the Emperor bound himself not to oppose
a union of the North German Federation with the South German States and the
establishment of a common Parliament; (4) if the Emperor at any time wished to
acquire Belgium, the King of Prussia was to support him and give him military
assistance against the interference of any other Power; (5) a general treaty of
alliance.

It will be seen that this treaty consists of two parts. The first refers to what
has already taken place,—the Emperor of the French in return for past
assistance is to have Luxemburg; this part would naturally come into operation
immediately. The next two clauses referred to the future; the union of all Germany
would in the natural course of events not be long delayed; this would seriously alter
the balance of power and weaken France. Napoleon would naturally in the future use
all his efforts to prevent it, as he had done during this year, and by an alliance
with Austria he would probably be able to do so. He would, however, withdraw his
opposition if he was allowed to gain a similar increase of territory for France.
After all, the acquisition of at least part of Belgium by France might be justified
by the same arguments by which the dethronement of the King of Hanover was defended.
Many of the Belgians were French; there was no natural division between Belgium and
France; probably the people would offer no opposition.

Bismarck had to remember that he could not complete the union of Germany without
considering Napoleon; there were only two ways of doing the work, (1) by war with
France, (2) by an alliance. Need we be surprised that he at least considered whether
the latter would not be the safer, the cheaper, and the more humane? Was it not
better to complete the work by the sacrifice of Belgian independence rather than by
the loss of 300,000 lives?

Benedetti sent the revised draft to Paris; it was submitted to the Emperor,
accepted in principle, and returned with some small alterations and suggestions.
Benedetti sent in the revision to Bismarck and said he would be ready at any time to
meet the Minister and finish the negotiations. He himself left Berlin for Carlsbad
and there awaited the summons. It never came. Week after week went by, Bismarck
retired to his Pomeranian estate; he did not return to Berlin till December and he
never renewed the negotiations. The revised draft in Benedetti’s handwriting was in
his hands; four years later, when war had been declared against France, he published
it in order to destroy whatever sympathy for Napoleon there might be in England.

Bismarck did not continue the negotiations, for he had found a better way. Till
August 23d his relations to Austria were still doubtful; he always had to fear that
there was some secret understanding between France and Austria, that a coalition of
the two States had been completed, and that Prussia might suddenly find herself
attacked on both sides. He had, therefore, not wished to offend France. Moreover his
relations to Russia were not quite satisfactory. The Czar took a very serious view of
the annexations in North Germany: “I do not like it,” he said; “I do not like this
dethronement of dynasties.” It was necessary to send General Manteuffel on a special
mission to St. Petersburg; the Czar did not alter his opinion, but Bismarck found it
possible at least to quiet him. We do not know all that passed, but he seems to have
used a threat and a promise. If the Czar attempted to interfere in Germany, Bismarck
hinted, as he had already done, that he might have to put himself at the head of the
Revolution, and proclaim the Constitution of 1849; then what would happen to the
monarchical principles? He even suggested that a Revolution which began in Germany
might spread to Poland. The Czar explained that he was discontented with many clauses
in the Treaty of Paris. There was an understanding, if there was no formal compact,
that Prussia would lend her support, when the time came for the Czar to declare that
he was no longer willing to observe this treaty.

By the end of August Bismarck had therefore removed the chief dangers which
threatened him. Russia was quieted, France was expectant, Austria was pacified. He
had, however, done more than this: he had already laid the foundation for the union
of the whole of Germany which Napoleon thought he had prevented.

The four southern States had joined in the war against Prussia. In a brilliant and
interesting campaign a small Prussian army had defeated the Federal forces and
occupied the whole of South Germany. The conquest of Germany by Prussia was complete.
These States had applied at Nikolsburg to be allowed to join in the negotiations. The
request was refused, and Bismarck at this time treated them with a deliberate and
obtrusive brutality. Baron von der Pfortden, the Bavarian Minister, had himself
travelled to Nikolsburg to ask for peace. He was greeted by Bismarck with the words:
“What are you doing here? You have no safe-conduct. I should be justified in treating
you as a prisoner of war.” He had to return without achieving anything. Frankfort had
been occupied by the Prussian army; the citizens were required to pay a war indemnity
of a million pounds; Manteuffel, who was in command, threatened to plunder the town,
and the full force of Prussian displeasure was felt by the city where Bismarck had
passed so many years. It was arranged with Austria and France that the southern
States should participate in the suspension of hostilities; that they should preserve
their independence and should be allowed to enter into any kind of Federal alliance
with one another. The result of this would have been that South Germany would be a
weak, disunited confederation, which would be under the control partly of France and
partly of Austria. This would have meant the perpetuation in its worst form of French
influence over South Germany. When this clause was agreed on, the terms of peace
between these States and Prussia had not yet been arranged. The King of Prussia
wished that they should surrender to him some parts of their territory. Bismarck,
however, opposed this. He was guided by the same principles which had influenced him
all along. Some States should be entirely absorbed in Prussia, the others treated so
leniently that the events of this year should leave no feeling of hostility. If
Bavaria had to surrender Bayreuth and Anspach, he knew that the Bavarians would
naturally take part in the first coalition against Prussia. With much trouble he
persuaded the King to adopt this point of view. The wisdom of it was soon shewn. At
the beginning of August he still maintained a very imperious attitude, and talked to
the Bavarians of large annexations. Pfortden in despair had cried, “Do not drive us
too far; we shall have to go for help to France.” Then was Bismarck’s turn. He told
the Bavarian Minister of Napoleon’s suggestion, shewed him that it was Prussia alone
who had prevented Napoleon from annexing a large part of Bavaria, and then appealed
to him through his German patriotism: Would not Bavaria join Prussia in an alliance?
Pfortden was much moved, the Count and the Baron embraced one another, and by the end
of August Bismarck had arranged with all the four southern States a secret offensive
and defensive alliance. By this they bound themselves to support Prussia if she was
attacked. Prussia guaranteed to them their territory; in case of war they would put
their army under the command of the King of Prussia. He was now sure, therefore, of
an alliance of all Germany against France. He no longer required French assistance.
The unity of Germany, when it was made, would be achieved by the unaided forces of
the united German States. The draft treaty with Napoleon might now be put aside.

These negotiations mark indeed a most important change in Bismarck’s own attitude.
Hitherto he had thought and acted as a Prussian; he had deliberately refused on all
occasions to support or adopt the German programme. He had done this because he did
not wish Germany to be made strong until the ascendancy of Prussia was secured. The
battle of Königgrätz had done that; North Germany was now Prussian; the
time had come when he could begin to think and act as a German, for the power of
Prussia was founded on a rock of bronze.

This change was not the only one which dates from the great victory. The
constitutional conflict had still to be settled. The Parliament had been dissolved
just before the war; the new elections had taken place on the 3d of July, after the
news of the first victory was known. The result was shewn in a great gain of seats to
the Government and to the Moderate Liberal party. The great question, however, was,
How would Bismarck use his victory over the House? for a victory it was. It was the
cannon of Königgrätz which decided the Parliamentary conflict. The House
had refused the money to reorganise the army, and it was this reorganised army which
had achieved so unexampled a triumph. Would the Government now press their victory
and use the enthusiasm of the moment permanently to cripple the Constitution? This is
what the Conservative party, what Roon and the army wished to do. It was not
Bismarck’s intention. He required the support of the patriotic Liberals for the work
he had to do; he proposed, therefore, that the Government should come before the
House and ask for an indemnity. They did not confess that they had acted wrongly,
they did not express regret, but they recognised that in spending the money without a
vote of the House there had been an offence against the Constitution; this could now
only be made good if a Bill was brought in approving of what had happened. He carried
his opinion, not without difficulty; the Bill of indemnity was introduced and passed.
He immediately had his reward. The Liberal party, which had hitherto opposed him,
broke into two portions. The extreme Radicals and Progressives still continued their
opposition; the majority of the party formed themselves into a new organisation, to
which they gave the name of National Liberals. They pledged themselves to support the
National and German policy of the Government, while they undertook, so far as they
were able, to maintain and strengthen the constitutional rights of Parliament. By
this Bismarck had a Parliamentary majority, and he more and more depended upon them
rather than his old friends, the Conservatives. He required their support because
henceforward he would have to deal not with one Parliament, but two. The North German
Confederation was to have its Parliament elected by universal suffrage. Bismarck
foresaw that the principles he had upheld in the past could not be applied in the
same form to the whole of the Confederation. The Prussian Conservative party was
purely Prussian, it was Particularist; had he continued to depend upon it, then all
the members sent to the new Reichstag, not only from Saxony, but also from the
annexed States, would have been thrown into opposition; the Liberal party had always
been not Prussian but German; now that he had to govern so large a portion of
Germany, that which had in the past been the great cause of difference would be the
strongest bond of union. The National Liberal party was alone able to join him in the
work of creating enthusiasm for the new institutions and new loyalty. How often had
he in the old days complained of the Liberals that they thought not as Prussians,
that they were ashamed of Prussia, that they were not really loyal to Prussia. Now he
knew that just for this reason they would be most loyal to the North German
Confederation.

Bismarck’s moderation in the hour of victory must not obscure the importance of
his triumph.

BISMARCK AND HIS
DOGS

The question had been tried which should rule—the Crown or the Parliament;
the Crown had won not only a physical but a moral victory. Bismarck had maintained
that the House of Representatives could not govern Prussia; the foreign affairs of
the State, he had always said, must be carried on by a Minister who was responsible,
not to the House, but to the King. No one could doubt that had the House been able to
control him he would not have won these great successes. From that time the
confidence of the German people in Parliamentary government was broken. Moreover, it
was the first time in the history of Europe in which one of these struggles had
conclusively ended in the defeat of Parliament. The result of it was to be shewn in
the history of every country in Europe during the next thirty years. It is the most
serious blow which the principle of representative government has yet received.

By the end of August most of the labour was completed; there remained only the
arrangement of peace with Saxony; this he left to his subordinates and retired to
Pomerania for the long period of rest which he so much required.

During his absence a motion was brought before Parliament for conferring a
donation on the victorious generals. At the instance of one of his most consistent
opponents Bismarck’s name was included in the list on account of his great services
to his country; a protest was raised by Virchow on the ground that no Minister while
in office should receive a present, and that of all men Bismarck least deserved one,
but scarcely fifty members could be found to oppose the vote. The donation of 40,000
thalers he used in purchasing the estate of Varzin, in Pomerania which was to be his
home for the next twenty years.

CHAPTER XII.

We have hitherto seen Bismarck in the character of party leader, Parliamentary
debater, a keen and accomplished diplomatist; now he comes before us in a new
rôle, that of creative statesman; he adopts it with the same ease and complete
mastery with which he had borne himself in the earlier stages of his career. The
Constitution of the North German Confederation was his work, and it shews the same
intellectual resource, the originality, and practical sense which mark all he
did.

By a treaty of August 18, 1866, all the North German States which had survived
entered into a treaty with one another and with Prussia; they mutually guaranteed
each other’s possessions, engaged to place their forces under the command of the King
of Prussia, and promised to enter into a new federation; for this purpose they were
to send envoys to Berlin who should agree on a Constitution, and they were to allow
elections to take place by universal suffrage for a North German Parliament before
which was to be laid the draft Constitution agreed upon by the envoys of the States.
These treaties did not actually create the new federation; they only bound the
separate States to enter into negotiations, and, as they expired on August 30, 1867,
it was necessary that the new Constitution should be completed and ratified by that
date. The time was short, for in it had to be compressed both the negotiations
between the States and the debates in the assembly; but all past experience had shewn
that the shorter the time allowed for making a Constitution the more probable was it
that the work would be completed. Bismarck did not intend to allow the precious
months, when enthusiasm was still high and new party factions had not seized hold of
men’s minds, to be lost.

He had spent the autumn in Pomerania and did not return to Berlin till the 21st of
December; not a week remained before the representatives of the North German States
would assemble in the capital of Prussia. To the astonishment and almost dismay of
his friends, he had taken no steps for preparing a draft. As soon as he arrived two
drafts were laid before him; he put them aside and the next day dictated the outlines
of the new Constitution.

This document has not been published, but it was the basis of the discussion with
the envoys; Bismarck allowed no prolonged debates; they were kept for some weeks in
Berlin, but only three formal meetings took place. They made suggestions and
criticisms, some of which were accepted, but they were of course obliged to assent to
everything on which Bismarck insisted. The scheme as finally agreed upon by the
conference was then laid before the assembly which met in Berlin on February
24th.

A full analysis of this Constitution, for which we have no space here, would be
very instructive; it must not be compared with those elaborate constitutions drawn up
by political theorists of which so many have been introduced during this century.
Bismarck’s work was like that of Augustus; he found most of the institutions of
government to his hand, but they were badly co-ordinated; what he had to do was to
bring them into better relations with each other, and to add to them where necessary.
Many men would have swept away everything which existed, made a clear field, and
begun to build up a new State from the foundations. Bismarck was much too wise to
attempt this, for he knew that the foundations of political life cannot be securely
laid by one man or in one generation. He built on the foundations which others had
laid, and for this reason it is probable that his work will be as permanent as that
of the founder of the Roman Empire.

We find in the new State old and new mixed together in an inseparable union, and
we find a complete indifference to theory or symmetry; each point is decided purely
by reference to the political situation at the moment. Take, for instance, the
question of diplomatic representation; Bismarck wished to give the real power to the
King of Prussia, but at the same time to preserve the external dignity and respect
due to the Allied Princes. He arranged that the King of Prussia as President of the
Confederation appointed envoys and ambassadors to foreign States; from this time
there ceased to be a Prussian diplomatic service, and, in this matter, Prussia is
entirely absorbed in Germany. It would have been only natural that the smaller Allied
States should also surrender their right to enter into direct diplomatic relations
with foreign Powers. This Bismarck did not require. Saxony, for instance, continued
to have its own envoys; England and France, as in the old days, kept a Minister in
Dresden. Bismarck was much criticised for this, but he knew that nothing would so
much reconcile the King of Saxony to his new position, and it was indeed no small
thing that the Princes thus preserved in a formal way a right which shewed to all the
world that they were not subjects but sovereign allies. When it was represented to
Bismarck that this right might be the source of intrigues with foreign States, he
answered characteristically that if Saxony wished to intrigue nothing could prevent
her doing so; it was not necessary to have a formal embassy for this purpose. His
confidence was absolutely justified. A few months later Napoleon sent to the King of
Saxony a special invitation to a European congress; the King at once sent on the
invitation to Berlin and let it be known that he did not wish to be represented apart
from the North German Confederation. The same leniency was shewn in 1870. Nothing is
a better proof of Bismarck’s immense superiority both in practical wisdom and in
judgment of character. The Liberal Press in Germany had never ceased to revile the
German dynasties; Bismarck knew that their apparent disloyalty to Germany arose not
from their wishes but was a necessary result of the faults of the old Constitution.
He made their interests coincide with the interests of Germany, and from this time
they have been the most loyal supporters, first of the Confederation, and afterwards
of the Empire. This he was himself the first to acknowledge; both before and after
the foundation of the Empire he has on many occasions expressed his sense of the
great services rendered to Germany by the dynasties. “They,” he said once, “were the
true guardians of German unity, not the Reichstag and its parties.”

The most important provisions of the Constitution were those by which the military
supremacy of Prussia was secured; in this chapter every detail is arranged and
provided for; the armies of all the various States were henceforth to form one army,
under the command of the King of Prussia, with common organisation and similar
uniform in every State; in every State the Prussian military system was to be
introduced, and all the details of Prussian military law.

Now let us compare with this the navy: the army represented the old Germany, the
navy the new; the army was arranged and organised as Prussian, Saxon, Mecklenburg;
the navy, on the other hand, was German and organised by the new Federal officials.
There was a Federal Minister of Marine, but no Federal Minister of War; the army
continued the living sign of Prussian supremacy among a group of sovereign States,
the navy was the first fruit of the united German institutions which were to be built
up by the united efforts of the whole people—a curious resemblance to the
manner in which Augustus also added an Imperial navy to the older Republican
army.

The very form in which the Constitution was presented is characteristic; in the
Parliamentary debates men complained that there was no preamble, no introduction, no
explanation. Bismarck answered that this was omitted for two reasons: first, there
had not been time to draw it up, and secondly, it would be far more difficult to
agree on the principles which the Constitution was to represent than on the details
themselves. There is no attempt at laying down general principles, no definitions,
and no enumeration of fundamental rights; all these rocks, on which so often in
Germany, as in France, precious months had been wasted, were entirely omitted.

And now let us turn to that which after the organisation of the army was of most
importance,—the arrangement of the administration and legislation. Here it is
that we see the greatest originality. German writers have often explained that it is
impossible to classify the new State in any known category, and in following their
attempts to find the technical definition for the authority on which it rests, one is
led almost to doubt whether it really exists at all.

There are two agents of government, the Federal Council, or Bundesrath, and
the Parliament, or Reichstag. Here again we see the blending of the old and
new, for while the Parliament was now created for the first time, the Council was
really nothing but the old Federal Diet. Even the old system of voting was retained;
not that this was better than any other system, but, as Bismarck explained, it was
easier to preserve the old than to agree on a new. Any system must have been purely
arbitrary, for had each State received a number of votes proportionate to its
population even the appearance of a federation would have been lost, and Bismarck was
very anxious not to establish an absolute unity under Prussia.

It will be asked, Why was Bismarck now so careful in his treatment of the smaller
States? The answer will be found in words which he had written many years ago:

“I do not wish to see Germany substituted for Prussia on our banner until we
have brought about a closer and more practical union with our
fellow-countrymen.”

Now the time had come, and now he was to be the first and most patriotic of
Germans as in old days he had been the strictest of Prussians. Do not let us in
welcoming the change condemn his earlier policy. It was only his loyalty to Prussia
which had made Germany possible; for it is indeed true that he could never have ruled
Germany had he not first conquered it. The real and indisputable supremacy of Prussia
was still preserved; and Prussia was now so strong that she could afford to be
generous. It was wise to be generous, for the work was only half completed; the
southern States were still outside the union; he wished to bring them into the fold,
but to do so not by force of arms but of their own free will; and they certainly
would be more easily attracted if they saw that the North German States were treated
with good faith and kindness.

Side by side with the Council we have the Reichstag; this was, in accordance with
the proposal made in the spring of 1866, to be elected by universal suffrage. And now
we see that this proposal, which a few months ago had appeared merely as a despairing
bid for popularity by a statesman who had sacrificed every other means of securing
his policy, had become a device convincing in its simplicity; at once all possibility
of discussion or opposition was prevented; not indeed that there were not many
warning voices raised, but as Bismarck, in defending this measure, asked,—what
was the alternative? Any other system would have been purely arbitrary, and any
arbitrary system would at once have opened the gate to a prolonged discussion and
political struggle on questions of the franchise. In a modern European State, when
all men can read and write, and all men must serve in the army, there is no means of
limiting the franchise in a way which will command universal consent. In Germany
there was not any old historical practice to which men could appeal or which could
naturally be applied to the new Parliament; universal suffrage at least gave
something clear, comprehensible, final. Men more easily believed in the permanence of
the new State when every German received for the first time the full privilege of
citizenship. We must notice, however, that Bismarck had always intended that voting
should be open; the Parliament in revising the Constitution introduced the ballot. He
gave his consent with much reluctance; voting seemed to him to be a public duty, and
to perform it in secret was to undermine the roots of political life. He was a man
who was constitutionally unable to understand fear. We have then the Council and the
Parliament, and we must now enquire as to their duties. In nearly every modern State
the popular representative assembly holds the real power; before it, everything else
is humbled; the chief occupation of lawgivers is to find some ingenious device by
which it may at least be controlled and moderated in the exercise of its power. It
was not likely that Bismarck would allow Germany to be governed by a democratic
assembly; he was not satisfied with creating an artificial Upper House which might,
perhaps, be able for one year or two to check the extravagances of a popular House,
or with allowing to the King a veto which could only be exercised with fear and
trembling. Generally the Lower House is the predominant partner; it governs; the
Upper House can only amend, criticise, moderate. Bismarck completely reversed the
situation: the true government, the full authority in the State was given to the
Council; the Parliament had to content itself with a limited opportunity for
criticism, with the power to amend or veto Bills, and to refuse its assent to new
taxes. In England the government rests in the House of Commons; in Germany it is in
the Federal Council, and for the same reason—that the Council has both
executive and legislative power. Constitutions have generally been made by men whose
chief object was to weaken the power of the Government, who believed that those
rulers do least harm who have least power, with whom suspicion is the first of
political virtues, and who would condemn to permanent inefficiency the institutions
they have invented. It was not likely Bismarck would do this. The ordinary device is
to separate the legislative and executive power; to set up two rival and equal
authorities which may check and neutralise each other. Bismarck, deserting all the
principles of the books, united all the powers of government in the Council. The
whole administration was subjected to it; all laws were introduced in it. The debates
were secret; it was an assembly of the ablest statesmen in Germany; the decisions at
which it arrived were laid in their complete form before the Reichstag. It was a
substitute for a Second Chamber, but it was also a Council of State; it united the
duties of the Privy Council and the House of Lords; it reminds us in its composition
of the American Senate, but it would be a Senate in which the President of the
Republic presided.

Bismarck never ceased to maintain the importance of the Federal Council; he always
looked on it as the key to the whole new Constitution. Shortly after the war with
France, when the Liberals made an attempt to overthrow its authority, he warned them
not to do so.

“I believe,” he said, “that the Federal Council has a great future. Great as
Prussia is, we have been able to learn much from the small, even from the smallest
member of it; they on their side have learnt much from us. From my own experience I
can say that I have made considerable advance in my political education by taking
part in the sittings of the Council and by the life which comes from the friction
of five and twenty German centres with one another. I beg you do not interfere with
the Council. I consider it a kind of Palladium for our future, a great guarantee
for the future of Germany in its present form.”

Now, from the peculiar character of the Council arose a very noticeable omission;
just as there was no Upper House (though the Prussian Conservatives strongly desired
to see one), so, also, there was no Federal Ministry. In every modern State there is
a Council formed of the heads of different administrative departments; this was so
universal that it was supposed to be essential to a constitution. In the German
Empire we search for it in vain; there is only one responsible Minister, and he is
the Chancellor, the representative of Prussia and Chairman of the Council. The
Liberals could not reconcile themselves to this strange device; they passed it with
reluctance in the stress of the moment, but they have never ceased to protest against
it. Again and again, both in public and in private, we hear the same demand: till we
have a responsible Ministry the Constitution will never work. Two years later a
motion was introduced and passed through the Reichstag demanding the formation of a
Federal Ministry; Bismarck opposed the motion and refused to carry it out.

He had several reasons for omitting what was apparently almost a necessary
institution. The first was respect for the rights of the Federal States. If a
Ministry, responsible to Parliament, had existed, the executive power would have been
taken away from the Bundesrath, and the Princes of the smaller States would really
have been subjected to the new organ; the Ministers must have been appointed by the
President; they would have looked to him and to the Reichstag for support, and would
soon have begun to carry out their policy, not by agreement with the Governments
arrived at by technical discussions across the table of the Council-room, but by
orders and decrees based on the will of the Parliament. This would inevitably have
aroused just what Bismarck wished to avoid. It would have produced a struggle between
the central and local authorities; it would again have thrown the smaller Governments
into opposition to national unity; it would have frightened the southern States.

His other reasons for opposing the introduction of a Ministry were that he did not
wish to give more power to the Parliament, and above all he disliked the system of
collegiate responsibility.

“You wish,” he said, “to make the Government responsible, and do it by
introducing a board. I say the responsibility will disappear as soon as you do so;
responsibility is only there when there is a single man who can be brought to task
for any mistakes…. I consider that in and for itself a Constitution which
introduces joint ministerial responsibility is a political blunder from which every
State ought to free itself as soon as it can. Anyone who has ever been a Minister
and at the head of a Ministry, and has been obliged to take resolutions upon his
own responsibility, ceases at last to fear this responsibility, but he does shrink
from the necessity of convincing seven people that that which he wishes is really
right. That is a very different work from governing a State.”

These reasons are very characteristic of him; the feeling became more confirmed as
he grew older. In 1875 he says:

“Under no circumstances could I any longer submit to the thankless
rôle of Minister-President of Prussia in a Ministry with joint
responsibility, if I were not accustomed, from my old affection, to submit to the
wishes of my King and Master. So thankless, so powerless, and so little responsible
is that position; one can only be responsible for that which one does of one’s own
will; a board is responsible for nothing.”

He always said himself that he would be satisfied with the position of an English
Prime Minister. He was thinking, of course, of the constitutional right which the
Prime Minister has, to appoint and dismiss his colleagues, which if he has strength
of character will, of course, give him the real control of affairs, and also of the
right which he enjoys of being the sole means by which the views of the Ministers are
represented to the sovereign. In Prussia the Minister-President had not acquired by
habit these privileges, and the power of the different Ministers was much more equal.
In the new Federation he intended to have a single will directing the whole
machine.

The matter is of some interest because of the light it throws on one side of his
character. He was not a man with whom others found it easy to work; he did not easily
brook opposition, and he disliked having to explain and justify his policy to anyone
besides the King. He was not able to keep a single one of his colleagues throughout
his official career. Even Roon found it often difficult to continue working with him;
he complained of the Hermit of Varzin, “who wishes to do everything himself, and
nevertheless issues the strictest prohibition that he is never to be disturbed.” What
suited him best was the position of almost absolute ruler, and he looked on his
colleagues rather as subordinates than as equals.

But, it will be objected, if there was to be a single will governing the whole,
the government could not be left to the Council; a board comprising the
representatives of twenty States could not really administer, and in truth the
Council was but the veil; behind it is the all-pervading power of the King of
Prussia—and his Minister. The ruler of Germany was the Chancellor of the
Federation; it was he alone that united and inspired the whole. Let us enumerate his
duties. He was sole Minister to the President of the Confederation (after 1870 to the
Emperor). The President (who was King of Prussia) could declare peace and war, sign
treaties, and appointed all officials, but all his acts required the signature of the
Chancellor, who was thereby Foreign Minister of the Confederation and had the whole
of the patronage. More than this, he was at the head of the whole internal
administration; from time to time different departments of State were
created,—marine, post-office, finance,—but the men who stood at the head
of each department were not co-ordinate with the Chancellor; they were not his
colleagues, but were subordinates to whom he delegated the work. They were not
immediately responsible to the Emperor, Council, or Reichstag, but to him; he,
whenever he wished, could undertake the immediate control of each department, he
could defend its actions, and was technically responsible to the Council for any
failure. Of course, as a matter of fact, the different departments generally were
left to work alone, but if at any time it seemed desirable, the Chancellor could
always interfere and issue orders which must be obeyed; if the head of the department
did not agree, then he had nothing to do but resign, and the Chancellor would appoint
his successor.

The Chancellor was, then, the working head of the Government; but it will be said
that his power would be so limited by the interference of the Emperor, the Council,
the Parliament, that he would have no freedom. The contrary is the truth. There were
five different sources of authority with which he had to deal: the President of the
Federation (the Emperor), who was King of Prussia, the Council, the Prussian
Parliament, the German Parliament, and the Prussian Ministry. Now in the Council he
presided, and also represented the will of Prussia, which was almost irresistible,
for if the Constitution was to work well there must be harmony of intention between
Prussia and the Federal Government; here therefore he could generally carry out his
policy: but in the Prussian Ministry he spoke as sole Minister of the Federation and
the immense authority he thus enjoyed raised him at once to a position of superiority
to all his colleagues. More than this, he was now free from the danger of
Parliamentary control; it was easier to deal with one Parliament than two; they had
no locus standi for constitutional opposition to his policy. The double
position he held enabled him to elude all control. Policy was decided in the Council;
when he voted there he acted as representative of the King of Prussia and was bound
by the instructions he received from the Prussian Minister of Foreign Affairs; the
Reichstag had nothing to do with Prussian policy and had no right to criticise the
action of the Prussian Minister. It did not matter that Bismarck himself was not only
Chancellor of the Diet, but also Minister-President of Prussia and Foreign Minister,
and was really acting in accordance with the instructions he had given to himself^[8]; the
principle remained,—each envoy to the Diet was responsible, not to the
Reichstag, but to the Government he represented. When, however, he appeared in the
Reichstag to explain and defend the policy adopted by the Council, then he stood
before them as representative not necessarily of his own policy, but of that which
had been decided on by a board in which he had possibly been outvoted. The Reichstag
could reject the proposal if it were a law or a tax; they could criticise and debate,
but there was no ground on which they could constitutionally demand the dismissal of
the Minister.

Of course Bismarck did not attempt to evade the full moral responsibility for the
policy which he advocated, but he knew that so long as he had the confidence of the
King of Prussia and the majority of the Allied States, all the power of Parliament
could not injure him.

What probably not even he foresaw was that the new Constitution so greatly added
to the power of the Minister that even the authority of the King began to pale before
it. As before, there was only one department of State where his authority
ceased,—the army.

It will be easily understood that this Constitution, when it was laid before the
assembly, was not accepted without much discussion and many objections. There were
some—the representatives of conquered districts, Poles, Hanoverians, and the
deputies from Schleswig-Holstein—who wished to overthrow the new Federation
which was built up on the destruction of the States to which they had belonged.
Theirs was an enmity which was open, honourable, and easy to meet. More insidious and
dangerous was the criticism of those men who, while they professed to desire the ends
which Bismarck had attained, refused to approve of the Constitution because they
would have to renounce some of the principles of the parties to which they
belonged.

There were some to whom it seemed that he gave too much freedom to the individual
States; they wished for a more complete unity, but now Bismarck, for the first time,
was strong enough to shew the essential moderation of his character; he knew what the
Liberals were ready to forget, that moderation, while foolish in the moment of
conflict, is the proper adornment of the conqueror. When they asked him to take away
many of the privileges reserved to the smaller States, he reminded them that, though
Mecklenburg and the Saxon duchies were helpless before the increased power of the
Prussian Crown, they were protected by Prussian promises, and that a King of Prussia,
though he might strike down his enemies, must always fulfil in spirit and in letter
his obligations to his friends. The basis of the new alliance must be the mutual
confidence of the allies; he had taught them to fear Prussia, now they must learn to
trust her.

The Prussian Conservatives feared that the power of the Prussian King and the
independence of the Prussian State would be affected; but Bismarck’s influence with
them was sufficient to prevent any open opposition. More dangerous were the
Progressives, who apprehended that the new Constitution would limit the influence of
the Prussian Parliament. On many points they refused to accept the proposals of the
Government; they feared for liberty. For them Bismarck had no sympathy and no words
but contempt, and he put curtly before them the question, did they wish to sacrifice
all he had attained to their principles of Parliamentary government? They demanded,
for instance, that, as the Constitution of Prussia could not be altered without the
consent of the Prussian Parliament, the new Federal Constitution must be laid before
the Prussian Parliament for discussion and ratification. It is curious to notice that
this is exactly the same claim which Bismarck in 1852 had supported as against
Radowitz; he had, however, learned much since then; he pointed out that the same
claim which was made by the Prussian Parliament might be made by the Parliament of
each of the twenty-two States. It was now his duty to defend the unification of
Germany against this new Particularism; in old days Particularism found its
support in the dynasties, “now it is,” he said, “in the Parliaments.”

“Do you really believe,” he said, “that the great movement which last year
led the peoples to battle from the Belt to the Sicilian Sea, from the Rhine to the
Pruth and the Dniester, in the throw of the iron dice when we played for the crowns
of kings and emperors, that the millions of German warriors who fought against one
another and bled on the battle-fields from the Rhine to the Carpathians, that the
thousands and ten thousands who were left dead on the battle-field and struck down
by pestilence, who by their death have sealed the national decision,–that all this
can be pigeon-holed by a resolution of Parliament? Gentlemen, in this case you
really do not stand on the height of the situation…. I should like to see the
gentlemen who consider this possibility answer an invalid from Königgrätz
when he asks for the result of this mighty effort. You would say to him: ‘Yes,
indeed, for the German unity nothing is achieved, the occasion for that will
probably come, that we can have easily, we can come to an understanding any day,
but we have saved the Budget-right of the Chamber of Deputies, we have saved the
right of the Prussian Parliament every year to put the existence of the Prussian
army in question,’ … and therewith the invalid must console himself for the loss
of his limbs and the widow as she buries her husband.”

It is interesting to compare this speech with the similar speech he made after
Olmütz: how great is the similarity in thought and expression, how changed is
the position of the speaker! He had no sympathy with these doubts and hesitations;
why so much distrust of one another? His Constitution might not be the best, it might
not be perfect, but at least let it be completed. “Gentlemen,” he said, “let us work
quickly, let us put Germany in the saddle; it will soon learn to ride.” He was
annoyed and irritated by the opposition he met.

“If one has struggled hard for five years to achieve that which now lies
before us, if one has spent one’s time, the best years of one’s life, and
sacrificed one’s health for it, if one remembers the trouble it has cost to decide
quite a small paragraph, even a question of punctuation, with two and twenty
Governments, if at last we have agreed on that as it here lies before us, then
gentlemen who have experienced little of all these struggles, and know nothing of
the official proceedings which have gone before, come forward in a manner which I
can only compare to that of a man who throws a stone at my window without knowing
where I stand. He knows not where he hits me, he knows not what business he
impedes.”

He compared himself with Hotspur when after the battle he met the courtier who
came to demand his prisoners, and when wounded and tired from the fight had to hear a
long lecture over instruments of slaughter and internal wounds.

The debates were continued for two months with much spirit and ability; again and
again a majority of the Parliament voted amendments against which Bismarck had
spoken. When they had completed the revision of the Constitution, these had again to
be referred to the separate Governments. Forty were adopted; on two only Bismarck
informed the Parliament that their proposals could not be accepted. One of these was
the arrangements for the army Budget; so soon did a fresh conflict on this matter
threaten. A compromise was agreed upon; in consideration of the immediate danger (it
was just the time when a war with France regarding Luxemburg appeared imminent), the
House voted the money required for the army for the next four years; in 1871 a new
arrangement would have to be made, but for this time the Government was able to
maintain the army at the strength which they wished for. The other matter was of less
immediate importance: the majority of the House had voted that members of the
Parliament should receive payment for their services. Bismarck had spoken strongly
against this; now he made it a question of confidence, and warned them that the
Governments would not accept it. The House had no alternative except to withdraw
their vote.

The Constitution as finally agreed on exists to this day as that of the German
Empire. Notwithstanding the evil forebodings made at the time, it has worked well for
over thirty years.

From the moment that the new State had been created and the new Constitution
adopted, a great change took place in Bismarck’s public position. He was no longer
merely the first and ablest servant of the Prussian King; he was no longer one in the
distinguished series of Prussian Ministers. His position was—let us recognise
it clearly—greater than that of the King and Emperor, for he was truly the
Father of the State: it was his will which had created and his brain which had
devised it; he watched over it with the affection of a father for his son; none quite
understood it but himself; he alone could authoritatively expound the laws of the
Constitution. A criticism of it was an attack upon himself; opposition to him was
scarcely to be distinguished from treason to the State. Is it not inevitable that as
years went on we should find an increasing intolerance of all rivals, who wished to
alter what he had made, or to take his place as captain of his ship, and at the same
time a most careful and strict regard for the loyal fulfilment of the law and spirit
of the Constitution? From this time all other interests are laid aside, his whole
life is absorbed in the prosperity of Germany.

Of course Germany did not at once settle down to political rest; there were many
difficulties to be overcome on which we cannot enter here. The most serious arose
from the regulation of the affairs in the conquered provinces, and especially in the
Kingdom of Hanover. The annexation to Prussia was very unpopular among all classes
except the tradesmen and middle classes of the towns. The Hanoverian deputies to both
the Prussian Parliament and the Parliament of the North German Confederation on
principle opposed all measures of the Government. The King himself, though in exile,
kept up a close connection with his former subjects. There were long negotiations
regarding his private property. At last it was agreed that this should be paid over
to him. The King, however, used the money for organising a Legion to be used when the
time came against Prussia; it was therefore necessary to cease paying him funds which
could be used for this purpose. This is the origin of the notorious
Welfenfond. The money was to be appropriated for secret service and especially
for purposes of the Press. The party of the Guelphs, of course, maintained a bitter
feud against the Government in their papers. Bismarck, who had had ample experience
of this kind of warfare, met them on their own ground.

He defended this proposal by drawing attention to one of the weaknesses of
Germany. What other country, he asked, was there where a defeated party would look
forward to the help of foreign armies? “There are unfortunately,” he said, “many
Coriolani in Germany, only the Volsci are wanting; if they found their Volsci they
would soon be unmasked.” Everyone knew that the Volsci from over the Rhine would not
be slow to come when the occasion offered.

“It was,” he said, “a melancholy result of the centuries of disunion. There were
traitors in the country; they did not hide themselves; they carried their heads
erect; they found public defenders even in the walls of Parliament.”

Then he continued:

“Everywhere where corruption is found there a form of life begins which no
one can touch with clean kid gloves. In view of these facts you speak to me of
espionage. In my nature I am not born to be a spy, but I believe we deserve your
thanks if we condescend to follow malignant reptiles into their cave to observe
their actions.”

This is the origin of the expression “the reptile Press,” for the name was
given by the people not to those against whom the efforts of the Government were
directed, but to the paid organs to which, if report is true, so large a portion of
the Guelph fund was given.

But we must pass on to the events by which the work of 1866 was to be
completed.

CHAPTER XIII.

Ever since the conclusion of peace, the danger of a conflict between France and
Germany had been apparent. It was not only the growing discontent and suspicion of
the French nation and the French army, who truly felt that the supremacy of France
had been shaken by the growth of this new power; it was not only that the deep-rooted
hatred of France which prevailed in Germany had been stirred by Napoleon’s action,
and that the Germans had received confidence from the consciousness of their own
strength. Had there been nothing more than this, year after year might have gone by
and, as has happened since and had happened before, a war always anticipated might
have been always deferred. We may be sure that Bismarck would not have gone to war
unless he believed it to be necessary and desirable, and he would not have thought
this unless there was something to be gained. He has often shewn, before and since,
that he was quite as well able to use his powers in the maintenance of peace as in
creating causes for war. There was, however, one reason which made war almost
inevitable. The unity of Germany was only half completed; the southern States still
existed in a curious state of semi-isolation. This could not long continue; their
position must be regulated. War arises from that state of uncertainty which is always
present when a political community has not found a stable and permanent constitution.
In Germany men were looking forward to the time when the southern States should join
the north. The work was progressing; the treaties of offensive and defensive alliance
had been followed by the creation of a new Customs’ Union, and it was a further step
when at Bismarck’s proposal a Parliament consisting of members elected throughout the
whole of Germany was summoned at Berlin for the management of matters connected with
the tariff. Further than this, however, he was not able to go; the new Constitution
was working well; they could risk welcoming the States of the south into it; but this
could not be done without a war with France. Bismarck had rejected the French
proposal for an alliance. He knew, and everyone else knew, that France would oppose
by the sword any attempt to complete the unity of Germany; and, which was more
serious, unless great caution was used, that she would be supported by Austria and
perhaps by the anti-Prussian party in Bavaria. There were some who wished to press it
forward at once. Bismarck was very strongly pressed by the National Liberals to
hasten the union with the south; at the beginning of 1870 the Grand Duke of Baden,
himself a son-in-law of the King of Prussia and always the chief supporter of
Prussian influence in the south, formally applied to be admitted into the Federation.
The request had to be refused, but Bismarck had some difficulty in defending his
position against his enthusiastic friends. He had to warn them not to hurry; they
must not press the development too quickly. If they did so, they would stir the
resentment of the anti-Prussian party; they would play into the hands of Napoleon and
Austria. But if there was danger in haste, there was equal danger in delay; the
prestige of Prussia would suffer.

It is clear that there was one way in which the union might be brought about
almost without resistance, and that was, if France were to make an unprovoked attack
upon Germany, an attack so completely without reason and excuse that the strong
national passion it provoked might in the enthusiasm of war sweep away all minor
differences and party feelings.

There was another element which we must not omit. These years witnessed the growth
in determination and in power of the Ultramontane party. We can find their influence
in every country in Europe; their chief aim was the preservation of the temporal
power of the Pope and the destruction of the newly created Kingdom of Italy. They
were also opposed to the unity of Germany under Prussia. They were very active and
powerful in South Germany, and at the elections in 1869 had gained a majority. Their
real object must be to win over the Emperor of the French to a complete agreement
with themselves, to persuade him to forsake his earlier policy and to destroy what he
had done so much to create. They had a strong support in the person of the Empress,
and they joined with the injured vanity of the French to press the Emperor towards
war.

In 1867, war had almost broken out on the question of Luxemburg. Napoleon had
attempted to get at least this small extension of territory; relying on the support
of Prussia he entered into negotiations with the King of Holland; the King agreed to
surrender the Grand Duchy to France, making, however, a condition that Napoleon
should secure the assent of Prussia to this arrangement. At the very last moment,
when the treaty was almost signed, Bismarck made it clear that the national feeling
in Germany was so strong that if the transaction took place he would have to declare
war against France. At the same time, he published the secret treaties with the
southern States. These events destroyed the last hope of maintaining the old friendly
relations with Napoleon; “I have been duped,” said the Emperor, who at once began
reorganising and rearming his forces. For some weeks there was great danger of war
concerning the right of garrisoning Luxemburg; this had hitherto belonged to Prussia,
but of course with the dissolution of the German Confederation the right had lapsed.
The German nation, which was much excited and thought little of the precise terms of
treaties, wished to defend the right; Bismarck knew that in this matter the Prussian
claim could not be supported; moreover, even if he had wished to go to war with
France he was not ready; for some time must elapse before the army of the North
German Confederation could be reorganised on the Prussian model. He therefore
preserved the peace and the matter was settled by a European Congress. In the summer
of 1867, he visited Paris with the King; externally the good relations between the
two States were restored, but it was in reality only an armed peace.

It is difficult to decipher Napoleon’s wishes; he seems to have believed that war
was inevitable; there is no proof that he desired it. He made preparations; the army
was reorganised, the numbers increased, and a new weapon introduced. At the same time
he looked about for allies. Negotiations were carried on with Austria; in 1868 a
meeting was arranged between the two Emperors; Beust, who was now Chancellor of the
Austrian Empire, was anxious to make an attempt to overthrow the power of Prussia in
Germany. In 1870, negotiations were entered into for a military alliance; a special
envoy, General Lebrun, was sent to Vienna to discuss the military arrangements in
case of war. No treaty was signed, but it was an almost understood thing that sooner
or later an alliance between the two Emperors should be formed against Prussia.

It will be seen then that at the beginning of 1870 everything was tending towards
war, and that under certain circumstances war was desirable, both for France and for
Germany; much seemed to depend on the occasion of the outbreak. If Prussia took the
offensive, if she attempted by force to win the southern States, she would be faced
by a coalition of France and Austria, supported only too probably by Bavaria, and
this was a coalition which would find much sympathy among the discontented in North
Germany. On the other hand, it was for the advantage of Prussia not to delay the
conflict: the King was growing old; Bismarck could never be sure how long he would
remain in office; moreover, the whole forces of North Germany had now been completely
reorganised and were ready for war, but with the year 1871 it was to be foreseen that
a fresh attempt would be made to reduce their numbers; it was desirable to avoid a
fresh conflict on the military budget; everything shews that 1870 was the year in
which it would be most convenient for Prussia to fight.

Prussia, at this time, had no active allies on whom she could depend; Bismarck
indeed had secured the neutrality of Russia, but he did not know that the Czar would
come actively to his help; we may feel sure that he would prefer not to have to call
upon Russia for assistance, for, as we have seen in older days, a war between France
and Russia, in which Germany joined, would be very harmful to Germany. It was in
these circumstances that an opportunity shewed itself of gaining another ally who
would be more subservient than Russia. One of the many revolutions which had harassed
Spain during this century had broken out. Queen Isabella had lost the throne, and
General Prim found himself obliged to look about for a new sovereign. He applied in
vain to all the Catholic Courts; nobody was anxious to accept an honour coupled with
such danger as ruling over the Spanish people. Among others he applied to Leopold,
hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern, eldest son of that Prince of Hohenzollern who a
few years before had been President of the Prussian Ministry. The choice seemed a
good one: the Prince was an amiable, courageous man; he was a Catholic; he was,
moreover, connected with the Napoleonic family. His brother had, three years before,
been appointed King of Roumania with Napoleon’s good-will.

The proposal was probably made in all good faith; under ordinary circumstances,
the Prince, had he been willing to accept, would have been a very proper candidate.
It was, however, known from the first that Napoleon would not give his consent, and,
according to the comity of Europe, he had a right to be consulted. Nor can we say
that Napoleon was not justified in opposing the appointment. It has indeed been said
that the Prince was not a member of the Prussian Royal House and that his connection
with Napoleon was really closer than that with the King of Prussia. This is true, but
to lay stress on it is to ignore the very remarkable voluntary connection which
united the two branches of the House of Hohenzollern. The Prince’s father had done
what no sovereign prince in Germany has ever done before or since: out of loyalty to
Prussia he had surrendered his position as sovereign ruler and presented his
dominions to the King of Prussia; he had on this occasion been adopted into the Royal
Family; he had formally recognised the King as Head of the House, and subjected
himself to his authority. More than this, he had even condescended to accept the
position of Prussian Minister. Was not Napoleon justified if he feared that the son
of a man who had shewn so great an affection to Prussia would not be an agreeable
neighbour on the throne of Spain?

It was in the early spring of 1869 that the first proposals were made to the
Prince; our information as to this is very defective, but it seems that they were at
once rejected. Benedetti’s suspicions were, however, aroused. He heard that a Spanish
diplomatist, who had formerly been Ambassador at Berlin, had again visited the city
and had had two interviews with Bismarck. He feared that perhaps he had some mission
with regard to the Hohenzollern candidature, and, in accordance with instructions
from his Government, enquired first of Thiele and, after a visit to Paris, saw
Bismarck himself. The Count was quite ready to discuss the matter; with great
frankness he explained all the reasons why, if the throne were offered to the Prince,
the King would doubtless advise him not to accept it. Benedetti was still suspicious,
but for the time the matter dropped. From what happened later, though we have no
proof, we must, I think, share his suspicion that Bismarck was already considering
the proposal and was prepared to lend it his support.

In September of the same year, the affair began to advance. Prim sent Salazar, a
Spanish gentleman, to Germany with a semi-official commission to invite the Prince to
become a candidate, and gave him a letter to a German acquaintance who would procure
him an introduction to the Prince. This German acquaintance was no other than Herr
von Werther, Prussian Ambassador at Vienna. If we remember the very strict discipline
which Bismarck maintained in the Diplomatic Service we must feel convinced that
Werther was acting according to instructions.[9] He brought the envoy to the Prince
of Hohenzollern; the very greatest caution was taken to preserve secrecy; the
Spaniard did not go directly to the castle of Weinburg, but left the train at another
station, waited in the town till it was dark, and only approached the castle when
hidden from observation by night and a thick mist. He first of all asked Prince
Charles himself to accept the throne, and when he refused, offered it to Prince
Leopold, who also, though he did not refuse point-blank, left no doubt that he was
disinclined to the proposal; he could only accept, he said, if the Spanish Government
procured the assent of the Emperor Napoleon and the King of Prussia. Notwithstanding
the reluctance of the family to take the proffered dignity, Herr von Werther (and we
must look on him as Bismarck’s agent^[9]) a fortnight later travelled from Munich in
order to press on the Prince of Roumania that he should use his influence not to
allow the House of Hohenzollern to refuse the throne. For the time, however, the
subject seems to have dropped. A few months later, for the third time, the offer was
repeated, and now Bismarck uses the whole of his influence in its favour. At the end
of February, Salazar came on an official mission to Berlin; he had three letters, one
to the King, one to Bismarck, one to the Prince. The King refused to receive him;
Prince Leopold did not waver in his refusal and was supported by his father; their
attitude was that they should not consider the matter seriously unless higher reasons
of State required it. With Prince Bismarck, however, the envoy was more successful;
he had several interviews with the Minister, and then left the city in order that
suspicions might not be aroused or the attention of the French Government directed to
the negotiations. Bismarck pleaded with great warmth for the acceptance of the offer;
in a memoir to the King, he dwelt on the great importance which the summons of a
Hohenzollern prince to the Spanish throne would have for Germany; it would be
politically invaluable to have a friendly land in the rear of France; it would be of
the greatest economic advantage for Germany and Spain if this thoroughly monarchical
country developed its resources under a king of German descent. In consequence of
this, a conference was held at Berlin, at which there were present, besides the King,
the Crown Prince, Prince Carl Anton, and Prince Leopold, Bismarck, Roon, Moltke,
Schleinitz, Thiele, and Delbrück. By summoning the advice of these men, the
matter was taken out of the range of a private and family matter; it is true that it
was not officially brought before the Prussian Ministry, but those consulted were the
men by whom the policy of the State was directed. The unanimous decision of the
councillors was for acceptance on the ground that it was the fulfilment of a
patriotic duty to Prussia. The Crown Prince saw great difficulties in the way, and
warned his cousin, if he accepted, not to rely on Prussian help in the future, even
if, for the attainment of a definite end, the Prussian Government furthered the
project for the moment. The King did not agree with his Ministers; he had many
serious objections, and refused to give any definite order to the Prince that he
should accept the offer; he left the final decision to him. He eventually
refused.

Bismarck, however, was not to be beaten; he insisted that the Hohenzollerns should
not let the matter drop; and, as he could not persuade the King to use his authority,
acted directly upon the family with such success that Prince Carl Anton telegraphed
to his third son, Frederick, to ask if he would not accept instead of his brother.
Bismarck had now declared that the acceptance by one of the Princes was a political
necessity; this he said repeatedly and with the greatest emphasis. At the same time,
he despatched a Prussian officer of the general staff and his private secretary,
Lothar Bucher, to Spain in order that they might study the situation. It was
important that as far as possible the official representative of Prussia should have
no share in the arrangement of this matter.

Prince Frederick came to Berlin, but, like his brother, he refused, unless the
King gave a command. At the end of April, the negotiations seemed again to have
broken down. Bismarck, who was in ill health, left Berlin for Varzin, where he
remained for six weeks.

We are, however, not surprised, since we know that Bismarck’s interest was so
strongly engaged, that he was able after all to carry the matter through. He seems to
have persuaded Prince Carl Anton; he then wrote to Prim telling him not to despair;
the candidature was an excellent thing which was not to be lost sight of; he must,
however, negotiate not with the Prussian Government, but with the Prince himself.
When he wrote this he knew that he had at last succeeded in breaking down the
reluctance of the Prince, and that the King, though he still was unwilling to
undertake any responsibility, would not refuse his consent if the Prince voluntarily
accepted. Prince Leopold was influenced not only by his interest in the Spanish race,
but also by a letter from Bismarck, in which he said that he ought to put aside all
scruples and accept in the interests of Prussia. The envoys had also returned from
Spain and brought back a favourable report; they received an extraordinarily hearty
welcome; we may perhaps suspect with the King that they had allowed their report to
receive too rosy a colour; no doubt, however, they were acting in accordance with
what they knew were the wishes of the man who had sent them out. In the beginning of
June the decision was made; Prince Leopold wrote to the King that he accepted the
crown which had been offered to him, since he thereby hoped to do a great service to
his Fatherland. King William immediately answered that he approved of the
decision.

Bismarck then at last was successful. A few days later Don Salazar again travelled
to Germany; this time he brought a formal offer, which was formally-accepted. The
Cortes were then in session; it was arranged that they should remain at Madrid till
his return; the election would then be at once completed, for a majority was assured.
The secrecy had been strictly maintained; there were rumours indeed, but no one knew
of all the secret interviews; men might suspect, but they could not prove that it was
an intrigue of Bismarck. If the election had once been made the solemn act of the
whole nation, Napoleon would have been confronted with a fait accompli. To
have objected would have been most injurious; he would have had to do, not with
Prussia, which apparently was not concerned, but with the Spanish nation. The feeling
of France would not allow him to acquiesce in the election, but it would have deeply
offended the dignity and pride of Spain had he claimed that the King who had been
formally accepted should, at his demand, be rejected. He could scarcely have done so
without bringing about a war; a war with Spain would have crippled French resources
and diverted their attention from Prussia; even if a war did not ensue, permanent ill
feeling would be created. It is not difficult to understand the motives by which
Bismarck had been influenced. At the last moment the plan failed. A cipher telegram
from Berlin was misinterpreted in Madrid; and in consequence the Cortes, instead of
remaining in session, were prorogued till the autumn. All had depended on the
election being carried out before the secret was disclosed; a delay of some weeks
must take place, and some indiscreet words of Salazar disclosed the truth. General
Prim had no course left him but to send to the French Ambassador, to give him
official information as to what had been done and try to calm his uneasiness.

What were Bismarck’s motives in this affair? It is improbable that he intended to
use it as a means of bringing about a war with France. He could not possibly have
foreseen the very remarkable series of events which were to follow, and but for them
a war arising out of this would have been very unwise, for German public opinion and
the sympathy of all the neutral Powers would have been opposed to Prussia, had it
appeared that the Government was disturbing the peace of Europe simply in order to
put a Prussian prince on the throne of Spain contrary to the wishes of France. He
could not ignore German public opinion now as he had done in old days; he did not
want to conquer South Germany, he wished to attract it. It seems much more probable
that he had no very clear conception of the results which would follow; he did not
wish to lose what might be the means of gaining an ally to Germany and weakening
France. It would be quite invaluable if, supposing there were to be war (arising from
this or other causes), Spain could be persuaded to join in the attack on France and
act the part which Italy had played in 1866. What he probably hoped for more than
anything else was that France would declare war against Spain; then Napoleon would
waste his strength in a new Mexico; he would no longer be a danger to Germany, and
whether Germany joined in the war or not, she would gain a free hand. by the
preoccupation of France. If none of these events happened, it would be an advantage
that some commercial gain might be secured for Germany.

On the whole, the affair is not one which shews his strongest points as a
diplomatist; it was too subtle and too hazardous.

The news aroused the sleeping jealousy of Prussia among the French people; the
suspicion and irritation of the Government was extreme, and this feeling was not
ill-founded. They assumed that the whole matter was an intrigue of Bismarck’s,
though, owing to the caution with which the negotiations had been conducted, they had
no proofs. They might argue that a Prussian prince could not accept such an offer
without the permission of his sovereign, and they had a great cause of complaint that
this permission had been given without any communication with Napoleon, whom the
matter so nearly concerned. The arrangement itself was not alone the cause of alarm.
The secrecy with which it had been surrounded was interpreted as a sign of
malevolence.

Of course they must interfere to prevent the election being completed. Where,
however, were they to address themselves? With a just instinct they directed their
remonstrance, not to Madrid, but to Berlin; they would thereby appear not to be
interfering with the independence of the Spaniards, but to be acting in self-defence
against the insidious advance of German power.

They could not, however, approach Bismarck; he had retired to Varzin, to recruit
his health; the other Ministers also were absent; the King was at Ems. It was
convenient that at this sudden crisis they should be away, for it was imperative that
the Prussian Government should deny all complicity. Bismarck must not let it appear
that he had any interest in, or knowledge of, the matter; he therefore remained in
the seclusion of Pomerania.

Benedetti also was absent in the Black Forest. On the 4th of July, therefore, the
French Chargé d’Affaires, M. de Sourds, called at the Foreign Office
and saw Herr von Thiele. “Visibly embarrassed,” he writes, “he told me that the
Prussian Government was absolutely ignorant of the matter and that it did not exist
for them.” This was the only answer to be got; in a despatch sent on the 11th to the
Prussian agents in Germany, Bismarck repeated the assertion. “The matter has nothing
to do with Prussia. The Prussian Government has always considered and treated this
affair as one in which Spain and the selected candidate are alone concerned.” This
was literally true, for it had never been brought before the Prussian Ministry, and
no doubt the records of the office would contain no allusion to it; the majority of
the Ministers were absolutely ignorant of it.

Of course M. de Sourds did not believe Herr von Thiele’s statement, and his
Government was not satisfied with the explanation; the excitement in Paris was
increasing; it was fomented by the agents of the Ministry, and in answer to an
interpolation in the Chamber, the Duc de Grammont on the 6th declared that the
election of the Prince was inadmissible; he trusted to the wisdom of the Prussian and
the friendship of the Spanish people not to proceed in it, but if his hope were
frustrated they would know how to do their duty. They were not obliged to endure that
a foreign Power by setting one of its Princes on the throne of Charles V. should
destroy the balance of power and endanger the interests and honour of France. He
hoped this would not happen; they relied on the wisdom of the German and the
friendship of the Spanish people to avoid it; but if it were necessary, then, strong
in the support of the nation and the Chamber, they knew how to fulfil their duty
without hesitation or weakness.

The French Ministry hereby publicly declared that they held the Prussian
Government responsible for the election, and they persisted in demanding the
withdrawal, not from Spain, but from Prussia; Prim had suggested that as the Foreign
Office refused to discuss the matter, Grammont should approach the King personally.
Benedetti received instructions to go to the King at Ems and request him to order or
advise the Prince to withdraw. At first Grammont wished him also to see the Prince
himself; on second thoughts he forbade this, for, as he said, it was of the first
importance that the messages should be conveyed by the King; he was determined to use
the opportunity for the humiliation of Germany.

If it was the desire of the French in this way to establish the complicity of
Prussia, it was imperative that the Prussian Government should not allow them to do
so. They were indeed in a disagreeable situation; they could not take up the French
challenge and allow war to break out; not only would the feeling of the neutral
Powers, of England and of Russia, be against them, but that of Germany itself would
be divided. With what force would the anti-Prussian party in Bavaria and Wurtemberg
be able to oppose a war undertaken apparently for the dynastic interests of the
Hohenzollern! If, however, the Prince now withdrew, the French would be able to
proclaim that he had done so in consequence of the open threats of France; supposing
they were able to connect the King in any way with him, then they might assert that
they had checked the ambition of Prussia; Prussian prestige would be seriously
injured at home, and distrust of Prussian good faith would be aroused abroad.

The King therefore had a difficult task when Benedetti asked for an interview. He
had been brought into this situation against his own will, and his former scruples
seemed fully justified. He complained of the violence of the French Press and the
Ministry; he repeated the assertion that the Prussian Government had been unconnected
with the negotiations and had been ignorant of them; he had avoided associating
himself with them, and had only given an opinion when Prince Leopold, having decided
to accept, asked his consent. He had then acted, not in his sovereign capacity as
King of Prussia, but as head of the family. He had neither collected nor summoned his
council of Ministers, though he had informed Count Bismarck privately. He refused to
use his authority to order the Prince to withdraw, and said that he would leave him
full freedom as he had done before.

These statements were of course verbally true; probably the King did not know to
what extent Bismarck was responsible for the acceptance by the Prince. They did not
make the confidence of the French any greater; it was now apparent that the King had
been asked, and had given his consent without considering the effect on France; they
could not acquiesce in this distinction between his acts as sovereign and his acts as
head of the family, for, as Benedetti pointed out, he was only head of the family
because he was sovereign.

All this time Bismarck was still at Varzin; while Paris was full of excitement,
while there were hourly conferences of the Ministers and the city was already talking
of war, the Prussian Ministers ostentatiously continued to enjoy their holidays.
There was no danger in doing so; the army was so well prepared that they could afford
quietly to await what the French would do. What Bismarck’s plans and hopes were we do
not know; during these days he preserved silence; the violence of the French gave him
a further reason for refusing to enter into any discussion. When, however, he heard
of Benedetti’s visit to Ems he became uneasy; he feared that the King would
compromise himself; he feared that the French would succeed in their endeavour to
inflict a diplomatic defeat on Prussia. He proposed to go to Ems to support the King,
and on the 12th left Varzin; that night he arrived in Berlin. There he received the
news that the Prince of Hohenzollern, on behalf of his son, had announced his
withdrawal.

The retirement was probably the spontaneous act of the Prince and his father; the
decisive influence was the fear lest the enmity of Napoleon might endanger the
position of the Prince of Roumania. Everyone was delighted; the cloud of war was
dispelled; two men only were dissatisfied—Bismarck and Grammont. It was the
severest check which Bismarck’s policy had yet received; he had persuaded the Prince
to accept against his will; he had persuaded the King reluctantly to keep the
negotiations secret from Napoleon; however others might disguise the truth, he knew
that they had had to retreat from an untenable position, and retreat before the noisy
insults of the French Press and the open menace of the French Government; his anger
was increased by the fact that neither the King nor the Prince had in this crisis
acted as he would have wished.

We have no authoritative statement as to the course he himself would have pursued;
he had, according to his own statement, advised the King not to receive the French
Ambassador; probably he wished that the Prince should declare that as the Spaniards
had offered him the crown and he had accepted it, he could not now withdraw unless he
were asked to do so by Spain; the attempt of Grammont to fasten a quarrel on Prussia
would have been deprived of any responsible pretext; he would have been compelled to
bring pressure to bear on the Spaniards, with all the dangers that that course would
involve. We may suspect that he had advised this course and that his advice had been
rejected. However this may be, Bismarck felt the reverse so keenly that it seemed to
him impossible he could any longer remain Minister, unless he could obtain redress
for the insults and menaces of France. What prospect was there now of this? It was no
use now going on to Ems; he proposed to return next day to Varzin, and he expected
that when he did so he would be once more a private man.

He was to be saved by the folly of the French. Grammont, vain, careless, and
inaccurate, carried away by his hatred of Prussia, hot-headed and blustering, did not
even see how great an advantage he had gained. When Guizot, now a very old man,
living in retirement, heard that the Prince had withdrawn, he exclaimed: “What good
fortune these people have! This is the finest diplomatic victory which has been won
in my lifetime.” This is indeed the truth; how easy it would have been to declare
that France had spoken and her wishes had been fulfilled! the Government need have
said no more, but every Frenchman would have always told the story how Bismarck had
tried to put a Hohenzollern on the throne of Spain, had been foiled by the word of
the Emperor, and had been driven from office. Grammont prepared to complete the
humiliation of Prussia, and in doing so he lost all and more than all he had won.

He had at first declared that the withdrawal of the Prince was worthless when it
was officially communicated to him by Prussia; now he extended his demands. He
suggested to the Prussian Ambassador at Paris that the King should write to the
Emperor a letter, in which he should express his regret for what had happened and his
assurance that he had had no intention of injuring France. To Benedetti he
telegraphed imperative orders that he was to request from the King a guarantee for
the future, and a promise that he would never again allow the Prince to return to the
candidature. It was to give himself over to an implacable foe. As soon as Bismarck
heard from Werther of the first suggestion, he telegraphed to him a stern reprimand
for having listened to demands so prejudicial to the honour of his master, and
ordered him, under the pretext of ill health, to depart from Paris and leave a post
for which he had shewn himself so ill-suited.

That same morning he saw Lord Augustus Loftus, and he explained that the incident
was not yet closed; Germany, he said, did not wish for war, but they did not fear it.
They were not called on to endure humiliations from France; after what had happened
they must have some security for the future; the Duc de Grammont must recall or
explain the language he had used; France had begun to prepare for war and that would
not be allowed.

“It is clear,” writes the English Ambassador, “that Count Bismarck and the
Prussian Ministry regret the attitude which the King has shewn to Count Benedetti,
and feel, in regard to public opinion, the necessity of guarding the honour of the
nation.”

To the Crown Prince, who had come to Berlin, Bismarck was more open; he declared
that war was necessary.

This very day there were taking place at Ems events which were to give him the
opportunity for which he longed. On Benedetti had fallen the task of presenting the
new demands to the King; it was one of the most ungrateful of the many unpleasant
duties which had been entrusted to him during the last few years. In the early
morning, he went out in the hope that he might see someone of the Court; he met the
King, himself who was taking the waters. The King at once beckoned to him, entered
into conversation, and shewed him a copy of the Cologne Gazette containing the
statement of the Prince’s withdrawal. Benedetti then, as in duty bound, asked
permission to inform his Government that the King would undertake that the
candidature should not be resumed at any time. The King, of course, refused, and,
when Benedetti pressed the request, repeated the refusal with some emphasis, and
then, beckoning to his adjutant, who had withdrawn a few paces, broke off the
conversation. When a few hours later the King received a letter from the Prince of
Hohenzollern confirming the public statement, he sent a message to Benedetti by his
aide-decamp, Count Radziwill, and added to it that there would now be nothing further
to say, as the incident was closed. Benedetti twice asked for another interview, but
it was refused.

He had done his duty, he had made his request, as he expected, in vain, but
between him and the King there had been no departure by word or gesture from the
ordinary courtesy which we should expect from these two accomplished gentlemen. All
the proceedings indeed had been unusual, for it was not the habit of the King, as it
was of Napoleon, to receive foreign envoys except on the advice of his Ministers, and
the last conversation had taken place on the public promenade of the fashionable
watering-place; but the exception had been explained and justified by the theory that
the King’s interest in the affair was domestic and not political. Both were anxious
to avoid war, and the King to the last treated Benedetti with marked graciousness; he
had while at Ems invited him to the royal table, and even now, the next morning
before leaving Ems, granted him an audience, at the station to take leave.
Nevertheless, he had been seriously annoyed by this fresh demand; he was pained and
surprised by the continuance of the French menaces; he could not but fear that there
was a deliberate intention to force a quarrel on him. He determined, therefore, to
return to Berlin, and ordered Abeken, Secretary to the Foreign Office, who was with
him, to telegraph to Bismarck an account of what had taken place, with a suggestion
that the facts should be published.

It happened that Bismarck, when the telegram arrived, was dining with Roon and
Moltke, who had both been summoned to Berlin. The three men were gloomy and
depressed; they felt that their country had been humiliated, and they saw no prospect
of revenge. This feeling was increased when Bismarck read aloud the telegram to his
two colleagues. These repeated and impatient demands, this intrusion on the King’s
privacy, this ungenerous playing with his kindly and pacific disposition, stirred
their deepest indignation; to them it seemed that Benedetti had been treated with a
consideration he did not deserve; the man who came with these proposals should have
been repulsed with more marked indignation. But in the suggestion that the facts
should be published, Bismarck saw the opportunity he had wished. He went into the
next room and drafted a statement; he kept to the very words of the original
telegram, but he left out much, and arranged it so that it should convey to the
reader the impression, not of what had really occurred, but of what he would have
wished should happen. With this he returned, and as he read it to them, Roon and
Moltke brightened; here at last was an answer to the French insults; before, it
sounded like a “Chamade” (a retreat), now it is a “Fanfare,” said Moltke. “That is
better,” said Roon. Bismarck asked a few questions about the army. Roon assured him
that all was prepared; Moltke, that, though no one could ever foretell with certainty
the result of a great war, he looked to it with confidence; they all knew that with
the publication of this statement the last prospect of peace would be gone. It was
published late that night in a special edition of the North German Gazette,
and at the same time a copy was sent from the Foreign Office to all German embassies
and legations.

It is not altogether correct to call this (as has often been done) a falsification
of the telegram. Under no circumstances could Bismarck have published in its original
form the confidential message to him from his sovereign; all he had to do was to
communicate to the newspapers the facts of which he had been informed, or so much of
the facts as it seemed to him desirable that the public should know. He, of course,
made the selection in such a form as to produce upon public opinion the particular
effect which for the purposes of his policy he wished. What to some extent justifies
the charge is that the altered version was published under the heading, “Ems.” The
official statement was supplemented by another notice in the North German
Gazette, which was printed in large type, and stated that Benedetti had so far
forgotten all diplomatic etiquette that he had allowed himself to disturb the King in
his holidays, to intercept him on the promenade, and to attempt to force demands upon
him. This was untrue, but on this point the telegram to Bismarck had been itself
incorrect. Besides this, Bismarck doubtless saw to it that the right instructions
should be given to the writers for the Press.

But, indeed, this was hardly necessary; the statement itself was a call to arms.
During all these days the German people had been left almost without instruction or
guidance from the Government; they had heard with astonishment the sudden outbreak of
Gallic wrath; they were told, and were inclined to believe it, that the Prussian
Government was innocent of the hostile designs attributed to it; and the calm of the
Government had communicated itself to them. They remained quiet, but they were still
uneasy, they knew not what to think; now all doubt was removed. It was then true that
with unexampled eagerness the French had fastened an alien quarrel upon them, had
without excuse or justification advanced from insult to insult and menace to menace;
and now, to crown their unparalleled acts, they had sent this foreigner to intrude on
the reserve of the aged King, and to insult him publicly in his own country. Then
false reports came from Ems; it was said that the King had publicly turned his back
on Benedetti on the promenade, that the Ambassador had followed the King to his
house, and had at last been shewn the door, but that even then he had not scrupled
again to intrude on the King at the railway station.^[10] From one end of
Germany to another a storm of indignation arose; they had had enough of this French
annoyance; if the French wished for war then war should they have; now there could no
longer be talk of Prussian ambition; all differences of North and South were swept
away; wherever the German tongue was spoken men felt that they had been insulted in
the person of the King, that it was theirs to protect his honour, and from that day
he reigned in their hearts as uncrowned Emperor.

The telegram was as successful in France as in Germany. There the question of
peace and war was still in debate; there was a majority for peace, and indeed there
was no longer an excuse for war which would satisfy even a Frenchman. Then there came
in quick succession the recall and disavowment of the Prussian Ambassador, news of
the serious language Bismarck had used to Lord A. Loftus, and then despatches from
other Courts that an official message had been sent from Berlin carrying the record
of an insult offered to the King by the French Ambassador; add to this the changed
tone of the German Press, the enthusiasm with which the French challenge had been
taken up; they could have no doubt that they had gone too far; they would now be not
the accuser but the accused; had they wished, they did not dare retreat with the fear
of the Paris mob before them, and so they decided on war, and on the 15th the
official statement was made and approved in the Chamber.

It was on this same day that the King travelled from Ems to Berlin. When he left
Ems he still refused to believe in the serious danger of war, but as he travelled
north and saw the excited crowd that thronged to meet him at every station his own
belief was almost overthrown. To his surprise, when he reached Brandenburg he found
Bismarck and the Crown Prince awaiting him; the news that they had come to meet the
King was itself looked on almost as a declaration of war; all through the return
journey Bismarck unsuccessfully tried to persuade his master to give the order for
mobilisation. When they reached Berlin they found the station again surrounded by a
tumultuous throng; through it pressed one of the secretaries of the Foreign Office;
he brought the news that the order for mobilisation had been given in France. Then,
at last, the reluctance of the King was broken down; he gave the order, and at once
the Crown Prince, who was standing near, proclaimed the news to all within earshot.
The North German Parliament was summoned, and five days later Bismarck was able to
announce to them that he had received the Declaration of War from France, adding as
he did so that this was the first official communication which throughout the whole
affair he had received from the French Government, a circumstance for which there was
no precedent in history.

What a contrast is there between the two countries! On the one hand, a King and a
Minister who by seven years of loyal co-operation have learnt to trust and depend
upon one another, who together have faced danger, who have not shrunk from extreme
unpopularity, and who, just for this reason, can now depend on the absolute loyalty
of the people. On the other side, the Emperor broken in health, his will shattered by
prolonged pain and sickness, trying by the introduction of liberal institutions to
free himself from the burden of government and weight of responsibility which he had
voluntarily taken upon his shoulders. At Berlin, Bismarck’s severity and love of
power had brought it about that the divergent policy and uncertainty of early years
had ceased; there was one mind and one will directing this State; the unauthorised
interference and amateur criticism of courtiers were no longer permitted. In France,
all the evils from which Prussia had been freed by Bismarck were increasing; here
there was no single will; the Ministry were divided, there was no authority over
them; no one could foresee by whom the decision of the Emperor would be determined;
the deliberate results of long and painful negotiations might be overthrown in ten
minutes by the interference of the Empress or the advice of Prince Napoleon. The
Emperor would pursue half a dozen inconsistent policies in as many hours. And then,
below all, there was this fatal fact, that Napoleon could not venture to be
unpopular. He knew the folly of the course into which he was being driven, but he did
not dare to face the mob of Paris, or to defy the Chamber of Deputies. He owed his
throne to universal suffrage, and he knew that the people who had set him up could
quickly overthrow him. No man can ever govern who fears unpopularity. Bismarck did
not, Napoleon did.

Before the campaign began, two events took place which we must record. The first
was the publication in the Times of the text of the treaty with France
regarding Belgium. We need not add anything further to what we have said regarding
it; published at this moment it had a great effect on English public opinion. The
other arose out of the opposition which the exiled King of Hanover had continued to
maintain. He had used the very large sums of money which he possessed to keep
together a Hanoverian Legion, recruited from former officers and soldiers of the
Hanoverian army. He had hoped that war would break out before this and would be
accompanied by a rising in Hanover. His means had now come to an end, and the
unfortunate men were living in Paris almost without support. They were now exposed to
a terrible alternative. They could not return to Germany; they did not wish to take
part in a war on the French side. Their only hope was emigration to America. Bismarck
heard of their position; he offered to pardon them all and to pay to them from the
Prussian funds the full pension which they would have received had they continued to
serve in the Hanoverian army. It was a timely act of generosity, and it had the
effect that the last element of hostility in Germany was stilled and the whole nation
could unite as one man in this foreign war.

NOTE.—In this chapter, besides the ordinary authorities, I have depended
largely on the memoirs of the King of Roumania. Bismarck, in his own memoirs, states
that the writer was not accurately informed; but even if there are some errors in
detail, the remarkable statements contained in this work must command belief until
they are fully contradicted and disproved. There has, I believe, been no attempt to
do this.

CHAPTER XIV.

On July 31, 1870, Bismarck left Berlin with the King for the seat of war, for, as
in 1866, he was to accompany the army in the field. For the next few months indeed
Germany was to be governed from the soil of France, and it was necessary for the
Minister to be constantly with the King. Bismarck never forgot that he was a soldier;
he was more proud of his general’s uniform than of his civil rank, and, though not a
combatant, it was his pride and pleasure that he should share something of the
hardships and dangers of war. He was as a matter of fact never so well as during the
campaign: the early hours, the moderate and at times meagre food, the long hours in
the saddle and the open air, restored the nerves and health which had been injured by
the annoyances of office, late hours, and prolonged sedentary work. He was
accompanied by part of the staff of the Foreign Office, and many of the distinguished
strangers who followed the army were often guests at his table; he especially shewed
his old friendliness for Americans: General Sheridan and many others of his
countrymen found a hearty welcome from the Chancellor.

It was not till the 17th of August that the headquarters came up with the fighting
front of the army; but the next day, during the decisive battle of Gravelotte,
Bismarck watched the combat by the side of the King, and, as at Königgrätz,
they more than once came under fire. At one period, Bismarck was in considerable
danger of being taken prisoner. His two sons were serving in the army; they were
dragoons in the Cuirassiers of the Guards, serving in the ranks in the same regiment
whose uniform their father was entitled to wear. They both took part in the terrible
cavalry charge at Mars-la-Tour, in which their regiment suffered so severely; the
eldest, Count Herbert, was wounded and had to be invalided home. Bismarck could
justly boast that there was no nepotism in the Prussian Government when his two sons
were serving as privates. It was not till the war had gone on some weeks and they had
taken part in many engagements, that they received their commissions. This would have
happened in no other country or army. This was the true equality, so different from
the exaggerated democracy of France,—an equality not of privilege but of
obligation; every Pomeranian peasant who sent his son to fight and die in France knew
that the sons of the most powerful man in the country and in Europe were fighting
with them not as officers but as comrades. Bismarck was more fortunate than his
friends in that neither of his sons—nor any of his near relatives—lost
his life; Roon’s second son fell at Sedan, and the bloody days of Mars-la-Tour and
Gravelotte placed in mourning nearly every noble family in Prussia.

From Gravelotte to Sedan he accompanied the army, and he was by the King’s side on
that fatal day when the white flag was hoisted on the citadel of Sedan, and the
French general came out of the town with the message that Napoleon, having in vain
sought death at the head of his troops, placed his sword in the hands of the King of
Prussia.

The surrender of Sedan was a military event, and the conditions had to be arranged
between Moltke and Wimpffen, who had succeeded MacMahon in command, but Bismarck was
present at the conference, which was held in his quarters, in case political
questions arose. As they rode down together to Doncheroy he and Moltke had agreed
that no terms could be offered except the unconditional surrender of the whole army,
the officers alone being allowed to retain their swords. Against these conditions
Wimpffen and his companions struggled long, but in vain. Moltke coldly assured them
that they could not escape, and that it would be madness to begin the fight again;
they were surrounded; if the surrender were not complete by four o’clock the next
morning the bombardment of the town would begin. Wimpffen suggested that it would be
more politic of the Germans to show generosity; they would thereby earn the gratitude
of France, and this might be made the beginning of a lasting peace; otherwise what
had they to look forward to but a long series of wars? Now was the time for Bismarck
to interfere; it was impossible, he declared, to reckon on the gratitude of nations;
at times men might indeed build with confidence on that of a sovereign and his
family; “but I repeat, nothing can be expected from the gratitude of a nation.” Above
all was this true of France. “The Governments there have so little power, the changes
are so quick and so unforeseen, that there is nothing on which one can rely.”
Besides, it would be absurd to imagine that France would ever forgive us our
successes. “You are an irritable and jealous people, envious and jealous to the last
degree. You have not forgiven us Sadowa, and would you forgive us Sedan? Never.”

They could not therefore modify the terms in order to win the gratitude and
friendship of France; they might have done so had there been prospects of immediate
peace. One of the officers, General Castelnau, announced that he had a special
message from Napoleon, who had sent his sword to the King and surrendered in the hope
that the King would appreciate the sacrifice and grant a more honourable
capitulation. “Whose sword is it that the Emperor Napoleon has surrendered?” asked
Bismarck; “is it the sword of France or his own? If it is the sword of France the
conditions can be greatly softened; your message would have an extraordinary
importance.” He thought and he hoped that the Emperor wished to sue for peace, but it
was not so. “It is only the sword of the Emperor,” answered the General. “All then
remains as it was,” said Moltke; he insisted on his demands; Wimpffen asked at least
that time might be allowed him to return to Sedan and consult his colleagues. He had
only come from Algeria two days before; he could not begin his command by signing so
terrible a surrender. Even this Moltke refused. Then Wimpffen declared the conference
ended; rather than this they would continue the battle; he asked that his horses
might be brought. A terrible silence fell on the room; Moltke, with Bismarck by his
side, stood cold and impenetrable, facing the three French officers; their faces were
lighted by two candles on the table; behind stood the stalwart forms of the German
officers of the staff, and from the walls of the room looked down the picture of
Napoleon I. Then again Bismarck interfered; he begged Wimpffen not in a moment of
pique to take a step which must have such horrible consequences; he whispered a few
words to Moltke, and procured from him a concession; hostilities should not be
renewed till nine o’clock the next morning. Wimpffen might return to Sedan and report
to the Emperor and his colleagues.

It was past midnight when the conference broke up; before daybreak Bismarck was
aroused by a messenger who announced that the Emperor had left Sedan and wished to
see him. He hastily sprang up, and as he was, unwashed, without breakfast, in his
undress uniform, his old cap, and his high boots, shewing all the marks of his long
day in the saddle, he mounted his horse and rode down to the spot near the highroad
where the Emperor in his carriage, accompanied by three officers and attended by
three more on horseback, awaited him. Bismarck rode quickly up to him, dismounted,
and as he approached saluted and removed his cap, though this was contrary to
etiquette, but it was not a time when he wished even to appear to be wanting in
courtesy. Napoleon had come to plead for the army; he wished to see the King, for he
hoped that in a personal interview he might extract from him more favourable terms.
Bismarck was determined just for this reason that the sovereigns should not meet
until the capitulation was signed; he answered, therefore, that it was impossible, as
the King was ten miles away. He then accompanied the Emperor to a neighbouring
cottage; there in a small room, ten feet square, containing a wooden table and two
rush chairs, they sat for some time talking; afterwards they came down and sat
smoking in front of the cottage.

“A wonderful contrast to our last meeting in the Tuileries,” wrote Bismarck
to his wife. “Our conversation was difficult, if I was to avoid matters which would
be painful to the man who had been struck down by the mighty hand of God. He first
lamented this unhappy war, which he said he had not desired; he had been forced
into it by the pressure of public opinion. I answered that with us also no one,
least of all the King, had wished for the war. We had looked on the Spanish affair
as Spanish and not as German.”

The Emperor asked for more favourable terms of surrender, but Bismarck refused to
discuss this with him; it was a military question which must be settled between
Moltke and Wimpffen. On the other hand, when Bismarck enquired if he were inclined
for negotiations for peace, Napoleon answered that he could not discuss this; he was
a prisoner of war and could not treat; he referred Bismarck to the Government in
Paris.

This meeting had therefore no effect on the situation. Bismarck suggested that the
Emperor should go to the neighbouring Château of Belle Vue, which was not
occupied by wounded; there he would be able to rest. Thither Bismarck, now in full
uniform (for he had hurried back to his own quarters), accompanied him, and in the
same house the negotiations of the previous evening were continued; Bismarck did not
wish to be present at them, for, as he said, the military men could be harsher; and
so gave orders that after a few minutes he should be summoned out of the room by a
message that the King wished to see him. After the capitulation was signed, he rode
up with Moltke to present it to the King, who received it on the heights whence he
had watched the battle, surrounded by the headquarters staff and all the princes who
were making the campaign. Then, followed by a brilliant cavalcade, he rode down to
visit the captive sovereign.