The Project Gutenberg EBook of The German Classics of The Nineteenth and
Twentieth Centuries, Vol. X., by Kuno Francke

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net


Title: The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Vol. X.
       Prince Otto Von Bismarck, Count Helmuth Von Moltke, Ferdinand Lassalle

Author: Kuno Francke

Release Date: July 30, 2004 [EBook #13056]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GERMAN CLASSICS ***




Produced by Stan Goodman, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed
Proofreaders





VOLUME X


PRINCE OTTO VON BISMARCK

COUNT HELMUTH VON MOLTKE

FERDINAND LASSALLE





THE GERMAN CLASSICS

Masterpieces of German Literature





TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH

Patrons' Edition



IN TWENTY VOLUMES



ILLUSTRATED

1914





 CONTENTS OF VOLUME X


Prince Otto Von Bismarck

  Bismarck as a National Type. By Kuno Francke.

  The Love Letters of Bismarck. Translated under the supervision of
  Charlton T. Lewis.

  Correspondence of William I. and Bismarck. Translated by J.A. Ford.

  From "Thoughts and Recollections." Translated under the supervision of
  A.J. Butler.

  Bismarck as an Orator. By Edmund von Mach.

  Speeches of Prince Bismarck. Translated by Edmund von Mach:

    Professorial Politics

    Speech from the Throne

    Alsace-Lorraine a Glacis Against France

    We Shall Never Go to Canossa!

    Bismarck as the "Honest Broker"

    Salus Publica--Bismarck's Only Lode-Star

    Practical Christianity

    We Germans Fear God, and Nought Else in the World

    Mount the Guards at the Warthe and the Vistula!

    Long Live the Emperor and the Empire!


Count Helmuth Von Moltke

  The Life of Moltke. By Karl Detlev Jessen.

  Letters and Historical Writings of Moltke:

    The Political and Military Conditions of the Ottoman Empire in 1836.
    Translated by Edmund von Mach.

    A Trip to Brussa. Translated by Edmund von Mach.

    A Journey to Mossul. Translated by Edmund von Mach.

    A Bullfight in Spain. Translated by Edmund von Mach.

    Description of Moscow. Translated by Grace Bigelow.

    The Peace Movement. Translated by Edmund von Mach.

    Fighting on the Frontier. Translated by Clara Bell and Henry W.
    Fischer.

    Battle of Gravelotte--St. Privat. Translated by Clara Bell and Henry
    W. Fischer.

    Consolatory Thoughts on the Earthly Life and a Future Existence.
    Translated by Mary Herms.


Ferdinand Lassalle

  The Life and Work of Ferdinand Lassalle. By Arthur N. Holcombe.

  The Workingmen's Programme. Translated by E.H. Babbitt.

  Science and the Workingmen. Translated by Thorstein B. Veblen.

  Open Letter to the Central Committee. Translated by E.H. Babbitt.





ILLUSTRATIONS--VOLUME X


  Bismarck Meeting Napoleon after the Battle of Sedan

  Prince Bismarck. By Franz von Lenbach

  Prince Bismarck. By Franz von Lenbach

  Princess Bismarck

  Coronation of King William I at Koenigsberg. By Adolph von Menzel

  Emperor William I. By Franz von Lenbach

  King William's Departure for the Front at the Beginning of the
  Franco-German War. By Adolph von Menzel

  Prince Bismarck. By Franz von Lenbach

  The Berlin Congress. By Anton von Werner

  Prince Bismarck. By Franz von Lenbach

  The Bismarck Monument at Hamburg. By Lederer

  William I on his Deathbed. By Anton von Werner

  Moltke. By Anton von Werner

  Count Moltke

  Moltke at Sedan. By Anton von Werner

  King William at the Mausoleum of his Parents on the Day of the French
  Declaration of War. By Anton von Werner

  The Capitulation of Sedan. By Anton von Werner

  Ferdinand Lassalle

  The Iron Foundry. By Adolph von Menzel

  Flax Barn in Laren. By Max Liebermann

       *       *       *       *       *




BISMARCK AS A NATIONAL TYPE[1]

BY KUNO FRANCKE, PH.D., LL.D., Litt.D. Professor of the History of
German Culture, Harvard University.


No man since Luther has been a more complete embodiment of German
nationality than Otto von Bismarck. None has been closer to the German
heart. None has stood more conspicuously for racial aspirations,
passions, ideals.

It is the purpose of the present sketch to bring out a few of these
affinities between Bismarck and the German people.

I

Perhaps the most obviously Teutonic trait in Bismarck's character is
its martial quality. It would be preposterous, surely, to claim
warlike distinction as a prerogative of the German race. Russians,
Frenchmen, Englishmen, Americans, undoubtedly, make as good fighters
as Germans. But it is not an exaggeration to say that there is no
country in the world where the army is as enlightened or as popular an
institution as it is in Germany.

The German army is not composed of hirelings of professional fighters
whose business it is to pick quarrels, no matter with whom. It is, in
the strictest sense of the word, the people in arms. Among its
officers there is a large percentage of the intellectual elite of the
country; its rank and file embrace every occupation and every class of
society, from the scion of royal blood down to the son of the
seamstress. Although it is based upon the unconditional
acceptance of the monarchical creed, nothing is farther removed from
it than the spirit of servility. On the contrary, one of the very
first teachings which are inculcated upon the German recruit is that,
in wearing the "king's coat," he is performing a public duty, and that
by performing this duty he is honoring himself. Nor can it be said
that it is the aim of German military drill to reduce the soldier to a
mere machine, at will to be set in motion or be brought to a
standstill by his superior. The aim of this drill is rather to give
each soldier increased self-control, mentally no less than bodily; to
develop his self-respect; to enlarge his sense of responsibility, as
well as to teach him the absolute necessity of the subordination of
the individual to the needs of the whole. The German army, then, is by
no means a lifeless tool that might be used by an unscrupulous and
adventurous despot to gratify his own whims or to wreak his private
vengeance. The German army is, in principle at least, a national
school of manly virtues, of discipline, of comradeship, of
self-sacrifice, of promptness of action, of tenacity of purpose.
Although, probably, the most powerful armament which the world has
ever seen, it makes for peace rather than for war. Although called
upon to defend the standard of the most imperious dynasty of western
Europe, it contains more of the spirit of true democracy than many a
city government on this side of the Atlantic.

All this has to be borne in mind if we wish to judge correctly of
Bismarck's military propensities. He has never concealed the fact that
he felt himself, above all, a soldier. One of his earliest public
utterances was a defense of the Prussian army against the sympathizers
with the revolution of 1848. His first great political achievement was
the carrying through, in the early sixties, of King William's army
reform in the face of the most stubborn and virulent opposition of a
parliamentary majority. Never, in the years following the formation of
the Empire, did his speech in the German Parliament rise to a higher
pathos than when he was asserting the military supremacy of the
Emperor, or calling upon the parties to forget their dissensions in
maintaining the defensive strength of the nation, or showering
contempt upon liberal deputies who seemed to think that questions of
national existence could be solved by effusions of academic oratory.
Over and over, during the last decade of his official career, did he
declare that the only thing which kept him from throwing aside the
worry and vexation of governmental duties and retiring to the much
coveted leisure of home and hearth, was the oath of vassal loyalty
constraining him to stand at his post until his imperial master
released him of his own accord. And at the very height of his
political triumphs he wrote to his sovereign: "I have always regretted
that my talents did not allow me to testify my attachment to the royal
house and my enthusiasm for the greatness and glory of the Fatherland
in the front rank of a regiment rather than behind a writing-desk. And
even now, after having been raised by your Majesty to the highest
honors of a statesman, I cannot altogether repress a feeling of regret
at not having been similarly able to carve out a career for myself as
a soldier. Perhaps I should have made a poor general, but if I had
been free to follow the bent of my own inclination I would rather have
won battles for your Majesty than diplomatic campaigns."

It seems clear that both the defects and the greatness of Bismarck's
character are intimately associated with these military leanings of
his. He certainly was overbearing; he could tolerate no opposition; he
was revengeful and unforgiving; he took pleasure in the appeal to
violence; he easily resorted to measures of repression; he requited
insults with counter-insults; he had something of that blind _furor
Teutonicus_ which was the terror of the Italian republics in the
Middle Ages. These are defects of temper which will probably prevent
his name from ever shining with that serene lustre of international
veneration that has surrounded the memory of a Joseph II. or a
Washington with a kind of impersonal immaculateness. But his
countrymen, at least, have every reason to condone these defects; for
they are concomitant results of the military bent of German character,
and they are offset by such transcendent military virtues that we
would almost welcome them as bringing this colossal figure within the
reach of our own frailties and shortcomings.

Three of the military qualities that made Bismarck great seem to me to
stand out with particular distinctness: his readiness to take the most
tremendous responsibilities, if he could justify his action by the
worth of the cause for which he made himself responsible; his
moderation after success was assured; his unflinching submission to
the dictates of monarchical discipline.

Moritz Busch has recorded an occurrence, belonging to the autumn of
1877, which most impressively brings before us the tragic grandeur and
the portentous issues of Bismarck's career. It was twilight at Varzin,
and the Chancellor, as was his wont after dinner, was sitting by the
stove in the large back drawing-room. After having sat silent for a
while, gazing straight before him, and feeding the fire now and anon
with fir-cones, he suddenly began to complain that his political
activity had brought him but little satisfaction and few friends.
Nobody loved him for what he had done. He had never made anybody happy
thereby, he said, not himself, nor his family, nor any one else. Some
of those present would not admit this, and suggested "that he had made
a great nation happy." "But," he retorted, "how many have I made
unhappy! But for me three great wars would not have been fought;
eighty thousand men would not have perished; parents, brothers,
sisters, and wives would not have been bereaved and plunged into
mourning.... That matter, however, I have settled with God." "Settled
with God!"--an amazing statement, a statement which would seem the
height of blasphemy if it were not an expression of noblest manliness,
if it did not reveal the soul of a warrior dauntlessly fighting for a
great cause, risking for it the existence of a whole country as well
as his own happiness, peace, and salvation, and being ready to submit
the consequences, whatever they might be, to the tribunal of eternity.
To say that a man who is willing to take such responsibilities as
these makes himself thereby an offender against morality appears to me
tantamount to condemning the Alps as obstructions to traffic. A
people, at any rate, that glories in the achievements of a Luther has
no right to cast a slur upon the motives of a Bismarck.

Whatever one may think of the worth of the cause for which Bismarck
battled all his life--the unity and greatness of Germany--it is
impossible not to admire the policy of moderation and self-restraint
pursued by him after every one of his most decisive victories. And
here again we note in him the peculiarly German military temper.
German war-songs do not glorify foreign conquest and brilliant
adventure; they glorify dogged resistance and bitter fight for house
and home, for kith and kin. The German army, composed as it is of
millions of peaceful citizens, is essentially a weapon of defense. And
it can truly be said that Bismarck, with all his natural
aggressiveness and ferocity, was in the main a defender, not a
conqueror. He defended Prussia against the intolerable arrogance and
un-German policy of Austria; he defended Germany against French
interference in the work of national consolidation; he defended the
principle of State sovereignty against the encroachments of the
Papacy; he defended the monarchy against the republicanism of the
Liberals and Socialists; and the supreme aim of his foreign policy
after the establishment of the German Empire was to guard the peace of
Europe.

The third predominant trait of Bismarck's character that stamps him as
a soldier--his unquestioning obedience to monarchical discipline--is
so closely bound up with the peculiarly German conceptions of the
functions and the Purpose of the State, that it will be better to
approach this Part of his nature from the political instead of the
military side.

II

In no other of the leading countries of the world has the _laissez
faire_ doctrine had as little influence in political matters as in
Germany. Luther, the fearless champion of religious individualism,
was, in questions of government, the most pronounced advocate of
paternalism. Kant, the cool dissector of the human intellect, was at
the same time the most rigid upholder of corporate morality. It was
Fichte, the ecstatic proclaimer of the glory of the individual will,
who wrote this dithyramb on the necessity of the constant surrender of
private interests to the common welfare: "Nothing can live by itself
or for itself; everything lives in the whole; and the whole
continually sacrifices itself to itself in order to live anew. This is
the law of life. Whatever has come to the consciousness of existence
must fall a victim to the progress of all existence. Only there is a
difference whether you are dragged to the shambles like a beast with
bandaged eyes, or whether, in full and joyous presentiment of the life
which will spring forth from your sacrifice, you offer yourself freely
on the altar of eternity."

Not even Plato and Aristotle went so far in the deification of the
State as Hegel. And if Hegel declared that the real office of the
State is not to further individual interests, to protect private
property, but to be an embodiment of the organic unity of public life;
if he saw the highest task and the real freedom of the individual in
making himself a part of this organic unity of public life, he voiced
a sentiment which was fully shared by the leading classes of the
Prussia of his time, and which has since become a part of the
political creed of the Socialist masses all over Germany.

Here we have the moral background of Bismarck's internal policy. His
monarchism rested not only on his personal allegiance to the
hereditary dynasty, although no medieval knight could have been more
steadfast in his loyalty to his liege lord than Bismarck was in his
unswerving devotion to the Hohenzollern house. His monarchism
rested above all on the conviction that, under the present
conditions of German political life, no other form of government would
insure equally well the fulfilment of the moral obligations of the
State.

[Illustration: PRINCE BISMARCK _From the Painting by Franz von
Lenbach_ COURTESY OF MR. HUGO RESINGER NEW YORK]

He was by no means blind to the value of parliamentary institutions.
More than once has he described the English Constitution as the
necessary outcome and the fit expression of the vital forces of
English society. More than once has he eulogized the sterling
political qualities of English landlordism, its respect for the law,
its common sense, its noble devotion to national interests. More than
once has he deplored the absence in Germany of "the class which in
England is the main support of the State--the class of wealthy and
therefore conservative gentlemen, independent of material interests,
whose whole education is directed with a view to their becoming
statesmen, and whose only aim in life is to take part in public
affairs"; and the absence of "a Parliament, like the English,
containing two sharply defined parties whereof one forms a sure and
unswerving majority which subjects itself with iron discipline to its
ministerial leaders." We may regret that Bismarck himself did not do
more to develop parliamentary discipline; that, indeed, he did
everything in his power to arrest the healthy growth of German party
life. But it is at least perfectly clear that his reasons for refusing
to allow the German parties a controlling influence in shaping the
policy of the government were not the result of mere despotic caprice,
but were founded upon thoroughly German traditions, and upon a
thoroughly sober, though one-sided, view of the present state of
German public affairs.

To him party government appeared as much of an impossibility as it had
appeared to Hegel. The attempt to establish it would, in his opinion,
have led to nothing less than chaos. The German parties, as he viewed
them, represented, not the State, not the nation, but an infinite
variety of private and class interests--the interests of landholders,
traders, manufacturers, laborers, politicians, priests, and so on;
each particular set of interests desiring the particular consideration
of the public treasury, and refusing the same amount of consideration
to every other. It seemed highly desirable to him, as it did to Hegel,
that all these interests should be heard; that they should be
represented in a Parliament based upon as wide and liberal a suffrage
as possible. But to intrust any one of these interests with the
functions of government would, in his opinion, have been treason to
the State; it would have been class tyranny of the worst kind.

The logical outcome of all this was his conviction of the absolute
necessity, for Germany, of a strong non-partisan government: a
government which should hold all the conflicting class interests in
check and force them into continual compromises with one another; a
government which should be unrestricted by any class prejudices,
pledges, or theories, and have no other guiding star than the welfare
of the whole nation. And the only basis for such a government he found
in the Prussian monarchy, with its glorious tradition of military
discipline, of benevolent paternalism, and of self-sacrificing
devotion to national greatness; with its patriotic gentry, its
incorruptible courts, its religious freedom, its enlightened
educational system, its efficient and highly trained civil service. To
bow before such a monarchy, to serve such a State, was indeed
something different from submitting to the chance vote of a
parliamentary majority; in this bondage even a Bismarck could find his
highest freedom.

For nearly forty years he bore this bondage; for twenty-eight he stood
in the place nearest to the monarch himself; and not even his enemies
dared to assert that his political conduct was guided by other motives
than the consideration of public welfare. Indeed, if there is any
phrase for which he, the apparent cynic, the sworn despiser of
phrases, seems to have had a certain weakness, it is the word _salus
publica_. To it he sacrificed his days and his nights; for it he more
than once risked his life; for it he incurred more hatred and slander
than perhaps any man of his time; for it he alienated his best
friends; for it he turned not once or twice, but one might almost say
habitually, against his own cherished prejudices and convictions. The
career of few men shows so many apparent inconsistencies and
contrasts. One of his earliest speeches in the Prussian Landtag was a
fervent protest against the introduction of civil marriage; yet the
civil marriage clause in the German constitution is his work. He was
by birth and tradition a believer in the divine right of kings; yet
the King of Hanover could tell something of the manner in which
Bismarck dealt with the divine right of kings if it stood in the way
of German unity. He took pride in belonging to the most feudal
aristocracy of western Europe, the Prussian Junkerdom; yet he did more
to uproot feudal privileges than any other German statesman since
1848. He gloried in defying public opinion, and was wont to say that
he felt doubtful about himself whenever he met with popular applause;
yet he is the founder of the German Parliament, and he founded it on
direct and universal suffrage. He was the sworn enemy of the Socialist
party--he attempted to destroy it, root and branch; yet through the
nationalization of railways and the obligatory insurance of workmen he
infused more Socialism into German legislation than any other
statesman before him.

Truly, a man who could thus sacrifice his own wishes and instincts to
the common good; who could so completely sink his own personality in
the cause of the nation; who with such matchless courage defended this
cause against attacks from whatever quarter--against court intrigue no
less than against demagogues--such a man had a right to stand above
parties; and he spoke the truth when, some years before leaving
office, in a moment of gloom and disappointment he wrote under his
portrait, _Patrice inserviendo consumor_.

III

There is a strange, but after all perfectly natural, antithesis in
German national character. The same people that instinctively believes
in political paternalism, that willingly submits to restrictions of
personal liberty in matters of State such as no Englishman would ever
tolerate, is more jealous of its independence than perhaps any other
nation in matters pertaining to the intellectual, social, and
religious life of the individual. It seems as if the very pressure
from without had helped to strengthen and enrich the life within.

Not only all the great men of German thought, from Luther down to the
Grimms and the Humboldts, have been conspicuous for their freedom from
artificial conventions and for the originality and homeliness of their
human intercourse; but even the average German official--wedded as he
may be to his rank or his title, anxious as he may be to preserve an
outward decorum in exact keeping with the precise shade of his public
status--is often the most delightfully unconventional, good-natured,
unsophisticated, and even erratic being in the world, as soon as he
has left the cares of his office behind him. Germany is the classic
land of queer people. It is the land of Quintus Fixlein, Onkel Braesig,
Leberecht Huehnchen, and the host of _Fliegende Blatter_ worthies; it
is the land of the beer-garden and the Kaffeekranzchen, of the
Christmas-tree and the Whitsuntide merry-making; it is the land of
country inns and of student pranks. What more need be said to bring
before one's mind the wealth of hearty joyfulness, jolly
good-fellowship, boisterous frolic, sturdy humor, simple directness,
and genuinely democratic feeling that characterizes social life in
Germany.

And still less reason is there for dwelling on the intellectual and
religious independence of German character. Absence of constraint in
scientific inquiry and religious conduct is indeed the very palladium
of German freedom. Nowhere is higher education so entirely removed
from class distinction as in the country where the imperial princes
are sent to the same school with the sons of tradesmen and artisans.
Nowhere is there so little religious formalism, coupled with such deep
religious feeling, as in the country where sermons are preached to
empty benches, while _Tannhauser_ and _Lohengrin, Wallenstein_ and
_Faust_, are listened to with the hush of awe and bated breath by
thousands upon thousands.

In all these respects--socially, intellectually, religiously--Bismarck
was the very incarnation of German character. Although an aristocrat
by birth and bearing, and although, especially during the years of
early manhood, passionately given over to the aristocratic habits of
dueling, hunting, swaggering and carousing, he was essentially a man
of the people. Nothing was so utterly foreign to him as any form of
libertinism; even his eccentricities were of the hardy, homespun sort.
He was absolutely free from social vanity; he detested court
festivities; he set no store by orders or decorations; the only two
among the innumerable ones conferred upon him which he is said to have
highly valued were the Prussian order of the Iron Cross, bestowed for
personal bravery on the battlefield, and the medal for "rescuing from
danger" which he earned in 1842 for having saved his groom from
drowning by plunging into the water after him.

All his instincts were bound up with the soil from which he had
sprung. He passionately loved the North German plain, with its gloomy
moorlands, its purple heather, its endless wheatfields, its kingly
forests, its gentle lakes, and its superb sweep of sky and clouds.
Writing to his friends when abroad--he traveled very little abroad--he
was in the habit of describing foreign scenery by comparing it to
familiar views and places on his own estates. During sleepless nights
in the Chancellery at Berlin there would often rise before him a
sudden vision of Varzin, his Pomeranian country-seat, "perfectly
distinct in the minutest particulars, like a great picture with all
its colors fresh--the green trees, the sunshine on the stems, the blue
sky above. I saw every individual tree." Never was he more happy than
when alone with nature. "Saturday," he writes to his wife from
Frankfort, "I drove to Ruedesheim. There I took a boat, rowed out on
the Rhine, and swam in the moonlight, with nothing but nose and eyes
out of water, as far as the Maeuseturm near Bingen, where the bad
bishop came to his end. It gives one a peculiar dreamy sensation to
float thus on a quiet warm night in the water, gently carried down by
the current, looking above on the heavens studded with moon and stars,
and on each side the banks and wooded hilltops and the battlements of
the old castles bathed in the moonlight, whilst nothing falls on one's
ear but the gentle splashing of one's movements. I should like to swim
like this every evening." And what poet has more deeply felt than he
that vague musical longing which seizes one when far away from human
sounds, by the brook-side or the hill-slope? "I feel as if I were
looking out on the mellowing foliage of a fine September day," he
writes again to his wife, "health and spirits good, but with a soft
touch of melancholy, a little homesickness, a longing for deep woods
and lakes, for a desert, for yourself and the children, and all this
mixed up with a sunset and Beethoven."

His domestic affections were by no means limited to those united to
him by ties of blood; he cherished strong patriarchal feelings for
every member of his household, past or present. He possessed in a high
degree the German tenderness for little things. He never forgot a
service rendered to him, however small. In the midst of the most
engrossing public activity he kept himself informed about the minutest
details of the management of his estates, so that his wife could once
laughingly say that a turnip from his own fields interested him vastly
more than all the problems of international politics.

His humor, also, was entirely of the German stamp. It was boisterous,
rollicking, aggressive, unsparing--of himself as little as of
others--cynic, immoderate, but never without a touch of good-nature.
His satire was often crushing, never venomous. His wit was racy and
exuberant never equivocal. Whether he describes his _vis-a-vis_ at a
hotel table, his Excellency So-and-So, as "one of those figures which
appear to one when he has the nightmare--a fat frog without legs, who
opens his mouth as wide as his shoulders, like a carpet-bag, for each
bit, so that I am obliged to hold tight on by the table from
giddiness"; whether he characterizes his colleagues at the Frankfort
Bundestag as "mere caricatures of periwig diplomatists, who at once
put on their official visage if I merely beg of them a light to my
cigar, and who study their words and looks with Regensburg care when
they ask for the key of the lavatory"; whether he sums up his
impression of the excited, emotional manner in which Jules Favre
pleaded with him for the peace terms in the words, "He evidently took
me for a public meeting"; whether he declined to look at the statue
erected to him at Cologne, because he "didn't care to see himself
fossilized"; whether he spoke of the unprecedented popular ovations
given to him at his final departure from Berlin as a "first-class
funeral"--there are always the same childlike directness, the same
naive impulsiveness, the same bantering earnestness, the same sublime
contempt for sham and hypocrisy.

And what man has been more truthful in intellectual and religious
matters? He, the man of iron will, of ferocious temper, was at the
same time the coolest reasoner, the most unbiased thinker. He
willingly submitted to the judgment of experts, he cheerfully
acknowledged intellectual talent in others, he took a pride in having
remained a learner all his life, but he hated arrogant amateurishness.
He was not a church-goer; he declined to be drawn into the circle of
religious schemers and reactionary fanatics; he would occasionally
speak in contemptuous terms of "the creed of court chaplains"; but,
writing to his wife of that historic meeting with Napoleon in the
lonely cottage near the battlefield of Sedan, he said: "A powerful
contrast with our last meeting in the Tuileries in '67. Our
conversation was a difficult thing, if I wanted to avoid touching on
topics which could not but affect painfully the man whom God's mighty
hand had cast down." And more than once has he given vent to
reflections like these: "For him who does not believe--as I do from
the bottom of my heart--that death is a transition from one existence
to another, and that we are justified in holding out to the worst of
criminals in his dying hour the comforting assurance, _mors janua
vitae_--I say that for him who does not share that conviction the joys
of this life must possess so high a value that I could almost envy him
the sensations they must procure him." Or these: "Twenty years hence,
or at most thirty, we shall be past the troubles of this life, whilst
our children will have reached our present standpoint, and will
discover with astonishment that their existence, but now so brightly
begun, has turned the corner and is going down hill. Were that to be
the end of it all, life would not be worth the trouble of dressing and
undressing every day."

IV

We have considered a few traits of Bismarck's mental and moral make-up
which seem to be closely allied with German national character and
traditions. But, after all, the personality of a man like Bismarck is
not exhausted by the qualities which he has in common with his people,
however sublimated these qualities may be in him. His innermost life
belongs to himself alone, or is shared, at most, by the few men of the
world's history who, like him, tower in splendid solitude above the
waste of the ages. In the Middle High German _Alexanderlied_ there is
an episode which most impressively brings out the impelling motive of
such titanic lives. On one of his expeditions Alexander penetrates
into the land of Scythian barbarians. These child-like people are so
contented with their simple, primitive existence that they beseech
Alexander to give them immortality. He answers that this is not in his
power. Surprised, they ask why, then, if he is only a mortal, he is
making such a stir in the world. Thereupon he answers: "The Supreme
Power has ordained us to carry out what is in us. The sea is given
over to the whirlwind to plough it up. As long as life lasts and I am
master of my senses, I must bring forth what is in me. What would life
be if all men in the world were like you?" These words might have been
spoken by Bismarck. Every word, every act of his public career, gives
us the impression of a man irresistibly driven on by some
overwhelming, mysterious power. He was not an ambitious schemer, like
Beaconsfield or Napoleon; he was not a moral enthusiast like Gladstone
or Cavour. If he had consulted his private tastes and inclinations, he
would never have wielded the destinies of an empire. Indeed, he often
rebelled against his task; again and again he tried to shake it off;
and the only thing which again and again brought him back to it was
the feeling, "I must; I cannot do otherwise." If ever there was a man
in whom Fate revealed its moral sovereignty, that man was Bismarck.

Whither has he gone now? Has he joined his compeers? Is he conversing
in ethereal regions with Alexander, Caesar, Frederick? Is he sweeping
over land and sea in the whirlwind and the thunder-cloud? Or may we
hope that he is still working out the task which, in spite of all the
imperiousness of his nature, was the essence of his earthly life--the
task of making the Germans a nation of true freemen?


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: From _Glimpses of Modern German Culture_. Permission
Dodd, Mead & Company, New York.]

       *       *       *       *       *




THE LOVE LETTERS OF BISMARCK[2] TRANSLATED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF
CHARLTON T. LEWIS


Hotel de Prusse, Stettin, (Not dated: Written about the end of
December, 1846.)

TO HERR VON PUTTKAMER:

_Most Honored Sir_.--I begin this communication by indicating its
content in the first sentence--it is a request for the highest thing
you can dispose of in this world, the hand of your daughter. I do not
conceal from myself the fact that I appear presumptuous when I, whom
you have come to know only recently and through a few meetings, claim
the strongest proof of confidence which you can give to any man. I
know, however, that even irrespective of all obstacles in space and
time which can increase your difficulty in forming an opinion of me,
through my own efforts I can never be in a position to give you such
guaranties for the future that they would, from your point of view,
justify intrusting me with an object so precious, unless you
supplement by trust in God that which trust in human beings cannot
supply. All that I can do is to give you information about myself with
absolute candor, so far as I have come to understand myself. It will
be easy for you to get reports from others in regard to my public
conduct; I content myself, therefore, with an account of what underlay
that--my inner life, and especially my relations to Christianity. To
do that I must take a start far back.

In earliest childhood I was estranged from my parents' house, and at
no time became entirely at home there again; and my education from the
beginning was conducted on the assumption that everything is
subordinate to the cultivation of the intelligence and the early
acquisition of positive sciences.

After a course of religious teaching, irregularly attended and not
comprehended, I had at the time of my confirmation by Schleiermacher,
on my sixteenth birthday no belief other than a bare deism, which was
not long free from pantheistic elements. It was at about this time
that I, not through indifference, but after mature consideration,
ceased to pray every evening, as I had been in the habit of doing
since childhood; because prayer seemed inconsistent with my view of
God's nature; saying to myself: either God himself, being omnipresent,
is the cause of everything--even of every thought and volition of
mine--and so in a sense offers prayers to himself through me, or, if
my will is independent of God's will, it implies arrogance and a doubt
as to the inflexibility as well as the perfection of the divine
determination to believe that it can be influenced by human appeals.
When not quite seventeen years old I went to Goettingen University.
During the next eight years I seldom saw the home of my parents; my
father indulgently refrained from interference; my mother censured me
from far away when I neglected my studies and professional work,
probably in the conviction that she must leave the rest to guidance
from above: with this exception I was literally cut off from the
counsel and instruction of others. In this period, when studies which
ambition at times led me to prosecute zealously--or emptiness and
satiety, the inevitable companions of my way of living--brought me
nearer to the real meaning of life and eternity, it was in old-world
philosophies, uncomprehended writings of Hegel, and particularly in
Spinoza's seeming mathematical clearness, that I sought for peace of
mind in that which the human understanding cannot comprehend. But it
was loneliness that first led me to reflect on these things
persistently, when I went to Kniephof, after my mother's death, five
or six years ago. Though at first my views did not materially change
at Kniephof, yet conscience began to be more audible in the solitude,
and to represent that many a thing was wrong which I had before
regarded as permissible. Yet my struggle for insight was still
confined to the circle of the understanding, and led me, while reading
such writings as those of Strauss, Feuerbach, and Bruno Bauer, only
deeper into the blind alley of doubt.

I was firmly convinced that God has denied to man the possibility of
true knowledge; that it is presumption to claim to understand the will
and plans of the Lord of the World; that the individual must await in
submission the judgment that his Creator will pass upon him in death,
and that the will of God becomes known to us on earth solely through
conscience, which He has given us as a special organ for feeling our
way through the gloom of the world. That I found no peace in these
views I need not say. Many an hour have I spent in disconsolate
depression, thinking that my existence and that of others is
purposeless and unprofitable--perchance only a casual product of
creation, coming and going like dust from rolling wheels.

About four years ago I came into close companionship, for the first
time since my school-days, with Moritz Blankenburg, and found in him,
what I had never had till then in my life, a friend; but the warm zeal
of his love strove in vain to give me by persuasion and discussion
what I lacked--faith. But through Moritz I made acquaintance with the
Triglaf family and the social circle around it, and found in it people
who made me ashamed that, with the scanty light of my understanding, I
had undertaken to investigate things which such superior intellects
accepted as true and holy with childlike trust. I saw that the members
of this circle were, in their outward life, almost perfect models of
what I wished to be. That confidence and peace dwelt in them did not
surprise me, for I had never doubted that these were companions of
belief; but belief cannot be had for the asking, and I thought I must
wait submissively to see whether it would come to me. I soon felt at
home in that circle, and was conscious of a satisfaction that I had
not before experienced--a family life that included me, almost a home.

I was meanwhile brought into contact with certain events in which I
was not an active participant, and which, as other people's secrets, I
cannot communicate to you, but which stirred me deeply. Their
practical result was that the consciousness of the shallowness and
worthlessness of my aim in life became more vivid than ever. Through
the advice of others, and through my own impulse, I was brought to the
point of reading the Scriptures more consecutively and with resolute
restraint, sometimes, of my own judgment. That which stirred within me
came to life when the news of the fatal illness of our late friend in
Cardemin tore the first ardent prayer from my heart, without subtle
questionings as to its reasonableness. God did not grant my prayer on
that occasion; neither did He utterly reject it, for I have never
again lost the capacity to bring my requests to Him, and I feel within
me, if not peace, at least confidence and courage such as I never knew
before.

I do not know what value you will attach to this emotion, which my
heart has felt for only two months; I only hope that it may not be
lost, whatever your decision in regard to me may be--a hope of which I
could give you no better assurance than by undeviating frankness and
loyalty in that which I have now disclosed to you, and to no one else
hitherto, with the conviction that God favors the sincere.

I refrain from any assurance of my feelings and purposes with
reference to your daughter, for the step I am taking speaks of them
louder and more eloquently than words can. So, too, no promises for
the future would be of service to you, since you know the
untrustworthiness of the human heart better than I, and the only
security I offer for the welfare of your daughter lies in my prayer
for God's blessing. As a matter of history I would only observe that,
after I had seen fraeulein Johanna repeatedly in Cardemin, after the
trip we made together this summer, I have only been in doubt as to
whether the attainment of my desires would be reconcilable with the
happiness and peace of your daughter, and whether my self-confidence
was not greater than my ability when I believed that she could find in
me what she would have a right to look for in her husband. Very
recently, however, together with my reliance on God's grace, the
resolution which I now carry out has also become fixed in me, and I
kept silent when I saw you in Zimmerhausen only because I had more to
say than I could express in conversation. In view of the importance of
the matter and the great sacrifice which it will involve for you and
your wife in separation from your daughter, I can scarcely hope that
you will give a favorable decision at once, and only beg that you will
not refuse me an opportunity for explanation upon any considerations
which might dispose you to reject my suit, before you utter a positive
refusal.

There is doubtless a great deal that I have not said, or not said
fully enough, in this letter, and I am, of course, ready to give you
exact and faithful information as to everything you may desire to
know; I think I have told what is most important.

I beg you to convey to your wife my respectful compliments, and to
accept kindly the assurance of my love and esteem.

BISMARCK.


Schoenhausen, February 1, '47.

I had only waited for daylight to write you, my dear heart, and with
the light came your little green spirit-lamp to make my lukewarm water
seethe--though this time it found it ready to boil over. Your pity for
my restless nights at present is premature, but I shall give you
credit for it. The Elbe still lies turbid and growling in her
ice-bonds: the spring's summons to burst them is not yet loud enough
for her. I say to the weather: "If you would only be cold or warm! But
you stay continually at freezing-point, and at this rate the matter
may long drag on." For the present my activity is limited to sending
out, far and wide, from the warm seat at the writing-table, diverse
conjurations, whose magic starts quantities of fascines, boards,
wheelbarrows, etc., from inland towards the Elbe, perchance to serve
as a prosaic dam in restraint of the poetical foaming of the flood.
After I had spent the morning in this useful rather than agreeable
correspondence, my resolve was to chat away comfortably through the
evening with you, beloved one, as though we were sitting on the sofa
in the red drawing-room; and with sympathetic attention to my desire
the mail kept for my enjoyment precisely at this gossiping hour your
letter, which I should have received by good rights day before
yesterday. You know, if you were able to decipher my inexcusably
scrawled note [3] from Schlawe, how I struck a half-drunken crowd of
hussar officers there, who disturbed me in my writing. In the train
I had, with my usual bad luck, a lady _vis-a-vis,_ and beside me two
very stout, heavily fur-clad passengers, the nearer of whom was a
direct descendant of Abraham into the bargain, and put me in a bitter
humor against all his race by a disagreeable movement of his left
elbow.

I found my brother in his dressing-gown, and he employed the five
minutes of our interview very completely, according to his habit, in
emptying a woolsack full of vexatious news about Kniephof before me:
disorderly inspectors, a lot of damaged sheep, distillers drunk every
day, thoroughbred colts (the prettiest, of course) come to grief, and
rotten potatoes, fell in a rolling torrent from his obligingly opened
mouth upon my somewhat travel-worn self. On my brother's account I
must affect and utter some exclamations of terror and complaint, for
my indifferent manner on receiving news of misfortune vexes him, and
as long as I do not express surprise he has ever new and still worse
news in stock. This time he attained his object, at least in my inner
man, and when I took my seat next to the Jewish elbow in green fur I
was in a right bad humor; especially the colt distressed me--an animal
as pretty as a picture and three years old.

Not before getting out of doors did I become conscious of the
ingratitude of my heart, and the thought of the unmerited happiness
that had become mine a fortnight earlier again won the mastery in me.
In Stettin I found drinking, gambling friends. William Ramin took
occasion to say, _apropos_ of a remark about reading the Bible, "Tut!
In Reinfeld I'd speak like that, too, if I were in your place, but to
believe you can impose on your oldest acquaintances is amusing." I
found my sister very well and full of joy about you and me. She wrote
to you, I think, before she received your letter. Arnim is full of
anxiety lest I become "pious." He kept looking at me all the time
earnestly and thoughtfully, with sympathetic concern, as one looks at
a dear friend whom one would like to save and yet almost gives up for
lost. I have seldom seen him so tender. Very clever people have a
curious manner of viewing the world. In the evening (I hope you did
not write so late) I drank your health in the foaming grape-juice of
Sillery, in company with half a dozen Silesian counts, Schaffgotsch
and others, at the Hotel de Rome, and convinced myself Friday morning
that the ice on the Elbe was still strong enough to bear my horse's
weight, and that, so far as the freshet was concerned, I might today
be still at your blue or black side[4] if other current official
engagements had not also claimed my presence. Snow has fallen very
industriously all day long, and the country is white once more,
without severe cold. When I arrived it was all free from snow on this
side of Brandenburg; the air was warm and the people were ploughing;
it was as though I had traveled out of winter into opening spring, and
yet within me the short springtime had changed to winter, for the
nearer I came to Schoenhausen the more oppressive I found the thought
of entering upon the old loneliness once more, for who knows how long.
Pictures of a wasted past arose in me as though they would banish me
from you. I was on the verge of tears, as when, after a school
vacation, I caught sight of Berlin's towers from the train.

The comparison of my situation with that in which I was on the 10th,
when I traveled the same line in the opposite direction; the
conviction that my solitude was, strictly speaking, voluntary, and
that I could at any time, albeit through a resolve smacking of
insubordination and a forty hours' journey, put an end to it, made me
see once more that my heart is ungrateful, dismayed, and resentful;
for soon I said to myself, in the comfortable fashion of the accepted
lover, that even here I am no longer lonely, and I was happy in the
consciousness of being loved by you, my angel, and, in return for the
gift of your love, of belonging to you, not merely in vassalage, but
with my inmost heart. On reaching the village I felt more distinctly
than ever before what a beautiful thing it is to have a home--a home
with which one is identified by birth, memory, and love. The sun shone
bright on the stately houses of the villagers, and their portly
inmates in long coats and the gayly dressed women in short skirts gave
me a much more friendly greeting than usual; on every face there
seemed to be a wish for my happiness, which I invariably converted
into thanks to you. Gray-haired Bellin's[5] fat face wore a broad
smile, and the trusty old soul shed tears as he patted me paternally
on the back and expressed his satisfaction; his wife, of course, wept
most violently; even Odin was more demonstrative than usual, and his
paw on my coat-collar proved incontestably that it was muddy weather.
Half an hour later Miss Breeze was galloping with me on the Elbe,
manifestly proud to carry your affianced, for never before did she so
scornfully smite the earth with her hoof. Fortunately you cannot
judge, my heart, in what a mood of dreary dulness I used to reenter my
house after a journey; what depression overmastered me when the door
of my room yawned at me and the mute furniture in the silent
apartments confronted me, bored like myself. The emptiness of my
existence was never clearer to me than in such moments, until I seized
a book--though none of them was sad enough for me--or mechanically
engaged in any routine work.

My preference was to come home at night, so that I could go to sleep
immediately.[6] Ach, Gott!--and now? What a different view I take of
everything--not merely that which concerns you as well, and because it
concerns you, or will concern you also (although I have been bothering
myself for two days with the question where your writing-desk will
stand), but my whole view of life is a new one, and I am cheerful and
interested even in my work on the dike and police matters. This
change, this new life, I owe, next to God, to you, _ma tres chere, mon
adoree Jeanneton_--to you who do not heat me occasionally, like an
alcohol flame, but work in my heart like warming fire. Some one is
knocking.

Visit from the co-director, who complains of the people who will not
pay their school taxes. The man asks me whether my _fiancee_ is tall.

"Oh yes; rather."

"Well, an acquaintance of mine saw you last summer with several ladies
in the Harz Mountains, and you preferred to converse with the tallest,
that must have been your _fiancee_."

The tallest woman in your party was, I fancy, Frau von Mittelstaedt.
* * * The Harz! The Harz!

After a thorough consultation with Frau Bellin, I have decided to make
no special changes here for the present, but to wait until we can hear
the wishes of the lady of the house in the matter, so that we may have
nothing to be sorry for. In six months I hope we shall know what we
have to do.

It is impossible as yet to say anything definite about our next meeting.
Just now it is raining; if that continues the Elbe may be played out in
a week or two, and then. * * * Still no news whatever about the Landtag.
Most cordial greetings and assurances of my love to your parents, and
the former--the latter, too, if you like--to all your cousins, women
friends, etc. What have you done with Aennchen?[7] My forgetting the
Versin letters disturbs me; I did not mean to make such a bad job of it.
Have they been found Farewell, my treasure, my heart, consolation of my
eyes.

Your faithful BISMARCK.


Another picture, a description of a storm in the Alps, which catches
my eye as I turn over the pages of the book, and pleases me much:

  "The sky is changed, and such a change! O night,
  And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong,
  Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
  Of a dark eye in woman! Far along
  From peak to peak, the rattling crags among,
  Leaps the live thunder; not from one lone cloud,
  But every mountain now has found a tongue,
  And Jura answers through her misty shroud--
  Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud.

  And this is in the night:--most glorious night!
  Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be
  A sharer in thy fierce and fair delight--
  A portion of the tempest and of thee!
  How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,
  And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!
  And now again 'tis black, and now the glee
  Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,
  As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth."

On such a night the suggestion comes uncommonly near to me that I wish
to be _a sharer in the delight, a portion of tempest, of night_;[8]
mounted on a runaway horse, to dash down the cliffs into the falls of
the Rhine, or something similar. A pleasure of that kind,
unfortunately, one can enjoy but once in this life. There is something
intoxicating in nocturnal storms. Your nights, dearest, I hope you
regard, however, as _sent for slumber, not for writing_.[9] I see with
regret that I write English still more illegibly than German. Once
more, farewell, my heart. Tomorrow noon I am invited to be the guest
of Frau Brauchitsch, presumably so that I may be duly and thoroughly
questioned about you and yours. I'll tell them as much as I please.
_Je t'embrasse mille fois._

Your own

B.


Schoenhausen, February 7, '47.

_My Heart_,--Just returned through a wild, drifting snow-storm from an
appointment (which unfortunately was occasioned by the burning out of a
poor family). I have warmed myself at your dear letter; in the twilight,
even, I recognized your "Right honorable." All my limbs are twitching
with eagerness to be off to Berlin again today, and to characterize the
dikes and floods in terms of the unutterable Poberow[10] dialect. The
inexorable thermometer stands at 2 below freezing-point, accompanied
with howling wind and large flakes, as though it would soon rain. What
is duty! Compare Falstaff's expressions touching honor. At any rate, I
shall write you straightway, even if I ruin myself in postage, and no
sensible thoughts find their way through the debris of the fire that
still has possession of my imagination. After reading your last remark I
have just lit my cigar and stirred the ink. First, like a business-man,
to answer your letter. I begin with a request smacking of the official
desk--namely, that when you write you will, if you please, expressly
state what letters you have received from me, giving their dates;
otherwise one is uncertain as to the regular forwarding of them, as I am
in doubt whether you have received my first letter, which I wrote the
day of my arrival here, while on a business trip, in Jerichow, if I
mistake not, on very bad paper, Friday, the 29th of January. I am very
thankful that you do not write in the evening, my love, even if I am
myself to suffer thereby. Every future glance into your gray-blue-black
eye with its large pupil will compensate me for possibly delayed or
shortened letters.

If I could only dream of you when you do of me! But recently I do not
dream at all--shockingly healthy and prosaic; or does my soul fly to
Reinfeld in the night and associate with yours? In that case it can
certainly not dream here; but it ought to tell about its journey in
the morning, whereas the wayward thing is as silent about its
nocturnal employments as though it, too, slept like a badger.

Your reminder of the bore, Fritz, with the letter-pouch transports me
to Reinfeld and makes me long still more eagerly for the time when I
can once again hug my black Jeannette for my good-morning at the desk.
About the letter with the strange address, _evidently_ in a woman's
hand, I should like to tell you a romantic story, but I must destroy
every illusion with the explanation that it comes from a man who used
to be a friend of mine, who, if I do not mistake, once in Kniephof
took a copy of an Italian address that I received. Again a curtain
behind which one fancies there is all the poetry in the world, and
finds the flattest prose. (I once saw in Aix-la-Chapelle, while
strolling about the stage, the Princess of Eboli, after I had just
spent my sympathy upon her as she lay overwhelmed and fainting at the
queen's feet in one of the scenes, eating bread and butter and
cracking bad jokes behind the scenes.) That cousin Woedtke is fond of
me, and that the Versin sausage and letter affair is all right, I am
glad to learn.

I need not assure you that I have the most heartfelt sympathy for the
sufferings of your good mother; I hope rest and summer will affect her
health favorably, and that she will recover after a while, with the
joy of seeing her children happy. When she is here she shall not have
any steps to go up to reach you, and shall live directly next to you.

Why do you wear mournful black in dress and heart, my angel?
Cultivate the green of hope that today made right joyous revelry in me
at sight of its external image, when the gardener placed the first
messengers of spring, hyacinths and crocus, on my window-ledge. _Et
dis-moi donc, pourquoi es-tu paresseuse? Pourquoi ne fais-tu pas de
musique?_ I fancied you playing _c-dur_ when the hollow, melting wind
howls through the dry twigs of the lindens, and _d-moll_ when the
snow-flakes chase in fantastic whirls around the corners of the old
tower, and, after their desperation is spent, cover the graves with
their winding-sheet. Oh, were I but Keudell, I'd play now all day
long, and the tones would bear me over the Oder, Rega, Persante,
Wipper--I know not whither. _A propos de paresse_, I am going to
permit myself to make one more request of you, but with a preface.
When I ask you for anything I add (do not take it for blasphemy or
mockery) thy will be done--_your_ will, I mean; and I do not love you
less, nor am I vexed with you for a second if you do not fulfil my
request. I love you as you are, and as you choose to be. After I have,
by way of preface, said so much with inmost, unadorned truth, without
hypocrisy or flattery, I beg you to pay some attention to French--not
much, but somewhat--by reading French things that interest you, and,
what is not clear to you, make it clear with the dictionary. If it
bores you, stop it; but, lest it bore you, try it with books that
interest you, whatever they may be--romances or anything else. I do
not know your mother's views on such reading, but in my opinion there
is nothing that you cannot read to yourself. I do not ask this for my
own sake, for we will understand each other in our mother tongue, but
in your intercourse with the world you will not seldom find occasions
when it will be disagreeable or even mortifying if you are unfamiliar
with French. I do not know, indeed, to what degree this is true of
you, but reading is in any case a way to keep what you have and to
acquire more. If it pleases you, we shall find a way for you to become
more fluent in talking, than, as you say, you are now. If you do not
like it, rely with entire confidence on the preface to my request.

I wrote to poor Moritz yesterday, and, after reading your description
of his sadness, my letter lies like a stone on my conscience, for,
like a heartless egotist, I mocked his pain by describing my
happiness, and in five pages did not refer to his mourning by even a
syllable, speaking of myself again and again, and using him as
father-confessor. He is an awkward comforter who does not himself feel
pain sympathetically, or not vividly enough. My first grief was the
passionate, selfish one at the loss I had sustained; for Marie,[11] so
far as she is concerned, I do not feel it, because I know that she is
well provided for, but that my sympathy with the suffering of my
warmest friend, to whom I owe eternal thanks, is not strong enough to
produce a word of comfort, of strong consolation from overflowing
feeling, that burdens me sorely. Weep not, my angel; let your sympathy
be strong and full of confidence in God; give him real consolation
with encouragement, not with tears, and, if you can, doubly, for
yourself and for your thankless friend whose heart is just now filled
with you and has room for nothing else. Are you a withered leaf, a
faded garment? I will see whether my love can foster the verdure once
more, can brighten up the colors. You must put forth fresh leaves, and
the old ones I shall lay between the pages of the book of my heart so
that we may find them when we read there, as tokens of fond
recollection. You have fanned to life again the coal that under ashes
and debris still glowed in me; it shall envelop you in life-giving
flames.

_Le souper est servi_, the evening is gone, and I have done nothing
but chat with you and smoke: is that not becoming employment for the
dike-captain? Why not?

A mysterious letter from ---- lies before me. He writes in a tone new
for him; admits that he perceives that he did many a wrong to his first
wife; did not always rightly guide and bear with her weakness; was no
prop to the "child," and believes himself absolved by this severe
castigation. _Qu'est-ce qu'il me chante_? Has the letter undergone
transformation in the Christian climate of Reinfeld, or did it leave the
hand of this once shallow buffoon in its present form? He asserts,
moreover, that he lives in a never dreamed of happiness with his present
wife, whose acquaintance he made a week before the engagement, and whom
he married six weeks after the same event: a happiness which his first
marriage has taught him rightly to prize. Do you know the story of the
French tiler who falls from the roof, and, in passing the second story,
cries out, "_Ca va bien, pourvu que ca dure_?" Think, only, if we had
been betrothed on the 12th of October '44, and, on November 23d, had
married: What anxiety for mamma!

The English poems of mortal misery trouble me no more now; that was of
old, when I looked out into nothing--cold and stiff, snow-drifts in my
heart. Now a black cat plays with it in the sunshine, as though with a
rolling skein, and I like to see its rolling. I will give you, at the
end of this letter, a few more verses belonging to that period, of
which fragmentary copies are still preserved, as I see, in my
portfolio. You may allow me to read them still; they harm me no more.
_Thine eyes have still (and will always have) a charm for me_.[12]
Please write me in your next letter about the uncertain
marriage-plans. I believe, _by Jove!_[12] that the matter is becoming
serious. Until the day is fixed, it still seems to me as though we had
been dreaming; or have I really passed a fortnight in Reinfeld, and
held you in these arms of mine? Has Finette been found again? Do you
remember our conversation when we went out with her in leash--when
you, little rogue, said you would have "given me the mitten" had not
God taken pity on me and permitted me at least a peep through the
keyhole of His door of mercy! That came into my mind when I was
reading I Cor. vii. 13 and 14 yesterday.

[Illustration: PRINCE BISMARCK FRANZ VON LENBACH]

A commentator says of the passage that, in all relations of life,
Christ regards the kingdom of God as the more powerful, victorious,
finally overcoming all opposition, and the kingdom of darkness as
powerless, falling in ruins ever more and more. Yet, how do most
of you have so little confidence in your faith, and wrap it carefully
in the cotton of isolation, lest it take cold from any draught of
the world; while others are vexed with you, and proclaim that you
are people who esteem yourselves too holy to come into contact
with publicans, etc. If every one should think so who believes he
has found truth--and many serious, upright, humble seekers do believe
they find it elsewhere, or in another form--what a Pennsylvania
solitary-confinement prison would God's beautiful earth become,
divided up into thousands and thousands of exclusive coteries by
insuperable partitions! Compare, also, Rom. xiv. 22 and xv. 2; also,
particularly, I Cor. iv. 5; viii. 2; ix. 20; also xii. 4 and the
following; further, xiii. 2; all in the First Ep. to the Cor., which
seems to me to apply to the subject. We talked, during that walk, or
another one, a great deal about "the sanctity of doing good works." I
will not inundate you with Scripture passages in this connection, but
only tell you how splendid I find the Epistle of James. (Matt. xxv. 34
and following; Rom. ii. 6; II Cor. v. 10; Rom. ii. 13; I Epistle of
John iii. 7, and countless others.) It is, indeed, unprofitable to
base arguments upon separate passages of Scripture apart from their
connection; but there are many who are honestly striving, and who
attach more importance to passages like James ii. 14 than to Mark xvi.
16, and for the latter passage offer expositions, holding them to be
correct, which do not literally agree with yours. To what
interpretation does the word "faith" not lend itself, both when taken
alone and in connection with that which the Scriptures command us "to
believe," in every single instance where they employ the word! Against
my will, I fall into spiritual discussion and controversies. Among
Catholics the Bible is read not at all, or with great precaution, by
the laity; it is expounded only by the priests, who have concerned
themselves all their lives with the study of the original sources. In
the end, all depends upon the interpretation. Concert in Buetow amuses
me: the idea of Buetow is, to my mind, the opposite of all music.

I have been quite garrulous, have I not? Now I must disturb some
document-dust, and sharpen my pen afresh to the police-official style,
for the president of the provincial court and the government. Could I
but enclose myself herewith, or go along in a salmon-basket as
mail-matter! Till we meet again, _dearest black one_.[13] I love you,
_c'est tout dire_.

BISMARCK.

(I am forgetting the English verses):

  "Sad dreams, as when the spirit of our youth
  Returns in sleep, sparkling with all the truth
  And innocence, once ours, and leads us back
  In mournful mockery over the shining track
  Of our young life, and points out every ray
  Of hope and peace we've lost upon the way!"

By Moore, I think; perhaps Byron.

  "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
  Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
  To the last syllable of recorded time;
  And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
  The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
  Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
  That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
  And then is heard no more: it is a tale
  Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
  Signifying nothing."

Cordial remembrances to your parents and the Reddentin folk.


Schoenhausen, February 23, '47.

_My Angel!_--I shall not send this letter on its way tomorrow, it's
true, but I do want to make use of the few unoccupied minutes left me
to satisfy the need I am conscious of every hour, to communicate with
you, and forthwith to compose a "Sunday letter" to you once more.
Today I have been "on the move" all day long. "The Moorish king rode
up and down," unfortunately not "through Granada's royal town," but
between Havelberg and Jerichow, on foot, in a carriage, and on
horseback, and got mighty cold doing so--because, after the warm
weather of the last few days, I had not made the slightest preparation
to encounter five degrees below freezing, with a cutting north wind,
and was too much in haste or too lazy to mount the stairs again when I
noticed the fresh air. During the night it had been quite endurable
and superb moonlight. A beautiful spectacle it was, too, when the
great fields of ice first set themselves massively in motion, with
explosions like cannon-shots, shattering themselves against one
another; they rear, shoving over and under each other; they pile up
house-high, and sometimes build dams obliquely across the Elbe, in
front of which the pent stream rises until it breaks through them with
rage. Now are they all broken to pieces in the battle--the giants--and
the water very thickly covered with ice-cakes, the largest of which
measure several square rods, which it bears out to the free sea like
shattered chains, with grumbling, clashing noises. This will go on so
for about three days more, until the ice that comes from Bohemia,
which passed the bridge at Dresden several days ago, has gone by. (The
danger is that the ice-cakes by jamming together may make a dam, and
the stream rise in front of this--often ten to fifteen feet in a few
hours.) Then comes the freshet from the mountains which floods the bed
of the Elbe, often a mile in width, and is dangerous in itself, owing
to its volume. How long that is to last we cannot tell beforehand. The
prevailing cold weather, combined with the contrary sea wind, will
certainly retard it. It may easily last so long that it will not be
worth while to go to Reinfeld before the 20th. If only eight days
should be left me, would you have me undertake it, nevertheless?--or
will you wait to have me without interruption after the 20th, or
perhaps 18th? It is true that _fiance_ and dike-captain are almost
incompatible; but were I not the latter, I have not the slightest idea
who would be. The revenues of the office are small, and the duties
sometimes laborious; the gentlemen of the neighborhood, however, are
deeply concerned, and yet without public spirit. And even if one
should be discovered who would undertake it for the sake of the title,
which is, strange to say, much desired in these parts, yet there is no
one here (may God forgive me the offence) who would not be either
unfit for the business or faint-hearted. A fine opinion, you will
think, I have of myself, that I only am none of this; but I assert
with all of my native modesty that I have all these faults in less
degree than the others in this part of the country--which is, in fact,
not saying much.

I have not yet been able to write to Moritz, and yet I must send
something to which he can reply, inasmuch as my former letter has not
as yet brought a sign of life. Or have you crowded me out of his
heart, and do you fill it alone? The little pale-faced child is not in
danger, I hope. That is a possibility in view of which I am terrified
whenever I think of it--that as a crowning misfortune of our most
afflicted friend, this thread of connection with Marie might be
severed. But she will soon be a year and a half old, you know; she has
passed the most dangerous period for children. Will you mope and talk
of warm hands and cold love if I pay a visit to Moritz on my next
journey, instead of flying to Reinfeld without a pause as is required
of a loving youth?

That you are getting pale, my heart, distresses me. Do you feel well
otherwise, physically, and of good courage? Give me a bulletin of your
condition, your appetite, your sleep. I am surprised also that Hedwig
Dewitz has written to you--such a heterogeneous nature, that can have
so little in common with you. She was educated with my sister for
several years in Kniephof, although she was four or five years the
elder of the two. Either she loves you--which I should find quite easy
to explain--or has other prosaic intentions. I fancy that she, as is
quite natural, does not feel at home in her father's house; she has,
therefore, always made her home with others for long periods and with
satisfaction.

In your letter which lies before me I come upon "self-control" again.
That is a fine acquisition for one who may profit by it, but surely to
be distinguished from compulsion. It is praiseworthy and amiable to
wean one's self from tasteless or provoking outbursts of feeling, or
to give to them a more ingratiating form; but I call it
self-constraint--which makes one sick at heart--when one stifles his
own feelings in himself. In social intercourse one may practise it,
but not we two between ourselves. If there be tares in the field of
our heart, we will mutually exert ourselves so to dispose of them that
their seed cannot spring up; but, if it does, we will openly pull it
up, but not cover it artificially with straw and hide it--that harms
the wheat and does not injure the tares. Your thought was, I take it,
to pull them up unaided, without paining me by the sight of them; but
let us be in this also one heart and one flesh, even if your little
thistles sometimes prick my fingers. Do not turn your back on them nor
conceal them from me. You will not always take pleasure in my big
thorns, either--so big that I cannot hide them; and we must pull at
them both together, even though our hands bleed. Moreover, thorns
sometimes bear very lovely flowers, and if yours bear roses we may
perhaps let them alone sometimes. "The best is foe to the good"--in
general, a very true saying; so do not have too many misgivings about
all your tares, which I have not yet discovered, and leave at least a
sample of them for me. With this exhortation, so full of unction, I
will go to sleep, although it has just struck ten, for last night
there was little of it; the unaccustomed physical exercise has used me
up a bit, and tomorrow I am to be in the saddle again before daylight.
Very, very tired am I, like a child.


Schoenhausen, March 14, 1847.

_Jeanne la Mechante!_--What is the meaning of this? A whole week has
passed since I heard a syllable from you, and today I seized the
confused mass of letters with genuine impatience--seven official
communications, a bill, two invitations, one of which is for a theatre
and ball at Greifenberg, but not a trace of Zuckers (the Reinfeld
post-office) and "Hochwohlgeboren." [14] I could not believe my eyes, and
had to look through the letters twice; then I set my hat quite on my
right ear and took a two hours' walk on the highway in the rain, without
a cigar, assailed by the most conflicting sentiments--"a prey to violent
emotions," as we are accustomed to say in romances. I have got used to
receiving my two letters from you regularly every week, and when once we
have acquired the habit of a thing we look upon that as our well-won
right, an injury to which enrages us. If I only knew against whom I
should direct my wrath--against Boege, against the post-office, or
against you, _la chatte la plus noire_, inside and out. And why don't
you write? Are you so exhausted with the effort you made in sending two
letters at a time on Friday of last week? Ten days have gone by since
then--time enough to rest yourself. Or do you want to let me writhe,
while you feast your eyes on my anxiety, tigress! after speaking to me
in your last letters about scarlet and nervous fevers, and after I had
laid such stress on my maxim of never believing in anything bad before
it forces itself upon me as incontestable? We adhere firmly to our
maxims only so long as they are not put to the test; when that happens
we throw them away, as the peasant did his slippers, and run off on the
legs that nature gave us. If you have the disposition to try the virtue
of my maxims, then I shall never again give utterance to any of them,
lest I be caught lying; for the fact is that I do really feel somewhat
anxious. With fevers in Reddis, to let ten days pass without writing is
very horrible of you, if you are well. Or can it be that you did not
receive on Thursday, as usual, my letter that I mailed on Tuesday in
Magdeburg, and, in your indignation at this, resolved not to write to me
for another week? If _that_ is the state of affairs, I can't yet make up
my mind whether to scold or laugh at you. The worst of it now is that,
unless some lucky chance brings a letter from you directly to Stolp, I
shall not have any before Thursday, for, as I remember it, there is no
mail leaving you Saturday and Sunday, and I should have received
Friday's today. If you have not sworn off writing altogether and wish to
reply to this letter, address me at Naugard. * * *

Had another visitor, and he stayed to supper and well into the
night--my neighbor, the town-counsellor Gaertner. People think they
must call on each other Sunday evening, and can have nothing else to
do. Now that all is quiet in the night, I am really quite disturbed
about you and your silence, and my imagination, or, if not that, then
the being whom you do not like to have me name, shows me with scornful
zeal pictures of everything that _could_ happen. Johanna, if you were
to fall sick now, it would be terrible beyond description. At the
thought of it, I fully realize how deeply I love you, and how deeply
the bond that unites us has grown into me. I understand what you call
loving much. When I think of the possibility of separation--and
possible it is still--I should never have been so lonely in all my
dreary, lonely life.

What would Moritz's situation be, compared with that?--for he has a
child, a father, a sister, dear and intimate friends in the
neighborhood. I have no one within forty miles with whom I should be
tempted to talk more than that which politeness demands; only a
sister--but a happily married one with children is really one no
longer, at least for a brother who is single. For the first time I am
looking the possibility straight in the eyes that you might be taken
away from me, that I might be condemned to inhabit these empty rooms
without a prospect of your sharing them with me, with not a soul in
all the surrounding region who would not be as indifferent to me as
though I had never seen him. I should, indeed, not be so devoid to
comfort in myself as of old, but I should also have lost something
that I used not to know--a loving and beloved heart, and at the same
time be separated from all that which used to make life easy in
Pomerania through habit and friendship. A very egotistical line of
thought and way of looking at things this discloses, you will say.
Certainly, but Pain and Fear are egotists, and, in cases like that
referred to, I never think the deceased, but only the survivors, are
to be pitied. But who speaks of dying? All this because you have not
written for a week; and then I have the assurance to lecture you for
gloomy forebodings, etc.! If you had only not spoken of the deadly
fevers in your last letter. In the evening I am always excited, in the
loneliness, when I am not tired. Tomorrow, in bright daylight, in the
railway carriage, I shall perhaps grasp your possible situation with
greater confidence.

Be rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing instant in
prayer. All the angels will guard you, my beloved heart, so that we
shall soon meet again with joy. Farewell, and salute your parents. I
wrote your father this morning. Your faithful BISMARCK.


Berlin, Friday, May 15, '47.

_Dear Heart_,--Your father gave me your letter this morning at the
session, and in consequence I hardly know what subject was discussed,
or, at least, lacked energy to form a clear, conscious conception of
it. My thoughts were in Reinfeld and my heart full to overflowing of
care. I am submissive in all that may happen, but I cannot say that I
should be submissive with gladness. The chords of my soul become
relaxed and toneless when I think of all possibilities. I am not,
indeed, of that self-afflicting sort that carefully and artfully
destroys its own hope and constructs fear, and I do not believe that
it is God's will to separate us now--for every reason I cannot believe
it; but I know that you are suffering, and I am not with you, and yet
if I were there, I could perhaps contribute something to your
tranquillity, to your serenity, were it only that I should ride with
you--for you have no one else for that. It is so contrary to all my
views of gallantry, not to speak of my sentiments for you, that any
power whatever should keep me here when I know that you are suffering
and I could help and relieve you; and I am still at war with myself to
determine what my duty is before God and man. If I am not sooner
there, then it is fairly certain that I shall arrive in Reinfeld with
your father at Whitsuntide, probably a week from tomorrow. The cause
of your illness may lie deeper, or perhaps it is only that the odious
Spanish flies have affected you too powerfully. Who is this second
doctor you have called in? The frequent changing of doctors, and, on
one's own authority, using between-times all sorts of household
remedies, or remedies prescribed for others, I consider very bad and
wrong. Choose one of the local doctors in whom you have the most
confidence, but keep to him, too; do what he prescribes and nothing
else, nothing arbitrary; and, if you have not confidence in any of the
local men, we will both try to carry through the plan of bringing you
here, so that you may have thorough treatment under the direction of
Breiers, or some one else. The conduct of your parents in regard to
medical assistance, the obstinate refusal of your father, and, allied
to that, your mother's arbitrary changing and fixed prejudices, in
matters which neither of them understand, seem to me, between
ourselves, indefensible. He to whom God has intrusted a child, and an
only child at that, must employ for her preservation all the means
that God has made available, and not become careless of them through
fatalism or self-sufficiency. If writing tires you, ask your mother to
send us news. Moreover, it would seem to me very desirable if one of
your friends could be prevailed upon to go to you until you are
better. Whether a doctor can help you or not--forgive me, but you
cannot judge of that by your feelings. God's help is certainly
decisive, but it is just He who has given us medicine and physician
that, through them, His aid may reach us; and to decline it in this
form is to tempt Him, as though the sailor at sea should deprive
himself of a helmsman, with the idea that God alone can and will give
aid. If He does _not_ help us through the means He has placed within
our reach, then there is nothing left to do but to bow in silence
under His hand. If you should be able to come to Zimmerhausen after
Whitsuntide, please write to that effect beforehand if possible. If
your illness should become more serious, I shall certainly leave the
Landtag, and even if you are confined to your bed I shall be with you.
At such a moment I shall not let myself be restrained by such
questions of etiquette--that is my fixed resolve. You may be sure of
this, that I have long been helping you pray that the Lord may free
you from useless despondency and bestow upon you a heart cheerful and
submissive to God--and upon me, also; and I have the firm confidence
that He will grant our requests and guide us both in the paths that
lead to Him. Even though yours may often go to the left around the
mountain, and mine to the right, yet they will meet beyond.

The salt water has already gone from here. If you are too weak for
riding, then take a drive every day. When you are writing to me, and
begin to feel badly in the least, stop immediately; give me only a
short bulletin of your health, even if it is but three lines, for,
thank Heaven, words can be dispensed with between us--they cannot add
or take away anything, since our hearts look into each other, eye to
eye, to the very bottom, and though here and there, behind a fold,
some new thing is discovered, a strange thing it is not. Dear heart,
what stuff you talk (excuse my rudeness) when you say I must not come
if I would rather stop in Zimmerhausen or Angermuende at Whitsuntide!
How can I take pleasure anywhere while I know that you are suffering,
and moreover, am uncertain in what degree? With us two it is a
question, not of amusing and entertaining, but only of loving and
being together, spiritually, and, if possible, corporeally; and if you
should lie speechless for four weeks--sleep, or something else--I
would be nowhere else, provided nothing but my wish were to decide. If
I could only "come to your door," I would still rather be there than
with my dear sister; and the sadder and sicker you are, so much the
more. But the door will not separate me from you, however ill you may
be. That is a situation in which the slave mutinies against his
mistress. * * *

Your faithful B.



Berlin, Tuesday Morning, May 18, '47.

_Dearest_,--The last letters from Reinfeld permit me to hope that your
illness is not so threatening at the moment as I feared from the first
news, although I am continually beset by all possible fears about you,
and thus am in a condition of rather complicated restlessness. * * *
My letter in which I told you of my election you have understood
somewhat, and your dear mother altogether, from a point of view
differing from that which was intended. I only wanted to make my
position exactly clear to you, and the apologies which to you seemed
perhaps forced, as I infer from your mother's letter, you may regard
as an entirely natural outflow of politeness. That I did not stand in
need of justification with you I very well know; but also that it must
affect us both painfully to see our fine plans cancelled. It was my
ardent wish to be a member of the Landtag; but that the Landtag and
you are fifty miles apart distressed me in spite of the fulfilment of
my wish. You women are, and always will be, unaccountable, and it is
better to deal with you by word of mouth than by writing. * * * I have
ventured once or twice on the speaker's platform with a few words, and
yesterday raised an unheard-of storm of displeasure, in that, by a
remark which was not explained clearly enough touching the character
of the popular uprising of 1813, I wounded the mistaken vanity of many
of my own party, and naturally had all the halloo of the opposition
against me. The resentment was great, perhaps for the very reason that
I told the truth in applying to 1813 the sentence that any one (the
Prussian people) who has been thrashed by another (the French) until
he defends himself can make no claim of service towards a third person
(our King) for so doing. I was reproached with my youth and all sorts
of other things. Now I must go over before today's session to see
whether, in printing my words, they have not turned them into
nonsense. * * *

Yours forever, B.


Berlin, Friday, May 21, '47.

_Tres chere Jeanneton_,--When you receive this letter you will know
that I am not to visit you in the holidays. I shall not offer
"apologies," but reasons why it is not to be. I should miss certainly
four, and probably five, meetings of the estates, and, according to
the announcement we have received, the most important proceedings are
to be expected at the coming meetings. There it may depend upon one
vote, and it would be a bad thing if that were the vote of an
absentee; moreover, I have succeeded in acquiring some influence with
a great number, or, at least, with some delegates of the so-called
court party and the other ultra-conservatives from several provinces,
which I employ in restraining them so far as possible from bolting and
awkward shying, which I can do in the most unsuspected fashion when
once I have plainly expressed my inclination. Then, too, I have some
money affairs to arrange, for which I must make use of one of the
holidays. The Landtag will either be brought to a close on the 7th of
June--and in that case I should stay here until that date--or it will
continue in session until all the matters have been arranged, in which
event I should stay till after the decision of the important political
questions which are now imminent and shall be less conscientious about
all the insignificant petitions that follow after, and await their
discussion in Reinfeld. It will, besides, be pleasanter for you and
the mother not to have us both--the father and me--there at one time,
but relieving each other, so that you may be lonely for a shorter
time. * * * Your father will tell you how I stirred up the
hornet's-nest of the volunteers here lately, and the angry hornets
came buzzing to attack me; on the other hand, I had as compensation
that many of the older and more intelligent people drew near to
me--people I did not know at all--and assured me that I had said
nothing but the truth, and that was the very thing that had so
incensed the people. But I must take the field now; it is ten o'clock.
Please ask your father to write immediately about your health. I
should so much like to hear the opinion of another person besides your
mother. I am all right--only much excited. Farewell, and God guard
you.

Yours altogether and forever, B.


Berlin, May 26, '47.

_Dearest_,-- * * * If I were only through with the Landtag and the
delivery of Kniephof, could embrace you in health, and retire with you
to a hunting-lodge in the heart of green forest and the mountains,
where I should see no human face but yours! That is my hourly dream;
the rattling wheel-work of political life is more obnoxious to my ears
every day.--Whether it is your absence, sickness, or my laziness, I
want to be alone with you in contemplative enthusiasm for nature. It
may be the spirit of contradiction, which always makes me long for
what I have not. And yet, I have you, you know, though not quite at
hand; and still I long for you. I proposed to your father that I
should go with him; we would immediately have our banns published and
be married, and both come here. An apartment for married people is
empty in this house, and here you could have had sensible physicians
and every mortal help. It seemed to him too unbecoming. To you, too?
It seems to me still the most sensible thing of all, if you are only
strong enough for the trip. If the Landtag should continue longer than
to the 6th of June--which I still hope it will not--let us look at the
plan more carefully. * * *

Your faithful B.


Schoenhausen, Friday, May 28, '47.

_My Poor Sick Kitten_,--  * * * In regard to your illness, your father's
letter has calmed my anxiety somewhat as to the danger, but yours was
so gloomy and depressed that it affected me decidedly. My dear heart,
such sadness as finds expression there is almost more than submission
to God's will: the latter cannot, in my opinion, be the cause of your
giving up the hope, I might say the wish, that you may be better,
physically, and experience God's blessing here on earth as long as may
be in accordance with His dispensation. You do not really mean it,
either--do you, now?--when, in a fit of melancholy, you say that
nothing whatever interests you genuinely, and you neither grieve nor
rejoice. That smacks of Byron, rather than of Christianity. You have
been sick so often in your life, and have recovered--have experienced
glad and sad hours afterwards; and the old God still lives who helped
you then. Your letter stirred in me more actively than ever the
longing to be at your side, to fondle you and talk with you. * * *

I do not agree with you in your opinion about July, and I would urge
you strongly, too, on this point to side with me against your parents.
When a wife, you are as likely to be sick as when a _fiancee_--and
will be often enough, later; so why not at the beginning, likewise? I
shall be with you as often as I am free from pressing engagements, so
whether we are together here or in Reinfeld makes no difference in the
matter. We do not mean to marry for bright days only: your ill-health
seems to me an utterly frivolous impediment. The provisional situation
we are now in is the worst possible for me. I scarcely know any longer
whether I am living in Schoenhausen, in Reinfeld, in Berlin, or on the
train. If you fall sick, I shall be a sluggard in Reinfeld all the
autumn, or however long our marriage would be postponed, and cannot
even associate with you quite unconstrainedly before the ceremony.
This matter of a betrothed couple seventy miles apart is not
defensible; and, especially when I know you are ailing, I shall take
the journey to see you, of course, as often as my public and private
affairs permit. It seems to me quite necessary to have the ceremony at
the time already appointed; otherwise I should be much distressed, and
I see no reason for it. Don't sell Brunette just now; you will ride
her again soon. I must be in Berlin at noon for a consultation about
plans for tomorrow. Farewell. God strengthen you for joy and hope.

Your most faithful B.

_Tomorrow I'll send you a hat_.[15]


Berlin, Sunday, May 30, '47.

_Tres Chere Jeanneton_,--Your letter of day before yesterday, which I
have just received, has given me profound pleasure and poured into me a
refreshing and more joyous essence: your happier love of life is shared
by me immediately. I shall begin by reassuring you about your gloomy
forebodings of Thursday evening. At the very time when you were
afflicted by them I was rejoicing in the happiness I had long missed, of
living once more in a comfortable Schoenhaus bed, after I had suffered
for weeks from the furnished-apartments couch in Berlin. I slept very
soundly, although with bad dreams--nightmares--which I ascribed to a
late and heavy dinner, inasmuch as the peaceful occupations of the
previous day--consisting in viewing many promising crops and well-fed
sheep, together with catching up with all sorts of police arrangements
relating to dike, fire, and roads--could not have occasioned them. You
see how little you can depend upon the maternal inheritance of
forebodings. Also in regard to the injurious effects of the Landtag
excitement upon my health, I can completely reassure you. I have
discovered what I needed--physical exercise--to offset mental
excitement and irregular diet. Yesterday I spent in Potsdam, to be
present at the water carnival--a lively picture. The great blue basins
of the Havel, with the splendid surroundings of castles, bridges,
churches, enlivened with several hundred gayly decorated boats, whose
occupants, elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies, bombard one another
lavishly with bouquets when they can reach each other in passing or
drawing up alongside. The royal pair, the whole court, Potsdam's
fashionable people, and half of Berlin whirled in the skein of boats
merrily, pell-mell; royalists and liberals all threw dry or wet flowers
at the neighbor within reach. Three steamboats at anchor, with musical
choruses, constituted the centre of the ever-changing groups. I had the
opportunity to salute, hurriedly and with surprise, and throw flowers
at, many acquaintances whom I had not seen for a long time. My friend
Schaffgotsch is passionately fond of walking, and he was responsible for
our returning to the railway station on foot--a distance of almost three
miles--at such a pace as I had not kept up in a long while. After that I
slept splendidly until nine, and am in a state of physical equilibrium
today such as I have not enjoyed for some time. As the rather dusty
promenades in the Thiergarten do not give me enough of a shaking-up in
the time that I have available for that purpose, Mousquetaire will
arrive here tomorrow, so that he, with his lively gallop, may play the
counterpart to the tune that politics is dancing in my head. My plan
about Berlin and the wedding immediately, etc., was certainly somewhat
adventurous when you look at it in cold blood, but I hope there will be
no change from July. If I am to be tormented, as you say, with an
"unendurable, dispirited, nervous being," it is all the same in the end
whether this torment will be imposed upon me by my _fiancee_ or--forgive
the expression--by my wife. In either case I shall try to bear the
misfortune with philosophical steadfastness; for it is to be hoped that
it will not be so bad that I must dig deeper and seek Christian
consolation for it.

Your very faithful B.


Berlin, July 4, '47.

_Juaninina_,--Happily, I have left Schoenhausen behind me, and do not
expect to enter it again without you, _mon ange._ Only some business
matters detain me here, which I cannot attend to today because it is
Sunday; but I confidently anticipate starting for Angermuende tomorrow
at four, and accordingly, unless the very improbable event occurs that
I am detained outrageously in Kniephof, shall arrive in Schlawe on
Thursday. * * * Farewell, my heart. This is probably the last
post-marked paper that you will receive from your _Braeutigam_[16] (I
hate the expression). Our banns were cried today for the first time in
Schoenhausen. Does that not seem strange to you But I had learned your
given names so badly that I could mention only Johanna Eleonore: the
other six you must teach me better. Farewell, my heart. Many
salutations to the parents.

Your very faithful B.

_My Dear_,--I believe I can now reassure you most completely as to the
safety of the members of the Landtag. The Landtag was opened today,
_minus_ King and _minus_ cheers, with quite calm discussion. In a
few words I uttered my protest against the thanks and exultation that
were voted to the King, without hostilities becoming overt. Ten
thousand men of the city militia were posted for our protection, but
not even a slight disturbance occurred at the palace. I could be with
you tomorrow, as there is no session, if I had ordered a carriage
to meet me at Genthin this evening. But as the whole affair apparently
will come to an end this week, perhaps as early as Thursday, I was
too stingy to hire a carriage. Brauchitsch was taken violently ill
again last evening. * * * Give cordial remembrances to your mother, and
be of good courage. I am much calmer than I was: with Vincke one heart
and one soul.

Your faithful B.

April 2, '48, Sunday Evening.

I fear, my dear heart, the letter I wrote you last evening reached the
post-office so late, through an oversight, that you will not receive
it today, and not before tomorrow with this; and it pains me to think
that you were disappointed in your hope when the mail was delivered,
and now (9 o'clock in the evening) are perhaps troubled with
disquietude of all sorts about me. I have spent a tiresome day,
tramping the pavement, smoking and intriguing. Do not judge of the few
words I spoke yesterday from the report in the Berlin _Times_. I shall
manage to bring you a copy of the speech, which has no significance
except as showing that I did not wish to be included in the category
of certain venal bureaucrats who turned their coat with contemptible
shamelessness to suit the wind. The impression it made was piteous,
while even my most zealous opponents shook my hand with greater warmth
after my declaration. I have just come from a great citizens' meeting,
of perhaps a thousand people, in the Milenz Hall, where the Polish
question was debated very decorously, very good speeches were made,
and on the whole the sentiment seemed to turn against the Poles,
especially after a disconsolate Jew had arrived, straight from Samter,
who told terrible stories about the lawless excesses of the Poles
against the Germans; he himself had been soundly beaten. * * *

Just for my sake do not alarm yourself if each mail does not bring you
a letter from me. There is not the slightest probability that a hair
of our heads will be touched, and my friends of all kinds overrun
me, to share their political wisdom with me, so that I began a letter
of one-quarter sheet to Malle this morning at 9, and could not finish
before 3. I am living in comfort and economy with Werdeck, only rather
far away, in consequence of which I already feel the pavement through
my soles. Cordial remembrances to the mother and the Bellins. I am
writing on the _table d'hote_ table of the Hotel des Princes, and a
small salad has just been brought for my supper.

Your very faithful B. April 3, '48.


Schoenhausen, August 21, '48. 8.30 P.M.

To HERR VON PUTTKAMER, AT REINFELD, NEAR ZUCKERS, POMERANIA.

_Dear Father_,--You have just become, with God's gracious help, the
grandfather of a healthy, well-formed girl that Johanna has presented
me with after hard but short pains. At the moment mother and child are
doing as well as one could wish. Johanna lies still and tired, yet
cheerful and composed, behind the curtain; the little creature, in the
meantime, under coverlets on the sofa, and squalls off and on. I am
quite glad that the first is a daughter, but if it had been a cat I
should have thanked God on my knees the moment Johanna was rid of it:
it is really a desperately hard business. I came from Berlin last
night, and this morning we had no premonition of what was to come. At
ten in the morning Johanna was seized with severe pains after eating a
grape, and the accompanying symptoms led me to put her at once to bed,
and to send in haste to Tangermuende, whence, in spite of the Elbe, Dr.
Fricke arrived soon after 12. At 8 my daughter was audible, with
sonorous voice. This afternoon I sent Hildebrand off to fetch nurse
Boldt from Berlin in a great hurry. I hope you will not postpone your
journey now; but earnestly beg dear mother not to make the trip in an
exhausting manner. I know, of course, that she has little regard for
her own health, but just for Johanna's sake you must take care of
yourself, dear mother, so that she may not be anxious on your account.
Fricke pleases us very much--experienced and careful. I do not admit
visits: Bellin's wife, the doctor, and I attend to everything. Fricke
estimates the little one at about nine pounds in weight. Up to the
present time, then, everything has gone according to rule, and for
that praise and thanks be to the Lord. If you could bring Aennchen
with you that would make Johanna very happy.

22. _Morning_.--It is all going very well, only the cradle is still
lacking, and the little miss must camp meanwhile on a forage-crib. May
God have you and us in his keeping, dear parents.

Until we meet again, presently. B.

Have the kindness to attend to the announcements, save in Berlin and
Reddentin, in your neighborhood: Seehof, Satz, and so forth. Johanna
sends cordial greetings. She laments her daughter's large nose. I
think it no larger than it has a right to be.

Berlin, Saturday, 11 p. m. September 23, '48.


To FRAU VON BISMARCK, SCHOeNHAUSEN, NEAR JERICHOW.

_My Pet!_--Today at last I have news of your condition, and am very
grateful to mother for the letter. * * * I am beginning to be really
homesick for you, my heart, and mother's letter today threw me into a
mood utterly sad and crippling: a husband's heart, and a father's--at
any rate, mine in the present circumstances--does not fit in with the
whirl of politics and intrigue. On Monday, probably, the die will be
cast here. Either the ministry will be shown to be weak, like its
predecessors, and sink out--and against this I shall still
struggle--or it will do its duty, and then I do not for a moment doubt
that blood will flow on Monday evening or on Tuesday. I should not
have believed that the democrats would be confident enough to take up
the gage of battle, but all their behavior indicates that they are
bent on it. Poles, Frankfort men, loafers, volunteers--all sorts of
riffraff are again at hand. They count on the defection of the troops,
apparently misled by the talk of individual discontented gabblers
among the soldiers; but I think they will make a great mistake. I
personally have no occasion to await the thing here, and so to tempt
God by asking him to protect me in perils that I have no call to seek.
Accordingly, I shall betake my person to a place of safety not later
than tomorrow. If nothing important occurs on Monday, on Tuesday I
shall reach you; but, if the trouble begins, I should still like to
stay near the King. But there you may (in an aside I say
"unfortunately") assume with confidence that there will be no danger.
You received no letter from me today, because I sent a report about
the society to Gaertner, and you will learn from him that I am all
right. You will receive this tomorrow, and I shall write again on
Monday. Send horses for me on Tuesday. God bless and guard you, my
sweetheart.

Your faithful B.


(Postmark, Berlin, November 9, '48.)

_My Dearest_,--Although I am confident that I shall be with you in
person a few hours after this letter, I want to inform you immediately
that everything is quiet till now. I go to Potsdam at nine, but must
post the letter here now, as otherwise it will not reach you today.
Our friends have been steadfast till now, but I cannot take courage
yet to believe in anything energetic. I still fear, fear, and the
weather is unfavorable, too. Above all, you must not be afraid of
anything, if I should stay away today by any chance. The K. may send
for me, or some one else in Potsdam earnestly wish that I should stay
there to advise upon further measures, the trains may be delayed
because the carriages are required for soldiers, and other things of
the sort. Then, courage and patience, my heart, in any event. The God
who makes worlds go round can also cover me with his wings. And in P.
there is no danger anyhow. So expect me in the evening; if I happen
not to come, I shall be all right nevertheless. Cordial remembrances
to our cross little mother.

Your most faithful B.


Potsdam, November 10, '48.

_My Angel_,--Please, please do not scold me for not coming today
either; I must try to put through some more matters in relation to the
immediate future. At two this afternoon all Wrangel's troops will
reach Berlin, disarm the flying corps, maybe, take the disaffected
deputies from the _Concertsaal,_ and make the city again a royal
Prussian one. It is doubtful whether they will come to blows in the
process. Contrary to our expectations, everything remained quiet
yesterday; the democrats seem to be much discouraged. * * *

Your v.B.


Potsdam, November 14, '48.

_My Dear Pet_,--Long sleep can certainly become a vice. Senfft has
just waked me at nine o'clock, and I cannot yet get the sand out of my
eyes. It is quiet here. Yesterday it was said to be the intention to
serenade the Queen (on her birthday) with mock music; one company
posted there sufficed to make the audacious people withdraw in
silence. Berlin is in a state of siege, but as yet not a shot fired.
The disarming of the city militia goes on forcibly and very gradually.
The meeting in the Schuetzenhaus was dispersed by soldiers yesterday;
six men who were unwilling to go were thrown out. Martial law will be
proclaimed over there today. My friend Schramm has been arrested. That
Rob. Blum, Froebel, Messenhauser, have been shot in Vienna, you already
know from the newspapers. Good-by, you angel; I must close. Many
remembrances to all. The peasants of the neighborhood have declared to
the King that if he has need of them he should just call them: that
they would come with weapons and supplies to aid his troops, from the
Zauch-Belzig-Teltow, the Havelland, and other districts. Mention that
in Schoenhausen, please, so that it may go the rounds.

Your v.B.


Potsdam, Thursday Morning, November 16, '48.

_Dear Nanne!_--I did not get your very dear, nice letter of Tuesday
morning until yesterday afternoon, but none the less did I right
fervently rejoice and take comfort in it, because you are well, at
least in your way, and are fond of me. There is no news from here
except that Potsdam and Berlin are as quiet as under the former King,
and the surrender of arms in B. continues without interruption, with
searching of houses, etc. It is possible that there may be scenes of
violence incidentally--the troops secretly long for them--but on the
whole the "passive resistance" of the democrats seems to me only a
seasonable expression for what is usually called fear. Yesterday I
dined with the King. The Queen was amiable in the English fashion. The
enclosed twig of erica I picked from her sewing-table, and send it to
keep you from being jealous. * * *

If a letter from the Stettin bank has arrived, send it to me
immediately, please, marked, "To be delivered promptly." If I do not
receive it before day after tomorrow, I shall return home, but must
then go to Stettin at the beginning of next week. So let horses be
sent for me on Saturday afternoon; this evening I unfortunately cannot
go to Genthin, because I expect Manteuffel here. * * *

The democrats are working all their schemes in order to represent the
opinion of the "people" as hostile to the King; hundreds of feigned
signatures. Please ask the town-councillor whether there are not some
sensible people in Magdeburg, who care more for their neck, with quiet
and good order, than for this outcry of street politicians, and who
will send the King a counter-address from Magdeburg. I must close.
Give my best regards to mamma, and kiss the little one for me on the
left eye. Day after tomorrow, then, if I do not get the Stettin letter
sooner. Good-by, my sweet angel. Yours forever, v.B. Schoenhausen,
July 18, '49.

_My Pet_,--  * * * I wanted to write you in the evening, but the air was
so heavenly that I sat for two hours or so on the bench in front of
the garden-house, smoked and looked at the bats flying, just as with
you two years ago, my darling, before we started on our trip. The
trees stood so still and high near me, the air fragrant with linden
blossoms; in the garden a quail whistled and partridges allured, and
over beyond Arneburg lay the last pink border of the sunset. I was
truly filled with gratitude to God, and there arose before my soul the
quiet happiness of a family life filled with love, a peaceful haven,
into which a gust of wind perchance forces its way from the storms of
the world-ocean and ruffles the surface, but its warm depths remain
clear and still so long as the cross of the Lord is reflected in them.
Though the reflected image be often faint and distorted, God knows his
sign still. Do you give thanks to Him, too, my angel; think of the
many blessings He has conferred upon us, and the many dangers against
which He has protected us, and, with firm reliance on His strong hand,
confront the evil spirits with that when they try to affright your
sick fancy with all sorts of images of fear. * * *

Your most faithful
v.B.


Brandenburg, July 23, '49.

_My Beloved Nanne!_--I have just received your short letter of Friday,
which reassures me somewhat, as I infer from it that our little one
has not the croup, but the whooping-cough, which is, indeed, bad, but
not so dangerous as the other. You, poor dear, must have worried
yourself sick. It is very fortunate that you have such good assistance
from our people and the preacher, yet are you all somewhat lacking in
confidence, and increase each other's anxiety instead of comforting
one another. Barschall has just told me that all of his children have
had this croupy cough--that it was endemic in Posen in his time; his
own and other children were attacked by it repeatedly in the course of
a few days; that every family had an emetic of a certain kind on hand
in the house, and by that means overcame the enemy easily every time,
and without permanent consequences for the child. Be comforted, then,
and trust in the Lord God; He does, indeed, show us the rod that He
has ready for us, but I have the firm belief that He will put it back
behind the mirror. As a child I, too, suffered from whooping-cough to
the extent of inflammation of the lungs, and yet entirely outgrew it.
I have the greatest longing to be with you, my angel, and think day
and night about you and your distress, and about the little creature,
during all the wild turmoil of the elections. * * *

Here in Brandenburg the party of the centre is decidedly stronger than
ours; in the country districts I hope it is the other way, yet the
fact cannot be overlooked. It is incredible what cock-and-bull stories
the democrats tell the peasants about me; in fact, one from the
Schoenhausen district, three miles from us, confided to me yesterday
that, when my name is mentioned among them, a regular shudder goes
through them from head to foot, as though they should get a couple of
"old-Prussian broadsword strokes" laid across their shoulders. As an
opponent said recently, at a meeting, "Do you mean to elect Bismarck
Schoenhausen, the man 'who, in the countryman's evening prayer, stands
hard by the devil'?" (From Grillparzer's _Ahnfrau_.) And yet I am the
most soft-hearted person in the world towards the common people. On
the whole, my election here in these circumstances seems very doubtful
to me; and as I do not believe I shall be elected in the other place
either, when I am not there personally, we may live together quietly
the rest of the summer, if it be God's will, and I will pet you into
recovery from your fright about the child, my darling. Have no anxiety
whatever about my personal safety; one hears nothing of the cholera
here except in a letter from Reinfeld. The first rule to observe, if
it should come nearer to you, is to speak of it as little as possible;
by speaking, one always augments the fear of others, and fear of it
is the easiest bridge on which it can enter the human body. * * *

God guard you and your child, and all our house.

Your most faithful

v.B.

It is better not to leave the doors all open constantly, for the child
often gets shock from the draught, when one is opened, before you can
prevent it.


(Postmark, Berlin, August 8, '49.)

_My Love_,--I sent you a letter this morning, and have just received
yours, in reply to which I will add a few more words touching the
wet-nurse. If any one besides you and father and mother already knows
about the matter, in the house or outside, then tell her the truth
unhesitatingly, for in that case it will not stay hidden. If the
matter is still known to yourselves alone, let it continue so, but
then keep watch on the mail-bag, lest she learn of it unexpectedly.
The wet-nurse's sister here is unwilling to have it told to her. I
shall look her up today and speak with her. But if you do not wish to
keep it secret any longer, when once the child is rid of her cough,
you should at any rate look about you for a wet-nurse or woman who, in
case of necessity, can take Friederike's place immediately, if the
effect is such that the child cannot stay with her. I shall get the
sister to give me a letter to her, in which the story will be told
exactly and soothingly; this I shall send to you, so that you may make
use of it in case of need; that, I think, is the best way she can
learn of it. To tell her first that her child is sick, and so forth, I
do not consider a good plan, for anxiety has a worse effect than the
truth. God will graciously bring us out of this trouble. He holds us
with a short rein lest we should become self-confident, but He will
not let us fall. Good-by, my best-of-all; pray and keep your head up.

Your very faithful

v.B.


Berlin, August 11, '49.

_Mon Ange_,--I went to see the wet-nurse's kinsfolk, and there learned
that the _fiance_ had written to her last Wednesday and revealed all
to her; so the matter will go as God directs. If you chanced to
intercept the letter, and on receipt of this have not yet delivered
it, please delay it until my next arrives. I could not find the
_fiance_ himself, and directed him to come to me this evening, and
shall write you what I learn from him. If Friederike knows everything
already, my wishes will reach you too late; otherwise I should like,
if in accordance with medical opinion, not to have the wet-nurse sent
away altogether, but only relieved from service for a few hours or
days; if, however, there are scruples on that point, it can't be done,
of course. From my many doubts, you will see that I cannot decide the
matter very well at this distance. Act quite in accordance with the
advice of your mother and the other experienced friends. I give my
views, merely, not commands. * * * Be content with these lines for
today; be courageous and submissive to God's will, my darling; all
will surely go well. Cordial remembrances to the parents.

Your most faithful

v.B.


Berlin, Friday. (Postmark, August 17, '49.)

_Dearest Nanne_,-- * * * Your last letter, in which you inform me of
the happy solution of the wet-nurse difficulty, took a real load off
my heart; I thanked God for His mercy, and could almost have got drunk
from pure gayety. May His protection extend henceforward, too, over
you and the little darling. I am living with Hans here at the corner
of Taubenstrasse, three rooms and one alcove, quite elegant, but
narrow little holes; Hans' bed full of bugs, but mine not as yet--I
seem not to be to their taste. We pay twenty-five rix-dollars a month,
together. If there were one additional small room, and not two flights
of stairs, I could live with you here, and Hans could get another
apartment below in this house. But, as it is, it would be too cramped
for us. I have talked with the _fiance_ of the wet-nurse, a
modest-looking person. He spoke of her with love, and declared in
reply to my question that he certainly is willing to marry her. What
he wrote about the "white pestilence" is nonsense; no such sickness
exists, least of all in Berlin. The cholera is fast disappearing. I
have not heard a word more about it since I came here; one sees it
only in newspaper reports. Isn't our mammy jealous because, according
to the paper, I have been in company with "strikingly handsome"
Englishwomen? Lady Jersey was really something uncommon, such as is
usually seen only in _keepsakes_. I would have paid a rix-dollar
admission if she had been exhibited for money. She is now in Vienna.
For the rest, I have not had a letter from you this long time; my last
news comes from Bernhard, who left you a week ago today. God has
upheld you meantime, I trust, my angel. It is possible that a letter
from you is here. The delivery is always rather irregular: sometimes
the letter-carrier brings them, sometimes they are delivered at the
Chamber postal station. I will go immediately and inquire if anything
is there; then I will take a bath, and return at least ten calls that
have been paid me. It is a misery that now the people always receive
one--one loses a terrible amount of time at it.... Hans is still
inclined to treat me tyrannically, but I resist, and have been so far
successful that I sleep as long as I please, whereat the coffee grows
cold, however, as he is obstinately bent on not breakfasting alone.
So, too, he will not go to bed if I do not go at the same time, but
sleeps, just like my little Nanne, on the sofa.... Now, good-by my
much-beloved heart. I am very anxious on your account, and often am
quite tearful about it. Best regards to the parents.

Your most faithful v.B.


Berlin, Monday. (Postmark, August 28, '49.)

_My Darling_,--I sit here in my corner room, two flights up, and
survey the sky, full of nothing but little sunset-tinted lambs, as it
appears, along the Taubenstrasse and over the tree-tops of Prinz
Carl's garden, while along Friedrichstrasse it is all golden and
cloudless; the air damp and mild, too. I thought of you and of Venice,
and this only I wanted to write to you. News has come today that
Venice has surrendered at discretion; so we can go there again, and
again see the tall white grenadiers. * * * I dined with Manteuffel
today, yesterday with Prince Albert, of course, day before yesterday
with Arnim, and then I took a ride with him of fourteen miles at a
gallop--which suited me well, save for some muscular pains. In the
Chamber we keep on doing nothing whatever; in the Upper House the
German question, happily, has been brought forward again in very good
speeches by Gerlach, Bethmann, and Stahl, and yet today the Camphausen
proposition was adopted with all the votes against nineteen. With us,
too, it is beginning to excite men's tempers. The proposition is bad
in its tendency, but its result insignificant even if it goes through
with us, as is to be expected. _Tant de bruit pour une omelette_. The
real decision will not be reached in our Chambers, but in diplomacy
and on the battlefield, and all that we prate and resolve about it has
no more value than the moonshine observations of a sentimental youth
who builds air-castles and thinks that some unexpected event will make
him a great man. _Je m'en moque!_--and the farce often bores me nearly
to death, because I see no sensible object in this straw-threshing.
Mother's little letter gave me great pleasure, because, in the first
place, I see that you are well, and then because she has her old joke
with me, which is much pleasanter at a distance, as it does not lead
to strife; and yet how I should like to quarrel with mammy once more!
I am genuinely homesick to be quietly with you all in Schoenhausen.
Have you received the ribbon for Aennchen?

_Tuesday_.--Hans is just breakfasting, and eating up, from sheer
stinginess, a quarter pound of butter that he bought three days ago,
because it begins to get old. Now he screams that my tea is there,
too. I close for today, as I have something to do afterwards. My love
to FatherMotherAnnaAdelheidMarie and all the rest. God's blessing be
with you and keep you well and merry.

Your most faithful v.B.


Berlin, September 11, '49. (Postmarked September 10.)

I wrote yesterday, my Nannie, but as it costs me nothing, not even for
paper, for this is the Chamber's, I do want to improve a wearisome
moment, during which I must listen to the reading of a confused report
on normal prices, to send you another little greeting; but again
without the ribbon, for I am going to buy that later on. This morning
I attended the cavalry manoeuvres, on a very pleasant horse of
Fritz's; rode sharply, swallowed much dust, but, nevertheless, had a
good time; it is really pretty, these brilliant, rapidly moving masses
interspersed with the clanking of iron and the bugle signals. The
Queen, my old flame, greeted me so cordially. Having driven past
without noticing me, she rose and turned backward over the bar of the
carriage, to nod to me thrice; that lady appreciates a Prussian heart.
Tomorrow I shall take a look at the grand parade, in which the
infantry also participates. I believe I have written you that the King
and Leopold Gerlach visited the Emperor of Austria at Teplitz, where
there was also a Russian plenipotentiary. The proletariats of the
Chamber are now gradually coming to see that on that occasion
something may have been concocted which will cast mildew on their
German hot-house flowers, and the fact that his Majesty has conversed
with the ruler of all the Croatians frightens them somewhat. _Qui
vivra verra_. These Frankfort cabbage-heads are incorrigible; they
and their phrases are like the old liars who in the end honestly
believe their own stories; and the impression produced on our Chamber
by such ridiculous things as they say, without any regard for the
matter in hand, or for common-sense, will be sure at last to convince
people generally that peasants and provincials are not fit to make
laws and conduct European politics. Now I must listen. Farewell, my
much-beloved heart. Love to my daughter and your parents.

Your most faithful v.B.


Berlin, Friday.

(Postmarked September 21, '49.)

I am well, my darling Nan, but I am cold, for in the morning the rooms
are already so chilly that I long very much for the Schoenhausen
fireplaces, and matters in the Chamber are so tedious that I often
have serious thoughts of resigning my commission. In the ministry
there is again a shameful measure preparing; they now want to submit a
real property tax bill, according to which those estates which are not
manors are to be indemnified, while manors must suffer, as the number
of nobles is not dangerous. Only if encumbered for more than
two-thirds of their value, they are to be assisted by loans. What good
will a loan do a bankrupt, who has it to repay! It is a mixture of
cowardice and shameless injustice such as I could not have expected.
Yesterday we had soft, warm autumn weather, and I took a long walk in
the Thiergarten, by the same solitary paths which we used to traverse
together; I sat, too, on our bench near the swan-pond; the young swans
which were then still in their eggs on the little island were now
swimming vivaciously about, fat, gray, and _blase_, among the dirty
ducks, and the old ones sleepily laid their heads on their backs. The
handsome large maple standing near the bridge has already leaves of a
dark-red color; I wished to send you one of them, but in my pocket it
has become so hard that it crumbles away; the gold-fish pond is
almost dried up; the lindens, the black alders, and other delicate
things bestrew the paths with their yellow, rustling foliage, and the
round chestnut-burrs exhibit a medley of all shades of sombre and
attractive fall coloring. The promenade, with its morning fogs among
the trees, reminded me vividly of Kniephof, the woodcock-hunt, the
line of springes, and how everything was so green and fresh when I
used to walk there with you, my darling. * * * On the 1st of October I
shall probably have to attend the celebration of the nine-hundredth
anniversary of the founding of the cathedral there, to which the King
is coming. For the 2d and the following days I have been invited to go
on a royal hunt to the Falkenstein. I should be very glad to shoot a
deer in those woods which we and Mary saw illuminated by the moon on
that evening; but even if matters in the Chamber should not prevent, I
am at a loss how to reconcile that with our journey, and I feel as
though I should steal my days from you by going. * * * I am now going
out to buy a waist, to call on Rauch, and then again to the
Thiergarten. All love to father and mother, and may God preserve you
in the future as hitherto, my dearest.

Your most faithful v.B.


Berlin, Friday.

(Postmarked September 28, '49.)

_My Dear,--_I have taken the apartment in the Behrenstrasse; that on
the Thiergarten is too uncomfortable for you in going in and out in
wet winter weather. * * * It is better that I should procure and
arrange everything for you in advance; then you need only alight here
and sink into my open arms and on a ready sofa; that would be so
pretty; only come soon, my beloved angel; today the weather is already
bitter cold, and write me exactly when I can come for you to Z. Do not
be offended, either, at my note of yesterday, and do not think that
you have offended me, but please come quickly. I am not going to the
Harz. Much love. In great haste.

Your most faithful v.B.

  Over the blue mountain,
  Over the white sea-foam,
  Come, thou beloved one,
  Come to thy lonely home.

                    --_Old Song_.


Schoenhausen, October 2, '49.

_My Beloved Nan,--I am sitting in our quiet old Schoenhausen, where I
am quite comfortable, after the Berlin hubbub, and I should like to
stay here a week, if the old Chamber allowed. This morning Odin
awakened me, and then retreated as usual between the beds; then the
Bellins groaned very much about the bad qualities of the tenant, with
whom they lead a cat-and-dog life, and I discussed with her, pro and
con, all that is to be sent to Berlin. The garden is still quite green
for the fall season, but the paths are overgrown with grass, and our
little island is so dwarfed and wet that I could not get on to it; it
rains without let-up. The little alderman, of course, sat with me all
the afternoon, otherwise I should have written you sooner and more at
length. I want to leave again tomorrow morning, and I have still
several business letters to write. Yesterday, with the King, I
celebrated the nine-hundredth anniversary of the Brandenburg
Cathedral, after it had been thoroughly exorcised and the bad national
spirits driven out. The entire royal family was there, except the
Princess of Babelsberg, who is at Weimar; also Brandenburg,
Manteuffel, Wrangel, Voss, and many high dignitaries, among them
myself, quite courageously at the front in church, next to the
princesses. At dinner his Majesty said many pretty things about his
electoral and capital city of Brandenburg, and was also very friendly
to me. I introduced to the Queen a number of village mayors, who had
been of particular service in my election; they were so much moved by
it that afterwards they embraced me with tears in their eyes. Finally,
the King became very angry at Patow, who had made his appearance as
President-in-chief, and to whom he had not spoken till then. "Sir,"
said he, in a very loud and angry voice, "if you belong to the Right,
then vote with the Right; if you belong to the Left, vote, in the----
name with the Left; but I require of my servants that they stand by
me, do you understand?" Breathless silence, and P---- looked like a
duck in a thunder-storm. * * * It is right good that I did not take
the apartment on the Thiergarten; aside from the wet feet which my
angel would get in dirty and damp weather, the house has been broken
into seven times during the couple of years of its existence, a fact
of which sympathizing souls would surely have informed you; and, if on
some long winter evening I were not at home, you and the two girls and
baby would have shuddered mightily over it. The little old clock is
just clearing its throat to strike seven; I must to my work. Farewell,
dearest; and, above all things, come-mmmm quickly--in a hurry,
swiftly, instantly--to your dear little husbandkin. Most hearty
greetings to our parents.

Your most faithful v.B.


Erfurt, April 19, '50.

_My Beloved Nan_,--It is bad to live in such a small town, with three
hundred acquaintances. One is never sure of his life a single moment,
for calls. An hour ago I got rid of the last bores; then, during
supper, I walked up and down in my room, and annihilated almost the
whole fat sausage, which is very delicious, drank a stone mug of beer
from the Erfurt "Felsenkeller," and now, while writing, I am eating
the second little box of Marchpane, which was, perhaps, intended for
Hans, who has not got any of the sausage even; in its place I will
leave him the little ham. During the last few days we have been
valiantly quarrelling in Parliament; but neither at the beginning nor
later could I obtain the floor for my principal speech; but I relieved
myself of some gall in minor skirmishes. * * * I am sick and tired of
life here; attending the sitting early in the morning, thence directly
to a screaming and chattering _table d'hote,_ then for coffee to the
Steiger, a most charming little mountain, a mile from the city, where
one can walk about through the pleasantest hours of the day with a
pretty view of Erfurt and the Thuringian woods; under magnificent
oaks, among the little light-green leaves of prickles and horn-beam;
from there to the abominable party caucus, which has never yet made me
any the wiser, so that one does not get home all day. If I do not
attend the caucus meetings, they all rail at me, for each one grudges
the others any escape from the tedium. * * * Good-by, my heart. May
God's hand be over you, and the children, and protect you from
sickness and worry, but particularly you, the apple of my eye, whom
Roeder envies me daily in the promenade, when the sunset makes him
sentimental, and he wishes he had such a "good, dear, devout wife."
For the rest, my allowance suffices for my needs here, and I shall
still bring treasures home. Good-night, my darling. Many thanks for
your faithful letter, and write me again at once; I am always anxious
for news. Hans has just come in, and sends you sleepy greetings, after
sitting on the lounge for hardly ten seconds. Once more, good-night,
my Nan.

Your most faithful v.B.


Erfurt, April 23, '50.

_My Darling_,-- * * * We shall probably be released a week from today,
and then we have before us a quiet Schoenhausen summer, as the cry of
war is also dying. It is really going to be summer again, and on a
very long walk, from which I am returning home dead tired, I took much
pleasure in the small green leaves of the hazel and white beech, and
heard the cuckoo, who told me that we shall live together for eleven
years more; let us hope longer still. My hunt was extraordinary;
charming wild pine-woods on the ride out, sky-high, as in the
Erzgebirge; then, on the other side, steep valleys, like the Selke,
only the hills were much higher, with beeches and oaks. The night
before starting I had slept but four hours; then went to bed at nine
o'clock in Schleusingen on the south side of the Thuringian wood;
arose at midnight; that evening I had eaten freely of the trout and
had drunk weak beer with them; at one o'clock we rode to a forge in
the mountains, where ghostlike people poked the fire; then we climbed,
without stopping, until three o 'clock, in pouring rain, I wearing a
heavy overcoat; so steep that I had to help myself with my hands; so
dark in the fir thickets that I could touch the huntsman ahead of me
with my hand, but could not see him. Then, too, we were told there is
a precipice on the right, and the torrent sent up its roar from the
purple depths below; or that there is a pool on the left, and the path
was slippery. I had to halt three times; repeatedly I almost fainted
from weakness, lay down on the dripping heath, and let the rain pour
on me. But I was firmly resolved to see the grouse; and I did see
several, but could not shoot them, for reasons which one must be a
huntsman to understand. My companion shot one, and, if I had been
well, I might have shot two; I was too exhausted. After three it
cleared and became wonderfully fine, the horn-owl gave place to the
thrush, and at sunrise the bird-chorus became deafening; the
wood-pigeons singing bass, withal. At five I was down again, and, as
it began to pour once more, I abandoned further attempts, returned
hither, ate very heartily, after a twenty-four hours' fast, and drank
two glasses of champagne, then slept for fourteen hours, until
yesterday at one o'clock, noon, and now I am feeling much better than
before the excursion, and am glad of the good constitution which God
has given me, to get through it all. * * * I send you lots of love, my
heart, and will piously celebrate fast-day tomorrow at the Wermel
church. God preserve you. Love to mother and Melissa. Excuse my haste.
I had really left myself an hour of leisure, but that little old Mass
has his fourteenth child, just born. The only son of our poor
Eglofstein, of Arklitten, twenty-three-year-old lieutenant of
cuirassiers, has shot himself in hypochondria; I pity the father
extremely, a devout, honorable man.

Your most faithful

v.B.


Schoenhausen, Sunday Evening.

(Postmarked Jerichow, September 30, '50.)

_My Beloved Nan_,-- * * * I regained possession of my things in Berlin
at some cost, after twenty-four hours had elapsed; when I left, the
unfortunate Jew had not yet claimed his. Partly on my account and
partly on Hans', we had to stay in Berlin two days, but this time the
bill was more reasonable. * * * May the devil take politics! Here I
found everything as we left it, only the leaves show the rosiness of
autumn; flowers are almost more plentiful than in summer; Kahle has a
particular fondness for them, and on the terrace fabulous pumpkins are
suspended by their vines from the trees. The pretty plums are gone;
only a few blue ones still remain; of the vine, only the common green
variety is ripe; next week I shall send you some grapes. I have
devoured so many figs today that I was obliged to drink rum, but they
were the last. I am sorry you cannot see the Indian corn; it stands
closely packed, three feet higher than I can reach with my hand; the
colts' pasture looks from a distance like a fifteen-year-old pine
preserve. I am sitting here at your desk, a crackling fire behind me,
and Odin, rolled into a knot, by my side. * * * Mamsell received me in
pink, with a black dancing-jacket; the children in the village
ridicule her swaggering about her noble and rich relations. She has
cooked well again today, but, as to the feeding of the cattle, Bellin
laments bitterly that she understands nothing about it, and pays no
attention to it, and she is also said to be uncleanly; the Bellin
woman does not eat a mouthful prepared by her. Her father is a common
cottager and laborer; I can easily understand that she is out of place
there, with her grand airs and pink dresses. Up to this time the
garden, outside of Kahle's keep, has cost one hundred and three
rix-dollars this year, and between now and Christmas forty to fifty
will probably be added for digging and harvesting, besides the fuel.
The contents of the greenhouse I shall try to have care of in the
neighborhood; that is really the most difficult point, and still one
cannot continue keeping the place for the sake of the few oranges. I
am giving out that you will spend the winter in Berlin, that in the
summer-time we intend going to a watering-place again, and that,
therefore, we are giving up housekeeping for a year. * * * Hearty love
to our parents. I shall celebrate father's birthday with you, like a
Conservative, in the old style. May the merciful God, for His Son's
sake, preserve you and the children. Farewell, my dear Nan.

Your v.B.

Since leaving Reinfeld I no longer have heartburn; perhaps it is in my
heart, and my heart has remained with Nan.


Schoenhausen, October 1, '50.

_My Angel_,--I am so anxious that I can hardly endure being here; I
have the most decided inclination to inform the government at once of
my resignation, let the dike go, and proceed to Reinfeld. I expected
to have a letter from you today, but nothing except stupid police
matters. Do write very, very often, even if it takes one hundred
rix-dollars postage. I am always afraid that you are sick, and today I
am in such a mood that I should like to foot it to Pomerania. I long
for the children, for mammy and dad, and, most of all, for you, my
darling, so that I have no peace at all. Without you here, what is
Schoenhausen to me? The dreary bedroom, the empty cradles with the
little beds in them, all the absolute silence, like an autumn fog,
interrupted only by the ticking of the clock and the periodic falling
of the chestnuts--it is as though you all were dead. I always imagine
your next letter will bring bad news, and if I knew it was in Genthin
by this time I would send Hildebrand there in the night. Berlin is
endurable when one is alone; there one is busy, and can chatter all
day; but here it is enough to drive one mad; I must formerly have been
an entirely different mortal, to bear it as I did. * * * The girl
received the notice to leave very lightly and good-naturedly, as
quite a matter of course; Kahle, on the other hand, was beside
himself, and almost cried; said he could not find a place at
Christmas-time, and would go to the dogs, as he expressed it. I
consoled him by promising to pay his wages for another quarter if he
failed to find a place by New Year's. The girl is quite useless except
in cooking, of which more orally. I cannot enumerate all the little
trifles, and certainly Kahle does not belong to the better half of
gardeners. * * * I feel so vividly as if I were with you while writing
this that I am becoming quite gay, until I again recollect the three
hundred and fifty miles, including one hundred and seventy-five
without a railroad. Pomerania is terribly long, after all. Have you my
Kuelz letter, too? Bernhard has probably kept it in his pocket. Do not
prepay your letters, or they will be stolen. Innumerable books have
arrived from the binder; he claims one section of Scott's _Pirate_ is
missing; I know nothing about it. The tailor says that he has been
able to make only five pair of drawers from the stuff; presumably he
is wearing the sixth himself. Farewell, my sweetheart. Write as often
as you can, and give love and kisses to every one from me, large and
small. May God's mercy be with you.

Your most faithful v.B.


Schoenhausen, October 10, '50.

_My Darling_,--In a sullen rage I swoop down upon my inkstand after
just lighting the Town Councillor downstairs with the kindliest
countenance in the world. He sat here for two and a half hours by the
clock, moaning and groaning, without the least regard for my wry face;
I was just about to read the paper when he came. From ten to two I
crawled about the Elbe's banks, in a boat and on foot, with many
stupid people, attending to breakwaters, protective banks, and all
sorts of nonsense. This is, in general, a day of vexations; this
morning I dreamed so charmingly that I stood with you on the seashore;
it was just like the new strand, only the mud was rocks, the beeches
were thick-foliaged laurel, the sea was as green as the Lake of Traun,
and opposite us lay Genoa, which we shall probably never see, and it
was delightfully warm; then I was awakened by Hildebrand, accompanied
by a summoner, who brought me an order to serve as a juror at
Magdeburg from October 20th to November 16th, under penalty of from
one hundred to two hundred rix-dollars for each day of absence. I am
going there by the first train tomorrow, and hope to extricate myself;
for God so to punish my deep and restless longing for what is dearest
to me in this world, so that we shall not have the fleeting pleasure
of a couple of weeks together, would, indeed, be incredibly severe. I
am all excitement; that is our share in the newly achieved
liberty--that I am to be forced to spend my few days of freedom
sitting in judgment over thievish tramps of Jews, like a prisoner in a
fortress. I hope Gerlach can free me; otherwise I shall never speak to
him again. Tomorrow I shall at once drop you a line from Magdeburg, to
tell you how I succeed. * * * The people have abandoned the
dike-captain conspiracy against me; the Town Councillor says he will
not press it at all. He chattered to me for hours about his land-tax
commission, in which his anxiety drove him to rage against his own
flesh, and also, unfortunately, against ours. Our chief misfortune is
the cowardly servility towards those above and the chasing after
popularity below, which characterize our provincial councillor;
consequently public business, the chase, land-tax, etc., are all
deleteriously affected. It is due principally to the fact that he is
grossly ignorant and bungling in affairs, and is, therefore, for
better, for worse, in the hands of his democratic circuit secretary,
to whom he never dares to show his teeth; and, despite all that, the
fellow wears trousers, has been a soldier, and is a nobleman. La-Croix
is district-attorney at Madgeburg, withal, and he, too, must help me
to sneak out of it. It is still impossible for me to acquiesce in the
notion that we are to be separated all winter, and I am sick at heart
whenever I think of it; only now do I truly feel how very, very much
you and the _babies_ are part of myself, and how you fill my being.
That probably explains why it is that I appear cold to all except you,
even to mother; if God should impose on me the terrible affliction of
losing you, I feel, so far as my feelings can at this moment grasp and
realize such a wilderness of desolation, that I would then cling so to
your parents that mother would have to complain of being persecuted
with love. But away with all imaginary misery; there is enough in
reality. Let us now earnestly thank the Lord that we are all together,
even though separated by three hundred and fifty miles, and let us
experience the sweetness of knowing that we love each other very much,
and can tell each other so. To me it is always like ingratitude to God
that we choose to live apart so long, and are not together while He
makes it possible for us; but He will show us His will; all may turn
out differently; the Chambers may be dissolved, possibly very quickly,
as the majority is probably opposed to the Ministry. Manteuffel was
resolved upon it in that event, and it seems that Radowitz, since he
is Minister, has approached him, and, in general, wants to change his
politics again. Best love to all. Farewell. God keep you.

Your most faithful v.B.


Berlin, April 28, '51.

_My Dear Sweetheart_,--Mother's premonition that I would remain long
away has, unfortunately, proved correct this time. * * * The King was
the first to propose my nomination, and that at once, as a real
delegate to the Diet; his plan has, of course, encountered much
opposition, and has finally been so modified that Rochow will, it is
true, remain Minister at Petersburg, whither he is to return in two
months, but meanwhile, provisionally, he is commissioned to Frankfort,
and I am to accompany him, with the assurance that, on his leaving for
Petersburg, I shall be his successor. But this last is between
ourselves.

Now I want to go, first of all, to Frankfort, and take a
look at the situation, and hear how I shall stand pecuniarily pending
my definite appointment, of which I know nothing at all as yet. Then I
shall see whether I can leave again shortly after the start, and
whether I am to count on staying any longer; for, although I have,
indeed, accepted, still I am not yet sufficiently familiar with the
ground to be able to say definitely whether I shall stay there or
shortly get out again. As soon as that is decided, we shall probably,
after all, have to consider for you, too, the prospect of exchanging
your quiet Reinfeld existence for the noise of the Diet's diplomacy.
You folks have often complained that nothing was made of me by those
above me; now this is, beyond my expectations and wishes, a sudden
appointment to what is at this moment the most important post in our
diplomatic service; I have not sought it; I must assume that the Lord
wished it, and I cannot withdraw, although I foresee that it will be
an unfruitful and a thorny office, in which, with the best intentions,
I shall forfeit the good opinion of many people. But it would be
cowardly to decline. I cannot give you today further particulars as to
our plans, how we shall meet, what will be done about your going to
the seashore; only I shall try to make leisure, if possible, to see
you before. I feel almost like crying when I think of this sudden
upsetting of our innocent plans, as well as of the uncertainty when I
shall see you again, my beloved heart, and the babies; and I earnestly
pray God to arrange it all without detriment to our earthly welfare
and without harm to my soul. God be with you, my dear, and bring us
together again soon. With heartfelt love.

Your most faithful v.B.


Frankfort, May 14, '51.

_My Little Dear,_--* * * It seems to be getting constantly more
certain that I shall take Rochow's position in the summer. In that
event, if the rating remains as it was, I shall have a salary of
twenty-one thousand rix-dollars, but I shall have to keep a large
train and household establishment and you, my poor child, must sit
stiff and sedate in the drawing-room, be called Excellency, and be
clever and wise with Excellencies. * * * The city is not so bad as you
suppose; there are a great many charming villas before the gates,
similar to those in the Thiergarten, only more sunny. As Councillor of
Legation, it will be difficult for us to live there, owing to distance
and expense; but as Ambassador, quite as charming as is possible in a
foreign land. By letters of introduction I have quickly become
acquainted with the charming world hereabouts. Yesterday I dined with
the English Ambassador, Lord Cowley, nephew of the Duke of Wellington;
very kind, agreeable people; she is an elegant woman of about forty,
very worldly, but benevolent and easy to get acquainted with; I have
immediately put myself on a friendly footing with her, so that when
you step into the cold bath of diplomatic society she may be a
powerful support for you. Previously I called on a Frau von Stallupin
(pronounce Stolipine), a young woman without children, kindly, like
all Russian women, but terribly rich, and settled in a little
castle-like villa, so that one hardly dares to take a step or to sit
down; a Scharteuck interior is a rude barn compared with it. Day
before yesterday evening I called on Frau von Vrintz, a sister of
Meyendorf's wife; the diplomatic folks assemble every evening in her
drawing-room. Countess Thun was there, a very handsome young woman, in
the style of Malvinia; also the Marquis de Tallenay, French
Ambassador, a polite fifty-year-old; Count Szechenyi, a gay young
Magyar, full of pranks, and divers other foreign personages. They
gamble there every evening, the lady of the house, too, and not for
very low stakes; I was scolded for declaring it boresome, and told
them it would be my role to laugh at those who lost. Society probably
does not appeal to you very strongly, my beloved heart, and it seems
to me as though I were harming you by bringing you into it, but how
shall I avoid that? I have one favor to ask of you, but keep it to
yourself, and do not let mother suspect that I have written you one
word about it, otherwise she will worry needlessly over it: occupy
yourself with French as much as you can in the meantime, but let it be
thought that you yourself have discovered that it is useful. Read
French, but, if you love me, do not do so by artificial light, or if
your eyes pain you; in that case you had better ask mother to read to
you, for it is almost harder to understand than to speak. If you know
of any agreeable piece of baggage you can get in a hurry to chatter
French to you, then engage one; I will gladly pay the bill. You will
enter here an atmosphere of French spirit and talk, anyway; so you
cannot avoid familiarizing yourself with it as far as possible. If you
know of no person whom you like and who is available, let it go; and,
at any rate, I beg you sincerely not to consider this advice as a
hardship, or otherwise than if I asked you to buy yourself a green or
a blue dress; it is not a matter of life and death; you are _my_ wife,
and not the diplomats', and they can just as well learn German as you
can learn French. Only if you have leisure, or wish to read anyway,
take a French novel; but if you have no desire to do so, consider this
as not written, for I married you in order to love you in God and
according to the need of my heart, and in order to have in the midst
of the strange world a place for my heart, which all the world's bleak
winds cannot chill, and where I may find the warmth of the home-fire,
to which I eagerly betake myself when it is stormy and cold without;
but not to have a society woman for others, and I shall cherish and
nurse your little fireplace, put wood on it and blow, and protect it
against all that is evil and strange, for, next to God's mercy, there
is nothing which is dearer and more necessary to me than your love,
and the homelike hearth which stands between us everywhere, even in a
strange land, when we are together. Do not be too much depressed and
sad over the change of our life; my heart is not attached, or, at
least, not strongly attached, to earthly honor; I shall easily
dispense with it if it should ever endanger our peace with God or our
contentment. * * * Farewell, my dearly beloved heart. Kiss the
children for me, and give your parents my love.

Your most faithful v.B.


Frankfort, May 16, '51.

_Dear Mother_,--* * * So far as I am at present acquainted with the
_highest_ circles of society, there is only one house which seems to
me to promise company for Johanna--that of the English Ambassador. As
this letter will probably be opened by the Austrian (Frankfort)
post-office authorities, I shall refrain from explaining on this
occasion the reasons therefor. Even those letters which, like my last
ones, I took occasion to send by a courier, are not secure from
indiscretions at _Berlin_; those to me as well as those from me; but
those which go by the regular mail are always opened, except when
there is no time for it, as the gentleman who will read this could
probably testify. But all that, for better, for worse, forms part of
the petty ills of my new position.

In my thoughts I must always ask you and our dad to forgive me for
depriving you of the pleasure and the happiness of your old days,
inasmuch as I transplant to such a distance the bright child-life,
with all its dear cares, and take Johanna away a second time from her
father's house; but I see no other way out of it, which would not be
unnatural, or even wrong, and the strong arm which separated us when
we hoped to be united can also unite us when we least expect it. You
shall at least have the conviction, so far as human purpose can give
it, that I shall wander, together with Johanna, with the strong staff
of the Word of God, trough this dead and wicked activity of the world,
whose nakedness will become more apparent to us in our new position
than before, and that to the end of our joint pilgrimage my hand shall
strive, in faithful love, to smooth Johanna's paths, and to be a warm
covering to her against the breath of the great world.

Your faithful son, v.B.


Frankfort, May 18, '51.

_My Darling_,--Frankfort is terribly tiresome; I am so spoiled by so
much affection and so much business that I am only just beginning to
suspect how ungrateful I always was to some people in Berlin, to say
nothing of you and yours; but even the cooler measure of fellowship
and party affiliation which came to me in Berlin may be called an
intimate relationship compared with intercourse here, which is, in
fact, nothing more than mutual mistrust and espionage, if there only
were anything to spy out or to conceal! The people toil and fret over
nothing but mere trifles, and these diplomats, with their
consequential hair-splitting, already seem to me more ridiculous than
the Member of the Second Chamber in the consciousness of his dignity.
If foreign events do not take place, and those we over-smart Diet
people can neither direct nor prognosticate, I know quite definitely
now what we shall have accomplished in one, two, or five years, and am
willing to effect it in twenty-four hours if the others will but be
truthful and sensible for a single day. I have never doubted that they
all use water for cooking; but such an insipid, silly water-broth, in
which not a single bubble of mutton-suet is visible, surprises me.
Send me Filoehr, the village-mayor, Stephen Lotke, and Herr von
Dombrowsky, of the turnpike-house, as soon as they are washed and
combed, and I shall cut a dash with them in diplomatic circles. I am
making headlong progress in the art of saying nothing by using, many
words; I write reports of many pages, which read nice and smooth as
editorials; and if Manteuffel, after he has read them, can tell what
they contain, he can do more than I. Each of us makes believe that he
thinks the other is full of ideas and plans, if he would but speak
out, and yet we none of us know a jot better than the man in the moon
does what is to become of Germany. No mortal, not even the most
malevolently skeptical Democrat, will believe what a vast amount of
charlatanism and consequential pomposity there is in this diplomacy.
But now I have done enough scolding, and want to tell you that I am
well, and that I was very glad and gave thanks to the Lord that,
according to your last letter, all was well with you, and that I love
you very much, and look at every pretty villa, thinking that perhaps
our _babies_ will be running about in it in summer. Do see that you
get the girls to come along, or if they absolutely refuse, bring
others from there with whom we are already somewhat acquainted. I
don't care to have a Frankfort snip in the room, or with the children;
or we must take a Hessian girl, with short petticoats and ridiculous
head-gear; they are half-way rural and honest. For the present I shall
rent a furnished room for myself in the city; the inn here is too
expensive. Lodgings, 5 guilders per day; two cups of tea, without
anything else, 36 kreutzers (35 are 10 silbergroschen), and, served as
the style is here, it is insulting. Day before yesterday I was at
Mayence; it is a charming region, indeed. The rye is already standing
in full ears, although the weather is infamously cold every night and
morning. The excursions by rail are the best things here. To
Heidelberg, Baden-Baden, Odenwald, Hamburg, Soden, Wiesbaden, Bingen,
Ruedesheim, Niederwald, is a leisurely day's journey; one can stay
there for five or six hours and be here again in the evening; hitherto
I have not yet availed myself of it, but shall do so, so that I may
escort you when you are here. Rochow left for Warsaw at nine o'clock
last night; he will arrive there day after tomorrow at noon, and will
most likely be here again a week from today. About politics and
individuals cannot write you much, because most letters are opened,
When once they are familiar with your address on my letters and with
your handwriting on yours, they will probably get over it, because
they have no time to read family letters. Do not be afraid of the
local aristocracy; as to money, Rothschild is the most aristocratic,
but deprive them _all_ of their money and salaries, and it would be
seen how little each one is aristocratic in himself; money doesn't do
it, and otherwise--may the Lord keep me in humility, but here the
temptation is strong to be content with one's self.

Countess Pueckler, sister of the Countess Stolberg, resides at
Weistritz, near Schweidnitz. Now, farewell; I must go out. God's
blessing be with you. Give F. and M. much love. Your most faithful v.
B.


Frankfort, May 27, '51.

_My Darling_,--* * * On Friday there was a ball at Lady Cowley's,
which lasted until five in the morning; they all dance here as if
possessed; the oldest delegates of fifty, with white hair, danced to
the end of the cotillion, in the sweat of their brows. At midnight
"God Save the Queen" was solemnly played, because her birthday was
dawning, and it was all a transparency of English coats-of-arms and
colors from top to bottom, and very many odd, stiff ladies, who "lisp
English when they lie," as I read once upon a time the translation of
that passage in _Faust_; that is to say, they all have a passion for
talking bad French, and I am altogether forgetting my English, as I
have discovered to my dismay. * * * Oftentimes I feel terribly
homesick, and that is to me an agreeable sadness, for otherwise I seem
to myself so aged, so dryly resigned and documentary, as if I were
only pasted on a piece of card-board. * * * Give your dear parents my
heartfelt love, and kiss Annie's pretty hand for me, because she stays
with you so sweetly-Now, I shall not write another word until I have a
letter from you in hand. Yesterday I attended the Lutheran church
here; a not very gifted, but devout, minister; the audience consisted,
apart from myself, of just twenty two women, and my appearance was
visibly an event. God bless and keep you and the children.

Your most faithful v.B.

[Illustration: PRINCESS BISMARCK]


Frankfort, Ascension Day--Evening.

(Postmarked Berlin, June 1, '51.)

_My Heart_,--How good it is of you all that, directly after I had
mailed my complaint of lack of news, there arrives such a shower of
letters. A thousand thanks to your dear parents, and I shall answer
dad tomorrow, when I am less hurried than today, for on this dear
holiday, after a big dinner, I must still write some long despatches.
I was at the French church today, where at least there was more
congregation and devotion, and the minister was passable, too, but I
cannot talk French with my dear, faithful Lord and Saviour; it seems
to me ungrateful. For the rest, they sang pretty hymns, these insipid
Calvinists, almost in the sweet Catholic tune which you always
play. * * *

Your most faithful v.B.

Your letter had been opened again.


Frankfort, June 4, '51.

_My Darling_,--Were you not going to write to me any more? I was
resolved even yesterday not to put pen to paper until I should have a
letter from you, but, anyway, I will be good, and tell you that I am
well and love you, even if you let your little inkstand dry up. I long
exceedingly for you and the children, and for quiet, comfortable
domesticity at Schoenhausen or Reinfeld. As soon as I have finished my
hitherto rather unimportant occupations, my empty lodgings, and the
whole dreary world behind, face me, and I know not where to set my
foot, for there is nothing which particularly attracts me. Day before
yesterday I ate at Biberich, with the Duke of Nassau, the first fresh
herrings and the first strawberries and raspberries of the season. It
is certainly a delightful piece of earth along the Rhine, and I looked
pensively from the castle windows over to the red cathedral of
Mayence, which, almost four years ago, we both went to see very early
in the morning, in times for which we were not then sufficiently
grateful to God; I remembered how, on board the steamer, the blue
hills before us, we passed by the Duke's handsome castle, without
dreaming how and why I should stand there at the window this year, an
old wig of a Minister before me, who unravelled his views on national
polities, while I was thinking, with an occasional absent-minded
"Quite so," of our trip of '47, and sought with my eyes the spot on
the Mayence bridge whence you, in your little Geneva coat, embarked on
the steamer; and then I thought of Geneva. * * * Countess Thun
unfortunately left on Sunday for Tetschen, to spend three months with
her father-in-law. She is a kindly lady, womanly and devout (Catholic,
very), attributes which do not grace the women here in general; her
husband gambles and flirts, I believe, more so than is agreeable to
her. I hardly believe that you will like her, but she is one of the
better specimens of women of the great world, even though that just
proves to me that a woman of that world would not have been suitable
for me; I like her to associate with, but not to marry. Perhaps, by
comparing her with the others of her sort, you will learn to
appreciate her. The gentlemen are unendurable. The moment I accost one
he assumes a diplomatic countenance, and thinks of what he can answer
without saying too much, and what he can write home concerning my
utterances. Those who are not so I find still less congenial; they
talk equivocally to the ladies, and the latter encourage them
shamefully. It makes a less morbid impression on me if a woman falls
thoroughly for once, but preserves a sense of shame at heart, than if
she takes pleasure in such chatter; and I value the Countess Thun,
because, despite the general fashion prevailing here, she knows how to
keep decidedly clear of all that sort of thing. * * * Your most
faithful v.B.


Frankfort, June 26, '51.

_My Darling_,--Today I have been suffering all day long from
homesickness. I received your letter of Sunday early, and then I sat
in the window and smelled the summer fragrance of roses and all sorts
of shrubs in the little garden, and while so doing I heard one of your
dear Beethoven pieces, played by an unknown hand on the piano, wafted
over from some window opposite, distantly and in snatches, and to me
it sounded prettier than any concert. I kept wondering why I must,
after all, be so far away, for a long time, from you and the children,
while so many people who do not love each other at all see one another
from morning till night. It is now seven months since I received at
Reinfeld the order to join the regiment; since then we have twice paid
each other a hasty visit, and it will be eight or nine months before
we shall be again united. It must, indeed, be the Lord's will, for I
have not sought it, and when I am sorrowful it is a consolation to me
that I did not speak a syllable in order to come here, and that
ambition for outward pomp was not what led me to this separation. We
are not in this world to be happy and to enjoy, but to do our duty;
and the less my condition is a self-made one, the more do I realize
that I am to perform the duties of the office in which I am placed.
And I certainly do not wish to be ungrateful, for I am, nevertheless,
happy in the knowledge of possessing so much that is dear, even if far
away from here, and in the hope of a happy reunion. On the arrival of
every letter from Reinfeld my first feeling is one of hearty gratitude
for the unmerited happiness that I still have you in this world, and
with every death of wife or child which I see in the newspaper the
consciousness of what I have to lose comes forcibly home to me, and of
what the merciful God has granted and thus far preserved to me. Would
that gratitude therefor might so dispose my obstinate and worldly
heart to receive the mercy of the Lord that it shall not be necessary
for Him to chastise me in what I love, for I have greater fear of that
than of any other evil. * * * In a few weeks it must be decided
whether I shall be made Envoy here or stay at Reinfeld. The Austrians
at Berlin are agitating against my appointment, because my
black-and-white is not sufficiently yellow for them; but I hardly
believe they will succeed, and you, my poor dear, will probably have
to jump into the cold water of diplomacy; and the boy, unlucky wight
that he is, will have a South-German accent added to his Berlin
nativity. * * * As far as can now be foreseen, I shall not be able to
get away from this galley for two or three weeks, for, including
Silesia, that amount of time would probably be necessary for it. But
much water will flow down the Main before then, and I am not worrying
before the time comes. How I should like to turn suddenly around the
bushy corner of the lawn and surprise all of you in the hall! I see
you so plainly, attending to the children, covering up Midget, with
sensible speeches, and father sitting at his desk smoking, the mayor
beside him, and mammy bolt-upright on her sofa, by wretched light, one
hand lying on the arm-rest, or holding _Musee Francais_ close before
her eyes. God grant that at this moment everything at Reinfeld is
going as smoothly as this. I have at last received a letter from Hans,
one that is very charming, and, contrary to his custom, mysterious, in
view of the post-office spies. You may imagine how Senfft writes to me
under these circumstances. I received an unsigned letter from him the
other day, out of which the most quick-witted letter-bandit would have
been at a loss to decipher what he was driving at. If you occasionally
come across some unintelligible notices at the tail end of the
_Observer_, they will thus seem to you more puzzling still, and to the
blockhead who breaks open this letter they will remain unintelligible,
even if I tell you that they are a part of my correspondence. Only
give me frequent tidings, my beloved heart, even if short ones, so
that I may have the assurance that you are alive and well. A have
picked the enclosed leaves for you in the garden of old Amschel
Rothschild, whom I like, because he is simply a haggling Jew, and does
not pretend to be anything else, and, at the same time, a strictly
orthodox Jew, who touches nothing at his dinners, and eats only
"undefiled" food. "Johann dage vid you some bread for de deers," he
said his servant as he came out to show me his garden, in which there
were some tame fallow deer. "Baron, dat blant costs me two thousand
guilders, honor bride, two thousand guilders gash; I vill let you have
it for one thousand or, if you vant it for nuddings, he shall bring id
to your house. God knows I abbrejiate you highly, Baron; you are a
nize man, a brave man." With that he is a little, thin gray imp of a
man, the patriarch of his tribe, but a poor man in his palace,
childless, a widower, cheated by his servants, and ill-treated by
aristocratically Frenchified and Anglicized nephews and nieces who
will inherit his treasures without gratitude and without love.
Good-night, my angel. The clock is striking twelve; I want to go to
bed and read chap. ii. of the Second Epistle of St. Peter. I am now
doing that in a systematic way, and, when I have finished St. Peter,
at your recommendation I shall read the He-brews, which I do not know
at all as yet. May God's protection and blessing be with you all.

Your most faithful v.B.


Frankfort, July 3, 1851.

_My Pet_,--Day before yesterday I very thankfully received your letter
and the tidings that you are all well. But do not forget when you
write to me that the letters are opened not by me alone, but by all
sorts of postal spies, and don't berate particular persons so much in
them, for all that is immediately reported and debited to my account;
besides, you do people injustice. Concerning my appointment or
non-appointment I know nothing as yet, except what was told me when I
left; everything else is possibilities and surmises. The only
crookedness about the matter us far has been the government's silence
towards me, for it would have been only fair to let me know by this,
and officially at that, whether during next month I to live here or in
Pomerania with wife and child. Be careful in your remarks to every one
there, without exception, not to Massow alone; particularly in your
criticisms of individuals, for you have no idea what one experiences
in this respect after once becoming an object of surveillance; be
prepared to see warmed up with sauce, here or at Sans Souci, what you
may perhaps whisper to Charlotte[17] or Annie in the boscages or the
bathing-house. Forgive me for being so admonitory, but after your last
letter I have to take the diplomatic pruning-knife in hand a bit. Do
not write me anything that the police may not read and communicate to
King, ministers, or Rochow. If the Austrians and many other folks can
succeed in sowing distrust in our camp, they will thereby attain one
of the principal objects of their letter-pilfering. Day before
yesterday I took dinner at Wiesbaden, with Dewitz, and, with a mixture
of sadness and knowing wisdom, I inspected the scenes of past
foolishness. Would that it might please God to fill with His clear and
strong wine this vessel, in which at that time the champagne of
twenty-two-year-old youth sparkled uselessly away, leaving stale dregs
behind. Where and how may Isabella Loraine and Miss Russel be living
now? How many of those with whom I then flirted, tippled, and played
dice are now dead and buried! How many transformations has my view of
the world undergone in the fourteen years which have since elapsed,
while I always considered the existing one as alone correct! and how
much is now small to me which then appeared great, how much now
deserving of respect which I then ridiculed! How many a green bud
within us may still come to mature blossom and wither worthlessly away
before another period of fourteen years is over, in 1865, if we are
then still alive! I cannot realize how a person who is thoughtful and,
nevertheless, knows nothing or wishes to know nothing of God, can
endure giving a despised and tedious life, a life which is fleeting as
a stream, as a sleep, even as a blade of grass that soon withers; we
spend our years as in a babble of talk.

I do not know how I endured it in the past; if I should live now as I
did then, without God, without you, without children, I should, in
fact, be at a loss to know why I should not cast off this life like a
soiled shirt; and yet most of my acquaintances are thus, and they
live. If in the case of some one individual I ask myself what reason
he can have, in his own mind, for continuing to live, to toil, to
fret, to intrigue, and to spy--verily I do not know. Do not conclude
from this scribbling that I happen to be in a particularly black mood;
on the contrary, I feel as when, on a beautiful September day, one
contemplates the yellowing foliage; healthy and gay, but a little
sadness, a little homesickness, a longing for woods, lake, meadow, you
and the children, all mingled with the sunset and a Beethoven
symphony. Instead of that I must now call upon tiresome serene
Highnesses and read endless figures about German sloops of war and
cannon-yawls which are rotting at Bremerhaven and devouring
cash. * * * Farewell, my beloved heart. Much love to our parents, and
God keep you all.

Your most faithful v.B.


Frankfort, July 8, 1851.

_My Darling_,--Yesterday and today I wished very much to write to you,
but owing to a hurly burly of business I have not been able to do so
till now, late in the evening, after returning from a walk during
which, in the charming summer-night's air, with moonlight and the
rustling of poplar-leaves, I have brushed off the dust of the day's
documents. On Saturday, in the afternoon, I went with Rochow and Lynar
to Ruedesheim, hired a boat there, rowed out on the Rhine, and swam in
the moonlight, nothing but nose and eyes over the tepid water, as far
as the Mouse Tower near Bingen, where the wicked bishop met his death.
There is something strangely dreamlike in thus lying in the water on a
quiet, warm night, carried gently along by the tide, seeing only the
sky with moon and stars, and, alongside, the wooded hill-tops and the
castle battlements in the moonlight, hearing nothing but the gentle
purling of one's own motion. I should like to swim thus every evening.
Then I drank some very nice wine, and sat for a long time smoking,
with Lynar, on the balcony, the Rhine beneath us. My little Testament
and the starry firmament caused our conversation to turn on Christian
topics, and I hammered for a long time at the Rousseau-like chastity
of his soul, with no other effect than to cause him to remain silent.
He was ill-treated while a child by nurses and private tutors, without
having really learned to know his parents, and by reason of a similar
bringing-up he has retained from his youthful days opinions similar to
my own, but has always been more satisfied with them than I ever was.
Next morning we went by steamer to Coblentz, breakfasted there for an
hour, and returned by the same route to Frankfort, where we arrived in
the evening. I really undertook the expedition with the object of
visiting old Metternich at Johannisberg; he had invited me, but the
Rhine pleased me so much that I preferred to take a pleasure ride to
Coblentz, and postponed the call. You and I saw him that time on our
trip directly after the Alps, and in bad weather; on this summer
morning, and after the dusty tedium of Frankfort, he again rose high
in my esteem. I promise myself much relish from spending a few days
with you at Ruedesheim, the place is so quiet and country-like, good
people and low-priced, and then we shall hire a little rowboat, ride
leisurely down, climb the Niederwald, and this and that castle, and
return by the steamer. One can leave here early in the morning, remain
for eight hours at Ruedesheim, Bingen, Rheinstein, etc., and be here
again at night. My appointment at this place does not appear to be
certain, and Hans is going to Coblentz as Lord-Lieutenant; will live
there in a stately palace, with the finest view in all Prussia. By
leaving here early, one reaches Coblentz by half past ten, and is back
in the evening; that is easier than from Reinfeld to Reddentin, and a
prettier road. You see we are not forsaken here; but who would have
thought, when we went to the wedding in Kiekow, that both of us should
be removed from our innocent Pomeranian solitude and hurled to the
summits of life, speaking in worldly fashion, to political outposts on
the Rhine? The ways of the Lord are passing strange. May He likewise
take our souls out of their darkness and lift them to the bright
summits of His grace. _That_ position would be more secure. But He has
certainly taken us visibly into His hand, and will not let me fall,
even though I sometimes make myself a heavy weight. The interview with
Lynar the other day has truly enabled me to cast a grateful (but not
pharisaical) glance over the distance which lies between me and my
previous unbelief; may it increase continually, until it has attained
the proper measure. * * * I am already beginning to look about here
for a house, preferably outside of the city, with a garden; there my
darling will have to play a very stiff, self-contained part, see much
tedious society, give dinners and balls, and assume terribly
aristocratic airs. What do you say to having dancing at your house
until far into the night? Probably it cannot be avoided, my beloved
heart--that is part of the "service." I can see mother's blue eyes
grow big with wonder at the thought. I am going to bed, to read
Corinthians i., 3, and pray God to preserve you all to me, and grant
you a quiet night and health and peace. Dearest love to your parents.

Your most faithful

v.B.


Frankfort, April 4, '52.

_Dear Mother_,--I wished to write you today at length, but I do not
know how far I shall progress in it after having given myself up for
so long to enjoyment of Sunday leisure, by taking a long, loitering
walk in the woods, that hardly an hour remains before the closing of
the mail. I found such pretty, solitary paths, quite narrow, between
the greening hazel and thorn-bushes, where only the thrush and the
glede-kite were heard, and quite far off the bell of the church to
which I was playing truant, that I could not find my way home again.
Johanna is somewhat exhausted, in connection with her condition, or I
should have had her in the woods, too, and perhaps we should still be
there. * * * She has presented me with an exquisite anchor watch, of
which I was much in need, because I always wore her small one. In the
Vincke matter I cannot, with you, sufficiently praise God's mercy that
no misfortune has occurred from any side. I believe that for me it was
inwardly very salutary to have felt myself so near unto death, and
prepared myself for it; I know that you do not share my conception of
such matters, but I have never felt so firm in believing trust, and so
resigned to God's will, as I did in the moment when the matter was in
progress. We can discuss it orally some time; now I only want to tell
you how it happened. I had repeatedly been disgusted by V.'s rudeness
to the government and ourselves, and was prepared resolutely to oppose
him at the next opportunity that offered. He accused me of want of
diplomatic discretion, and said that hitherto the "burning cigar" was
my only known achievement. He alluded to an occurrence at the Palace
of the Diet, of which I had previously told him confidentially, at his
particular request, as of something quite unimportant, but comical. I
then retorted from the platform that his remark overstepped not only
the bounds of diplomatic but also of ordinary discretion, which one
had a right to demand from every man of education. Next day he
challenged me, through Herr von Sauken-Julienfelde, for four
pistol-shots; I accepted it after Oscar Arnim's proposal, that we
should fight with swords, had been declined by Sauken. Vincke wished
to defer the matter for forty-eight hours, which I granted. On the
25th, at 8 A.M., we rode to Tegel; to a charming spot in the woods by
the seashore; it was beautiful weather, and the birds sang so gayly in
the sunshine that, as soon as we entered the wood, all sad thoughts
left me; only the thought of Johanna I had to drive from me by force,
so as not to be affected by it. With me as witnesses were Arnim and
Eberhard Stolberg, and my brother as very dejected spectator. With V.
were Sauken, and Major Vincke of the First Chamber, as well as a
Bodelschwingh (nephew of the Minister and of Vincke), as impartial
witness. The latter declared before the matter began that the
challenge seemed to him to be, under the circumstances, too stringent,
and proposed that it should be modified to one shot apiece. Sauken, in
V.'s name, was agreeable to this, and had word brought to me that the
whole thing should be called off if I declared I was sorry for my
remark. As I could not truthfully do this, we took our positions,
fired at Bodelschwingh's command, and both missed. God forgive the
grave sin that I did not at once recognize His mercy, but I cannot
deny it: when I looked through the smoke and saw my adversary standing
erect, a feeling of disappointment prevented me from participating in
the general rejoicing, which caused Bodelschwingh to shed tears; the
modification of the challenge annoyed me, and I would gladly have
continued the combat. But, as I was not the insulted party, I could
say nothing; it was over, and all shook hands. We rode home and I ate
with my sister alone. All the world was dissatisfied with the outcome,
but the Lord must know what He still intends to make of V. In cool
blood, I am certainly very grateful that it happened so. What probably
contributed much to it was the fact that a couple of very good
pistols, which were originally intended to be used, were so loaded
that for the moment they were quite useless, and we had to take those
intended for the seconds, with which it was difficult to hit. An
official disturbance has interrupted me, and now I must close--time is
up. Only I still want to say that I had consulted beforehand, about
the duel, with old Stolberg, General Gerlach, Minister Uhden and Hans;
they were all of opinion that it must be; Buechsel, too, saw no
alternative, although he admonished me to desist. I spent an hour in
prayer, with him and Stolberg, the evening before. I never doubted
that I should have to appear, but I did doubt whether I should shoot
at V. I did it without anger, and missed. Now farewell, my dearly
beloved mother. Give love to father and every one from

Your faithful son, v.B.


Vienna, June 14, '52.

_My Beloved Heart_,--At this hour I ought to sit down and write
a long report to his Majesty concerning a lengthy and fruitless
negotiation which I had today with Count Buol, and concerning an
audience with the Archduchess Empress-Dowager. But I have just taken
a promenade on the high ramparts all round the inner city, and from
them seen a charming sunset behind the Leopoldsberg, and now I am much
more inclined to think of you than of business. I stood for a long
time on the red Thor Tower, which commands a view of the Jaegerzeil
and of our old-time domicile, the Lamb, with the cafe before it; at
the Archduchess' I was in a room which opens on the homelike little
garden into which we once secretly and thoughtlessly found our way;
yesterday I heard _Lucia_--Italian, very good; all this so stirs
my longing for you that I am quite sad and incapable. For it is terrible
to be thus alone in the world, when one is no longer accustomed to it; I
am in quite a Lynaric mood. Nothing but calls, and coming to know
strangers, with whom I am always having the same talk. Every one knows
that I have not yet been here very long, but whether I was ever here
before; that is the great question which I have answered two hundred
times in these days, and happy that that topic still remains. For folk
bent on pleasure this may be a very pretty place, for it offers whatever
is capable of affording outward diversion to people. But I am longing
for Frankfort as if it were Kniephof, and do not wish to come here by
any means. F. must lie just where the sun went down, over the
Mannhartsberg yonder; and, while it was sinking here, it still continued
shining with you for over half an hour. It is terribly far. How
different it was with you here my heart, and with Salzburg and Meran in
prospect; I have grown terribly old since then. * * * It is very cruel
that we must spend such a long period of our brief life apart; that time
is lost, then, and cannot be brought back. God alone knows why He allows
others to remain together who are quite at their ease when apart; like
an aged friend of mine, who travelled with me as far as Dresden had to
sit in the same compartment with his wife all the time, and could not
smoke; and we must always correspond at a great distance. We shall make
up for it all, and love each other a great deal more when we are again
together; if only we keep well! Then I shall not murmur. Today I had the
great pleasure of receiving, _via_ Berlin, your letter of last Thursday;
that is the second one since I left Frankfort; surely none is lost? I
was very happy and thankful that all of you are well. * * * As soon as I
find myself once more on the old, tiresome Thuringian railroad I shall
be out of myself, and still more so when I catch a glimpse of our light
from Bockenheim; I must travel about nine hundred miles thither, not
including two hundred and fifty miles from Pesth back to this place. How
gladly I shall undertake them, once I am seated in the train! I shall
probably abandon my trip by way of Munich; from this place to M. is a
post-trip of fifty hours; by water still longer; and I shall have to
render a verbal report in Berlin, anyway. About politics I can,
fortunately, write nothing; for, even if the English courier who takes
this to Berlin is a safeguard against our post-office, the Taxis
scoundrels will, nevertheless, get hold of it.

Be sure to write me detailed information as to your personal
condition. Greet mother, our relations, if they are still there,
Leontine, the children, Stolberg, Wentzel, and all the rest. Farewell
my angel. God preserve you.

Your most faithful v.B.


Ofen, June 23, '52.

_My Darling_,--I have just left the steamer, and do not know how
better to utilize the moment at my disposal until Hildebrand follows
with my things than by sending you a love-token from this far-easterly
but pretty spot. The Emperor has graciously assigned me quarters in
his palace, and I am sitting here in a large vaulted chamber at the
open window, into which the evening bells of Pesth are pealing. The
view outward is charming. The castle stands high; immediately below me
the Danube, spanned by the suspension-bridge; behind it Pesth, which
would remind you of Dantzig, and farther away the endless plain
extending far beyond Pesth, disappearing in the bluish-red dusk of
evening. To the left of Pesth I look up the Danube, far, very far,
away; to my left, _i.e._, on the right-hand shore, it is fringed first
by the city of Ofen, behind it hills like the Berici near Venetia blue
and bluer, then bluish-red in the evening sky, which glows behind. In
the midst of both cities is the large sheet of water as at Linz,
intersected by the suspension-bridge and a wooded island. It is really
splendid; only you, my angel, are lacking for me to enjoy this
prospect _with you_; then it would be _quite_ nice. Then, too, the
road hither, at least from Gran to Pesth, would have pleased you.
Imagine Odenwald and Taunus moved close together, the waters of the
Danube filling the interval; and occasionally, particularly near
Wisserad, a little Duerrenstein-Agstein. The shady side of the trip was
the sunny side; it burned as if they wanted tokay to grow on the
steamer, and the crowd of travelers was large; but, just imagine, not
one Englishman; it must be that they have not yet discovered Hungary.
For the rest, there were queer fellows enough, dirty and washed, of
all Oriental and Occidental nations. * * * By this time I am becoming
impatient as to Hildebrand's whereabouts; I am lying in the window,
half musing in the moonlight, half waiting for him as for a mistress,
for I long for a clean shirt. * * * If you were here for only a
moment, and could contemplate now the dull, silvery Danube, the dark
hills on a pale-red background, and the lights which are shining up
from Pesth below, Vienna would lose much in your estimation compared
to Buda-Pescht, as the Hungarian calls it. You see I am not only a
lover, but also an enthusiast, for nature. Now I shall soothe my
excited blood with a cup of tea, after Hildebrand has actually put in
an appearance, and shall then go to bed and dream of you, my love.
Last night I had only four hours of sleep, and the court here is
terribly matutinal; the young gentleman himself rises as early as five
o 'clock, so that I should be a bad courtier if I were to sleep much
longer. Therefore I bid you good-night from afar, with a side-glance
at a gigantic teapot and an enticing plate of cold jellied cuts,
tongue, as I see, among the rest. Where did I get that song that
occurs to me continually today--"_Over the blue mountain, over the
white sea-foam, come, thou beloved one, come to thy lonely home_"? I
don't know who must have sung that to me, some time in _auld lang
syne_. May God's angels keep you today as hitherto.

Your most faithful v.B.


The 24th.

After having slept very well, although on a wedge-shaped pillow, I bid
you good-morning, my heart. The whole panorama before me is bathed in
such a bright, burning sun that I cannot look out at all without being
blinded. Until I begin my calls I am sitting here breakfasting and
smoking all alone in a very spacious apartment--four rooms, all
thickly vaulted, two something like our dining-room in size, thick
walls as at Schoenhausen, gigantic nut-wood closets, blue silk
furnishings, a profusion of large spots on the floor, an ell in size,
which a more excited fancy than mine might take for blood, but which I
decidedly declare to be ink; an unconscionably awkward scribe must
have lodged here, or another Luther repeatedly hurled big inkstands
at his opponents. * * * Exceedingly strange figures, brown, with broad
hats and wide trousers, are floating about on long wooden rafts in the
Danube below. I regret I am not an artist; I should like to let you
see these wild faces, mustached, long-haired with excited black eyes,
and the ragged, picturesque drapery which hangs about them, as they
appeared to me all day yesterday. * * * Farewell, my heart. God bless
you and our present and future children.

Your most faithful v.B.


Evening.

I have not yet found an opportunity to send this. Again the lights are
shining up from Pesth, lightning appears on the horizon in the
direction of the Theiss, and there is starlight above us. I have been
in uniform most of the day, handed my credentials to the young ruler
of this country at a solemn audience, and received a very pleasing
impression of him--twenty-year-old vivacity, coupled with studied
composure. He _can_ be very winning, I have seen that; whether he
always will, I do not know, and he need not, for that matter. At any
rate, he is for this country exactly what it needs, and more than that
for the peace of its neighbors, if God does not give him a
peace-loving heart. After dinner all the court went on an excursion
into the mountains, to a romantic spot called the Pretty Shepherdess,
who has long been dead, King Matthias Corvinus having loved her many
hundred years ago. Thence the view is over woody hills, like those on
the Neckar banks to Ofen, its castle, and the plain. A popular
festival had brought thousands up to it, and the Emperor, who mingled
with them, was surrounded with noisy cheers; Czardas danced, waltzed,
sang, played, climbed into the trees, and crowded the court-yard. On a
grassy slope was a supper-table of about twenty persons, sitting along
one side only, leaving the other free for a view of wood, hill, city,
and country, high beeches over us, with Hungarians climbing among the
branches; behind us a densely crowded and crowding mass of people near
by, and, beyond, alternate horn-music and singing, wild gipsy
melodies. Illumination, moonlight, and evening glow, interspersed with
torches through the wood; the whole might have been served, unaltered,
as a great scenic effect in a romantic opera. Beside me sat the
whitebearded Archbishop of Gran, primate of Hungary, in a black silk
talar, with a red cape; on the other side a very amiable and elegant
general of cavalry, Prince Liechtenstein. You see, the painting was
rich in contrasts. Then we rode home by moonlight, escorted by
torches; and while I smoke my evening cigar I am writing to my
darling, and leaving the documents until tomorrow. * * * I have
listened today to the story of how this castle was stormed by the
insurgents three years ago, when the brave General Hentzi and the
entire garrison were cut down after a wonderfully heroic defence. The
black spots on my floor are in part burns, and where I am now writing
to you the shells then danced about, and the combat finally raged on
top of smoking _debris_. It was only put in order again a few weeks
ago, against the Emperor's arrival. Now it is very quiet and cozy up
here; I hear only the ticking of a clock and distant rolling of wheels
from below. For the second time from this place I bid you good-night
in the distance. May angels watch over you--a grenadier with a
bear-skin cap does that for me here; I see his bayonet two arm-lengths
away from me, projecting six inches above the windowsill, and
reflecting my light. He is standing on the terrace over the Danube,
and is, perhaps, thinking of his Nan, too.


Tomsjoenaes, August 16, '57.

_My Dearest,_--I make use again of the Sunday quiet to give you a sign
of life, though I do not know what day there will be a chance to send
it out of this wilderness to the mail. I rode about seventy miles
without break, through the desolate forest, in order to reach here,
and before me lie more than a hundred miles more before one gets to
provinces of arable land. Not a city, not a village, far and wide;
only single settlers in wide huts, with a little barley and potatoes,
who find rods of land to till, here and there between dead trees,
pieces of rock, and bushes. Picture to yourself about five hundred
square miles of such desolate country as that around Viartlum, high
heather, alternating with short grass and bog, and with birches,
junipers pines, beeches, oaks, alders, here impenetrably thick, there
thin and barren of foliage, the whole strewn with innumerable stones
of all sizes up to that of a house, smelling of wild rosemary and
rosin, at intervals wonderfully shaped lakes surrounded by woods and
hills of the heath, then you have the land of Smaa, where I am just
now. Really, the land of my dreams, inaccessible to despatches,
colleagues, and Reitzenstein, but unfortunately, to you as well. I
should like ever so much to have a hunting-castle on one of these
quiet lakes and inhabit it for some months with all the dear ones whom
I think of now as assembled in Reinfeld. In winter, to be sure, it
would not be endurable here, especially in the mud that all the rain
would make. Yesterday we turned out at about five, hunted, in burning
heat, up-hill and down, through bush and fen, until eleven, and found
absolutely nothing; walking in bogs and impenetrable juniper thickets,
on large stones and timbers, is very fatiguing. Then we slept in a
hay-shed until two o'clock, drank lots of milk, and hunted again until
sunset, bringing down twenty-five grouse and two mountain-hens. I shot
four of the former; Engel, to his great delight, one of the latter.
Then we dined in the hunting-lodge, a remarkable wooden building on a
peninsula in the lake. My sleeping-room and its three chairs, two
tables, and bedstead are of no other color than that of the natural
pine-boards, like the whole house, whose walls are made of these. A
sofa does not exist; bed very hard; but after such hardships as ours
one does not need to be rocked to sleep. From my window I see a
blooming hill rise from the heath, on it birches rocking in the wind,
and between them I see, in the lake mirror, pine-woods on the other
side. Near the house a camp has been put up for hunters, drivers,
servants, and peasants, then the barricade of wagons, a little city of
dogs, eighteen or twenty huts on both sides of a lane which they form;
from each a throng looks out tired from yesterday's hunt. * * *


Petersburg, April 4, '59.

_My Dear Heart_,--Now that the rush of today noon is past, I sit down
in the evening to write you a few more lines in peace. When I closed
my letter today I did it with the intention of writing to you next a
birthday letter, and thought I had plenty of time for it; it is only
the 23d of March here. I have thought it over, and find that a letter
must go out today exactly to reach Frankfort on the 11th; it is hard
to get used to the seven days' interval which the post needs. So I
hurry my congratulations. May God grant you His rich blessing in soul
and body, for all your love and truth, and give you resignation and
contentment in regard to the various new conditions of life, contrary
to your inclinations, which you will meet here. We cannot get rid of
the sixtieth degree of latitude, and we have not chosen our own lot.
Many live happily here, although the ice is still solid as rock, and
more snow fell in the night, and there are no garden and no Taunus
here.

I could get along very well indeed here if I only knew the same of
you, and, above all, if I had you with me. All official matters--and
in them rests really the calling which in this world has fallen to my
lot, and which you, through your significant "Yes" in the Kolziglow
church, are bound to help bear in joy and sorrow--all official matters
are, in comparison with Frankfort, changed from thorns to roses;
whether they will ever blossom is, indeed, uncertain. The aggravations
of the Diet and the palace venom look from here like childishness. If
we do not wantonly make ourselves disagreeable, we are welcome here.
Whenever the carriages are called here, and "_Prusku passlanika"_
("Prussian carriage") is cried out among those waiting, then all the
Russians look about with pleasant smiles, as though they had just
popped down a ninety-degree glass of schnapps. There is some social
affair every evening, and the people are different from those in
Frankfort. Your aversion to court life will weaken. You cannot fail to
like the Czar; you have seen him already--have you not! He is
extremely gracious to me, as well as the Czarina--the young Czarina, I
mean. And it is easy to get along with the mother, in spite of her
imposing presence. I dined with her today with the Meiendorfs and
Loen,[18] and it was just like that dinner at our house with Prince
Carl and the Princess Anna, when we enjoyed ourselves so much. In
short, only take courage, and things will come out all right. So far I
have only agreeable impressions; the only thing that provokes me is
that smoking is not allowed on the street. One can have no idea in
what disfavor the Austrians are over here; a mangy dog will not take a
piece of meat from them. I am sorry for poor Szechenyi; I do not
dislike him. They will either drive things to a war from here, or let
it come, and then they will stick the bayonet into the Austrians'
backs; however peacefully people talk, and however I try to soften
things down, as my duty demands, the hatred is unlimited, and goes
beyond all my expectations. Since coming here I begin to believe in
war. There seems to be no room in Russian politics for any other
thought than how to strike at Austria. Even the quiet, mild Czar falls
into rage and fire whenever he talks about it, as does the Czarina,
although a Darmstadt Princess; and it is touching when the Dowager
Czarina talks of her husband's broken heart, and of Francis Joseph,
whom he loved as a son, really without anger, but as if speaking of
one who is exposed to God's vengeance. Now I have still much to write
for the carrier tomorrow, and this you will not receive, I suppose,
until two days after your dear birthday, just when I am celebrating
mine by the calendar here. Farewell, my dear, and give each child a
sweet orange from me. Love to all.

Your most faithful v.B.


Petersburg, June 4, '59.

_My Dear Heart_,--At last, day before yesterday, came the
long-yearned-for news from you, with the reassuring post-mark, Stolp.
I could not go to sleep at all in the evening, because of anxious
pictures of my imagination, whose scenes were all the stopping-places
between Berlin and Reinfeld. * * * Yesterday I dined at the Czarina's,
in Zarske, where I found the Grand Princess Marie, who could tell me
at least that she had seen you in Berlin, and that you were all right.
On the way back the Czar met me at the station, and took me into his
coupe--very conspicuous here for a civilian with such an old hat as I
generally wear. In the evening I was, of course, on the islands, on a
lively dark-brown horse, and drank tea there with a nice, old,
white-haired Countess Stroganoff. The lilac, I must tell you, has
flowered here as beautifully as in Frankfort, and the laburnum, too;
and the nightingales warble so happily that it is hard to find a spot
on the islands where one does not hear them. In the city, during these
days, we had such unremitting heat as we almost never have at home.
The captain of the _Eagle_ told me that the temperature in southern
Pomerania was actually refreshing in comparison; with such short
nights, too, the morning brings no real coolness, and I could ride or
drive about for hours in the mysterious gloaming which hovers at
midnight over the surface of the water, if the increasing brightness
did not give warning that another day is waiting with its work and
care, and that sleep demands its rights beforehand. Since I have had
the drosky, in which there is too little room for an interpreter, I am
making, to the smirking delight of Dmitri, the coachman, progress in
Russian, since there is nothing left for me to do but to speak it
_tant bien que mal_. I am sorry that you have not been able to watch
with me the sudden awakening of spring here; as if it had suddenly
occurred to her that she had overslept her time, she is putting on, in
twenty-four hours, her entire green dress, from head to foot. * * *
This whole preparation for war is somewhat premature, and is causing
us unnecessary expense. I hope we shall come to our senses finally
before setting all Europe on fire, for the sake of obliging some
little princes, and, at our own cost, helping Austria in glory out of
her embarrassment. We cannot allow Austria either to be annihilated
or, through brilliant victory, to be strengthened in her feeling of
self-confidence and to make us the footstool of her greatness. But
there is plenty of time for either case before we take the plunge, and
many a piece of Lombard water can be dyed red, for things will not go
forward so easily as hitherto when the Austrians have once placed
themselves in their line of forts, as they should have done at the
first. * * *

It is a misfortune that I always write to you in a steaming hurry; now
the foxy face of the chancery servant, who is in the police pay,
besides, is before me again already, and is hurrying me up, and
everything I wanted to say is shrivelling before the fellow, who is
useful, however. I was just thinking of much more that I wanted to
write, and now I do not know anything except that I should like to
beat him. * * * In the greatest love,

Your most faithful v.B.


Moscow, June 6, '59.

A sign of life, at least, I want to send you from here, my dear, while
I am waiting for the samovar, and a young Russian in a red shirt is
struggling, with vain attempts, to light a fire; he blows and sighs,
but it will not burn. After complaining so much before about the
scorching heat I waked up today between Twer and here, and thought I
was dreaming when I saw the land and its fresh green covered far and
wide with snow. Nothing surprises me any more so when I could no
longer be in doubt about the fact I turned quietly on my other side to
continue sleeping and rolling on, although the play of the
green-and-white colors in the morning red was not without charm. I do
not know whether the snow still lies about Twer; here it is all
melted, and a cool, gray rain is drizzling down on the sheet of roofs.
Russia certainly has a perfect right to claim green as her color. Of
the four hundred and fifty miles hither I slept away one hundred and
eighty, but of the other two hundred and seventy every hand's-breadth
was green, of all shades. Cities and villages, especially houses, with
the exception of the stations, I did not notice; bushy forests,
chiefly birches, cover swamps and hills, fine growth of grass under
them, long meadows between. So it goes for fifty, one hundred, one
hundred and fifty miles. I don't remember to have noticed any fields,
or any heather or sand; lonely grazing cows or horses waken in one now
and then the conjecture that there are people, too, in the
neighborhood. Moscow looks from above like a corn-field, the soldiers
green, the furniture green, and I have no doubt that the eggs lying
before me were laid by green hens. You will want to know how I happen
to be here; I have asked myself the same question, and presently
received the answer that variety is the spice of life. The truth of
this profound observation is especially obvious when one has been
living for ten weeks in a sunny hotel-room, looking out upon stone
pavements. Besides, one's senses become somewhat blunted to the joys
of moving, if repeated often in a short time, so I determined to
forego these same pleasures, handed over all papers to Klueber, gave
Engel my keys, explained that I should take up my lodgings in the
Stenbock house in a week, and rode to the Moscow station. That was
yesterday, twelve noon, and today early, at eight, I alighted here at
the Hotel de France. * * * It lies in the nature of this people to
harness slowly and drive fast. I ordered my carriage two hours ago,
and to all inquiries which I have been making about every ten minutes
during the last hour and a half they say (Russian), "_Ssitschass_,"
("immediately"), with unshaken and amiable calm, but there the matter
ends. You know my exemplary patience in waiting, but everything has
its limits; hunting comes later, and horses and carriages are broken
in the bad roads, so that one finally takes to walking. While writing
I have drunk three glasses of tea and made way with a number of eggs;
the attempts at heating up have also been so entirely successful that
I feel the need of getting some fresh air. I should shave myself for
very impatience if I had a mirror, in default of which, however, I
shall send a greeting to my dear Tata, with yesterday's stubble beard.
It is very virtuous really that my first thought is always of you
whenever I have a moment free, and you should make an example of that
fact. Very rambling is this city, and especially foreign-looking, with
its churches and green roofs and countless cupolas, quite different
from Amsterdam, but the two are the most original cities that I know.
Not a single German conductor has any idea of the luggage that can be
slipped into one of these coupes; not a Russian without two real,
covered head-cushions, children in baskets, and masses of provisions
of every sort, although they eat five big meals at the stations on the
way, breakfast at two, dinner five, tea seven, supper ten; it's only
four, to be sure, but enough for the short time. I was complimented by
an invitation into a sleeping-coupe, where I was worse off than in my
easy-chair; it is a wonder to me that so much fuss is made over one
night.


Moscow, June 8th.

This city is really, for a city, the most beautiful and original that
there is; the environs are pleasant, not pretty, not unsightly; but
the view from above out of the Kremlin, over this circle of houses
with green roofs, gardens, churches, towers of the most extraordinary
shape and color, most of them green or red or light blue, generally
crowned on top by a colossal golden bulb, usually five or more on
one church, and surely one thousand towers! Anything more strangely
beautiful than all this, lighted by slanting sunset rays, cannot be
seen.

[Illustration: CORONATION OF KING WILLIAM I AT KOeNIGSBERG. From the
Painting by Adolph von Menzel.]

The weather is clear again, and I should stay here some days longer if
rumors of a big battle in Italy were not going about, which may result
in lots of diplomatic work, so that I must get back to my post. The
house in which I am writing is wonderful enough, really; one of the
few that have outlived 1812--old, thick walls, as in Schoenhausen,
Oriental architecture, Moorish, large rooms, almost entirely occupied
by the chancery officers, who administer, or maladminister, Jussupow's
estates. He, his wife, and I have the one livable wing in the midst of
them. Lots of love.

Your most faithful v.B.


Petersburg, July 2, '59.

_My Dear Heart_,--I received your letter of the 25th yesterday, and
you will probably get tomorrow the one that I sent to Stettin on
Wednesday with the Dowager Czarina. My homesick heart follows its
course with yearning thoughts; it was such charming clear weather and
fresh winds when we escorted her Highness on board in Peterhof that I
should have liked to leap on the ship, in uniform and without baggage,
and go along with her. Since then the heat has grown worse, about the
temperature of a freely watered palm-house, and my lack of summer
materials is making itself decidedly felt. I go about in the rooms in
my shirt alone, as the dear blue dressing-gown is too narrow, even now
at six o'clock in the morning. A courier wakened me half an hour ago,
with his war and peace, and I cannot sleep any more now, although I
did not get to bed until towards two. Our politics are drifting more
and more into the Austrian wake, and as soon as we have fired a shot
on the Rhine then it's all over with the war between Italy and
Austria, and, instead of that, a war between France and Prussia will
take the stage, in which Austria, after we have taken the burden from
her shoulders, will stand by us or will not stand by us, just as her
own interests dictate. She will certainly not suffer us to play a
gloriously victorious role. It is quite remarkable that in such crises
Catholic ministers always hold the reins of our destiny--Radowitz once
before, now Hohenzollern, who just now has the predominant influence,
and is in favor of war. I look very darkly into the future; our troops
are not better than the Austrian, because they only serve half as
long; and the German troops, on whose support we reckon, are for the
most part quite wretched, and, if things go ill with us, their leaders
will fall away from us like dry leaves in the wind. But God, who can
hold up and throw down Prussia, and the world, knows why these things
must be, and we will not embitter ourselves against the land in which
we were born, and against the authorities for whose enlightenment we
pray. After thirty years, perhaps much sooner, it will be a small
matter to us how things stand with Prussia and Austria, if only the
mercy of God and the deserving of Christ remain to our souls. I opened
the Scriptures last evening, at random, so as to rid my anxious heart
of politics, and my eye lighted immediately on the 5th verse of the
110th Psalm. As God wills--it is all, to be sure, only a question of
time, nations and people, folly and wisdom, war and peace; they come
and go like waves of water, and the sea remains. What are our states
and their power and honor before God, except as ant-hills and
bee-hives which the hoof of an ox tramples down, or fate, in the form
of a honey-farmer, overtakes? * * * Farewell, my sweetheart, and learn
to experience life's folly in sadness; there is nothing in this world
but hypocrisy and jugglery, and whether fever or grape-shot shall bear
away this mass of flesh, fall it must, sooner or later, and then such
a resemblance will appear between a Prussian and an Austrian, if they
are of the same size, like Schrech and Rechberg, for example, that it
will be difficult to distinguish between them; the stupid and the
clever, too, properly reduced to the skeleton state, look a good deal
like each other. Patriotism for a particular country is destroyed by
this reflection, but we should have to despair in any case, even now,
were it linked with our salvation. Farewell once more, with love to
parents and children. How impatient I am to see them! As soon as
_Vriendschap_--so our vessel is called--is in sight, I shall
telegraph. With love, as always,

Your most faithful VON B.


Paris, May 31, '62.

_My Dear Heart_,--Only a few lines in the press of business to tell
you I am well, but very lonely, with a view out over the green, in
this dull, rainy weather, while the bumble-bees hum and the sparrows
twitter. Grand audience tomorrow. It's vexatious that I have to buy
linen, towels, table-cloths, and sheets. * * * Farewell. Hearty love,
and write! Your most faithful v.B.


Paris, June 1, '62.

_My Dear Heart_,--The Emperor received me today, and I handed over my
credentials; he received me kindly, is looking well, has grown
somewhat stouter, but by no means fat and aged, as he generally is in
caricatures. The Empress is still one of the most beautiful women I
know, in spite of Petersburg; she has, if anything, grown more
beautiful in the past five years. The whole affair was official,
ceremonial; I was taken back in court-carriage with master of
ceremonies, etc. Next time I shall probably have a private audience. I
long for business, for I don't know what to do with myself. Today I
dined alone, the young gentlemen were out; the entire evening rain;
and at home alone. To whom should I go? In the midst of big Paris I am
lonelier than you are at Reinfeld, and sit here like a rat in a
deserted house. The only pleasure I have had was sending the cook away
because of overcharges. You know my indulgence in this matter, but
Rembours was a child in comparison. I am dining for the present in a
cafe. How long that will last, God knows. I shall probably receive a
summons, by telegram, to Berlin, in eight or ten days, and then
good-by to this song-and-dance. If my opponents only knew what a boon
their victory would be to me, and how heartily I desire it! Then
Rechberg would, perhaps, out of malice, do his best to have me called
to Berlin. You can't have any more aversion to Wilhelmstrasse than
myself, and if I am not persuaded that it must be, then I will not go.
I consider it cowardice and disloyalty to leave the King in the lurch,
under pretence of illness. If it is not to be, then God will permit
those who search to find another _princillon_ who will offer himself
as cover for the pot. If it is to be, then "_s'Bogom"_ ("with God"),
as our Russian drivers used to say, when they took up the reins. * * *

Your v.B.


Bordeaux, July 27, '62.

_My Dear Heart_,--You cannot refuse to testify that I am a good
correspondent; I wrote this morning from Chenonceaux to your
birthday-child, and now this evening, from the city of red wine, to
you. But these lines will arrive a day later than those, as the mail
does not leave until tomorrow afternoon. I left Paris only day before
yesterday noon, but it seems to me a week. I have seen very beautiful
castles--Chambord, of which the enclosure (torn out of a book) gives
only an imperfect idea, corresponds, in its desolation, to the fate of
its owner (I hope you know it belongs to the Duke of Bordeaux). In the
wide halls and magnificent rooms, where so many kings kept their
court, with their mistresses and their hunting, the Duke's only
furniture consists now of the children's toys. My guide took me for a
French Legitimist, and squeezed out a tear as she showed me the little
cannon. I paid for the tear-drop, tariff-wise, with an extra franc,
although it is not my vocation to subsidize Carlism. The castle
court-yards lay in the sun as quiet as deserted churches; there is a
distant view round about from the towers, but on all sides silent
woods and heather to the farthest horizon; not a city, not a village,
not a farm-house, either near the castle or in the region round it.
The enclosed sprigs, specimens of heather, will no longer show you how
purple this plant I love so much blooms here, the only flower in the
royal garden, and swallows the only living creatures in the castle; it
is too solitary for sparrows. The situation of the old castle of
Amboise is glorious; from the top you can look up and down the Loire
for about thirty miles. Coming from there to this place one passes
gradually into the south; wheat disappears, giving way to maize;
between, twining vines and chestnut woods, castles and country-seats,
with many towers, chimneys, and gables, all white, with high-pointed
slate roofs. It was boiling hot, and I was very glad to have a
half-coupe to myself. In the evening glorious lightning in the whole
eastern sky, and now an agreeable coolness, which I should find sultry
at home. The sun set at 7.35; in Petersburg one can see now, without a
light, at eleven o'clock. As yet there is no letter for me here;
perhaps I shall find one in Bayonne. I shall stay here probably two
days, to see where our wines grow. Now, good-night, my angel. Dearest
love. Your most faithful v.B.


San Sebastian, August 1, '62.

_My Dear Heart_,--I could not have believed last year that I should
celebrate Bill's birthday this time in Spain. I shall not fail to
drink his health in dark red wine, and pray God earnestly to take and
keep all of you under His protection; it is now half past three, and I
imagine you have just got up from table and are sitting in the front
hall at your coffee, if the sun permits. The sun is probably not so
scalding there as it is here, but it doesn't do me any harm, and I am
feeling splendidly well. The route from Bayonne here is glorious; on
the left the Pyrenees, something like the Dent du Midi and Moleson,
which, however, are here called "Pie" and "Port," in shifting
Alpine panorama, on the right the shores of the sea, like those at
Genoa. The change in entering Spain is surprising; at Behobie, the
last place in France, one could easily believe one's self still on the
Loire; in Fuentarabia a steep street twelve feet wide, every window
with balcony and curtain, every balcony with black eyes and mantillas,
beauty and dirt; at the market-place drums and fifes, and some
hundreds of women, old and young, dancing a fandango, while the men in
their drapery looked on, smoking. Thus far the country is
exceptionally beautiful--green valleys and wooded slopes, with
fantastic lines of fortifications above them, row after row; inlets of
the sea, with very narrow entrances, which cut deep into the land,
like Salzburg lakes in mountain basins. I look down on such a one from
my window, separated from the sea by an island of rocks, set in a
steep frame of mountains with woods and houses, below to the left city
and harbor. My old friend Galen, who is taking the baths here, with
wife and son, received me most warmly; I bathed with him at ten, and
after breakfast we walked, or, rather, crawled, through the heat up to
the citadel, and sat for a long time on a bench there, the sea a
hundred feet below us, near us a heavy fortress-battery, with a
singing sentry. This hill or rock would be an island did not a low
tongue of land connect it with the mainland. This tongue of land
separates two inlets from each other, so you get towards the north a
distant view of the sea from the citadel, towards the east and west a
view of both inlets, like two Swiss lakes, and towards the south of
the tongue of land, with the town on it, and behind it, landward,
mountains as high as the heavens. I wish I could paint you a picture
of it, and if we both were fifteen years younger then we would take a
trip here together. Tomorrow, or day after, I go back to Bayonne. * * * I
am very much sunburned, and should have liked best to float on the
ocean for an hour today; the water bears me up like a piece of wood.
It is still just cool enough to be pleasant. By the time one gets to
the dressing-room one is almost dry, and I put on my hat, only, and
take a walk in my peignoir. The ladies bathe fifty paces away--custom
of the country. * * * I do not like the Spaniards so well as I like
their country; they are not polite, talk too loud, and the conditions
are in many ways behind those in Russia. Custom-houses and passport
annoyances without end, an incredible number of turnpike tolls, four
francs for one hour's drive, or else I should stay here still longer,
instead of bathing in Biarritz, where a bathing-suit is necessary.
Love to our dear parents and children. Farewell, my angel.

Your v.B.


Biarritz, August 4, '62.

* * * I am sitting in a corner room of the Hotel de l'Europe, with a
charming lookout over the blue sea, which drives its white foam
between wonderful cliffs and against the light-house. I have a bad
conscience, seeing so many beautiful things without you. If one could
only bring you hither through the air, I would go right back again to
San Sebastian. Imagine the Siebengebirge with the Drachenfels placed
by the sea; next to it Ehrenbreitstein, and between the two an arm of
the sea, somewhat wider than the Rhine, forcing its way into the land,
and forming a round bay behind the mountains. In this you bathe in
water transparently clear, and so heavy and salty that you can lie
easily right on top of it and can look through the wide gate of rocks
to the sea, or landward, where the mountain chains tower up one after
another ever higher and ever bluer. The women of the middle and lower
classes are strikingly pretty, sometimes beautiful; the men surly and
impolite, and the comforts of life to which we are accustomed in
civilized lands are entirely lacking. In this respect I find Russia
pleasanter to travel in than Spain. What actually drove me out of the
country was the swinishness in certain indispensable arrangements, and
then the cheating in the hotels, and the tolls. The heat there is no
worse than here, and doesn't bother me; on the contrary, I am very
well, thank Heaven. Day before yesterday there was a storm whose like
I have never seen. I had to make three attempts before I succeeded in
climbing the flight of four steps at the head of the pier. Pieces of
stone and of trees flew through the air; so I unfortunately gave up my
place in a sailing-vessel for Bayonne, as I didn't believe it possible
that all would be quiet and cheerful again in four hours' time; so I
missed a charming sail along the coast, stayed one day longer in San
Sebastian, and left yesterday by the diligence, rather uncomfortably
packed in between attractive little Spanish women, to whom I could not
speak a single word. Still, they understood Italian enough for me to
make clear to them my satisfaction with their exterior. Gr. Gallen and
wife were very kind to me. As I was looking for a fan, they presented
me with theirs for you; it is simple, but painted in style
characteristic of the country. You would like the wife very much; he,
too, is a good fellow, but she amounts to more intellectually. I got
Bernhard's long-expected letter today. He looks very black over
politics, is expecting another child, and is building barns and
stables. I long for news from you and the children. * * * Dearest love
to all.

Your most faithful v.B.


Biarritz, August 10, '62.

_My Beloved Heart,-- * * * I am living about as at Stolpemuende, only
without champagne; I drank some with Orloff today, for the first time
since I left Paris. In the afternoon I wander about among the cliffs,
heaths, and fields, see orchards with aloe, figs, almonds, and borders
of tamarinds, then I do some target-shooting, take my bath, sit on the
rocks smoking, gazing at the sea, and thinking of you all. Politics I
have entirely forgotten; don't read any papers. The 15th has some
claims upon me; for propriety's sake I ought to go to Paris, too,
since I am in France, so as to congratulate the Emperor, hear his
speech, and attend the dinner. But I shall hardly bring myself to the
point of traveling over five hundred miles and interrupting the
air-and-water cure, which is doing me so much good that I actually
hate the thought of the dusty, close air of the royal residence. The
Emperor is too reasonable a gentleman to take my absence amiss, and
from Berlin I have an honest leave of absence. * * * Farewell, my
angel, with dearest love.

Your most faithful v.B.


Hohenmauth, Monday, September 7, '66.

Do you remember, sweetheart, how we passed through here nineteen years
ago, on the way from Prague to Vienna? No mirror showed the future
then, nor in 1852, when I went over this railway with good Lynar. How
strangely romantic are God's ways! We are doing well, in spite of
Napoleon; if we are not unmeasured in our claims and do not imagine we
have conquered the world, we shall achieve a peace that is worth the
trouble. But we are as easily intoxicated as disheartened, and it is
my thankless part to pour water into the foaming wine, and to insist
that we do not live alone in Europe, but with three other powers which
hate and envy us. The Austrians hold position in Moravia, and we are
bold enough to announce our headquarters for tomorrow at the point
where they are now. Prisoners still keep passing in, and cannon, one
hundred and eighty from the 3d to today. If they bring up their
southern army, we shall, with God's gracious help, defeat it too;
confidence is universal. Our people are ready to embrace one another,
every man so deadly in earnest, calm, obedient, orderly, with empty
stomach, soaked clothes, wet camp, little sleep, shoe-soles dropping
off, kindly to all, no sacking or burning, paying what they can and
eating mouldy bread. There must surely be a solid basis of fear of God
in the common soldier of our army, or all this could not be. News of
our friends is hard to get; we lie miles apart from one another, none
knowing where the other is, and nobody to send--that is, men might be
had, but no horses. For four days I have had search made for
Philip,[19] who was slightly wounded by a lance-thrust in the head, as
Gerhard[20] wrote me, but I can't find out where he is, and we have now
come thirty-seven miles farther. The King exposed himself greatly on
the 3d and it was well I was present, for all the warnings of others
had no effect, and no one would have dared to talk so sharply to him
as I allowed myself to do on the last occasion, which gave support to
my words, when a knot of ten cuirassiers and fifteen horses of the
Sixth Cuirassier Regiment rushed confusedly by us, all in blood, and
the shells whizzed around most disagreeably close to the King. He
cannot yet forgive me for having blocked for him the pleasure of being
hit. "At the spot where I was forced by order of the supreme authority
to run away," were his words only yesterday, pointing his finger
angrily at me. But I like it better so than if he were excessively
cautious. He was full of enthusiasm over his troops, and justly so
rapt that he seemed to take no notice of the din and fighting close to
him, calm and composed as at the Kreuzberg, and constantly meeting
battalions that he must thank with "Good-evening, grenadiers," till we
were actually by this trifling brought under fire again. But he has
had to hear so much of this that he will stop it for the future, and
you may feel quite easy; indeed, I hardly believe there will be
another real battle.

When you have of anybody _no_ word whatever, you may assume with
confidence that he is alive and well; for if acquaintances are wounded
it is always known at latest in twenty-four hours. We have not come
across Herwarth and Steinmetz at all, nor has the King. Schreck, too,
I have not seen, but I know they are well. Gerhard keeps quietly at
the head of his squadron, with his arm in a sling. Farewell--I must to
business.

Your faithfullest v.B.


 Zwittau, Moravia, July 11, '66.

_Dear Heart_,--I have no inkstand, all of them being in use; but for
the rest I get on well, after a good sleep on camp bed with air
mattress; roused at eight by a letter from you. I went to bed at
eleven. At Koeniggraetz I rode the big sandy thirteen hours in the
saddle without feeding him He bore it very well, did not shy at shots
nor at corpses, cropped standing grain and plum-leaves with zest at
the most trying moments, and kept up an easy gait to the last, when I
was more tired than the horse. My first bivouac for the night was on
the street pavement of Horic, with no straw, but helped by a carriage
cushion. It was full of wounded; the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg found
me and shared his chamber with me, Reuss, and two adjutants, and the
rain made this very welcome to me. About the King and the shells I
have written you already. All the generals had a superstition that
they, as soldiers, must not speak to the King of danger, and always
sent me off to him, though I am a major, too. They did not venture to
speak to his reckless Majesty in the serious tone which at last was
effectual. Now at last he is grateful to me for it, and his sharp
words, "How you drove me off the first time," etc., are an
acknowledgment that I was right. Nobody knew the region, the King had
no guide, but rode right on at random, till I obtruded myself to show
the way. * * * Farewell, my heart. I must go to the King.

Your most faithful v.B.


Vendresse, September 3, 1870.

To MRS. VON BISMARCK:

_My Dear Heart_,--Day before yesterday I left my quarters here before
dawn, but came back today, and have meanwhile been through the great
battle of Sedan on the 1st, in which we took some thirty thousand
prisoners, and shut the remainder of the French army, which we had
chased ever since Bar-le-Duc, into the fortress, where they had to
surrender, with the Emperor, as prisoners of war. At five yesterday
morning, after I had discussed the terms of capitulation with Moltke
and the French generals till one o'clock, General Reille, whom I know,
called me up to say that Napoleon wished to speak with me. Without
washing or breakfast, I rode towards Sedan, found the Emperor in an
open carriage with three adjutants, and three more at hand in the
saddle, on the main road before Sedan. I dismounted, saluted him as
politely as in the Tuileries, and asked his commands. He desired to
see the King. I told him, as was true, that his Majesty's quarters
were fourteen miles away, at the place where I am writing now. Upon
his question, whither he should betake himself, I offered him, since I
was unfamiliar with the region, my quarters in Donchery, a village on
the Maas close to Sedan; he accepted them, and drove, escorted by his
six Frenchmen, by me; and by Carl, who meanwhile had ridden after me,
through the lovely morning, towards our lines. He was distressed
before reaching the place because of the possible crowds, and asked me
if he might not stop at a lonely workman's house on the road. I had it
examined by Carl, who reported that it was wretched and dirty.
"_N'importe,_" said Napoleon, and I mounted with him a narrow, rickety
stairway. In a room ten feet square, with a fig-wood table and two
rush-bottomed chairs, we sat an hour, the others staying below. A
mighty contrast to our last interview, in '67, at the Tuileries. Our
conversation was difficult, if I would avoid touching on things which
must be painful to those whom God's mighty hand had overthrown.
Through Carl, I had officers brought from the city, and Moltke
requested to come. We then sent out one of the first to reconnoitre,
and discovered, a couple of miles off, at Fresnoi's, a little chateau
with a park. Thither I conducted him, with an escort of the Cuirassier
body-guards, which was meanwhile brought up, and there we concluded
the capitulation with Wimpfen, the French general-in-chief. By its
terms, from forty to sixty thousand French--I do not yet know the
number more exactly--became our prisoners, with everything they
have. The two receding days cost France one hundred thousand men and
an emperor. He started early this morning, with all his court, horses,
and wagons, for Wilhelmshoehe, at Cassel.

It is an event in universal history, a triumph for which we will thank
God the Lord in humility, and which is decisive of the war, even
though we must continue to prosecute it against headless France.

I must close. With heartfelt joy I have learned today, from your
letter and Marie's, of Herbert's reaching you. I met Bill yesterday,
as I telegraphed you, and took him to my arms from his horse before
the King's face, while he stood with his limbs rigid. He is entirely
well and in high spirits. Hans and Fritz Carl and both the Billows I
saw with the Second Dragoon guards, well and cheerful.

Farewell, my heart. Kiss the children.

Your v.B.


Gastein, August 30, '71.

Happy the man to whom God has given a virtuous wife, who writes him
every day. I am delighted that you are well, and that you have come to
be three, to whom I hope to add myself as fourth on the 7th or
8th. * * * You see I have enough mental leisure here to devote myself to
the unaccustomed work of making plans; but all on the presupposition
that the excited Gauls do not worry my little friend Thiers to death, for
then I should have to stay with his Majesty and watch which way the
hare runs. I do not think that likely, but with such a stupid nation
as they are anything is possible. Hearty love to both fat children.

Your most faithful v.B.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 2: From _The Love Letters of Bismarck_. Permission Harper &
Brothers, New York.]

[Footnote 3: This note has been lost.]

[Footnote 4: In subsequent letters he speaks of her "blue gray-black
eyes."]

[Footnote 5: Inspector at Schoenhausen.]

[Footnote 6: Compare the enclosure, in which I used often to find the
expression of my inmost thought. Now, never any more. (Enclosed was a
copy of Byron's poem, "To Inez.")]

[Footnote 7: Frauelein von Blumenthal, afterwards Frau von Boehn.]

[Footnote 8: English in the original.]

[Footnote 9: English in the original.]

[Footnote 10: Von Puttkamer Poberow.]

[Footnote 11: Frau von Blanckenburg]

[Footnote 12: English in the original.]

[Footnote 13: English in the original.]

[Footnote 14: "Right honorable," a common form of address on letters.
B. refers more than once to her distinctive way of writing this
title.]

[Footnote 15: English in the original.]

[Footnote 16: _Fiance_.]

[Footnote 17: Frau von Zanthier, born von Puttkamer.]

[Footnote 18: Military _charge_.]

[Footnote 19: Von Bismarck, the oldest nephew.]

[Footnote 20: Von Thadden, commanding a squadron in the First Dragoon
Guards.]

       *       *       *       *       *




CORRESPONDENCE OF WILLIAM I. AND BISMARCK [21]

TRANSLATED BY J.A. FORD


BISMARCK TO KING WILLIAM


Berlin, December 8, '63.

YOUR MAJESTY:--

I have the honor most respectfully to submit a Police report, the
printed compilation of the documents relating to the London treaty as
commanded, and the telegrams received up to the present. In my most
humble opinion it seems expedient to maintain our attitude toward
Irminger[22] also outwardly in conformity with that of Austria. It is
awkward that Sydow is charged with the report of the committee in the
Bundestag, for we shall thus always have to make our declaration
first, and before Austria; if your Majesty does not command otherwise
I will leave him without instructions on this point, and await
tomorrow's committee issues, as the next measure, the letter to
Copenhagen, will not be thereby delayed.

The final sentence of the Vienna telegram, that Christian IX. rules also
in Copenhagen only by virtue of the London treaty, is not quite right;
he rules there because the legitimate heir, Prince Friedrich of Hesse,
has resigned in his favor. This legal title, which is in itself
sufficient, has only been _confirmed_ by the London treaty, and then
extended to the Duchies.

v. BISMARCK.

Marginal note by the King:

Prince Friedrich resigned merely in order that the London treaty in
favor of Christian IX. might be effectuated.

W.

       *       *       *       *       *

KING WILLIAM I. TO BISMARCK

Berlin, February 12, '67.

When looking back to the decisive turning point reached by the
destinies of Prussia through the glorious fights of the past year, the
most distant generations will never forget that the elevation of the
Fatherland to new power, and to imperishable honors, that the opening
up of an epoch of a rich and, with God's help, a blessing-bringing
development are essentially due to your penetration, your energy, and
the skilful manner in which you conducted the affairs entrusted to
you.

I have decided to show a renewed appreciation of these your most
distinguished merits, by the bestowal of a gift of four hundred
thousand Thalers.[23] The Minister for Finance has been directed to
place this sum at your disposal.

It would be in accordance with my wishes if you devoted this gift, the
bestowal of which is to manifest my and the Fatherland's thanks, to
the purchase of landed property, and entailed the same, so that with
the glory of your name it also may remain permanently in your family.

Your grateful and faithfully devoted King,

WILHELM.

       *       *       *       *       *

BISMARCK TO KING WILLIAM I.

Donchery, September 2, '70.

After I came here yesterday evening, by your Royal Majesty's command, to
take part in the negotiations on the capitulation, these were
interrupted until 1 o'clock in the night, by time for consideration,
which General Wimpffen solicited, being granted, after General von
Moltke had definitely stated that no other terms will be granted than
the laying down of arms, and that the bombardment would recommence at 9
o'clock in the morning if the capitulation were not concluded by that
time. At about 6 o'clock this morning General Reille was announced, who
informed me that the Emperor wished to see me, and was already on his
way here from Sedan. The General returned at once to report to his
Majesty that I was following, and shortly afterwards I met the Emperor
near Fresnois, about half way between this place and Sedan. His Majesty
was driving in an open carriage with three officers of high rank, and
was escorted by three others on horseback. Of these officers I knew
personally Generals Castelnau, Reille, Moskowa, who seemed to be wounded
in the foot, and Vaubert. As soon as I reached the carriage I
dismounted, walked to the Emperor's side at the carriage door, and asked
for his Majesty's orders. The Emperor at first expressed the wish to see
your Imperial Majesty, evidently in the belief that your Majesty was
also at Donchery. When I replied that at present your Majesty's
headquarters were at Vendresse, thirteen miles away, the Emperor
enquired whether your Majesty had decided where he should go, and what
my opinion on the subject was. I replied that, as it was quite dark when
I arrived here, I knew nothing of the district, and offered to place at
his disposal at once the house in which I was staying at Donchery. The
Emperor accepted this offer, and drove off at a walking pace in the
direction of Donchery; about a hundred yards from the Maas bridge, which
leads into the town, he stopped in front of a lonely, workman's cottage,
and asked me if he could not stay there. I had the house examined by
Councillor of Legation Count Bismarck-Bohlen, who in the meantime had
followed me; when it was reported that the interior arrangements were
very poor and inadequate, but that there were no wounded men in the
house, the Emperor alighted and invited me to accompany him inside.
Here, in a very small room containing a table and two chairs, I had
about an hour's conversation with the Emperor. His Majesty emphasized
especially the wish to obtain more favorable conditions of capitulation
for the army. I declined from the outset to treat this question with his
Majesty, as this was a purely military question, to be settled between
General von Moltke and General von Wimpffen. On the other hand, I asked
if his Majesty were inclined to peace negotiations. The Emperor replied
that, as a prisoner, he was not now in a position to do so, and to my
further enquiry by whom, in his opinion, the executive power was at
present represented in France, his Majesty referred me to the Government
in Paris. When this point, which was indistinct in the Emperor's letter
to your Majesty yesterday, was cleared up, I recognized, and did not
conceal the fact from the Emperor, that the situation today, as
yesterday, was still a purely military one, and emphasized the necessity
arising from it for us to obtain by the capitulation of Sedan above all
things a material pledge for the security of the military results we had
attained. I had already weighed from all sides with General von Moltke
yesterday evening, the question whether it would be possible, without
detriment to the German interests, to offer to the military feelings of
honor of an army which had fought well more favorable terms than those
already laid down. After due and careful consideration we both came to
the conclusion that this could not be done. When, therefore, General von
Moltke, who in the meantime had arrived from the town, went to your
Majesty to submit the Emperor's wishes, he did not do so, as your
Majesty is well aware, with the intention of advocating them.

The Emperor then went out into the open air, and invited me to sit
beside him just outside the door of the cottage. His Majesty asked
whether it would not be practicable to allow the French army to cross
into Belgium, to be disarmed and detained there. I had discussed also
this eventuality with General v. Moltke on the previous evening and
adduced the motive already given for not entering into the question of
this course of procedure. With respect to the political situation, I
myself took no initiative, and the Emperor went no further than to
deplore the ill-fortune of the war, stating that he himself had not
wished the war, but was driven into it by the pressure of public
opinion in France. I did not regard it as my office to point out at
that moment that what the Emperor characterized as public opinion was
only the artificial product of certain ambitious coteries of the
French press, with a very narrow political horizon. I merely replied
that nobody in Germany wished for the war, especially not your
Majesty, and that no German Government would have considered the
Spanish question of so much interest as to be worth a war. I continued
that your Majesty's attitude toward the Spanish succession question
was finally determined by the misgiving whether it was right, for
personal and dynastic considerations, to mar the endeavor of the
Spanish nation to reestablish, by this selection of a King, their
internal organization on a permanent basis; that your Majesty, in view
of the good relations existing for so many years between the Princes
of the Hohenzollern House and the Emperor, had never entertained any
doubt but that the Hereditary Prince would succeed in arriving at a
satisfactory understanding with his Majesty the Emperor respecting the
acceptance of the Spanish election, that, however, your Majesty had
regarded this, not as a German or a Prussian, but as a Spanish affair.

In the meantime, between 9 and 10 o'clock, enquiries in the town, and
especially reconnaissances on the part of the officers of the general
staff, had revealed the fact that the castle of Bellevue, near
Fresnois, was suited for the accommodation of the Emperor, and was not
yet occupied by the wounded. I reported this to his Majesty by
designating Fresnois as the place I should propose to your
Majesty for the meeting, and therefore referred it to the Emperor
whether his Majesty would proceed there at once, as a longer stay in
the little workman's cottage would be uncomfortable, and the Emperor
would perhaps need some rest. His Majesty readily assented, and I
accompanied the Emperor, who was preceded by an escort of honor from
your Majesty's Own Cuirassier Regiment, to the Castle of Bellevue,
where in the meantime the rest of the Emperor's suite and his
carriages, whose coming had, it appears, been considered doubtful, had
arrived from Sedan. General Wimpffen had also arrived, and with him,
in anticipation of the return of General von Moltke, the discussion of
the capitulation negotiations, which were broken off yesterday, was
resumed by General v. Podbielski in the presence of Lieut. Col. von
Verdy and the chief of General v. Wimpffen's staff, these two officers
acting as secretaries. I took part only in the commencement of the
same by setting forth the political and judicial situation in
accordance with the information furnished me by the Emperor himself,
as it was thereupon reported to me by Major Count von Nostitz, by
direction of General von Moltke, that your Majesty wished to see the
Emperor only after the capitulation of the army had been concluded--on
the receipt of which announcement the hope cherished by the opposite
party of securing other terms than those decided on was given up. I
then rode off in the direction of Chehery with the intention of
reporting the situation to your Majesty, met General v. Moltke on the
way, bringing the text of the capitulation approved by your Majesty,
and this, when we arrived with it at Fresnois, was accepted and signed
without opposition. The demeanor of General v. Wimpffen, as also that
of the other French generals, during the previous night was very
dignified, and this brave officer could not forbear expressing to me
how deeply he was pained that he should have been called upon,
forty-eight hours after his arrival from Africa, and half a day after
he had assumed command, to set his name to a capitulation so fatal to
the French arms, that, however, lack of provisions and ammunition, and
the absolute impossibility of any further defence imposed upon him, as
a general the duty of suppressing his personal feelings, as further
bloodshed could in no way alter the situation. The permission for the
officers to be released on parole was received with great
thankfulness, as an expression of your Majesty's intention not to hurt
the feelings of an army, which had fought bravely, beyond the point
demanded by the necessity of our political interests. General v.
Wimpffen also subsequently gave expression to this feeling in a letter
in which he thanks General v. Moltke for the consideration he showed
in conducting the negotiations.

v. BISMARCK.

       *       *       *       *       *

EMPEROR WILLIAM I. TO BISMARCK

Berlin, March 21, '71.

With today's opening of the first German Reichstag after the
reestablishment of a German Empire, the first public activity of the
same begins. Prussia's history and destiny have for a long time
pointed to an event which is now accomplished by its being summoned to
the head of the newly founded Empire. Prussia owes this less to her
extent of territory and her power, though both have equally increased,
than to her intellectual development and the organization of her army.
The brilliant position now occupied by my country has been attained
through an unexpectedly rapid sequence of great events during the past
six years. The work to which I called you ten years ago falls within
this time. How you have justified the confidence with which I then
summoned you lies open to the world. It is to your counsel, your
circumspection, your unwearying activity that Prussia and Germany owe
the world-historical occurrence which is embodied in my capital today.

Although the reward for such deeds is felt within you, I am
nevertheless urged and bound to express to you publicly and
permanently the thanks of the Fatherland and mine. I elevate you,
therefore, to the rank of a Prussian Prince (Fuerst), which is to be
inherited always by the eldest male member of your family.

May you see in this distinction the undying gratitude of Your Emperor
and King

WILHELM.

       *       *       *       *       *

EMPEROR WILLIAM I. TO BISMARCK

Coblenz, July 26, '72.

You will celebrate, on the 28th, a delightful family festival[24]
which the Almighty in His mercy has accorded you. I, therefore, may
and can not remain behind with my sympathy on this occasion, so will
you, and the Princess, your wife, accept my most cordial and warmest
congratulations on this great occasion. That both of you always gave
the first place, among the blessings showered on you by Providence, to
domestic happiness is something for which your prayers of thanksgiving
should ascend to heaven. Our and my prayers of thanksgiving, however,
go further, as they include thanks to God for having placed you at my
side at a decisive moment, and thus opened up a career for my
Government far exceeding thought and comprehension. You also will send
up your feelings of thankfulness that God graciously permitted you to
accomplish such great things. Both in and after all your labors you
always found comfort and peace in your home, and that gives you
strength in your difficult vocation. To preserve and strengthen you
for this is my constant solicitude, and I am glad to learn from your
letter through Count Lehndorff and also from the latter himself that
you will now think more of yourself than of the documents.

In remembrance of your silver wedding a vase will be handed you which
represents a grateful Borussia and which, fragile though the material
of which it is composed may be, shall one day express even in every
fragment what Prussia owes to you in its elevation to the height on
which it now stands.

Your truly devoted grateful King

WILHELM.

       *       *       *       *       *

BISMARCK TO EMPEROR WILLIAM I.

Varzin, August I, '72.

Your Majesty greatly gladdened my wife and me by graciously evincing
sympathy in our family festival, and will, we trust, be graciously
pleased to accept our respectful thanks.

Your Majesty justly emphasizes happiness in the home as being among
the chief blessings for which I have to thank God, but part of the
happiness in my house, for my wife as well as for myself, comes from
the consciousness of your Majesty's satisfaction, and the exceedingly
gracious and kindly words of appreciation which your Majesty's letter
contains are more beneficial to afflicted nerves than is all medical
assistance. In looking back over my life I have such inexhaustible
cause to thank God for His unmerited mercy, that I often fear
everything will not go so well with me until the end. I recognize it
as an especially happy dispensation that God has called me on earth to
the service of a master whom I serve joyfully and with love, as the
innate fidelity of the subject never has to fear, under your Majesty's
leadership, coming into conflict with a warm feeling for the honor and
the welfare of the Fatherland. May God further give me strength to
carry out the will so to serve your Majesty that I obtain the
sovereign satisfaction, of which such a gracious testimony lies before
me today in the form of the autograph letter of the 26th. The vase,
which arrived in good time, is a truly monumental expression of Royal
favor, and at the same time so substantial that I may hope not the
"fragments" but the whole will be evidence to my descendants of the
gracious sympathy evinced by your majesty on the occasion of our
silver wedding.

The officers of the fifty-fourth regiment showed a kindly spirit of
comradeship by sending their band from Colberg. Otherwise, as is
usually the case in the country, we were confined to our family
circle; only Motley, the former American Ambassador in London, a
friend of my early youth, happened to be here on a visit. Besides her
Majesty the Queen, his Majesty the King of Bavaria, and their Royal
Highnesses Prince Carl and Friedrich Carl, and his Imperial Highness
the Crown Prince, honored me with telegraphic congratulations.

In health I am becoming slowly better; I have, it is true, done no
work whatever; but I hope to be able to report myself on duty in time
for the Imperial visits.

v. BISMARCK.

       *       *       *       *       *

EMPEROR WILLIAM I. TO BISMARCK

Berlin, December 18, '81.

I must tell you of an extraordinary dream I had last night, which was
as clear as I now relate it.

The Reichstag met for the first time after the present recess. On
Count Eulenburg's entrance the discussion abruptly ceased; after a
long interval the President called on the last speaker to continue the
debate. Silence! The President thereupon declared the sitting
adjourned. This was the signal for great tumult and clamor. No order,
it was urged, should be bestowed on any member during the session of
the Reichstag; the Monarch may not be mentioned during the session.
The House adjourns till tomorrow. Eulenburg's appearance in the
Chamber is again greeted with hisses and commotion--and then I awoke
in such a state of nervous excitement that it was long before I
recovered, and I could not sleep from half-past four to half-past
six. All this happened in the House in my presence, as clearly as I
have written it down.

I will not hope that the dream will be realized, but it is certainly
peculiar. I dreamt it after six hours of quiet sleep, so it could not
have been directly produced by our conversation.

_Enfin_, I could not but tell you of this curious occurrence.

Your

WILHELM.

       *       *       *       *       *

BISMARCK TO EMPEROR WILLIAM I.

Berlin, December 18, '81.

I thank your Majesty most respectfully for the gracious letter. I
quite believe that the dream owed its origin, not exactly to my
report, but to the general impression obtained during the last few
days from Puttkamer's[25] oral report, the newspaper articles, and my
report. The pictures we have in our minds when awake do not reappear
in the mirror of our dreams until our mental faculties have been well
rested by sleep. Your Majesty's communication encourages me to relate
a dream I had in the troublous days of the spring of 1863. I dreamt,
and I told my dream at once to my wife and to others the next morning,
that I was riding along a narrow Alpine path, to the right an abyss,
and to the left rocks; the path became narrower and narrower, until at
last my horse refused to take another step, and there was no room
either to turn or to dismount. I then struck the smooth rocky wall
with my riding whip in my left hand, and invoked God; the whip became
interminably long, and the wall of rock collapsed like a scene in the
theatre, opening up a wide pathway, with a view over hills and forests
such as one sees in Bohemia. I also caught sight of Prussian troops,
with their banners, and, still in my dreams, wondered how I could best
report this Quickly to your Majesty. This dream was realized, and I
awoke from it glad and strengthened.

[Illustration: FRANZ VON LENBACH EMPEROR WILLIAM I]

The bad dream from which your Majesty awoke nervous and agitated can
be realized only in so far that we shall still have many stormy and
noisy parliamentary debates, which must unfortunately undermine the
prestige of the Parliaments and seriously interfere with State
business. Your Majesty's presence at these debates is an
impossibility; and I regard such scenes as we have lately witnessed in
the Reichstag regrettable enough as a standard of our morals and our
political education, perhaps also our political qualifications, but
not as a misfortune in themselves: _l'exces du mal en devient le
remede_.

Will your Majesty pardon, with your accustomed graciousness, these
holiday reflections, which were suggested by your Majesty's letter;
for from yesterday till January 9th we have holidays and rest.
BISMARCK.

       *       *       *       *       *

EMPEROR WILLIAM I. TO BISMARCK

Berlin, September 23, '87.

You celebrate on September 23, my dear Prince, the day on which,
twenty-five years ago, I called you into my Ministry of State, and
shortly afterwards gave the Premiership into your hands. The
distinguished services you had previously rendered to the Fatherland
in the most varied and important positions justified me in conferring
on you this highest post. The history of the last quarter of a century
proves that I did not err in my choice!

A shining example of true patriotism, of untiring activity often to
the utter disregard of your health, you have been indefatigable in
keeping a close watch on what were frequently overwhelming
difficulties in peace and war, and have used them to lead Prussia in
honor and glory to a Position in the world's history which had never
been dreamed of! Such achievements have been performed that the
twenty-fifth anniversary of September 23 must be celebrated with
thanks to God for placing you at my side in order to execute His will
on earth!

And I now once more impress these thanks on you, as I have so
frequently expressed and manifested them hitherto!

From a heart filled with thankfulness I congratulate you on the
celebration of such a day, and hope from my heart that your strength
may long be preserved unimpaired, to be a blessing to the Crown and to
the Fatherland! Your eternally grateful King and friend

WILHELM.

P.S.--In memory of the past twenty-five years I am sending you a view
of the building in which we have discussed and taken such weighty
resolutions which it is to be hoped will redound to the honor and
welfare of Prussia and of Germany.

       *       *       *       *       *

BISMARCK. TO EMPEROR WILLIAM I.

Friedrichsruh, September 26, '87.

I thank your Majesty in deep respect for the gracious letter of the
23d inst., and for the gracious present of the picture of the palace
in which for so many years I have had the honor to make my reports to
your Majesty, and to take your Majesty's orders. The day received
especial consecration for me through the greeting in your Majesty's
name with which their royal Highnesses Prince William and Prince Henry
honored me. Even without this fresh proof of favor, the feeling with
which I greeted the twenty-fifth anniversary of my appointment as a
Minister was one of most cordial and respectful gratitude to your
Majesty. Every sovereign appoints ministers, but it is a rare
occurrence in modern times for a monarch to retain a Prime Minister
and to uphold him for twenty-five years, in troublous times when
everything does not succeed, against all animosity and intrigues.
During this period I have seen many a former friend become an
opponent, but your Majesty's favor and confidence have remained
unwaveringly with me. The thought of this is a rich reward to me for
all my work, and a consolation in illness and solitude. I love my
Fatherland, the German as well as the Prussian, but I should not have
served it with gladness if it had not been granted to me to serve to
the satisfaction of my King. The high position which I owe to your
Majesty's favor is based on, and has as its indestructible core, your
Majesty's Brandenburg liegeman and Prussian officer, and therefore I
am rendered happy by your Majesty's satisfaction, without which every
popularity would be valueless to me. * * * Besides many telegrams and
addresses from home and abroad, I received very gracious greetings and
congratulations on the twenty-third from their Majesties of Saxony and
Wurtemburg, from his Royal Highness the Regent of Bavaria, the
Grand-Dukes of Weimar, Baden, and Mecklenburg, and other rulers, and
from his Majesty the King of Italy and Minister Crispi. The two latter
touched politics, and were difficult to answer; as the text of their
letters may perhaps interest your Majesty, I have instructed the
Foreign Office to forward them.

I pray God that He may still longer grant me the pleasure of serving
your Majesty to your Majesty's satisfaction.

VOL. X-9 V. BISMARCK.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 21: Permission: Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York.]

[Footnote 22: Admiral Irminger was charged with the task of notifying
in Berlin and Vienna Christian IX.'s accession to the throne; he was
granted no audience in Berlin, and left that city on the 5th for
Vienna as, in Bismarck's opinion, the Emperor would more easily
receive him than the King of Prussia could.]

[Footnote 23: About L60,000.]

[Footnote 24: Silver wedding.]

[Footnote 25: Minister for the Interior, and Vice President of the
Ministry of State.]

       *       *       *       *       *




FROM "THOUGHTS AND RECOLLECTIONS" [26]

TRANSLATED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF A.J. BUTLER

Late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge

I

TO THE FIRST UNITED DIET

Left school at Easter, 1832, a normal product of our state system of
education; a Pantheist, and, if not a Republican, at least with the
persuasion that the Republic was the most rational form of government;
reflecting too upon the causes which could decide millions of men
permanently to obey _one man_, when all the while I was hearing from
grown up people much bitter or contemptuous criticism of their rulers.
Moreover, I had brought away with me "German-National" impressions
from Plamann's preparatory school, conducted on Jahn's drill-system,
in which I lived from my sixth to my twelfth year. These impressions
remained in the stage of theoretical reflections, and were not strong
enough to extirpate my innate Prussian monarchical sentiments. My
historical sympathies remained on the side of authority. To my
childish ideas of justice Harmodius and Aristogeiton, as well as
Brutus, were criminals, and Tell a rebel and murderer. Every German
prince who resisted the Emperor before the Thirty Years' war roused my
ire; but from the Great Elector onwards I was partisan enough to take
an anti-imperial view, and to find it natural that things should have
been in readiness for the Seven Years' war. Yet the German-National
feeling remained so strong in me that, at the beginning of my
university life, I at once entered into relations with the
_Burschenschaft_, or group of students which made the promotion of a
national sentiment its aim. But, after personal intimacy with its
members, I disliked their refusal to "give satisfaction," as well as
their want of breeding in externals and of acquaintance with the forms
and manners of good society; and a still closer acquaintance bred an
aversion to the extravagance of their political views, based upon a
lack of either culture or knowledge of the conditions of life which
historical causes had brought into existence, and which I, with my
seventeen years, had had more opportunities of observing than most of
these students, for the most part older than myself. Their ideas gave
me the impression of an association between Utopian theories and
defective breeding. Nevertheless, I retained my own private National
sentiments, and my belief that in the near future events would lead to
German unity; in fact, I made a bet with my American friend Coffin
that this aim would be attained in twenty years.

In my first half-year at Goettingen occurred the Hambach festival[27]
(May 27, 1832), the "festal ode" of which still remains in my memory; in
my third the Frankfort outbreak[28](April 3, 1833). These manifestations
revolted me. Mob interference with political authority conflicted with
my Prussian schooling, and I returned to Berlin with less liberal
opinions than when I quitted it; but this reaction was again somewhat
mitigated when I was brought into immediate connection with the workings
of the political machine. Upon foreign politics, with which the public
at that time occupied itself but little, my views, as regards the War of
Liberation, were taken from the standpoint of a Prussian officer. On
looking at the map, the Possession of Strasburg by France exasperated
me, and a visit to Heidelberg, Spires, and the Palatinate made me feel
revengeful and militant. In the period before 1848 succeed in laying a
coat of European varnish over the specifically Prussian bureaucrat. How
these observations acted in practice is clearly shown when we go through
the list of our diplomatists of those days: one is astonished to find so
few native Prussians among them. The fact of being the son of a foreign
ambassador accredited to Berlin was of itself ground for preference. The
diplomatists who had grown up in small courts and had been taken into
the Prussian service had not infrequently the advantage over natives of
greater assurance in Court circles and a greater absence of shyness. An
especial example of this tendency was Herr von Schleinitz. In the list
we find also members of noble houses in whom descent supplied the place
of talent. I scarcely remember from the period when I was appointed to
Frankfort anyone of Prussian descent being appointed chief of an
important mission, except myself, Baron Carl von Werther, Canitz, and
Count Max Hatzfeldt (who had a French wife). Foreign names were at a
premium: Brassier, Perponcher, Savigny, Oriola. It was presumed that
they had greater fluency in French, and they were more out of the
common. Another feature was the disinclination to accept personal
responsibility when not covered by unmistakable instructions, just as
was the case in the military service in 1806 in the old school of the
Frederickian period. Even in those days we were breeding stuff for
officers, even as high as the rank of regimental commander, to a pitch
of perfection attained by no other state; but beyond that rank the
native Prussian blood was no longer fertile in talents, as in the time
of Frederick the Great. Our most successful commanders, Bluecher,
Gneisenau, Moltke, Goeben, were not original Prussian products, any more
than Stein, Hardenberg, Motz, and Grolmann in the Civil Service. It is
as though our statesmen, like the trees in nurseries, needed
transplanting in order that their roots might find full development.

Ancillon advised me first of all to pass my examination as
_Regierungs-Assessor,_ and then, by the circuitous route of
employment in the Zollverein to seek admittance into the _German_
diplomacy of Prussia; he did not, it would seem, anticipate in a scion
of the native squirearchy a vocation for European diplomacy. I took
his hint to heart, and resolved first of all to go up for my
examination as _Regierungs-Assessor_.

The persons and institutions of our judicial system with which I was
in the first instance concerned gave my youthful conceptions more
material for criticism than for respect. The practical education of
the _Auscultator_ began with keeping the minutes of the Criminal
Courts, and to this post I was promoted out of my proper turn by the
_Rath_, Herr von Brauchitsch, under whom I worked, because in those
days I wrote a more than usually quick and legible hand. On the
examinations, as criminal proceedings in the inquisitorial method of
that day were called, the one that has made the most lasting
impression upon me related to a widely ramifying association in Berlin
for the purpose of unnatural vice. The club arrangements of the
accomplices, the agenda books, the levelling effect through all
classes of a common pursuit of the forbidden--all this, even in 1835,
pointed to a demoralization in no whit less than that evidenced by the
proceedings against the Heinzes, husband and wife, in October, 1891.
The ramifications of this society extended even into the highest
circles. It was ascribed to the influence of Prince Wittgenstein that
the reports of the case were demanded from the Ministry of Justice,
and were never returned--at least, during the time I served on the
tribunal.

After I had been keeping the records for four months, I was
transferred to the City Court, before which civil causes are tried,
and was suddenly promoted from the mechanical occupation of writing
from dictation to an independent post, which, having regard to my
inexperience and my sentiments, made my position difficult. The
first stage in which the legal novice was called to a more independent
sphere of activity was in connection with divorce proceedings.
Obviously regarded as the least important, they were entrusted to
the most incapable _Rath_, Praetorius by name, and under him were
left to the tender mercies of unfledged _Auscultators_, who had to
make upon this _corpus vile_ their first experiments in the
part of judges--of course, under the nominal responsibility of Herr
Praetorius, who nevertheless took no part in their proceedings. By way
of indicating this gentleman's character, it was told to us young
people that when, in the course of a sitting, he was roused from a
light slumber to give his vote, he used to say, "I vote with my colleague
Tempelhof"--whereupon it was sometimes necessary to point out to him
that Herr Tempelhof was not present.

On one occasion I represented to him my embarrassment at having,
though only a few months more than twenty years old, to undertake the
attempt at a reconciliation between an agitated couple: a matter
crowned, according to my view, with a certain ecclesiastical and moral
"nimbus," with which in my state of mind I did not feel able to cope.
I found Praetorius in the irritable mood of an old man awakened at an
untimely moment, who had besides all the aversion of an old bureaucrat
to a young man of birth. He said, with a contemptuous smile, "It is
very annoying, Herr _Referendarius_, when a man can do nothing for
himself; I will show you how to do it." I returned with him into the
judge's room. The case was one in which the husband wanted a divorce
and the wife not. The husband accused her of adultery; the wife,
tearful and declamatory, asserted her innocence; and, despite all
manner of ill-treatment from the man, wanted to remain with him.
Praetorius, with his peculiar clicking lisp, thus addressed the woman:
"But, my good woman, don't be so stupid. What good will it do you?
When you get home, your husband will give you a jacketing until you
can stand no more. Come now, simply say 'yes,' and then you will be
quit of the sot." To which the wife, crying hysterically, replied: "I
am an honest woman! I will not have that indignity put upon me! I
don't want to be divorced!" After manifold retorts and rejoinders in
this tone, Praetorius turned to me with the words: "As she will not
listen to reason, write as follows, Herr _Referendarius_," and
dictated to me some words which, owing to the deep impression they
made upon me, I remember to this day. "Inasmuch as the attempt at
reconciliation has been made, and arguments drawn from the sphere of
religion and morality have proved fruitless, further proceedings were
taken as follows." My chief then rose and said, "Now, you see how it
is done, and in future leave me in peace about such things." I
accompanied him to the door, and went on with the case. The Divorce
Court stage of my career lasted, so far as I can remember, from four
to six weeks; a reconciliation case never came before me again. There
was a certain necessity for the ordinance respecting proceedings in
divorce cases, to which Frederick William IV. was obliged to confine
himself after his attempts to introduce a _law_ for the substantial
alteration of the Marriage Law had foundered upon the opposition of
the Council of State. With regard to this matter it may be mentioned
that, as a result of this ordinance, the Attorney-General was first
introduced into those provinces in which the old Prussian common law
prevailed as _defensor matrimonii_, and to prevent collusion between
the parties.

More inviting was the subsequent stage of petty cases, where the
untrained young jurist at least acquired practice in listening to
pleadings and examining witnesses, but where more use was made of him
as a drudge than was met by the resulting benefit to his instruction.
The locality and the procedure partook somewhat of the restless bustle
of a railway manager's work. The space in which the leading _Rath_ and
the three or four _Auscultators_ sat with their backs to the public
was surrounded by a wooden screen, and round about the four-cornered
recess formed thereby surged an ever-changing and more or less noisy
mob of parties to the suits.

My impression of institutions and persons was not essentially modified
when I had been transferred to the Administration. In order to
abbreviate the detour to diplomacy, I applied to a Rhenish government,
that of Aachen, where the course could be gone through in two years,
whereas in the "old" provinces at least three years were required.[29]

I can well imagine that in making the appointments to the Rhenish
Governing Board in 1816 the same procedure was adopted as at the
organization of Elsass-Lothringen in 1871. The authorities who had to
contribute a portion of their staff would not be likely to respond to
the call of state requirements by putting their best foot foremost to
accomplish the difficult task of assimilating a newly acquired
population, but would have chosen those members of their offices whose
departure was desired by their superiors or wished by themselves; in
the board were to be found former secretaries of prefectures and other
relics of the French administration. The _personnel_ did not all
correspond to the ideal which floated unwarrantably enough before my
eyes at twenty-one, and still less was this the case with the details
of the current business. I recollect that, what with the many
differences of opinion between officials and governed, or with
internal differences of opinion among each of these two categories,
whose polemics for many years considerably swelled the bulk of the
records, my habitual impression was, "Well, yes, that is _one_ way of
doing it"; and that questions, the decision of which one way or the
other was not worth the paper wasted upon them, created a mass of
business which a single prefect could have disposed of with the fourth
part of the energy bestowed upon them. Nevertheless, except for the
subordinate officials, the day's work was slight; as regards heads of
departments especially, a mere sinecure.

I quitted Aachen with a very poor opinion of our bureaucracy, in
detail and collectively, with the exception of the gifted President,
Count Arnim-Boitzenburg. My opinion of the detail became more
favorable owing to my next subsequent experience in the government at
Potsdam, to which I got transferred in the year 1837; because there,
unlike the arrangement in other provinces, the indirect taxes were at
the disposal of the government, and it was just these that were
important to me if I wanted to make customs-policy the basis of my
future.

The members of the board made a better impression upon me than those
at Aachen; but yet, taking them as a whole, it was an impression of
pigtail and periwig, in which category my youthful presumption also
placed the paternal dignified President-in-Chief, von Bassewitz; while
the President of the Aachen Government, Count Arnim, wore the generic
wig of the state service, it is true, but no intellectual pigtail.
When therefore I quitted the service of the State for a country life,
I imported into the relations which as a landed proprietor I had with
the officials an opinion, which I now see to have been too mean, of
the value of our bureaucracy, and perhaps too great an inclination to
criticize them. I remember that as substitute provincial president I
had to give my verdict on a plan for abolishing the election of those
officials; I expressed myself to the effect that the bureaucracy, as
it ascended from the provincial president, sank in the general esteem;
it had preserved it only in the person of the provincial president,
who wore a Janus head, one face turned towards the bureaucracy, the
other towards the country.

The tendency to interference in the most various relations of life
was, under the paternal government of those days, perhaps greater than
now; but the instruments of such interference were less numerous, and,
as regards culture and breeding, stood much higher than do some of
those of today. The officials of the right worshipful royal Prussian
government were honest, well-read and well-bred officials; but their
benevolent activity did not always meet with recognition, because from
want of local experience they went to pieces on matters of detail, in
regard to which the views of the learned citizen at the green table
were not always superior to the healthy common-sense criticism of the
peasant intelligence. The members of the Governing Boards had in those
days _multa_, not _multum_, to do; and the lack of higher duties
resulted in their not finding a sufficient quantity of important
business, and led them in their zeal for duty to go beyond the needs
of the governed, into a tendency to over-regulation--in a word, into
what the Swiss calls _Befehlerle_.[30] To glance at a comparison with
present conditions, it had been hoped that the state authorities would
have been relieved of business and of officials by the introduction of
the local self-government of today; but, on the contrary, the number
of the officials and their load of business have been very
considerably increased by correspondence, and friction with the
machinery of self-government, from the provincial councillor down to
the rural parish administration. Sooner or later the flaw must be
reached, and we shall be crushed by the burden of clerkdom, especially
in the subordinate bureaucracy.

Moreover, bureaucratic pressure upon private life is intensified by the
mode in which self-government works in practice and encroaches more
sharply than before on the rural parishes. Formerly the provincial
president, who stood in as close relations with the people as with the
State, formed the lowest step in the State bureaucracy. Below him were
local authorities, who were no doubt subject to control, but not in the
same measure as nowadays to the disciplinary powers of the district, or
the ministerial, bureaucracy. The rural population enjoys today, by
virtue of the measure of self-government conceded to it, an autonomy,
not perhaps similar to that which the towns had long ago; but it has
received, in the shape of the official commissioner, a chief who is kept
in disciplinary check by superior instructions proceeding from the
provincial resident, under the threat of penalties, and compelled to
burden his fellow-citizens in his district with lists, notifications,
and inquisitions as the political hierarchy thinks good. The governed
_contribuens plebs_ no longer possess, in the court of the provincial
president, that guarantee against blundering encroachment which, at an
earlier period was to be found in the circumstance that people resident
in the district who became provincial presidents as a rule resolved to
remain so in their own districts all their life long, and sympathized
with the joys and sorrows of the district. Today the post of provincial
president is the lowest step in the ladder of the higher administration,
sought after by young "assessors" who have a justifiable ambition to
make a career. To obtain it they have more need of ministerial favor
than of the goodwill of the local population, and they attempt to win
this favor by conspicuous zeal, and by "taking it out of" the official
commissioners of the so-called local administration, or by carrying out
valueless bureaucratic experiments. Therein lies for the most part the
inducement to overburden their subordinates in the local self-government
system. Thus self-government means the aggravation of bureaucracy,
increase in the number of officials, and of their powers and interference
in private life.

It is only human nature to be more keenly sensitive to the thorns than
to the roses of every institution, and that the thorns should irritate
one against the existing state of things. The old government
officials, when they came into direct contact with the governed
population, showed themselves to be pedantic, and estranged from the
practical working of life by their occupation at the green table; but
they left behind them the impression of toiling honesty and
conscientiously for justice. The same thing cannot be assumed in all
their degrees of the wheels in the machine of the self-government of
today in those country districts where the parties stand in acute
opposition to each other; goodwill towards political friends, frame
of mind as regards opponents, readily become a hindrance to the
impartial maintenance of institutions. According to my experiences in
earlier and more recent times, I should, for the rest, not like to
allow impartiality, when comparing judicial and administrative
decisions, to the former alone, not at least in every instance. On the
contrary, I have preserved an impression that judges of small local
courts succumb more easily to strong party influences than do
administrative officials; nor need we invent any psychological reason
for the fact that, given equal culture, the latter should _a priori_
be considered less just and conscientious in their official decisions
than the former. But I certainly do assume that official decisions do
not gain in honesty and moderation by being arrived at collectively;
for apart from the fact that, in the case of voting by majority,
arithmetic and chance take the place of logical reasoning, that
feeling of personal responsibility, in which lies the essential
guarantee for the conscientiousness of the decision, is lost directly
it comes about by means of anonymous majorities.

The course of business in the two boards of Potsdam and Aachen was not
very encouraging for my ambition. I found the business assigned to
me petty and tedious, and my labors in the department of suits
arising from the grist tax and from the compulsory contribution to
the building of the embankment at Rotzis, near Wusterhausen, have
left behind in me no sentimental regrets for my sphere of work in
those days. Renouncing the ambition for an official career, I
readily complied with the wishes of my parents by taking up the
humdrum management of our Pomeranian estates. I had made up my
mind to live and die in the country, after attaining successes in
agriculture--perhaps in war also, if war should come. So far as my
country life left me any ambition at all, it was that of a lieutenant
in the Landwehr.

The impressions that I had received in my childhood were little
adapted to make a squire of me. In Plamann's educational
establishment, conducted on the systems of Pestalozzi and Jahn, the
"von" before my name was a disadvantage, so far as my childish comfort
was concerned, in my intercourse with my fellow-pupils and my
teachers. Even at the high school at the Grey Friars I had to suffer,
as regards individual teachers, from that hatred of nobility which had
clung to the greater part of the educated _bourgeoisie_ as a
reminiscence of the days before 1806. But even the aggressive tendency
which occasionally appeared in _bourgeois_ circles never gave me any
inducement to advance in the opposite direction. My father was free
from aristocratic prejudices, and his inward sense of equality had
been modified, if at all, by his youthful impressions as an officer,
but in no way by any over-estimate of inherited rank. My mother was
the daughter of Mencken, Privy Councillor to Frederick the Great,
Frederick William II., and Frederick William III., who sprang from a
family of Leipzig professors, and was accounted in those days a
Liberal. The later generations of the Menckens--those immediately
preceding me--had found their way to Prussia in the Foreign Office and
about the Court. Baron von Stein has quoted my grandfather Mencken as
an honest, strongly Liberal official. Under these circumstances, the
views which I imbibed with my mother's milk were Liberal rather than
reactionary; and, if my mother had lived to see my ministerial
activity, she would scarcely have been in accord with its direction,
even though she would have experienced great joy in the external
results of my official career. She had grown up in bureaucratic and
court circles; Frederick William IV. spoke of her as "Mienchen," in
memory of childish games. I can therefore declare it an unjust
estimate of my views in my younger years, when "the prejudices of my
rank" are thrown in my teeth and it is maintained that a recollection
of the privileges of the nobility has been the starting-point of my
domestic policy.

Moreover, the unlimited authority of the old Prussian monarchy was
not, and is not, the final word of my convictions. As to that, to be
sure, this authority of the monarch constitutionally existed in the
first United Diet, but accompanied by the wish and anticipation that
the unlimited power of the King, without being overturned, might fix
the measure of its own limitation. Absolutism primarily demands
impartiality, honesty, devotion to duty, energy, and inward humility
in the ruler. These may be present, and yet male and female favorites
(in the best case the lawful wife), the monarch's own vanity and
susceptibility to flattery, will nevertheless diminish the fruits of
his good intentions, inasmuch as the monarch is not omniscient and
cannot have an equal understanding of all branches of his office. As
early as 1847 I was in favor of an effort to secure the possibility of
public criticism of the government in parliament and in the press, in
order to shelter the monarch from the danger of having blinkers put on
him by women, courtiers, sycophants, and visionaries, hindering him
from taking a broad view of his duties as monarch, or from avoiding
and correcting his mistakes. This conviction of mine became all the
more deeply impressed upon me in proportion as I became better
acquainted with Court circles, and had to defend the interest of the
State from their influences and also from the opposition of a
departmental patriotism. The interests of the State alone have guided
me, and it has been a calumny when publicists, even well-meaning, have
accused me of having ever advocated an aristocratic system. I have
never regarded birth as a substitute for want of ability; whenever I
have come forward on behalf of landed property, it has not been in the
interests of proprietors of my own class, but because I see in the
decline of agriculture one of the greatest dangers to our permanence
as a State. The ideal that has always floated before me has been a
monarchy which should be so far controlled by an independent national
representation--according to my notion, representing classes or
callings--that monarch or parliament would not be able to alter
the existing statutory position before the law _separately_ but only
_communi consensus_ with publicity, and public criticism, by press and
Diet, of all political proceedings.

Whoever has the conviction that uncontrolled Absolutism, as it was
first brought upon the stage by Louis XIV., was the most fitting form
of government for German subjects, must lose it after making a special
study in the history of Courts, and such critical observations as I
was enabled to institute at the court of Frederick William IV. (whom
personally I loved and revered) in Manteuffel's days. The King was a
religious absolutist with a divine vocation, and the ministers after
Brandenburg were content as a rule if they were covered by the royal
signature even when they could not have personally answered for the
contents of what was signed. I remember that on one occasion a high
Court official of absolutist opinions, on hearing of the news of the
royalist rising at Neuchatel, observed, with some confusion, in the
presence of myself and several of his colleagues: "That is a royalism
of which nowadays one has to go very far from Court to get
experience." Yet, as a rule, sarcasm was not a habit of this old
gentleman.

Observations which I made in the country as to the venality and
chicanery of the "district sergeants" and other subordinate officials,
and petty conflicts which I had with the government in Stettin as
deputy of the "Circle" and deputy for the provincial president,
increased my aversion to the rule of the bureaucracy. I may mention
one of these conflicts. While I was representing the President, then
on leave, I received an order from the government to compel the patron
of Kuelz, that was myself, to undertake certain burdens. I put the
order aside, meaning to give it to the president on his return, was
repeatedly worried about it, and fined a thaler, to be forwarded
through the post. I now drew up a statement, in which I figured as
having appeared, first of all as representative of the _Landrath_,
and secondly as patron of Kuelz. The party cited made the prescribed
representations to himself in his capacity as No. 1, and then
proceeded in his capacity of No. 2 to set forth the ground on which he
had to decline the application; after which the statement was approved
and subscribed by him in his double capacity. The government
understood a joke, and ordered the fine to be refunded. In other
cases, things resulted in less pleasant heckling. I had a critical
disposition, and was consequently liberal, in the sense in which the
word was then used among landed proprietors to imply discontent with
the bureaucracy, the majority of whom on their side were men more
liberal than myself, though in another sense.

I again slipped off the rails of my parliamentary liberal tendencies,
with regard to which I found little understanding or sympathy
in Pomerania, but which in Schoenhausen met with the acquiescence
of men in my own district, like Count Wartensleben of Karow,
Schierstaedt-Dahlen, and others (the same men of whom some were among
the party of Church patrons in the New Era subsequently condemned).
This was the result of the style, to me unsympathetic, in which the
opposition was conducted in the first United Diet, to which I was
summoned, only for the last six weeks of the session, as substitute
for Deputy von Brauchitsch, who was laid up with illness. The speeches
of the East Prussians, Saucken-Tarputschen and Alfred Auerswald, the
sentimentality of Beckerath, the Gallo-Rhenish liberalism of Heydt and
Mevissen, and the boisterous violence of Vincke's speeches, disgusted
me; and even at this date when I read the proceedings they give me the
impression of imported phrases made to pattern. I felt that the King
was on the right track, and could claim to be allowed time, and not be
hurried in his development.

I came into conflict with the Opposition the first time I made a
longer speech than usual, on May 17, 1847, when I combatted the legend
that the Prussians had gone to war in 1813 to get a constitution, and
gave free expression to my natural indignation at the idea that
foreign domination was in itself no adequate reason for fighting.[31]
It appeared to me undignified that the nation, as a set-off to its
having freed itself, should hand in to the King an account payable in
the paragraphs of a constitution. My performance produced a storm. I
remained in the tribune turning over the leaves of a newspaper which
lay there, and then, when the commotion had subsided, I finished my
speech.

At the Court festivities, which took place during the session of the
United Diet, I was avoided in a marked manner both by the King and the
Princess of Prussia, though for different reasons: by the latter
because I was neither Liberal nor popular; by the former for a reason
which only became clear to me later. When, on the reception of the
deputies, he avoided speaking to me--when, in the Court circle, after
speaking to every one in turn, he broke off immediately he came to me,
turned his back, or strolled away across the room--I considered myself
justified in supposing that my attitude as a Royalist Hotspur had
exceeded the limits which the King had fixed for himself. Only some
months later, when I reached Venice on my honeymoon, did I discover
that this explanation was incorrect. The King, who had recognized me
in the theatre, commanded me on the following day to an audience and
to dinner; and so unexpected was this to me that my light travelling
luggage and the incapacity of the local tailor did not admit of my
appearing in correct costume. My reception was so kindly, and the
conversation, even on political subjects, of such a nature as to
enable me to infer that my attitude in the Diet met with his
encouraging approval. The King commanded me to call upon him in the
course of the winter, and I did so. Both on this occasion at smaller
dinners at the palace I became persuaded that I stood high in the
favor of both the King and the Queen, and that the former, in avoiding
speaking to me in public, at the time of the session of the Diet, did
not mean to criticize my political conduct, but at the time did not want
to let others see his approval of me.

       *       *       *       *       *


II

VISIT TO PARIS


In the summer of 1855 Count Hatzfeldt, our ambassador in Paris,
invited me to visit the Industrial Exhibition;[32] he still shared the
belief then existent in diplomatic circles that I was very soon to be
Manteuffel's successor at the Foreign Office. Although the King had
entertained such an idea on and off, it was already then known in the
innermost Court circles that a change had taken place. Count William
Redern, whom I met in Paris, told me that the ambassadors continued to
believe I was destined to be made a minister and that he himself had
also believed this; but that the King had changed his mind--of further
details he was ignorant. Doubtless since Ruegen.

August 15, Napoleon's day, was celebrated among other ways by a
procession of Russian prisoners through the streets. On the 19th the
Queen of England made her entry, and on August 25 a State ball was
given in her honor at Versailles at which I was presented to her and
to Prince Albert.

The Prince, handsome and cool in his black uniform, conversed with
me courteously, but in his manner there was a kind of malevolent
curiosity from which I concluded that my anti-occidental influence
upon the King was not unknown to him. In accordance with the mode
of thought peculiar to him, he sought for the motives of my conduct not
where they really lay, that is, in the anxiety to keep my country
independent of foreign influences--influences which found a fertile soil
in our narrow-minded reverence for England and fear of France--and in
the desire to hold ourselves aloof from a war which we should not have
carried on in our own interests but in dependence upon Austrian and
English policy.

In the eyes of the Prince--though I of course did not gather this from
the momentary impression made during my presentation, but from
ulterior acquaintance with facts and documents--I was a reactionary
party man who took up sides for Russia in order to further an
Absolutist and "Junker" policy. It was not to be wondered at that this
view of the Prince's and of the then partisans of the Duke of Coburg
had descended to the Prince's daughter, who shortly after became our
Crown Princess.

Even soon after her arrival in Germany, in February, 1858, I became
convinced, through members of the royal house and from my own
observations, that the Princess was prejudiced against me personally.
The fact itself did not surprise me so much as the form in which her
prejudice against me had been expressed in the narrow family
circle--"she did not trust me." I was prepared for antipathy on
account of my alleged anti-English feelings and by reason of my
refusal to obey English influences; but from a conversation which I
had with the Princess after the war of 1866 while sitting next to her
at table I was obliged to conclude that she had subsequently allowed
herself to be influenced in her judgment of my character by
further-reaching calumnies. I was ambitious, she said, in a
half-jesting tone, to be a king or at least president of a republic. I
replied in the same semi-jocular tone that I was personally spoilt for
a republican; that I had grown up in the royalist traditions of the
family and had need of a monarchical institution for my earthly
well-being: I thanked God, however, I was not destined to live like a
king, constantly on show, but to be until death the king's faithful
subject. I added that no guarantee could, however, be given that this
conviction of mine would be universally inherited, and this not
because royalists would give out, but because perhaps kings might.
_Pour faire un civet, il faut un lievre, et pour faire une monarchie
il faut un roi_. I could not answer for it that for want of such the
next generation might not be republican. I further remarked that in
thus expressing myself I was not free from anxiety at the idea of a
change in the occupancy of the throne without a transference of the
monarchical traditions to the successor. But the Princess avoided
every serious turn and kept up the jocular tone as amiable and
entertaining as ever; she rather gave me the impression that she
wished to tease a political opponent.

During the first years of my ministry I frequently remarked in the
course of similar conversation that the Princess took pleasure in
provoking my patriotic susceptibility by playful criticism of persons
and matters.

At that ball at Versailles Queen Victoria spoke to me in German. She
gave me the impression of beholding in me a noteworthy but
unsympathetic personality, but still her tone of voice was without
that touch of ironical superiority that I thought I detected in Prince
Albert's. She continued to be amiable and courteous like one unwilling
to treat an eccentric fellow in an unfriendly way.

In comparison with Berlin it seemed a curious arrangement to me that
at supper the company ate in three classes, with gradations in the
menu, and that such guests as were to sup at all were assured of this
by having a ticket bearing a number handed to them as they entered.
The tickets of the first class also bore the name of the lady
presiding at the table to which they referred. These tables were
arranged to accommodate fifteen or twenty. On entering I received one
of these tickets for Countess Walewska's table and later on in the
ball-room two more from two other lady patronesses of diplomacy and of
the Court. No exact plan for placing the guests had therefore been
made out. I chose the table of Countess Walewska, to whose department
I belonged as a foreign diplomatist. On the way to the room in
question I came across a Prussian officer in the uniform of an
infantry regiment of the guard, accompanied by a French lady; he was
engaged in an animated dispute with one of the imperial household
stewards who would not allow either of them to pass, not being
provided with tickets. After the officer, in answer to my inquiries,
had explained the matter and indicated the lady as a duchess bearing
an Italian title of the First Empire, I told the court official that I
had the gentleman's ticket, and gave him one of mine. Now, however,
the official would not allow the lady to pass and I therefore gave the
officer my second ticket for his duchess. The official then said
significantly to me: "_Mais vous ne passerez pas sans carte_." On my
showing him the third, he made a face of astonishment and allowed all
three of us to pass. I recommended my two _proteges_ not to sit down
at the tables indicated on the tickets, but to try and find seats
elsewhere; nor did any complaints concerning my distribution of
tickets ever come to my ears. The want of organization was so great
that our table was not fully occupied, a fact due to the absence of
any understanding among the _dames patronesses_. Old Prince Pueckler
had either received no ticket or had been unable to find his table;
after he had turned to me, whom he knew by sight, he was invited by
Countess Walewska to take one of the seats that had remained empty.
The supper, in spite of the triple division, was neither materially
nor as regards its preparation upon a level with what is done in
Berlin at similar crowded festivities; the waiting only was efficient
and prompt.

What struck me most was the difference in the regulations for the free
circulation of the throng. In this respect the palace of Versailles
offers much greater facilities than that of Berlin on account of the
larger number and, if we except the White Hall, the greater
spaciousness of the apartments. Here those who had supped in class 1
were ordered to make their exit by the same way as the hungry ones of
class 2 entered, their impetuous charge betraying certainly less
acquaintance with the customs of Court society. Personal collisions
occurred among the belaced and beribboned gentlemen and superelegant
ladies, giving rise to scuffles and abusive language, such as would
be impossible in our palace. I retired with the satisfactory
impression that in spite of all the splendor of the imperial Court the
Court service, the breeding and manners of Court society were on a
higher level with us, as well as in St. Petersburg and Vienna, than in
Paris, and that the times were past when one could go to France and to
the Court of Paris to receive a schooling in courtesy and good
manners. Even the etiquette of small German Courts, antiquated as it
was, especially in comparison with St. Petersburg, was more dignified
than the practice of the imperial Court. It is true that I had already
received this impression in Louis Philippe's time, during whose reign
it became quite the fashion in France to distinguish oneself in the
direction of excessively free and easy manners, and of abstention from
courtesy, especially towards ladies. Although it had become better in
this respect during the Second Empire, the tone in official and Court
society and the demeanor of the Court itself still remained below the
standard of the three great eastern Courts. Only in the Legitimist
circles aloof from the official world were things different both in
the time of Louis Philippe and in that of Louis Napoleon; there the
tone was faultless, courteous, and hospitable, with occasional
exceptions of the younger gentlemen spoilt by their contact with
Paris, who borrowed their habits not from the family but from the
club.

The Emperor, whom I saw for the first time during this visit to Paris,
gave me to understand in several interviews, but at that time only in
general phrases, his desire and intentions respecting a
Franco-Prussian alliance. His words were to the effect that these two
neighboring States, which by reason of their culture and their
institutions stood at the head of civilization, were naturally thrown
upon each other's assistance. Any inclination to express before me
such grievance as might arise from our refusal to join the Western
Powers was kept out of the foreground. I had the feeling that the
pressure which England and Austria exercised in Berlin and Frankfort
to compel us to render assistance in the western camp was much
stronger, one might say more passionate and rude, than the desires and
promises expressed to me in an amicable form, with which the Emperor
supported his plea for our understanding with France in particular. He
was much more indulgent than England and Austria respecting our sins
against occidental policy. He never spoke German to me, either then or
later.

That my visit to Paris had caused displeasure at the court at home,
and had intensified, especially in the case of Queen Elizabeth, the
ill-feelings already entertained towards me, I was able to perceive at
the end of September of the same year. While the King was proceeding
down the Rhine to Cologne to attend the cathedral building festival, I
reported myself at Coblentz and was, with my wife, invited by his
Majesty to perform the journey to Cologne on the steamer; my wife,
however, was ignored by the Queen on board and at Remagen.[33] The
Prince of Prussia, who had observed this, gave my wife his arm and led
her to table. At the conclusion of the meal I begged for permission to
return to Frankfort, which was granted me.

It was not until the following winter, during which the King had again
approached me, that he asked me once at dinner, straight across the
table, my opinion concerning Louis Napoleon; his tone was ironical. I
replied: "It is my impression that the Emperor Napoleon is a discreet
and amiable man, but that he is not so clever as the world esteems
him. The world places to his account everything that happens, and if
it rains in eastern Asia at an unseasonable moment chooses to
attribute it to some malevolent machination of the Emperor. Here
especially we have become accustomed to regard him as a kind of _genie
du mal_ who is forever only meditating how to do mischief in the
world.[34] I believe he is happy when he is able to enjoy anything
good at his ease; his understanding is overrated at the expense of his
heart; he is at bottom good-natured and has an unusual measure of
gratitude for every service rendered him."

The King laughed at this in a manner that vexed me and led me to ask
whether I might be permitted to guess his Majesty's present thoughts.
The King consented, and I said: "General von Canitz used to lecture to
the young officers in the military school on the campaigns of
Napoleon. An assiduous listener asked him how Napoleon could have
omitted to make this or that movement. Canitz replied: 'Well, you see
just what this Napoleon was--a real goodhearted fellow, but so
stupid!' which naturally excited great mirth among the military
scholars. I fear that your Majesty is thinking of me much as General
von Canitz thought of his pupils."

The King laughed and said: "You may be right; but I am not
sufficiently acquainted with the present Napoleon to be able to impugn
your impression that his heart is better than his head." That the
Queen was dissatisfied with my view I was enabled to gather from the
external trifles by which impressions are made known at court.

The displeasure felt at my intercourse with Napoleon sprang from the
idea of "Legitimacy," or, more strictly speaking, from the word
itself, which was stamped with its modern sense by Talleyrand, and
used in 1814 and 1815 with great success and to the advantage of the
Bourbons as a deluding spell.

       *       *       *       *       *


III

THE EMS TELEGRAM


On July 2, 1870, the Spanish ministry decided in favor of the accession
to that throne of Leopold, Hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern. This gave
the first stimulus in the field of international law to the subsequent
military question, but still only in the form of a specifically Spanish
matter. It was hard to find in the law of nations a pretext for France
to interfere with the freedom of Spain to choose a King; after people in
Paris had made up their minds to war with Prussia, this was sought for
artificially in the name Hohenzollern, which in itself had nothing more
menacing to France than any other German name. On the contrary, it might
have been assumed, in Spain as well as in Germany, that Prince
Hohenzollern, on account of his personal and family connections in
Paris, would be a _persona grata_ beyond many another German Prince. I
remember that on the night after the battle of Sedan I was riding along
the road to Donchery in thick darkness, with a number of our officers,
following the King in his journey round Sedan. In reply to a question
from some one in the company I talked about the preliminaries to the
war, and mentioned at the same time that I had thought Prince Leopold
would be no unwelcome neighbor in Spain to the Emperor Napoleon, and
would travel to Madrid _via_ Paris, in order to get into touch with the
imperial French policy, forming as it did a part of the conditions under
which he would have had to govern Spain. I said: "We should have been
much more justified in dreading a close understanding between the
Spanish and French crowns than in hoping for the restoration of a
Spanish-German anti-French constellation after the analogy of Charles
V.; a king of Spain can only carry out Spanish policy, and the Prince by
assuming the crown of the country would become a Spaniard." To my
surprise there came from the darkness behind me a vigorous rejoinder
from the Prince of Hohenzollern, of whose presence I had not the least
idea; he protested strongly against the possibility of presuming any
French sympathies in him. This protest in the midst of the battlefield
of Sedan was natural for a German officer and a Hohenzollern Prince, and
I could only answer that the Prince, as King of Spain, could have
allowed himself to be guided by Spanish interests only, and prominent
among these, in view of strengthening his new kingdom, would have been a
soothing treatment of his powerful neighbor on the Pyrenees. I made my
apology to the Prince for the expression I had uttered while unaware of
his presence.

This episode, introduced before its time, affords evidence as to the
conception I had formed of the whole question. I regarded it as a
Spanish and not as a German one, even though I was delighted at seeing
the German name of Hohenzollern active in representing monarchy in
Spain, and did not fail to calculate all the possible consequences
from the point of view of our interests--a duty which is incumbent on
a foreign minister when anything of similar importance occurs in
another State. My immediate thought was more of the economic than of
the political relations in which a Spanish King of German extraction
could be serviceable. For Spain I anticipated from the personal
character of the Prince, and from his family relations, tranquillizing
and consolidating results, which I had no reason to grudge the
Spaniards. Spain is among the few countries which, by their
geographical position and political necessities, have no reason to
pursue an anti-German policy; besides which, she is well adapted, by
the economic relations of supply and demand, for an extensive trade
with Germany. An element friendly to us in the Spanish government
would have been an advantage which in the course of German policy
there appeared no reason to reject _a limine_, unless the apprehension
that France might be dissatisfied was to be allowed to rank as one. If
Spain had developed again more vigorously than hitherto has been the
case, the fact that Spanish diplomacy was friendly toward us might
have been useful to us in time of peace; but it did not seem to me
probable that the King of Spain, on the outbreak of the war between
Germany and France, which was evidently coming sooner or later, would,
with the best will in the world, be in a position to prove his
sympathy with Germany by an attack on France or a demonstration
against her; and the conduct of Spain after the outbreak of the war
which we had drawn upon us by the complaisance of German princes
showed the accuracy of my doubt.

[Illustration: ADOLPH VON MENZEL KING WILLIAM'S DEPARTURE FOR THE
FRONT AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR.]

The chivalrous Cid would have called France to account for
interference in Spain's free choice of a king, and not have left the
vindication of Spanish independence to foreigners. The nation,
formerly so powerful by land and sea, cannot at the present day hold
the cognate population of Cuba in check; and how could one expect her
to attack a Power like France from affection towards us? No Spanish
government, and least of all an alien king, would possess power enough
in the country to send even a regiment to the Pyrenees out of
affection toward Germany. Politically I was tolerably indifferent to
the entire question. Prince Anthony was more inclined than myself to
carry it peacefully to the desired goal. The memoirs of his Majesty
the King of Roumania are not accurately informed as regards details of
the ministerial cooeperation in the question. The ministerial council
in the palace which he mentions did not take place. Prince Anthony was
living as the King's guest in the palace, and had invited him and some
of the ministers to dinner. I scarcely think that the Spanish question
was discussed at table. If the Duke of Gramont[35] labors to adduce
proof that I did not stand aloof from and averse to the Spanish
proposal, I find no reason to contradict him. I can no longer recall
the text of my letter to Marshal Prim, which the Duke has heard
mentioned; if I drew it up myself, about which I am equally uncertain,
I should hardly have called the Hohenzollern candidature "_une
excellente chose_": the expression is not natural to me. That I
regarded it as "opportune," not "_a un moment donne_," but in
principle and in time of peace is correct. I had not the slightest
doubt in the matter that the grandson of the Murats, a favorite at
the French Court, would secure the goodwill of France towards his
country.

The intervention of France at its beginning concerned Spanish and not
Prussian affairs; the garbling of the matter in the Napoleonic policy,
by virtue of which the question was to become a Prussian one, was
internationally unjustifiable and exasperating, and proved to me that
the moment had arrived when France sought a quarrel against us and was
ready to seize any pretext that seemed available. I regarded the
French intervention in the first instance as an injury, and
consequently as an insult to Spain, and expected that the Spanish
sense of honor would resist this encroachment. Later on, when the turn
of affairs showed that, by her encroachment on Spanish independence,
France intended to threaten us with war, I waited for some days
expecting that the Spanish declaration of war against France would
follow that of the French against us. I was not prepared to see a
self-assertive nation like Spain stand quiet behind the Pyrenees with
ordered arms, while the Germans were engaged in a deadly struggle
against France on behalf of Spain's independence and freedom to choose
her king. The Spanish sense of honor which proved so sensitive in the
Carlist question simply left us in the lurch in 1870. Probably in both
cases the sympathies and international ties of the Republican parties
were decisive.

The first demands of France respecting the candidature for the Spanish
throne, and they were unjustifiable, had been presented on July 4, and
answered by our Foreign Office evasively, though in accordance with
truth, that the _ministry_ knew nothing about the matter. This was
correct so far, that the question of Prince Leopold's acceptance of
his election had been treated by his Majesty simply as a family
matter, which in no way concerned either Prussia or the North German
Confederation, and which affected solely the personal relations
between the Commander-in-Chief and a German officer, and those between
the head of the family and, not the royal family of Prussia,
but the entire family of Hohenzollern, or all the bearers of that
name.

In France, however, a _casus belli_ was being sought against Prussia
which should be as free as possible from German national coloring; and
it was thought one had been discovered in the dynastic sphere by the
accession to the Spanish throne of a candidate bearing the name of
Hohenzollern. In this the overrating of the military superiority of
France and the underrating of the national feeling in Germany was
clearly the chief reason why the tenability of this pretext was not
examined either with honesty or judgment. The German national outburst
which followed the French declaration, and resembled a stream bursting
its sluices, was a surprise to French politicians. They lived,
calculated, and acted on recollections of the Confederation of the
Rhine, supported by the attitude of certain West German ministers;
also by Ultramontane influences, in the hope that the conquests of
France, "_gesta Dei per Francos_," would make it easier in Germany to
draw further consequences from the Vatican council, with the support
of an alliance with Catholic Austria. The Ultramontane tendencies of
French policy were favorable to it in Germany and disadvantageous in
Italy; the alliance with the latter being finally wrecked by the
refusal of France to evacuate Rome. In the belief that the French army
was superior the pretext for war was lugged out, as one may say, by
the hair; and, instead of making Spain responsible for its reputed
anti-French election of a king, they attacked the German Prince who
had not refused to relieve the need of the Spaniards, in the way they
themselves wished, by the appointment of a useful king, and one who
would presumably be regarded as _persona grata_ in Paris; and the King
of Prussia, whom nothing beyond his family name and his position as a
German fellow-countryman had brought into connection with this Spanish
affair. In the very fact that the French cabinet ventured to call
Prussian policy to account respecting the acceptance of the election,
and to do so in a form which, in the interpretation put upon it by the
French papers, became a public threat, lay a piece of international
impudence which, in my opinion, rendered it impossible for us to draw
back one single inch. The insulting character of the French demand was
enhanced, not only by the threatening challenges of the French press,
but also by the discussions in parliament and the attitude taken by the
ministry of Gramont and Ollivier upon these manifestations. The utterance
of Gramont in the session of the "Corps Legislatif" of July 6:

"We do not believe that respect for the rights of a neighboring
people binds us to suffer a foreign Power to set one of its Princes
on the throne of Charles V. * * * This event will not come to pass,
of that we are quite certain. * * * Should it prove otherwise we
shall know how to fulfil our duty without shrinking and without
weakness"--this utterance was itself an official international threat,
with the hand on the sword hilt. The phrase, _La Prusse cane_ (Prussia
climbs down), served in the press to illustrate the range of the
parliamentary proceedings of July 6 and 7; which, in my feeling,
rendered all compliance incompatible with our sense of national honor.

On July 12 I decided to hurry off from Varzin to Ems to discuss with
his Majesty about summoning the Reichstag for the purpose of the
mobilization. As I passed through Wussow my friend Mulert, the old
clergyman, stood before the parsonage door and warmly greeted me; my
answer from the open carriage was a thrust in carte and tierce in the
air, and he clearly understood that I believed I was going to war. As
I entered the courtyard of my house at Berlin, and before leaving the
carriage, I received telegrams from which it appeared that the King
was continuing to treat with Benedetti, even after the French threats
and outrages in parliament and in the press, and not referring him
with calm reserve to his ministers. During dinner, at which Moltke and
Roon were present, the announcement arrived from the embassy in Paris
that the Prince of Hohenzollern had renounced his candidature in order
to prevent the war with which France threatened us. My first idea was
to retire from the service, because, after all the insolent challenges
which had gone before, I perceived in this extorted submission a
humiliation of Germany for which I did not desire to be responsible.
This impression of a wound to our sense of national honor by the
compulsory withdrawal so dominated me that I had already decided to
announce my retirement at Ems. I considered this humiliation before
France and her swaggering demonstrations as worse than that of Olmuetz,
for which the previous history on both sides, and our want of
preparation for war at the time, will always be a valid excuse. I took
it for granted that France would lay the Prince's renunciation to her
account as a satisfactory success, with the feeling that a threat of
war, even though it had taken the form of international insult and
mockery, and though the pretext for war against Prussia had been
dragged in by the head and shoulders, was enough to compel her to draw
back, even in a just cause; and that even the North German
Confederation did not feel strong enough to protect the national honor
and independence against French arrogance. I was very much depressed,
for I saw no means of repairing the corroding injury I dreaded to our
national position from a timorous policy, unless by picking quarrels
clumsily and seeking them artificially. I saw by that time that war
was a necessity, which we could no longer avoid with honor. I
telegraphed to my people at Varzin not to pack up or start, for I
should be back again in a few days. I now believed in peace; but, as I
would not represent the attitude by which this peace had been
purchased, I gave up the journey to Ems and asked Count Eulenburg to
go thither and represent my opinion to his Majesty. In the same sense
I conversed with the Minister of War, von Roon: we had got our slap in
the face from France, and had been reduced, by our complaisance, to
look like seekers of a quarrel if we entered upon war, the only way in
which we could wipe away the stain. My position was now untenable,
solely because, during his course at the baths, the King, under
pressure of threats, had given audience to the French ambassador for
four consecutive days, and had exposed his royal person to insolent
treatment from this foreign agent without ministerial assistance.
Through this inclination to take state business upon himself in person
and alone, the King had been forced into a position which I could not
defend; in my judgment his Majesty while at Ems ought to have refused
every business communication from the French negotiator, who was not
on the same footing with him, and to have referred him to the
department in Berlin. The department would then have had to obtain his
Majesty's decision by a representation at Ems, or, if dilatory
treatment were considered useful, by a report in writing. But his
Majesty, however careful in his usual respect for departmental
relations, was too fond not indeed of deciding important questions
personally, but, at all events, of discussing them, to make a proper
use of the shelter with which the Sovereign is purposely surrounded
against importunities and inconvenient questionings and demands. That
the King, considering the consciousness of his supreme dignity which
he possessed in so high a degree, did not withdraw at the very
beginning from Benedetti's importunity was to be attributed for the
most part to the influence exercised upon him by the Queen, who was at
Coblenz close by. He was seventy-three years old, a lover of peace,
and disinclined to risk the laurels of 1866 in a fresh struggle; but
when he was free from the feminine influence, the sense of honor of
the heir of Frederick the Great and of a Prussian officer always
remained paramount. Against the opposition of his consort, due to her
natural feminine timidity and lack of national feeling, the King's
power of resistance was weakened by his knightly regard for the lady
and his kingly consideration for a Queen, and especially for his own
Queen. I have been told that Queen Augusta implored her husband with
tears, before his departure from Ems to Berlin, to bear in mind Jena
and Tilsit and avert war. I consider the statement authentic, even to
the tears.

Having decided to resign, in spite of the remonstrances which Roon
made against it, I invited him and Moltke to dine with me alone on the
13th, and communicated to them at table my views and projects for
doing so. Both were greatly depressed, and reproached me indirectly
with selfishly availing myself of my greater facility for withdrawing
from service. I maintained the position that I could not offer up my
sense of honor to politics, that both of them, being professional
soldiers and consequently without freedom of choice, need not take the
same point of view as a responsible Foreign Minister. During our
conversation I was informed that a telegram from Ems, in cipher, if I
recollect rightly, of about 200 "groups," was being deciphered. When
the copy was handed to me it showed that Abeken had drawn up and
signed the telegram at his Majesty's command, and I read it out to my
guests,[36] whose dejection was so great that they turned away from
food and drink. On a repeated examination of the document I lingered
upon the authorization of his Majesty, which included a command,
immediately to communicate Benedetti's fresh demand and its rejection
both to our ambassadors and to the press. I put a few questions to
Moltke as to the extent of his confidence in the state of our
preparations, especially as to the time they would still require in
order to meet this sudden risk of war. He answered that if there was
to be war he expected no advantage to us by deferring its outbreak;
and even if we should not be strong enough at first to protect all the
territories on the left bank of the Rhine against French invasion, our
preparations would nevertheless soon overtake those of the French,
while at a later period this advantage would be diminished; he
regarded a rapid outbreak as, on the whole, more favorable to us than
delay.

In view of the attitude of France, our national sense of honor
compelled us, in my opinion, to go to war; and if we did not act
according to the demands of this feeling, we should lose, when on the
way to its completion, the entire impetus towards our national
development won in 1866 while the German national feeling south of the
Main, aroused by our military successes in 1866, and shown by the
readiness of the southern states to enter the alliances, would have to
grow cold again. The German feeling, which in the southern states
lived long with the individual and dynastic state feeling, had, up to
1866, silenced its political conscience to a certain degree with the
fiction of a collective Germany under the leadership of Austria,
partly from South German preference for the old imperial State, partly
in the belief of her military superiority to Prussia. After events had
shown the incorrectness of that calculation, the very helplessness in
which the South German states had been left by Austria at the
conclusion of peace was a motive for the political Damascus that lay
between Varnbueler's "_Vae victis_" and the willing conclusion of the
offensive and defensive alliance with Prussia. It was confidence in
the Germanic power developed by means of Prussia, and the attraction
which is inherent in a brave and resolute policy if it is successful,
and then proceeds within reasonable and honorable limits. This nimbus
had been won by Prussia; it would have been lost irrevocably, or at
all events for a long time, if in a question of national honor the
opinion gained ground among the people that the French insult, _La
Prusse cane_, had a foundation in fact.

In the same psychological train of thought in which during the Danish
war in 1864 I desired, for political reasons, that precedence should
be given not to the old Prussian, but to the Westphalian battalions,
who so far had had no opportunity of proving their courage under
Prussian leadership, and regretted that Prince Frederick Charles had
acted contrary to my wish, did I feel convinced that the gulf, which
diverse dynastic and family influences and different habits of life
had in the course of history created between the south and north of
the Fatherland, could not be more effectually bridged over than by a
joint national war against the neighbor who had been aggressive for
many centuries. I remembered that even in the short period from 1813
to 1815, from Leipzig and Hanau to Belle-Alliance, the joint
victorious struggle against France had rendered it possible to put an
end to the opposition between a yielding Rhine-Confederation policy
and the German national impetus of the days between the Vienna
congress and the Mainz commission of inquiry, days marked by the names
of Stein, Goerres, Jahn, Wartburg, up to the crime of Sand. The blood
shed in common from the day when the Saxons came over at Leipzig down
to their participation at Belle-Alliance under English command had
fostered a consciousness before which the recollections of the
Rhine-Confederation were blotted out. The historical development in
this direction was interrupted by the anxiety aroused by the
over-haste of the national craving for the stability of state
institutions.

This retrospect strengthened me in my conviction, and the political
considerations in respect to the South German states proved applicable
likewise, _mutatis mutandis_, to our relations with the populations of
Hanover, Hesse, and Schleswig-Holstein. That this view was correct is
shown by the satisfaction with which, at the present day, after a
lapse of twenty years, not only the Holsteiners, but likewise the
people of the Hanse towns, remember the heroic deeds of their sons in
1870. All these considerations, conscious and unconscious,
strengthened my opinion that war could be avoided only at the cost of
the honor of Prussia and of the national confidence in it. Under this
conviction I made use of the royal authorization communicated to me
through Abeken, to publish the contents of the telegram; and in the
presence of my two guests I reduced the telegram by striking out
words, but without adding or altering, to the following form: "After
the news of the renunciation of the hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern
had been officially communicated to the imperial government of France
by the royal government of Spain, the French ambassador at Ems further
demanded of his Majesty the King that he would authorize him to
telegraph to Paris that his Majesty the King bound himself for all
future time never again to give his consent if the Hohenzollerns
should renew their candidature. His Majesty the King thereupon decided
not to receive the French ambassador again, and sent to tell him
through the aide-de-camp on duty that his Majesty had nothing further
to communicate to the ambassador." The difference in the effect of the
abbreviated text of the Ems telegram as compared with that produced by
the original was not the result of stronger words but of the form,
which made this announcement appear decisive, while Abeken's version
would only have been regarded as a fragment of a negotiation still
pending, and to be continued at Berlin.

After I had read out the concentrated edition to my two guests, Moltke
remarked: "Now it has a different ring; it sounded before like a
parley; now it is like a flourish in answer to a challenge." I went on
to explain: "If in execution of his Majesty's order I at once
communicate this text, which contains no alteration in or addition to
the telegram, not only to the newspapers, but also by telegraph to all
our embassies, it will be known in Paris before midnight, and not only
on account of its contents, but also on account of the manner of its
distribution, will have the effect of a red rag upon the Gallic bull.
Fight we must if we do not want to act the part of the vanquished
without a battle. Success, however, essentially depends upon the
impression which the origination of the war makes upon us and others;
it is important that we should be the party attacked, and this Gallic
overweening and touchiness will make us if we announce in the face of
Europe, so far as we can without the speaking-tube of the Reichstag,
that we fearlessly meet the public threats of France."

This explanation brought about in the two generals a revulsion to a
more joyous mood, the liveliness of which surprised me. They had
suddenly recovered their pleasure in eating and drinking and spoke in
a more cheerful vein. Roon said: "Our God of old lives still and will
not let us perish in disgrace." Moltke so far relinquished his passive
equanimity that, glancing up joyously towards the ceiling and
abandoning his usual punctiliousness of speech, he smote his hand upon
his breast and said: "If I may but live to lead our armies in such a
war, then the devil may come directly afterwards and fetch away the
'old carcass.'" He was less robust at that time than afterwards, and
doubted whether he would survive the hardships of the campaign.

How keenly he wanted to put in practice his military and strategic
tastes and ability I observed not only on this occasion, but also in the
days before the outbreak of the Bohemian war. In both cases I found my
military colleague in the King's service changed from his usual dry and
silent habit; he became cheerful, lively, even merry. In the June night
of 1866, when I had invited him for the purpose of ascertaining whether
the march of the army could not be begun twenty-four hours sooner, he
answered in the affirmative and was pleasantly excited by the hastening
of the struggle. As he left my wife's drawing-room with elastic step, he
turned round at the door and asked me in a serious tone: "Do you know
that the Saxons have _blown up_[37] the bridge at Dresden?" Upon my
expression of amazement and regret he replied: "Yes, with water, for the
dust." An inclination to innocent jokes very seldom, in official
relations like ours, broke through his reserve. In both cases his love
of combat and delight in battles were a great support to me in carrying
out the policy I regarded as necessary, in opposition to the
intelligible and justifiable aversion in a most influential quarter. It
proved inconvenient to me in 1867, in the Luxemburg question, and in
1875 and afterwards on the question whether it was desirable, as regards
a war which we should probably have to face sooner or later, to bring it
on _antici-pando_ before the adversary could improve his preparations. I
have always opposed the theory which says "Yes"; not only at the
Luxemburg period, but likewise subsequently for twenty years, in the
conviction that even victorious wars cannot be justified unless they are
forced upon one, and that one cannot see the cards of Providence far
enough ahead to anticipate historical development according to one's own
calculation. It is natural that in the staff of the army not only
younger officers, but likewise experienced strategists, should feel the
need of turning to account the efficiency of the troops led by them, and
their own capacity to lead, and of making them prominent in history. It
would be a matter of regret if this effect of the military spirit did
not exist in the army; the task of keeping its results within such
limits as the nations' need of peace can justly claim is the duty of the
political, not the military, heads of the State. That at the time of the
Luxemburg question, during the crisis of 1875, invented by Gortchakoff
and France, and even down to the most recent times, the staff and its
leaders have allowed themselves to be led astray and to endanger peace,
lies in the very spirit of the institution, which I would not forego. It
only becomes dangerous under a monarch whose policy lacks sense of
proportion and power to resist one-sided and constitutionally
unjustifiable influences.


FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 26: From _Bismarck: The Man and the Statesman._ Permission
Harper & Brothers, New York.]

[Footnote 27: a gathering of, it is said, 30,000 at the Castle of
Hambach in the Palatinate; where speeches were made in favor of
Germany, unity, and the Republic.]

[Footnote 28: An attempt made by a handful of students and peasants to
blow up the Federal Diet in revenge for some Press regulations passed
by it. They stormed the guard house, but were suppressed.]

[Footnote 29: See the "Proceedings during my stay at Aachen" in
_Bismarck-Jahrbuch III.,_ and the "Samples of Examination for the
Referendariat" in _Bismarck-Jahrbuch II._]

[Footnote 30: Say "red tape."]

[Footnote 31: _Polstiche Reden_ (Cotta's edition), i. 9.]

[Footnote 32: See _Bismarck-Jahrbuch_, iii. 86.]

[Footnote 33: Cf. Bismarck's letter to Gerlach of October 7, 1855.]

[Footnote 34: Cf. Bismarck's utterance in the Imperial Diet on January
8, 1885. _Politische Reden_, x. 373.]

[Footnote 35: Gramont, _La France et la Prusse avant la guerre_.
Paris, 1872, p. 21.]

[Footnote 36: The telegram handed in at Ems on July 13, 1870, at 3.50
p. m. and received in Berlin at 6.9, ran as deciphered:

"His Majesty writes to me: "Count Benedetti spoke to me on the
promenade, in order to demand from me, finally in a very importunate
manner, that I should authorize him to telegraph at once that I bound
myself for all future time never again to give my consent if the
Hohenzollerns should renew their candidature. I refused at last
somewhat sternly, as it is neither right nor possible to undertake
engagements of this kind _a tout jamais_. Naturally I told him that I
had as yet received no news, and as he was earlier informed about
Paris and Madrid than myself, he could clearly see that my government
once more had no hand in the matter." His Majesty has since received a
letter from the Prince. His Majesty, having told Count Benedetti that
he was awaiting news from the Prince, has decided, with reference to
the above demand, upon the representation of Count Eulenburg and
myself, not to receive Count Benedetti again, but only to let him be
informed through an aide-de-camp: That his Majesty had now received
from the Prince confirmation of the news which Benedetti had already
received from Paris, and had nothing further to say to the ambassador.
His Majesty leaves it to your Excellency whether Benedetti's fresh
demand and its rejection should not be at once communicated both to
our ambassadors and to the press."]

[Footnote 37: Play on the word _gesprengt_.]

       *       *       *       *       *




BISMARCK AS AN ORATOR

By EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


Bismarck was not an orator in the ordinary sense of the word, nor did
he wish to be one. On the contrary, he looked with mistrust on
silver-tongued orators. "You know," he said in the Diet on February 3,
1866, "I am not an orator.... I cannot appeal to your emotions with a
clever play of words intended to obscure the subject-matter. My speech
is simple and clear." And a few years later he said: "Eloquence has
spoiled many things in the world's parliaments. Too much time is
wasted, because everybody who thinks he knows anything wishes to
speak, even if he has nothing new to say. More breath is wasted on the
air than thought is bestowed on the questions under discussion.
Everything has been settled in party caucuses, and in the House the
representatives talk for no other purpose than to show the people how
clever they are, or to please the newspapers, which are expected to be
lavish with their praise in return. If things go on like this, the
time will come when eloquence will be considered a common nuisance,
and a man will be punished if he has spoken too long."

Bismarck's most famous words against mere eloquence were uttered in
the Reichstag on April 29, 1881: "You must be something of a poet if
you wish to be a good orator, and you must possess the gift of
improvisation. When I was younger there were public entertainments in
which music alternated with oratorical improvisations. The
improvisator was given a theme of which he knew nothing, and on which
he discoursed, often brilliantly. It even happened that he was
altogether convincing until we remembered where we were. I am
merely saying this to show that we should not entrust the direction of
big affairs to the mere masters of eloquence any more than to the
improvisators. Least of all should these people be placed in charge of
bureaus, or be given a minister's portfolio. I only wish to prove that
eloquence is a gift which exerts today an influence out of proportion
to its worth. It is overestimated. A good orator must be something of
a poet, which means that he cannot be a stickler for truth and
mathematical accuracy. He must be inspiring, quick, and excitable,
able himself to kindle the enthusiasm of others. But a good orator I
fear will rarely play a good game of whist or of chess, and will be
even less satisfactory as a statesman. The emotional element and not
cool reason must predominate in his make-up. Physiologically, I
believe, the same man cannot be a good orator and a calm judge. I am
reminded of the list of qualities enumerated by Mephisto in Goethe's
_Faust_: 'The lion's strength, the deer's celerity.' Such things are
never found united in one human body. And thus we often find eloquence
overtopping and dangerously controlling reason, to the complete
satisfaction of thoughtless multitudes. But a man of discretion, cool
and accurate in his deliberations, to whom we are glad to entrust the
direction of big and weighty matters, can scarcely ever be a perfect
orator."

In this last sentence Bismarck apparently wished to draw a line of
distinction between himself and some of his parliamentary opponents
whom he admired as fluent orators, but whose leadership he deemed to
be unsafe. If he considered himself a poor public speaker he was
greatly mistaken. His contemporaries held different views, and several
of them fortunately were so deeply impressed by his power that they
analyzed the means with which he won his great parliamentary
victories. His bitter political opponent, Ludwig Bamberger, for
instance, said:

"Bismarck controls his audience by the noticeable force and the
exhaustiveness of his mental labor. He has improved with
practice, and the description of him given in 1866 is no longer quite
fair--'No charm of voice, no sonorous phrases, nothing to captivate an
audience. His voice while clear and distinct, is dry and
unsympathetic. He speaks monotonously, with many pauses, at times he
almost stutters, as if an obstinate tongue refused to obey orders, and
as if he had to wrestle for the adequate expression of his thoughts.
He rocks to and fro, somewhat restlessly, and in no relation to what
he is saying. But the longer he speaks the more he overcomes all
difficulties, he succeeds in adapting his words, without the least
waste, to his thoughts, and generally reaches a powerfully effective
end.' It is still true that his words advance at first slowly, then
with a rush, and again haltingly. But for all those who do not
consider the even and melodious flow of an address to be its greatest
perfection Bismarck's way of speaking is not without some charm. It
enables the hearer to follow the mental exertions of the speaker, and
thus rivets attention better than many a smooth and sonorous diction
which glides along nicely because it has no inner difficulties to
overcome. Often Bismarck succeeds in taking hold of his subject with
trenchant wit, and in illustrating it with arguments which he boldly
takes from every day life.... We must confess that his speeches, if
art-less, are yet full of imagery. His cool and clear mind does not
despise the charm of warm color, just as his robust constitution is
not void of nervous irritability. His ingenuous appearance, with which
he is apt to surprise an audience, should not win our ready
confidence, for all who have had to do with him know that his
astonishingly intimate remarks are calculated to mislead by their
excessive frankness, or their excessive lack of it. If he dissembles,
he often misses his mark by exaggeration, and one can truly say that
he has deceived his opponents more frequently by speaking the truth
than by making false pretenses. Behind his blustering behavior you can
often spy the merry wag. To his opponents he can be provoking,
malicious, even spiteful, but he is never false! He does not belong
to that class of public men who believe that the world can be governed
with sentimental phrases, or that evil conditions are alleviated when
the discussion is interspersed with pompous generalities. On the
contrary, he loves to turn his phrases so that everything will appear
in a strong and glaring light."

Another observer, quoted by Hans Kraemer in his "Speeches of Prince
Bismarck," sums up his impressions as follows:

"Bismarck has before him a narrow strip of paper on which, in
preparation, he has jotted down a few words with his inspired
quill-pen. Occasionally he looks at his notes, while he is speaking,
rocking himself very slowly to and fro, and twisting his thumbs. He
often hesitates, almost stutters, and sometimes even makes a slip of
the tongue. He seems to be wrestling with his thoughts, while his
words seem to ascend against their wish, for he makes a very brief
pause after every two or three words.... He speaks without gestures,
pathos or intonation, and without emphasizing any of his words. Is
this the man who as early as 1847 was the leader of the nobility in
the old Diet and their quickest man at repartee; who, in 1849 and 1850
as a member of the Second House and the United Parliament of Erfurt,
whipped the liberal majority to a frenzy of fury with his bitter and
poignant speeches; who as the President of the Ministry since 1862 has
faced, almost alone, the solid phalanx of the Liberals, replying to
their ebullitions of pride and confidence in their own strain, and
answering on the spot and with brilliant presence of mind their
sarcastic and malicious attacks, yes even challenging them with witty
impromptus, and hurting his opponents to the core? Yes, he is the same
man, and occasionally he can be as witty and bitter as he used to be.
But since his great victories he has shown the more serious demeanor
of a statesman. He is calmly objective and conciliatory, as befits his
greatness, which is today universally recognized. The longer he
speaks the more the peculiar attractions of his way of speaking become
manifest. His expression is original and fresh, pithy and robust,
honest and straightforward."

Bismarck did not write out his speeches, and the published accounts of
what he said are copied from the official stenographic reports.
Logically Bismarck never left a sentence incomplete, but grammatically
he often did so when the wealth of ideas qualifying his main thought
had grown to greater proportions than he had anticipated. His diction
was at all times precise, which led to a multiplicity of
qualifications--adjectives, appositions, adverbs, parentheses, and the
like. Desirous of convincing his hearers, he often felt the need of
repeating the same thought in various ways until he at last hammered
it in, as it were, with one big blow--with one phrase easily
remembered and readily quoted. It is these phrases which have given
the names to many of his speeches, namely: "The Honest Broker,"
"Practical Christianity," or "We shall never go to Canossa."

He himself readily quoted from the sayings and writings of other great
men; and was in this respect wholly admirable both for the catholicity
of his taste and the singular appropriateness of his citations. He was
apparently as familiar with the great authors of antiquity as with the
modern German, French and English writers. Nor was he afraid of using
a foreign tongue when no German phrase occurred to him to match the
exact meaning of his thought.

The reader will realize, even more than the hearer, that it was not
the form of Bismarck's speeches which swept his audiences off their
feet, and often changed a hostile Reichstag or Diet into an assembly
of men eager to do his bidding, but that it was his firm grasp on the
realities of life and his supreme command of everything which makes
for true statesmanship. His policies were not based on snap judgments,
they were the result of serious thought. All this showed in his
speeches, and made him one of the most powerfully effective speakers
of all times.

       *       *       *       *       *



_SPEECHES OF PRINCE BISMARCK_

       *       *       *       *       *

PROFESSORIAL POLITICS

December 21, 1863

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON HACK, PH.D.


[In the Prussian Diet the representative, Johann Ludwig Tellkampf,
professor of economics and political science in the University of
Breslau, had attacked the policy of Bismarck in regard to
Schleswig-Holstein. Bismarck replied as follows:]

The conception which the previous speaker has of the politics of
Europe reminds me of a man from the plains who is on his first journey
to the mountains. When he sees a huge elevation loom up before him,
nothing seems easier than to climb it. He does not even think that he
will need a guide, for the mountain is in plain sight, and the road to
it apparently without obstacles. But when he starts, he soon comes
upon ravines and crevasses which not even the best of speeches will
help him to cross. The gentleman comforted us concerning similar
obstacles in the path of politics by saying things like these: "It is
well known that Russia can do nothing at present; it does not appear
that Austria will take a contrary step; England knows very well that
her interests are counselling peace; and finally, France will not act
against her national principles." If we should believe these
assurances, and think more highly of the estimate which the gentleman
has made of the politics of Europe than of our own official judgment,
and should thereby drive Prussia to an isolated and humiliating
position, could we then excuse ourselves by saying, "We could see the
danger coming, but we trusted the speaker, thinking he knew probably
more than we?" If this is impossible how can we attach to the remarks
of the speaker the weight which he wishes us to attach to them!

For all official positions, those of the judges for instance and even
those of the subalterns in the army, we require examinations and a
practical knowledge--difficult examinations. But high politics--oh,
any one can practise them who feels himself called upon to do so.
Nothing is easier than to make endless assertions in this field of
conjectures and to cast caution to the winds. You know that one must
write a whole book to controvert one erroneous thought, and he who
voiced the error remains unconvinced. It is a dangerous and far-spread
mistake which assumes that a naive intuition will reveal to the
political dilettante what remains hidden from the wisdom of the
expert.

[Professor Tellkampf replied, in great excitement: "My whole life as a
professor of political science has been devoted to the study of
politics, and I should like to ask the president of the ministry,
whether he knew more of political science, when he began his political
career as a dike-master, than a professor of this science knows?" To
which Bismarck replied:]

I do not at all deny the familiarity of the previous speaker with
political theories. But he has wandered from the field of theory into
that of practice. He has announced with complete assurance to me and
to this assembly what each European cabinet will probably do in this
concrete case. These are the very things which, I believe, I must know
better than he. This belief I have expressed. The previous speaker has
referred to his activity in theoretical politics as a professor
through many years. If the gentleman had served even one year in
practical politics, possibly as a bureau chief in the ministry of
foreign affairs, he would not have said what he said today from the
speaker's desk. And his advice, after this one year of practical
training, would be of greater value to me than if he had been active,
even more years than he says, as a professor on the lecture platform.

       *       *       *       *       *




SPEECH FROM THE THRONE

Written by Bismarck and delivered by William I., July 19, 1870

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.

[Disturbed by the increasing bonds of union between the northern and
the southern German states, in which France saw a lessening of her own
prestige across the Rhine, the ministers of Napoleon III. had decided
on war against Prussia. They found a pretext in the candidacy of a
Hohenzollern prince for the throne of Spain. Contrary to diplomatic
usage, they requested the King of Prussia to force the withdrawal of
the prince, and even when the father of the prince announced the
withdrawal of his son, they were not satisfied, but instructed
Benedetti, the French ambassador, to secure from the King of Prussia a
humiliating promise for the future. The King indignantly refused, and
Bismarck published the occurrence in the famous "Despatch of Ems,"
July 13, 1870. Thereupon the French cabinet declared war, on July 15,
1870. The formal notice was served on Bismarck, July 19, and on the
same day the King of Prussia opened a special session of the Reichstag
with the following address, which had been prepared by Bismarck.]




GENTLEMEN OF THE REICHSTAG OF THE NORTH GERMAN FEDERATION:

When I welcomed you here at your last assembly, it was with joy and
gratitude because God had crowned my efforts with success. I could
announce to you that every disturbance of peace had been avoided, in
response to the wishes of the people and the demands of civilization.

If now the allied governments have been compelled by treats of war and
its danger to summon you to a special session, you will feel not less
convinced than we that it was the wish of the North German Federation
to develop the forces of the German people as a support of universal
peace, and not as a possible source of danger to it. If we call upon
these forces today for the protection of our independence, we are
doing nothing but what honor and duty demand.

The candidacy of a German prince for the Spanish throne, with which
the allied governments had nothing to do--neither when it was pressed
nor when it was withdrawn--and which interested the North German
Federation only in so far as the government of a friendly nation
seemed to expect of it the assurance of a peaceful and orderly
government for its much harassed land--this candidacy offered to the
emperor of France the pretense of seeing in it a cause for war,
contrary to the long established custom of diplomacy. When the
pretense no longer existed, he kept to his views in utter disregard of
the rights which our people have to the blessings of peace--views
which find their analogy in the history of former rulers of France.

When in earlier centuries Germany suffered in silence such attacks on
her rights and her honor, she did so because she was divided and did
not know her strength. Today when the bonds of the spiritual and
political union, which began with the War of Liberation, are knitting
the German races more closely together as time advances, and when our
armor no longer offers an opening to the enemy, Germany carries in her
bosom the will and the strength to defend herself against renewed
French violence.

It is not presumption which dictates these words. The allied
governments and I myself--we are fully conscious of the fact that
victory and defeat rest with the Lord of battles. We have measured
with clear vision the responsibility which attaches, before God and
men, to him who drives two peace-loving peoples in the heart of Europe
to war. The German and the French people, enjoying in equal measure
the blessings of Christian morals and o growing prosperity, are meant
for a more wholesome contest than the bloody contest of war.

[Illustration: PRINCE BISMARCK FRANZ VON LENBACH]

The rulers of France, however, have known how to exploit by calculated
deception, the just, although excitable, pride of the great French
nation in furtherance of their own interests and for the gratification
of their own passions.

The more conscious the allied governments are of having done
everything permitted by their honor and their dignity to preserve for
Europe the blessings of peace, and the more apparent it is to
everybody that the sword has been forced upon us, the greater is the
confidence with which we rely on the unanimous decision of the German
governments of the South as well as of the North, and appeal to the
patriotism and self-sacrifice of the German people, calling them to
the defense of their honor and their independence.

We shall fight, as our fathers did, against the violence of foreign
conquerors, and for our freedom and our right. And in this fight, in
which we have no other aim than that of securing for Europe lasting
peace, God will be with us as He was with our fathers.




ALSACE-LORRAINE A GLACIS AGAINST FRANCE

May 2,1871

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


[After the war France had been obliged to return to Germany the two
provinces, Alsace and Lorraine, which she had attached to herself in
the times of Germany's weakness. It might have been better to unite
these provinces with one of the German states, but it was feared that
so valuable an increase in territory of one of the twenty-five states
that had just been federated in the empire, might lead to renewed
dissension. The suggestion, therefore, was made to administer the two
provinces, for the present, as common property, and to leave the final
arrangements to the future. A bill concerning the immediate
disposition of Alsace and Lorraine was submitted to the Reichstag on
May 2, 1871; when Prince Bismarck opened the discussion with the
following speech.]

In introducing the pending bill I shall have to say only a few words,
for the debate will offer me the opportunity of elucidating the
various details. The underlying principles are, I believe, not subject
to a difference of opinion; I mean the question whether Alsace and
Lorraine should be incorporated in the German empire. The form in
which this should be done, and especially what steps should first be
taken, will be the subject of your deliberations. You will, moreover,
find the allied governments ready to weigh carefully all suggestions
different from our own which may be made in this connection.

I believe that there will be no difference of opinion concerning the
principle itself, because there was none a year ago, nor has any
appeared during this year of the war. If we imagine ourselves back one
year--or more accurately ten months--we can say to ourselves that all
Germany was agreed in her love of peace. There was not a German who
did not wish to be at peace with France, as long as this was honorably
possible. Those morbid exceptions which possibly desired war in the
hope of seeing their own country defeated--they are not worthy of
their name, I do not count them among the Germans!

I insist, the Germans were unanimous in their desire for peace. But
when war was forced upon them, and they were compelled to take to
arms, then the Germans were fully as unanimous in their determination
to look for assurances against the likelihood of another similar war,
provided God were to give them the victory in this one which they were
resolved to wage manfully. If, however, another such war should occur
in the future, they intended to see to it now, that our defence then
would be easier. Everyone remembered that there probably had not been
a generation of our fathers, for three hundred years, which had not
been forced to draw the sword against France, and everybody knew the
reason why Germany had previously missed the opportunity of securing
for herself a better protection against an attack from the west, even
at those times when she had happened to be among the conquerors of
France. It was because the victories had been won in company with
allies whose interests were not ours. Everybody therefore was
determined that if we should conquer this time, independently and
solely by our own might and right, we should strive to make the future
more secure for our children.

In the course of centuries the wars against France had resulted almost
always to our disadvantage, because Germany had been divided. This had
created a geographical and strategic frontier which was full of
temptations for France and of menace for Germany. I cannot describe
our condition before the last war, and especially that of South
Germany, more strikingly than with the words of a thoughtful South
German sovereign. When Germany was urged to take the part of the
western powers in the oriental war, although her governments were not
convinced that this was in their interest, this sovereign--there is
no reason why I should not name him, it was the late King William of
Wuertemberg--said to me: "I share your view, that we have no call to
mix in this war, and that no German interests are at stake of
sufficient worth to spill a drop of German blood for them. But what
will happen if we should quarrel with the western powers on this
account? You may count on my vote in the Bundestag until war is at
hand. Then conditions will be altered. I am as ready as the next man
to fulfil my obligations. But take care lest you judge people
differently from what they are. Give us Strassburg, and we shall be
with you at all hazards. As long as Strassburg is a sally-port for an
ever armed force, I must fear that my country will be inundated by
foreign troops before the North German Alliance can come to my
assistance. Personally I shall not hesitate a moment to eat the hard
bread of exile in your camp, but my people, weighed down by
contributions, will write to me urging a change of policy upon me. I
do not know what I shall do, nor whether all will remain sufficiently
firm. The crux of the situation is Strassburg, for as long as it is
not German, it will prevent South Germany from giving herself
unreservedly to German unity and to a national German policy. As long
as Strassburg is a sally-port for an ever ready army of from 100,000
to 150,000 men, Germany will find herself unable to appear on the
upper Rhine with an equally large army on time--the French will always
be here first."

I believe this instance taken from an actual occurrence says
everything. I need not add one word.

The wedge which Alsace pushed into Germany near Weissenburg separated
South Germany from North Germany more effectively than the political
line of the Main. It needed a high degree of determination, national
enthusiasm, and devotion for our South German allies not to hesitate
one moment but to identify the danger of North Germany with their own
and to advance boldly in our company, in spite of that other danger in
their own immediate proximity to which a clever conduct of the war on
the part of France would have exposed them. That France in her
superior position had been ready to yield to the temptation, which
this advanced outpost of Strassburg offered her against Germany,
whenever her internal affairs made an excursion into foreign lands
desirable, we had seen for many decades. It is well known that the
French ambassador entered my office as late as August 6, 1866, with
the briefly worded ultimatum: "Either cede to France the city of
Mayence, or expect an immediate declaration of war." I was, of course,
not one moment in doubt about my reply. I said to him: "Well, then, it
is war." He proceeded with this reply to Paris. There they changed
their mind after a few days, and I was given to understand that this
instruction had been wrung from Emperor Napoleon during an attack of
illness. The further attempts on Luxembourg and the consequent issues
are known to you. I will not revert to them, nor do I believe that it
is necessary to prove that France did not always show a sufficiently
strong character to resist the temptations which the possession of
Alsace brought with it.

The question was, how to secure a guarantee against this. It had to be
of a territorial nature, because the guarantees of foreign powers were
not of much use to us, such guarantees having at times been subject to
supplementary and attenuating declarations. One might have thought
that all Europe would have felt the need of preventing the ever
recurring wars of two great and civilized peoples in the heart of
Europe, and that it would have been natural to assume that the
simplest way to do this was to strengthen the defences of that one of
the two participants who doubtless was the more pacific. I cannot,
however, say that at first this idea appeared convincing everywhere.
Other expedients were looked for, and the suggestion was often made
that we should be satisfied with an indemnity and the razing of the
French fortresses in Alsace and Lorraine. This I always opposed,
because I considered it an impracticable means of maintaining peace.
The establishment of an easement on foreign territory is very
oppressive and disagreeable to the sense of sovereignty and
independence of those who are affected by it. The cession of a
fortress is felt scarcely more bitterly than the injunction by
foreigners not to build on the territory which is under one's own
sovereignty. French passions have probably been excited more
frequently and more successfully by a reference to the razing of that
unimportant place of Hueningen than by the loss of any conquered
territory which France had to suffer in 1815. I placed, therefore, no
confidence in this means, especially since the geographical
configuration of this advanced outpost--as I took the liberty of
calling it--would have put the starting place for the French troops
just as near to Stuttgart and Munich as it had always been. It was
important to put it farther back.

Metz, moreover, is a place of such a topographical configuration, that
very little art is needed to transform it into a strong fortress. If
anyone should destroy these additions to nature--which would be a very
expensive undertaking--they could be quickly restored. Consequently I
looked also upon this suggestion as insufficient.

There might have been one other means--and one which the inhabitants
of Alsace and Lorraine favored--of founding there a neutral territory
similar to Belgium and Switzerland. There would then have been a chain
of neutral states from the North Sea to the Swiss Alps, which would
have made it impossible for us to attack France by land, because we
are accustomed to respect treaties and neutrality, and because we
should have been separated from France by this strip of land between
us. France would have received a protecting armor against us, but
nothing would have prevented her from occasionally sending her fleet
with troops to our coast--a plan she had under consideration during
the last war, although she did not execute it--or from landing her
armies with her allies, and entering Germany from there. France would
have received a protecting armor against us, but we should have been
without protection by sea, as long as our navy did not equal the
French. This was one objection, although one of only secondary
importance. The chief reason was that neutrality can only be
maintained when the inhabitants are determined to preserve an
independent and neutral position, and to defend it by force of arms,
if need be. That is what both Belgium and Switzerland have done. As
far as we were concerned in the last war no action on their part would
have been necessary, but it is a fact that both these countries
maintained their neutrality. Both are determined to remain neutral
commonwealths. This supposition would not have been true, in the
immediate future, for the neutrality newly to be established in Alsace
and Lorraine. On the contrary, it is to be expected that the strong
French elements, which are going to survive in the country for a long
while, and whose interests, sympathies, and memories are connected
with France, would have induced the people to unite with France in the
case of another Franco-German war, no matter who their sovereign might
be. The neutrality of Alsace-Lorraine, therefore, would have been
merely a sham, harmful to us and helpful to France. Nothing was left,
therefore, but to bring both these countries with their strong
fortresses completely under German control. It was our purpose to
establish them as a powerful glacis in Germany's defence against
France, and to move the starting point of a possible French attack
several days' marches farther back, if France, having regained her
strength or won allies, should again throw down the gauntlet to us.

The chief obstacle to the realization of this idea, which was to
satisfy the incontestable demands of our safety, was found in the
opposition of the inhabitants themselves, who did not wish to be
separated from France. It is not my duty here to inquire into the
causes which made it possible for a thoroughly German community to
become so deeply attached to a country speaking a different tongue and
possessing a government which was not always kind and considerate. To
a great extent this may have been due to the fact that all those
qualities which distinguish the Germans from the French are found to
such a high degree in Alsace-Lorraine, that the inhabitants of this
country formed--I may say it without fear of seeming presumption--an
aristocracy in France as regards proficiency and exactness. They were
better qualified for service, and more reliable in office. The
substitutes in the army, the gendarmes, and the civil officers were
from Alsace-Lorraine in numbers entirely out of proportion to the
population of these provinces. There were one and one half million
Germans who knew how to make use of these virtues among a people who
have other virtues but who are lacking in these particular ones.
Thanks to their excellence they enjoyed a favored position, which made
them unmindful of many legal iniquities. It is, moreover,
characteristic of the Germans that every tribe lays claim to some kind
of superiority, especially over its immediate neighbors. As long as
the people of Alsace and Lorraine were French, Paris with its splendor
and the grandeur of a united France stood behind them; they could meet
their fellow Germans with the consciousness that Paris was theirs, and
thus find a reason for their sense of exclusive superiority. I do not
wish to discuss further the reasons why everyone attaches himself more
readily to a big political system which gives scope to his abilities,
than to a divided, albeit related, nation, such as existed formerly on
this side of the Rhine, in so far as the Alsatians were concerned. The
fact is that such disinclination existed, and that it is our duty to
overcome it by patience. We have, it seems to me, many means at our
disposal. We Germans are accustomed to govern more benevolently,
sometimes more awkwardly--but in the long tun really more benevolently
and humanely, than the French statesmen. This is a merit of the German
character which will soon appeal to the Alsatian heart and become
manifest. We are, moreover, able to grant the inhabitants a far
greater degree of communal and individual freedom than the French
institutions and traditions ever permitted.

If we watch the present movement in Paris (the Commune), we shall
find, what is true of every movement possessing the least endurance,
that it contains at bottom a grain of sense in spite of all the
unreasonable motives which attach to it, influencing its individual
partisans. Without this no movement can attain even that degree of
force which the Commune exercises at present. This grain of sense--I
do not know how many people believe in it, but surely the most
intelligent and best who at present are fighting against their
countrymen do believe in it--is, to put it briefly, the German
municipal government. If the Commune possessed this, then the better
element of its supporters--I do not say all--would be satisfied. We
must differentiate according to the facts. The militia of the usurpers
consists largely of people who have nothing to lose. There are in a
city of two million inhabitants many so-called "_repris de justice_,"
or as we should say "people under police supervision," who are
spending in Paris the interval between two terms in prison. They are
congregating in the city in considerable numbers and are ready to
serve disorder and pillage wherever it may be. It is these people who
gave to the movement, before we had scrutinized its theoretical aims,
the occasionally prominent character which seemed to threaten
civilization, and which, in the interest of humanity, I now hope has
been overcome. It is, of course, quite possible that it may recur.

In addition to this flotsam, which is found in large masses in every
big city, the militia which I mentioned consists of many adherents of
an international European republic. I have been told the figures with
which the foreign nations are there represented, but I remember only
that almost eight thousand Englishmen are said to be in Paris for the
sake of seeing the realization of their plans. I assume that these
so-called Englishmen are largely Irish Fenians. And then there are
many Belgians, Poles, adherents of Garibaldi, and Italians. They
are people who really do not care much for the "Commune" and French
liberty. They expect something else, and they were, of course, not
meant, when I said that there is a grain of sense in every movement.

The needs and wishes of the large French communities are thoroughly
justified, considering not only their own political past, which grants
them a very moderate amount of freedom, but also the tradition of the
French statesmen who are offering to the cities their very best
possible compromise with municipal freedom. The inhabitants of Alsace
and Lorraine have felt these needs most forcefully owing to their
German character, which is stronger than the French character in its
demands for individual and municipal independence. Personally I am
convinced that we can grant the people of Alsace and Lorraine, at the
very start, a freer scope in self government without endangering the
empire as a whole. Gradually this will be broadened until it
approaches the ideal, when every individual and every community
possesses as much freedom as is at all compatible with the order of
the State as a whole. I consider it the duty of reasonable
statesmanship to try to reach this goal or to come as near to it as
possible. And this is much easier, with our present German
institutions, than it will ever be in France with the French character
and the French centralized system of government. I believe, therefore,
that, with German patience and benevolence, we shall succeed in
winning the men of Alsace and Lorraine--perhaps in a briefer space of
time than people today expect.

But there will always be some residuary elements, rooted with every
personal memory in France and too old to be transplanted, or
necessarily connected with France by material interests. For them
there will be no compensation for the broken French bonds, or at least
none for some time to come. We must, therefore, not permit ourselves
to believe that the goal is in sight, and that Alsace will soon be as
intensely German in feeling as Thuringia. On the other hand, we need
not give up the hope of living to see the realization of our plans
provided we fulfill the time generally allotted to man.

The problem of how to approach this task, gentlemen, will now
primarily concern you. What should be the form of our immediate
procedure? for it should surely not bind us irrevocably for all the
future. I would ask you not to deliberate as if you were to create
something that will hold good for eternity. Do not endeavor to form a
definite idea of the future as you may think it should be after the
lapse of several decades. No man's foresight, I hold, can reach as far
as that. The conditions are abnormal; they had to be so--our entire
task was so--not only as regards the mode of taking possession of
Alsace, but also as regards the present owners. An alliance of
sovereign princes and free cities making a conquest which it is
compelled to keep for its own protection, and which is, therefore,
held in joint possession, is very rare in history. It is in fact, I
believe, unique, if we disregard a few ventures by some Swiss cantons,
which after all did not intend to assimilate the countries which they
had jointly conquered, but rather to manage them as common provinces
in the interest of the conquerors. Considering, therefore, the
abnormal conditions and our abnormal task, we are most especially
called upon to guard against overestimating the perspicacity in human
affairs of even the most far sighted politicians. I for one do not
feel capable of foretelling with certainty what the conditions in
Alsace-Lorraine will be three years hence. To do this one would need
an eye capable of piercing the future. Everything depends on factors
whose development, conduct, and good will are beyond our power of
regulation. What we are proposing to you is merely an attempt to find
the right beginning of a road, the end of which we shall know only
when we have been taught the necessary lessons by actual experience
with the conditions of the future. Let me ask you, therefore, to
follow at first the same empirical road which the governments have
followed, and to take conditions as they are, and not as we may wish
they should be. If one has nothing better to put in the place of
something that one does not entirely like, one had better, I believe,
let matters take their own course, and rest satisfied at first with
conditions as they are. As a matter of fact the allied governments
have jointly taken these countries, while their common possession and
common administration, although constituting an established premise,
may be modified in future by our own necessities and the needs of the
people of Alsace and Lorraine. As regards the definite form which the
proposition may take some day, I sincerely urge you to follow the lead
of the governments and to defer your judgment. If you are bolder than
we are in prejudging what will happen, we shall gladly meet your
wishes, since we must work together. The caution with which I have
announced to you the convictions of the allied governments, and with
which these governments have formed their convictions, is an
indication to you of our willingness to be set right, if you should
offer us a better plan, especially if experience--even a short
experience--should have proved it to be a better plan.

When I announce to you our willingness to work hand in hand with you,
you are, I am sure, equally ready to join us in exercising German
patience and German love toward all, and especially toward our new
countrymen, and in endeavoring to discover, and finally to reach, the
right goal.




WE SHALL NEVER GO TO CANOSSA!

May 14, 1872

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


[Early in 1872 the German government tried to bring about a peaceful
understanding with the ultramontane (i. e., Catholic) party by
courteous advances made to the pope. The cardinal prince
Hohenlohe-Schillings-fuerst was designated as ambassador to His
Holiness the Pope who was asked whether the prince would be
acceptable. The pope replied in the negative, and thereby deeply hurt
the emperor. When the expenses of this post in the budget were under
discussion in the Reichstag, Mr. von Bennigsen expressed the hope that
they would be struck from the budget in future, to which Bismarck
replied as follows:]

I can readily understand how the idea may arise that the expenses for
this embassy have become unnecessary, because there is no longer a
question here of protecting German subjects in those parts. I am,
nevertheless, glad that no motion has been made to abolish this
position, for it would have been unwelcome to the government.

The duties of an embassy are in part, it is true, the protection of
its countrymen, but in part also the mediation of the political
relations which the government of the empire happens to maintain with
the court where the ambassador is accredited. There is no foreign
sovereign authorized by the present state of our legislation to
exercise as extensive rights within the German empire as the pope.
While these rights are almost those of a sovereign, they are not
guarded by any constitutional responsibility. Considerable importance,
therefore, attaches to the kind of diplomatic relations which the
German empire is able to maintain with the head of the Roman Church,
who exerts such a remarkably strong and, for a foreign sovereign,
unusual influence among us. Considering the prevailing tendencies of
the Catholic Church at the present time, I scarcely believe that any
ambassador of the German empire would succeed in inducing His Holiness
the Pope, by the most skilful diplomacy and by persuasion, to modify
the position which he has taken, on principle, in all secular affairs.
There can, of course, be no question here of forceful actions, such as
may occur between two secular powers. In view of the recently
promulgated doctrines of the Catholic Church, I deem it impossible for
any secular power to reach a concordat without effacing itself to a
degree and in a way which, to the German empire at least, is
unacceptable. You need not be afraid, we shall never go to Canossa,
either actually or in spirit.

Nevertheless, I cannot deny that the position of the empire as regards
its religious peace is somewhat shaken. It is not my duty here to
investigate motives, or to ask which one of the two parties is at
fault, but to defend an item of the budget. The united governments of
the German empire are searching eagerly and, in justice to their
Catholic and their Evangelical subjects, diligently for means which
will secure a more agreeable state of affairs than the present, and
which will do so as peacefully as possible, and without unnecessarily
disturbing the religious relations of the empire. I doubt whether this
can be done except by legislation--I mean general and national
legislation, for which the governments will have to ask for the
assistance of the Reichstag.

But you will agree with me that this legislation should proceed with
great moderation and delicacy, and with due regard for every one's
freedom of conscience. The governments must be careful to avoid
anything which will render their task more difficult, such as errors
of information or ignorance of the proper forms, and must strive to
readjust their internal peace with tender regard for religious
sensibilities, even those which are not shared by all. In this
connection it is, of course, necessary that the Holy See should be at
all times well informed of the intentions of the German governments,
certainly more so than has been the case heretofore. One of the chief
causes of the present disturbance in religious matters is, I believe,
the misinformation which has reached His Holiness the Pope concerning
the conditions in Germany and the intentions of the German
governments, and which has been due either to excitement or to the
wrong color given it by evil motives.

I had hoped that the choice of an ambassador, who possessed the full
confidence of both parties, would be welcome in Rome, of a man who
loves truth and deserves confidence, and whose character and bearing
are conciliatory; in short, of a man like the well known prince of the
Church whom His Majesty the Emperor had appointed to this post. I had
hoped that this choice would be regarded as a pledge of our peaceful
attitude and willingness to make advances, and would serve as a bridge
to a mutual understanding. I had hoped that it would give the
assurance that we should never ask anything of His Holiness the Pope
but what a prince of the Church, allied to him by the most intimate
ties, could present and convey to him, and that the forms would always
be in keeping with those which characterize the intercourse of one
prince of the Church with another. This would have avoided all
unnecessary friction in a case which is difficult enough.

Many fears were expressed both by the Protestants and the liberals
concerning this appointment, based, I believe, on an erroneous
interpretation of the position of an envoy or an ambassador. An
ambassador really is a vessel which reaches its full value only when
it is filled with the instructions of its master. In such delicate
matters as these, however, it is desirable that the vessel should be
agreeable and acceptable, and that it should be incapable of
containing poisons or potions without immediately revealing them, as
people used to say of ancient crystals. Unfortunately, and for
reasons which have not yet been given, these intentions of the
Imperial Government could not be carried out because they met with a
curt refusal on the part of the Holy See. I can truly say that such a
case does not often happen. When a sovereign has made his choice of an
ambassador, it is customary for him to inquire, from courtesy, whether
the ambassador will be _persona grata_ with the sovereign to whom he
will be accredited, but the receipt of a negative reply is most
unusual, for it necessitates the repeal of an appointment already
made. What the emperor can do toward the appointment he does before
asking the question. In other words he has made the appointment before
he asks the question. The negative reply, therefore, is a demand that
a step once taken shall be repealed, a declaration which says: "You
have made a wrong choice!"

I have been foreign minister for about ten years, and have been
engaged in questions of higher diplomacy for twenty-one years, and I
am not mistaken, I believe, when I say that this is the first and only
case in my experience where such a question has been answered in the
negative. I have known more than once of doubts expressed concerning
ambassadors who had served for some time, and of courts confidentially
conveying their wish that a change be made in the person accredited to
them. In every case, however, the court had had the experience of
diplomatic relations with the particular person through several years,
and was convinced that he was not qualified to safeguard the good
relations which it wished to maintain with us. It explained,
therefore, in a most confidential and delicate way, generally by means
of an autograph letter from one sovereign to the other, why it had
taken this step. Such requests are rarely, if ever, made
unconditionally. In recent times, as you know, a few cases have
occurred, one of which at least was a very flagrant one, when the
recall of an ambassador was demanded; but as I have said, I do not
remember another instance where an ambassador was refused when he was
to be newly appointed. My regrets at this refusal are exceedingly
keen, but I am not justified in translating these regrets into a
feeling of vexation, for in justice to our Catholic fellow-citizens
the Government should not relax its exertions in trying to find ways
and means of regulating the dividing line between the spiritual and
the secular powers. Such a division is absolutely necessary in the
interest of our internal peace, and it should be brought about in the
most delicate manner, and in a way which will give least offence to
either confession. I shall, therefore, not be discouraged by what has
happened, but shall continue to use my influence with his Majesty the
Emperor to the end that a representative of the empire may be found
for Rome who enjoys the confidence of both powers, if not in equal
measure, at least in measure sufficient for his duties. I cannot, of
course, deny that our task has been rendered decidedly more difficult
by what has happened.

       *       *       *       *       *




BISMARCK AS THE "HONEST BROKER"

February 19, 1878

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


[The complete victory which Russia had won in the Turkish war had
greatly disturbed the European powers, and in Germany much
apprehension was felt for the safety of Austria. England, too, was
much concerned, for she had been displeased at Bismarck's refusal to
intervene in the war. German public opinion was aroused, and the
representative von Bennigsen joined with four colleagues in the
following interpellation, which they made in the Reichstag on February
8: "Is the Chancellor willing to inform the Reichstag of the political
situation in the Orient, and of the position which the German empire
has taken or intends to take in regard to it?" The interpellation was
put on the calendar of February 19, and while Bismarck regarded it as
ill timed he was ready to reply, lest his silence be misunderstood.]

I first ask the indulgence of the Reichstag if I should not be able to
stand while I say everything I have to say. I am not so well as I
look.

With regard to the question, I cannot deny that I was in doubt, when I
first saw the interpellation, not whether I would answer it--for its
form gives me the right to answer it with a "No"--but whether I should
not have to say "No." Do not assume, gentlemen, as one generally does
in such cases, that the reason was because I had to suppress a good
deal which would compromise our policy or restrict it in an
undesirable manner. On the contrary, I have hardly enough to say in
addition to what is already generally known to induce me, of my own
initiative, to make a statement to the representatives of the empire.

The discussions in the English parliament have almost exhaustively
answered one part of the question "What is the political
situation in the Orient at the present time?" If, in spite of the
paucity of the information with which I am addressing you, I do not
say "No" it is because I fear the inference that I have much to
suppress, and because such an inference is always disquieting,
especially when it is coupled with the desire to make capital out of
my silence. I am the more pleased to address you with complete
frankness, because the interpellation and the way it was introduced
have given me the impression that if the German policy wishes to
correspond to the majority opinion of the Reichstag--in so far as I
may consider the recent comments an expression of this opinion--it has
only to continue along the path which it has thus far followed.

Regarding the present situation, I suspect that you already know
everything I can say about it. You know from the press and the English
parliamentary debates that at present one can say in the Orient, "The
arms are idle, and the storms of war are hushed"--God grant, for a
long while! The armistice which has been concluded grants the Russian
army an unbroken position from the Danube to the sea of Marmora, with
a base which it lacked formerly. I mean the fortresses near the
Danube. This fact, which is nowhere denied, seems to me to be the most
important of the whole armistice. There is excluded from the Russian
occupation, if I begin in the north, a quadrangular piece, with Varna
and Shumla, extending along the shore of the Black Sea to Battshila in
the north, and not quite to the Bay of Burgas in the south, thence
inland to about Rasgrad--a pretty exact quadrangle. Constantinople and
the peninsula of Gallipoli are also excluded, the very two points on
whose independence of Russia several interested powers are laying much
stress.

Certain peace preliminaries preceded the armistice, which at the risk
of telling you things you already know I shall nevertheless review
because they will answer the question whether German interests are at
stake in any one of them. There is, in the first place, the
establishment of Bulgaria "within the limits determined by the
majority of the Bulgarian population, and not smaller than indicated
by the conference of Constantinople."

The difference between these two designations is not of sufficient
importance, I believe, to constitute a reasonable danger to the peace
of Europe. The ethnographical information which we possess is, it is
true, not authentic nor without gaps, and the best we know has been
supplied by Germans in the maps by Kiepert. According to this the
national frontier--the frontier of the Bulgarian nationality--runs
down in the west just beyond Salonica, along a line where the races
are rather unmixed, and in the east with an increased admixture of
Turkish elements in the direction of the Black Sea. The frontier of
the conference, on the other hand, so far as it is possible to trace
it, runs--beginning at the sea--considerably farther north than the
national frontier, and two separate Bulgarian provinces are
contemplated. In the west it reaches somewhat farther than the
national frontier into the districts which have an admixture of
Albanian races. The constitution of Bulgaria according to the
preliminaries would be similar to that of Servia before the evacuation
of Belgrade and other strongholds; for this first paragraph of the
preliminaries closes with these words, "The Ottoman army will not
remain there," and, in parenthesis, "barring a few places subject to
mutual agreement."

It will, therefore, devolve upon the powers who signed the Paris
treaty of 1856 to discuss and define those sentences which were left
open and indefinite there, and to come to an agreement with Russia, if
this is possible, as I hope it may be.

Then there follow "The Independence of Montenegro * * * also of
Roumania and Servia;" and directions concerning Bosnia and
Herzegovina, whose reforms "should be analogous."

None of these things, I am convinced, touches the interests of Germany
to such an extent that we should be justified in jeopardizing for
its sake our relations with our neighbors--our friends. We may accept
one or the other definition without loss in our spheres of interest.

Then there follows, under paragraph five, a stipulation concerning the
indemnity of war, which leaves the question open, whether "it should
be pecuniary or territorial." This is a matter which concerns the
belligerents in so far as it may be pecuniary, and the signers of the
Paris treaty of peace in so far as it may be territorial, and will
have to be settled by their consent.

Then there follows the provision concerning the Dardanelles. This, I
believe, has given cause for much more anxiety in the world than is
justified by the actual possibilities of any probable outcome. "His
Majesty the Sultan declares his willingness to come to an agreement
with His Majesty the Emperor of Russia with a view of safeguarding the
rights and interests of Russia in the straits of the Bosphorus and the
Dardanelles."

The question of the Dardanelles is freighted with importance when it
means placing the control there--the key of the Bosphorus--in other
hands than heretofore, and deciding whether Russia shall be able to
close and to open the Dardanelles at will. All other stipulations can
have reference only to times of peace, for in the more important times
of war the question will always hinge on whether the possessor of the
key to the Dardanelles is in alliance with or dependent on those
living outside or inside the Dardanelles, on Russia or on the
opponents of Russia. In case of war, I believe no stipulation which
may be made will have the importance which people fear, provided the
Dardanelles are in times of peace in the possession of people who are
fully independent of Russia. It may be of interest for the people on
the shores of the Mediterranean to know whether the Russian Black Sea
fleet shall be permitted in times of peace to sail through the
Dardanelles and to show itself on their shores. If, however, it shows
itself there, I should infer Peace, like good weather from the
barometer; when it withdraws and carefully secludes itself, then it
is time to suspect that clouds are gathering. The question, therefore,
whether men-of-war shall be permitted to pass the Dardanelles in times
of peace, although by no means unimportant, is to my way of thinking
not sufficiently important to inflame Europe.

The question whether the possession of the Dardanelles shall be
shifted to other owners is entirely different. It constitutes,
however, a conjectural eventuality which the present situation does
not contemplate, I believe, and on which I shall, therefore, express
no opinion. My only concern at present is to give an approximate
definition, as best I can, of those weighty interests which may lead
to another war after the Russian-Turkish war has been actually
concluded. For this reason I deem it important to affirm that the
stipulations of peace concerning the Dardanelles mean less for the
men-of-war than for the merchant marine. The preeminent German
interest in the Orient demands that the waterways, the straits as well
as the Danube from the Black Sea upward, shall continue as free and
open to us as they have been until now. I rather infer that we shall
surely obtain this, for as a matter of fact it has never even been
questioned. An official communication on this point which I have
received from St. Petersburg simply refers to the existing
stipulations of the treaty of Paris. Nothing is jeopardized; our
position can be no worse and no better than it has been.

The interest which we have in a better government of a Christian
nation and in the safeguards against those acts of violence which have
occurred at times, under Turkish rule, is taken care of by the
agreements mentioned above. And this is the second interest which
Germany has in this whole affair. It is less direct, but is dictated
by humanity.

The rest of the preliminary stipulations consists--I will not say of
phrases, for it is an official paper--but it has no bearing on our
present discussion.

With these explanations I have answered to the best of my ability the
first part of the interpellation concerning the present state of
affairs in the Orient, and I fear, gentlemen, that I have said nothing
new to any one of you.

The other parts of the question refer to the position which Germany
has taken or intends to take in view of the now existing conditions
and innovations.

As to the position which we have already taken I cannot now give you
any information, for officially we have been in possession of the
papers to which I have referred only a very short while, I may say
literally only since this very morning. What we knew beforehand was in
general agreement with these papers, but not of a nature to make
official steps possible. It consisted of private communications for
which we were indebted to the courtesy of other governments.

Official steps, therefore, have not yet been taken, and would be
premature in view of the conference, which I hope is at hand. All this
information will then be available and we shall be in a position to
exchange opinions concerning these matters. Any alterations,
therefore, of the stipulations of 1856 will have to be sanctioned. If
they should not be, the result would not necessarily be another war,
but a condition of affairs which all the powers of Europe, I think,
have good cause to avoid. I am almost tempted to call it making a
morass of matters. Let us assume that no agreement about what has to
be done can be reached in the conference, and that the powers who have
a chief interest in opposing the Russian stipulations should say: "At
the present moment it does not suit us to go to war about these
questions, but we are not in accord with your agreements, and we
reserve our decision"--would not that establish a condition of affairs
which cannot be agreeable even to Russia? The Russian policy rightly
says, "We are not desirous of exposing ourselves to the necessity of a
Turkish campaign every ten or twenty years, for it is exhausting,
strenuous, and expensive." But the Russian policy, on the other
hand, cannot wish to substitute for this Turkish danger an
English-Austrian entanglement recurring every ten or twenty years. It
is, therefore, my opinion that Russia is equally interested with the
other powers in reaching an agreement now, and in not deferring it to
some future and perhaps less convenient time.

That Russia could possibly wish to force the other powers by war to
sanction the changes which she deems necessary I consider to be beyond
the realm of probability. If she could not obtain the sanction of the
other signers of the clauses of 1856, she would, I suppose, be
satisfied with the thought "_Beati possidentes_" (happy are the
possessors). Then the question would arise whether those who are
dissatisfied with the Russian agreements and have real and material
interests at stake, would be ready to wage war in order to force
Russia to diminish her demands or to give up some of them. If they
should be successful in forcing Russia to give up more than she could
bear, they would do so at the risk of leaving in Russia, when the
troops come home, a feeling similar to that in Prussia after the
treaties of 1815, a lingering feeling that matters really are not
settled, and that another attempt will have to be made.

If this could be achieved by a war, one would have to regard, as the
aim of this war, the expulsion of Russia from the Bulgarian
strongholds which she is at present occupying, and from her position
which no doubt is threatening Constantinople--although she has given
no indication of a wish to occupy this city. Those who would have
accomplished this by a victorious war, would then have to shoulder the
responsibility of deciding what should be done with these countries of
European Turkey. That they should be willing simply to reinstate the
Turkish rule in its entirety after everything said and determined in
the conference, is, I believe, very improbable. They would, therefore,
be obliged to make some kind of a disposition, which could not differ
very much in principle from what is being proposed now. It might
differ in geographical extent and in the degree of independence, but I
do not believe that Austria-Hungary, for instance, the nearest
neighbor, would be ready to accept the entire heritage of the present
Russian conquest, and be responsible for the future of these Slavic
countries, either by incorporating them in the state of Hungary or
establishing them as dependencies. I do not believe that this is an
end which Austria can much desire in view of her own Slavic subjects.
She cannot wish to be the editor of the future in the Balkan
peninsula, as she would have to be if she won a victory.

I mention all these eventualities, in which I place no faith, for the
sake of proving how slight the reasonable probability of a European
war appears to be. It is not reasonably probable that the greater or
lesser extent of a tributary State--unless conditions were altogether
unbearable--should induce two neighboring and friendly powers to start
a destructive European war in cold blood! The blood will be cooler, I
assure you, when we have at last come together in a conference.

It was to meet these eventualities that the idea of a conference was
first proposed by the government of Austria-Hungary. We were from the
start ready to accept it, and we were almost the first to do so.
Concerning the selection of a place where the conference should be
held, difficulties arose which I consider out of proportion to the
significance of the whole matter. But even in this direction we have
raised no objections and declared ourselves satisfied with the places
which have been mentioned. They were Vienna, Brussels, Baden-Baden,
Wiesbaden, Wildbad, a place in Switzerland--I should, however, say
Wildbad was mentioned by no one but itself. Stuttgart was also
mentioned. Any of these places would have been agreeable to us. It now
seems--if I am correctly informed, and the decision must be made in a
few days--that the choice will fall on Baden-Baden. Our interest,
which is shared by those powers with whom we have corresponded, is the
despatch of the conference irrespective of the choice of a place,
which is for us of little consequence. As regards places in Germany I
have expressed no opinion beyond this, that on German soil the
presidency would have to be German. This view has nowhere been
opposed. After the general acceptance of this principle it will depend
on the men sent to attend this conference whether for reasons of
expediency it must be adhered to. Personally I believe the conference
is assured, and I expect that it will take place in the first half of
next March. It would be desirable that the conference should take
place sooner--and the uncertainty concerning it be ended. But before
the powers join in a conference, they naturally desire an exchange of
opinion the one with the other; and the connections with the seat of
war are really very slow. The delay of the communications which
reached us was, and still is, explained by the delay with which news
comes from the seat of war. The suspicion which has for some time been
felt in the press that this delay was intentional becomes unfounded
when one realizes that the advance of the Russian army following
January 30 was in consequence of the stipulations of the armistice,
and did not constitute an advantage taken of an opportune moment. The
boundaries within which the Russian army is stationed today are the
lines of demarcation expressly mentioned in the armistice. I do not
believe in any intentional delay from anywhere; on the contrary, I
have confidence in the good intentions everywhere to send
representatives to the conference speedily. We certainly shall do our
part to the best of our ability.

I now come to the most difficult part--excuse me if I continue for the
present seated--I come to the most difficult part of the task set me,
an explanation, so far as this is possible, of the position which
Germany is to take in the conference. In this connection you will not
expect from me anything but general indications of our policy. Its
programme Mr. von Bennigsen has developed before you clearly and
comprehensively, almost more so than nay strength at the present
moment permits me to do.

When from many quarters the demand has been made upon us--to be sure
from no government, but only from voices in the press and other well
meaning advisers--that e should define our policy from the start and
force it on the other governments in some form, I must say that this
seems to me to be newspaper diplomacy rather than the diplomacy of a
statesman.

Let me explain to you at once the difficulty and impossibility of such
a course. If we did express a definite programme, which we should be
obliged to follow when we had announced it officially and openly not
only before you, but also before the whole of Europe, should we not
then place a premium on the contentiousness of all those who
considered our programme to be not favorable to themselves!

We should also render the part of mediation in the conference, which I
deem very important, almost impossible for ourselves, because
everybody with the _menu_ of the German policy in his hand could say
to us: "German mediation can go just so far; it can do this, and this
it cannot do." It is quite possible that the free hand which Germany
has preserved, and the uncertainty of Germany's decisions have not
been without influence on the preservation of peace thus far. If you
play the German card, laying it on the table, everybody knows how to
adapt himself to it or how to avoid it. Such a course is impracticable
if you wish to preserve peace. The adjustment of peace does not, I
believe, consist in our playing the arbiter, saying: "It must be thus,
and the weight of the German empire stands behind it." Peace is
brought about, I think, more modestly. Without straining the simile
which I am quoting from our everyday life, it partakes more of the
behavior of the honest broker, who really wishes to bring about a
bargain.

As long as we follow this policy we are in the position to save a
power which has secret wishes from the embarrassment of meeting with a
refusal or an unpleasant reply from its--let me say, congressional
opponent. If we are equally friendly with both, we can first sound one
and then say to the other: "Do not do that, try to arrange matters in
this way." These are helps in business which should be highly
esteemed. I have an experience of many years in such matters, and it
has been brought home to me often, that when two are alone the thread
drops more frequently and is not picked up because of false shame. The
moment when it could be picked up passes, people separate in silence,
and are annoyed. If, however, a third person is present, he can pick
up the thread without much ado, and bring the two together again when
they have parted. This is the function of which I am thinking and
which corresponds to the amicable relations in which we are living
with our friendly neighbors along our extensive borders. It is
moreover in keeping with the union among the three imperial courts
which has existed for five years, and the intimacy which we enjoy with
England, another one of the powers chiefly concerned in this matter.
As regards England we are in the fortunate position of not having any
conflicting interests, except perhaps some trade rivalries or passing
annoyances. These latter cannot be avoided, but there is absolutely
nothing which could drive two industrious and peace-loving nations to
war. I happily believe, therefore, that we may be the mediator between
England and Russia, just as I know we are between Austria and Russia,
if they should not be able to agree of their own accord.

The three-emperor-pact, if one wishes to call it such, while it is
generally called a treaty, is not based on any written obligations,
and no one of the three emperors can be voted down by the other two.
It is based on the personal sympathy among the three rulers, on the
personal confidence which they have in one another, and on the
personal relations which for many years have existed among the leading
ministers of all three empires.

We have always avoided forming a majority of two against one when
there was a difference of opinion between Austria and Russia, and we
have never definitely taken the part of one of them, even if our own
desires drew us more strongly in that direction. We have refrained
from this for fear that the tie might not be sufficiently strong
after all. It surely cannot be so strong that it could induce one of
these great powers to disregard its own incontestably national
interests for the sake of being obliging. That is a sacrifice which no
great power makes _pour les beaux yeux_ of another. Such a sacrifice
it makes only when arguments are replaced by hints of strength. Then
it may happen that the great power will say: "I hate to make this
concession, but I hate even worse to go to war with so strong a power
as Germany. Still I will remember this and make a note of it." That is
about the way in which such things are received. And this leads me to
the necessity of vigorously opposing all exaggerated demands made on
Germany's mediation. Let me declare that they are out of the question
so long as I have the honor of being the adviser of His Majesty.

I know that in saying this I am disappointing a great many
expectations raised in connection with today's disclosures, but I am
not of the opinion that we should go the road of Napoleon and try to
be, if not the arbiter, at least the schoolmaster of Europe.

I have here a clipping given me today from the _Allgemeine Zeitung,_
which contains a noteworthy article entitled "The Policy of Germany in
the Decisive Hour." This article demands as necessary the admission of
a third power to the alliance of England and Austria. That means, we
shall take part with England and Austria and deprive Russia of the
credit of voluntarily making the concessions which she may be willing
to grant in the interest of European peace. I do not doubt that Russia
will sacrifice for the sake of peace in Europe whatever her sense of
nationality and her own interests and those of eighty million Russians
permit. It is really superfluous to say this. And now please assume
that we took the advice of the gentlemen who think that we should play
the part of an arbiter--I have here another article from a Berlin
paper, called "Germany's Part as Arbiter"--and that we declared to
Russia in some polite and amicable way: "We have been friends, it is
true, for hundreds of years, Russia has ever been true-blue to us when
we were in difficulties, but now things are different. In the
interest of Europe, as the policemen of Europe, as a kind of a justice
of the peace, we must do as we are requested, we can no longer resist
the demands of Europe ...," what would be the result?

There are considerable numbers of Russians who do not love Germany,
and who fortunately are not at the helm now, but who would not be
unhappy if they were called there. What would they say to their
compatriots, they and perhaps other statesmen who at present are not
yet avowedly hostile to us? They would say: "With what sacrifices of
blood and men and money have we not won the position which for
centuries has been the ideal of Russian ambition! We could have
maintained it against those opponents who may have a real interest in
combating it. It was not Austria, with whom we have lived on
moderately intimate terms for some time, it was not England, who
possesses openly acknowledged counter-interests to ours--no, it was
our intimate friend Germany who drew, behind our back, not her sword
but a dagger, although we might have expected from her services in
return for services rendered, and although she has _no_ interests in
the Orient."

Those approximately would be the phrases, and this the theme which we
should hear in Russia. This picture which I have drawn in exaggerated
lines--but the Russian orators also exaggerate--corresponds with the
truth. We, however, shall never assume the responsibility of
sacrificing the certain friendship of a great nation, tested through
generations, to the momentary temptation of playing the judge in
Europe.

To jeopardize the friendship which fortunately binds us to most
European states and at the present moment to all,--for the parties to
whom it is an eyesore are not in power,--to jeopardize, I say, this
friendship with one friend in order to oblige another, when we as
Germans have no direct interests, and to buy the peace of others at
the cost of our own, or, to speak with college boys, to substitute at
a duel--such things one may do when one risks only one's own life, but
I cannot do them when I have to counsel His Majesty the Emperor as
regards the policy of a great State of forty million people in the
heart of Europe. From this tribune I therefore take the liberty of
saying a very definite "No" to all such imputations and suggestions. I
shall under no condition do anything of the kind; and no government,
none of those primarily interested, has made any such demands.
Germany, as the last speaker remarked, has grown to new
responsibilities as it has grown stronger. But even if we are able to
throw a large armed force into the scales of European policies, I do
not consider anybody justified in advising the emperor and the princes
(who would have to discuss the matter in the Bundesrat if we wished to
wage an offensive war) to make an appeal to the proven readiness of
the nation to offer blood and money for a war. The only war which I am
ready to counsel to the emperor is one to protect our independence
abroad and our union at home, or to defend those of our interests
which are so clear that we are supported, if we insist on them, not
only by the unanimous vote of the Bundesrat, which is necessary, but
also by the undivided enthusiasm of the whole German nation.




SALUS PUBLICA--BISMARCK'S ONLY LODE-STAR

February 24, 1881

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


[On February 24, 1881, the budget of the empire for the ensuing year
was under discussion. The representative, Mr. Richter, made use of
this opportunity to attack the home-politics of the chancellor in
their entirety. He felt great concern about the growing power of the
chancellor, and called upon his liberal colleagues to stem the tide,
and to curb the power of the chancellor. "Only if this is done will
the great gifts which distinguish the chancellor continue to be
fruitful for Germany. If this is not possible, and if we go on as we
have been going, the chancellor will ruin himself, and he will ruin
the country." Prince Bismarck replied:]

The remarks of the previous speaker have hardly touched on the subject
under discussion, the budget, since I have been here. Consequently I
am excused, I suppose, from adding anything to what the secretary of
the treasury has said. The previous speaker has mainly concerned
himself with a critique of my personality. The number of times the
word "chancellor" appears in his speech in proportion to the total
number of words sufficiently justifies my assertion. Well, I do not
know what is the use of this critique, if not to instruct me and to
educate me. But I am in my sixty-sixth year and in the twentieth of my
tenure of office--there will not be much in me to improve. You will
have to use me up as I am or push me aside. I, on my part, have never
made the attempt to educate the Honorable Mr. Richter--I do not think
I am called upon to do it; nor have I endeavored to force him from his
sphere of activity--I should not have the means of doing this, nor do
I wish it. But I believe he in his turn will lack the means of forcing
me from my position. Whether he will be able to compress me and
circumscribe me, as toward the end of his speech he said was
desirable, I do not know. I am, however, truly grateful to him for the
concern he expressed about my health. Unfortunately, if I wish to do
my duty, I cannot take such care of myself as Mr. Richter deems
desirable--I shall have to risk my health.

When he said that every evil troubling us, even the rate of interest
and I know not what else, was based on the uncertainty of our
conditions, and when he quoted the word of a colleague of a "hopeless
confusion"--well, gentlemen, then I must repeat what I have said
elsewhere and in the hearing of the Honorable Mr. Richter: Make a
comparison and look about you in other countries! If our conditions
with their ordered activities and their assured future at home and
abroad constitute a "hopeless confusion," how shall we characterize
the conditions of many another country? I can see in no European
country a condition of safety and an assured outlook into the future
similar to that prevailing in the German empire. I have already said
on the former occasion that my position as minister of foreign affairs
made it impossible for me to be specific. But everyone who will follow
my remarks with a map in his hand, and a knowledge of history during
the past twenty years, will have to say that I am right. I do not know
what is the use of these exaggerations of a "hopeless confusion" and
"a lack of assurance and uncertainty of the future." Nobody in the
country believes it; and isn't that the chief thing? The people in the
country know perfectly well how they are off, and all who do not fare
as they wish are pleased to blame the government for it. When a
candidate comes up for election, and says to them: "The government--or
to quote the previous speaker--the chancellor is to blame for all
this," he may find many credulous people, but in the majority he will
find people who will say: "The chancellor surely has his faults and
drawbacks"--but most people will not be convinced that I am to blame
for everything. I am faring in this respect like Emperor Napoleon
twelve years and more ago, who was accused, not in his own country
but in Europe, as the cause of all evils, from Tartary to Spain, and
he was not nearly so bad a creature as he was said to be--may I not
also claim the benefit of this doubt with Mr. Richter? I, too, am not
so bad as I am painted. His attack upon me, moreover, if he will stop
to reflect, is largely directed not against me personally, or against
that part of my activities in which I possess freedom of action,
no--it is directed primarily against the constitution of the German
empire. The constitution of the German empire knows no other
responsible officer but the chancellor. I might assert that my
constitutional responsibility does not go nearly so far as the one
actually placed upon me; and I might take things a little easier and
say: "I have nothing to do with the home policies of the empire, for I
am only the emperor's executive officer." But I will not do this. From
the beginning I have assumed the responsibility, and also the
obligation, of defending the decisions of the Bundesrat, provided I
can reconcile them with my responsibility, even if I find myself there
in the minority. This responsibility I will take as public opinion
understands it. Nobody, however, can be held responsible for acts and
resolves not his own. No responsibility can be foisted on anybody--nor
did the imperial constitution intend to do this--for acts which do not
depend on his own free will, and into which he can be forced. The
responsible person, therefore, must enjoy complete independence and
freedom within the sphere of his responsibility. If he does not, all
responsibility ceases; and _I_ do not know on whose shoulders it will
rest--so far as the empire is concerned it has disappeared completely.

As long, therefore, as Mr. Richter does not change the constitution,
you yourselves must insist on having a chancellor who is absolutely
free and independent in his decisions, for no man can hold him
responsible for those things which he is unable to decide for himself,
freely and independently. Mr. Richter has expressed the wish of
limiting in several directions this constitutional independence of the
chancellor. In the first place, in one direction where it is already
limited and where he wishes to have it disappear entirely. This
concerns his responsibility for those acts in our political life which
the constitution assigns to the emperor in connection with the
decisions of the Bundesrat and the Reichstag. There can be no doubt
that these acts include also those which have to be performed, as the
constitution says, in the name of the emperor; the submission, for
instance, to the Reichstag of a resolve of the Bundesrat. Mr. Richter
has correctly quoted an incident, mentioned in the _North German
Gazette_, concerning the resolves on some collected cases of
accidents, which I considered it incompatible with my responsibility
to submit to you in the name of the emperor. I, therefore, did not do
it. One may well ask: What has the constitutional law to say on this
point? Was I justified in not acting? Was the emperor justified in not
acting! Or was His Majesty the Emperor bound by the constitution to
submit to you the resolve of the Bundesrat?

At the time when the constitution was being drawn I once discussed
this point with an astute jurist, who had long been and still is with
us in an important position--Mr. Pape. He said to me: "The emperor has
no veto." I replied, "Constitutionally he has not, but suppose a
measure is expected of him which he thinks he should not take, and
against which his then chancellor warns him, saying: I cannot advocate
it, and I shall not countersign it. Well, in this case is the emperor
obliged to look for another chancellor, and to dismiss him who opposes
the measure? Is he obliged to accept anyone as chancellor, suggested
perhaps by the other party? Will he look for a second or third
chancellor, both of whom may say: We cannot assume the responsibility
for this bill by submitting it to the Reichstag?" Hereupon Mr. Pape
replied: "You are right, the emperor possesses an indirect but actual
veto."

I do not even go so far, for none of these cases are pressed to their
logical conclusion. Let us, however, take a concrete case, which will
make these matters perfectly clear. Suppose the majority of the
Bundesrat had passed a bill with the approval of Prussia, but Prussia
had made the mistake of not calling upon the Prussian minister
designated to instruct the Prussian delegation in the Bundesrat; or
even--Prussia had consented and the minister had been present, and had
been in the minority also in the Prussian cabinet, and the emperor had
directed him to submit the resolves of the Bundesrat to the Reichstag,
to which the chancellor had replied: "I do not believe that I can
answer for this, or that my responsibility permits me to do it." Then
there results the possibility of the emperor's saying: "If that is so,
I must look for another chancellor." This did not happen; another
thing happened, namely--the resolve was not submitted. The ensuing
situation is this, that the persons entitled to complain--if there are
any--constitute the majority of the governments who passed this
resolve in the Bundesrat.

This points the proper way, and I believe in weighty questions it
would be taken to the end. In the present case if one were to make a
test of what is really right, the majority of the Bundesrat would have
to represent to His Majesty as follows: "We have passed a resolve, and
our constitutional right demands that the emperor submit it to the
Reichstag. We demand that this be done." The emperor might reply: "I
will not investigate the law of the case to see whether I am obliged
to act. I will assume that I am, and I do not refuse to act, but for
the present I have no chancellor willing to countersign the order." In
such a case can the chancellor be ordered to sign, because he shall
and must do so? Can he be threatened with imprisonment as is done with
recalcitrant witnesses? What would then become of his responsibility!
If the chancellor continues to refuse, the majority of the Bundesrat
may say to the emperor: "You must dismiss this chancellor and get
another. We insist that our resolve be laid before the Reichstag. If
this is not done, the constitution will be broken." Well, gentlemen,
why not wait and see whether this will happen, and whether those
entitled to complain will take this course, and if they do, whether
His Majesty the Emperor will not be ready to say after all: "All
right, I shall try to find a chancellor who is willing to submit the
resolve."

I shall, of course, not enter here upon a discussion of the reasons
which determined me in this concrete case. They were reasons not found
in shut-in offices, but in God's open country, and they induced me to
deem the enactment of this law undesirable. I did not possess the
certainty that a majority of this house would have seen the
impossibility of carrying out the law, but I did not wish to expose
the country to the danger--it was a danger according to my way of
thinking--of getting this law. The only moment when I could guard
against this danger was when the law was to be submitted in the name
of the emperor. The constitutional remedy against such a use of an
opportunity is a change of chancellors. I can see no other remedy.

Mentioning the Reichstag brings me to my cooeperation with it. Mr.
Richter's ideal is, it seems to me, a bashful, cautious chancellor who
throws out careful feelers whether he may offend here, if he does
this, or offend there--one who does not wait for a final vote of the
Reichstag, but rushes home excitedly, as I have often seen my
colleagues do, exclaiming: "Oh God, the law is lost, this man and that
man are opposed to it"--and three weeks later the law has Passed in
spite of them. I cannot enter upon such a policy of conjecture and
proof by inference of what may be determined in the Reichstag when the
tendency of those who talk the loudest, but who are not always the
most influential, happens to be against a bill; and if Mr. Richter
should succeed in procuring such a timid chancellor anxiously listening
for every hint, my advice to you, gentlemen, is to tolerate him in
this position as briefly as possible. For if a leading minister--and
such he is in the empire--has no opinion his own, and must hear from
others what he should believe and do, then you do not need him at
all. What Mr. Richter proposes is the government of the State by the
Reichstag, the government of the State by itself, as it has been
called in France, by its own chosen representatives. A chancellor, a
minister who does not dare to submit a bill of the ultimate success of
which he is not absolutely sure is no minister. He might as well move
among you with the white sign (of a page) inquiring whether you will
permit him to submit this or that. For such a part I am not made!

To what extent I am ready to submit to the Bundesrat I have already
tried to explain, and I have closed with these words "_sub judice lis
est_" (the case is still in court). I need not say now whether my
constitutional conviction would make me yield to the majority of the
Bundesrat, if they should demand it. This question has not yet arisen;
the majority has not demanded it. Whether I shall maintain my
opposition, if the demand is pressed, to this question I reply: _non
liquet_ (it is a moot-point); we shall see what happens. Such things
are eventually decided by the old law which the Romans were astonished
to find with the Germans, and of which they said, "They call it
usage." Such a usage has not yet developed in connection with the
interpretation of our constitution.

Finally, Mr. Richter has found in me too much independence in a third
direction. He has been pleased to believe--if I understood him
correctly--that the law concerning ministerial deputies would give me
the welcome opportunity of withdrawing to a more ornamental position,
to use his own expression, and to leave the duties and activities to
those who are deputed to represent me, establishing thus also in the
imperial government the famous arcanum of decisions by majorities. But
here, too, I must say that Mr. Richter will have to change the
constitution before I shall be able to subordinate myself to the
highest officials of the empire. How can I appear before you saying:
"Well, gentlemen, I am very doubtful whether I can advocate this
measure, but the secretary in whose bureau it was worked out thinks
so, and following Mr. Richter's advice I have yielded to his
authority. If you do not adopt this measure you will gratify me, but
not the secretary?" This, too, would be an altogether impossible
position, although Mr. Richter is expecting it of me.

The chiefs of the bureaus are not responsible for me, except in so far
as the law of deputies substitutes them for me but I am responsible
for their actions. I have to guarantee that they are statesmen in
general accord with the policy of the empire which I am willing to
advocate. If I miss this accord in one of them, not once but
continually and on principle, then it is my duty to tell him: "We
cannot remain in office, both of us." This, too, is a task which I
have never shirked when it has presented itself. It is simply my duty.
I have never had need of such artful machinations and pyrotechnics as
people claimed I instituted very wilfully last week. You need not
think that ministers stick to their posts like many other high
officials, whom not even the broadest hints can convince that their
time has come. I have not yet found a minister in these days who had
not to be persuaded every now and then to continue a little longer in
office, and not to be discouraged by his hard and exhausting labor,
due to the simultaneous friction with three parliamentary bodies--a
House of Representatives, a House of Lords, and a Reichstag--where one
relieves another, or two, without waiting to be relieved, are in
session at the same time. And when the fight is over and the
representatives have returned home well satisfied, then a bureau chief
comes to the minister on the day after, saying: "It is time now to get
the recommendations for the next session into shape."

The whole business, moreover, while very honorable, is scarcely
pleasurable. Is any one obliged to submit to such public, sharp and
impolite criticisms as a German minister? Is it true of anyone but him
that the behavior customary among people of culture does not prevail
when he addressed? Without the least scruple one says things to him
publicly which one would be ashamed to say to him privately, if one
were to meet him in a drawing-room, for instance. I should not say
this here if the Reichstag did not hold an exceptional position in
Germany in these matters as well as in everything else. Here I have
never had to hear, so far as I remember, as sharp remarks as in other
assemblies. At any rate I have a conciliatory memory. But on the whole
you will agree with me that the tone of our public debates is less
elevated than that of our social gatherings, especially when our
ministers are addressed, but at times even among fellow members,
although of this I am no competent critic. I do not even criticize the
behavior toward the ministers, for I am hardened by an experience of
many years and can stand it. I am merely describing the reasons why no
minister clings to his post, and why you do me an injustice if you
believe that it takes an artful effort to make a minister yield his
place. Not many of them have been accustomed to see a totally ignorant
correspondent tear an experienced minister to pieces in the press as
if he were a stupid schoolboy. We see this in every newspaper every
day, but we can stand it. We do not complain. But can anyone say that
the members of the government--the bureau chiefs frequently fare even
worse--meet in the parliamentary debates with that urbaneness of
demeanor which characterizes our best society? I do not say "no,"
leaving it to you to answer this question. I only say that the
business of being a minister is very arduous and cheerless, subject to
vexations and decidedly exhausting. This brings it about that the
ministers are habitually in a mood which makes them readily give up
their places as soon as they have found another excuse than the
simple: I have had enough, I do not care for more, I am tired of it.

The changes of ministers, however, have not been so many nor so quick
with us as they are in other countries, and this I may mention to Mr.
Richter as a proof of my amiability as a colleague. Count, if you
will, the number of ministers who have crossed the public stage since
I entered office in 1862, and sum up the resignations due to other
than parliamentary reasons, and you will find a result exceedingly
favorable to the accommodating spirit of the German minister when it
is compared with that of any other country. I consider, therefore, the
insinuating references to my quarrelsome disposition and fickleness
distinctly wide of the mark.

In this connection I shall take the liberty of referring with one more
word to the reproaches, often occurring in the press and also in the
Reichstag, that I had frequently and abruptly changed my views. Well,
I am not one of those who at any time of their life have believed, or
believe today, that they can learn no more. If a man says to me:
"Twenty years ago you held the same opinion as I; I still hold it, but
you have changed your views," I reply: "You see, I was as clever
twenty years ago as you are today. Today I know more, I have learned
things in these twenty years." But, gentlemen, I will not even rely on
the justice of the remark that the man who does not learn also fails
to progress and cannot keep abreast of his time. People are falling
behind when they remain rooted in the position they occupied years
ago. However, I do not at all intend to excuse myself with such
observations, for _I have always had one compass only, one lode-star
by which I have steered: Salus Publica, the welfare of the State_.
Possibly I have often acted rashly and hastily since I first began my
career, but whenever I had time to think I have always acted according
to the question, "What is useful, advantageous, and right for my
fatherland, and--as long as this was only Prussia--for my dynasty, and
today--for the German nation?" I have never been a theorist. The
systems which bin and separate parties are for me of secondary
importance. The nation comes first, its position in the world and its
independence, and above all our organization along lines inch will
make it possible for us to draw the free breath of a great nation.

Everything else, a liberal, reactionary, or conservative
constitution--gentlemen, I freely confess, all this I consider in
second place. It is the luxury of furnishing the house, when the house
is firmly established. In the interest of the country I can parley now
with one person, now with another in purely party questions. Theories
I barter away cheaply. First let us build a structure secure on the
outside and firmly knit on the inside, and protected by the ties of a
national union. After that, when you ask my advice about furnishing
the house with more or less liberal constitutional fittings, you may
perhaps hear me say, "Ah well, I have no preconceived ideas. Make your
suggestions, and, when the sovereign whom I serve agrees, you will
find no objections on principle on my part." It can be done thus, and
again thus. There are many roads leading to Rome. There are times
when one should govern liberally, and times when one should govern
autocratically. Everything changes. Nothing is eternal in these
matters. But of the structure of the German empire and the union of
the German nation I demand that they be free and unassailable, with
not only a passing field fortification on one side. I have given to
its creation and growth my entire strength from the very beginning.
And if you point to a single moment when I have not steered by this
direction of the compass-needle, you may perhaps prove that I have
erred, but you cannot prove that I have for one moment lost sight of
the national goal.

[Illustration: PRINCE BISMARCK FRANZ VON LENBACH]

       *       *       *       *       *



PRACTICAL CHRISTIANITY

April 2, 1881

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.


[Prince Bismarck was trying to fight the revolutionary parties, not
only with such restrictive laws as had been passed against the
Socialists, but also with constructive measures like the one which had
been submitted to the Reichstag on March 8, 1881. It proposed the
insurance of the workingman against accidents, and the founding of a
governmental insurance company. The bill was severely criticized,
notably by Eugen Richter, who did not miss the opportunity of
attacking also the chancellor personally. Prince Bismarck's reply made
a deep impression in the country at large. The bill itself, however,
was so badly amended in the Reichstag, that Bismarck urged the
Bundesrat to reject it, which it did. Several changes, thereupon, were
made in the bill, and, after having been delayed in committee, it was
again brought up for discussion in 1884, when another exhaustive
speech by the chancellor, on March 15, brought about its acceptance.]

Before turning to the subject in hand, I wish to reply to some remarks
of the previous speaker, lest I forget them--they are of so little
weight. He finished by saying that my prestige was waning. If he were
right, I should feel like saying "Thank God," for prestige is a very
burdensome affair. One suffers under its weight, and quickly gets
tired of it. I do not care a farthing for it. When I was very much
younger, about as old as the previous speaker is now, and when I was
possibly still more ambitious than he, I lived for years without
prestige, and was actually disliked, if not hated, by the majority of
my fellow-citizens. At that time I felt better and more contented, and
was healthier than during the years when I was most popular.

Such things do not mean much to me. I am doing my duty, let come what
may.

As proof of his assertion the previous speaker claimed that the
workingmen are refusing the help which the Imperial Government is
trying to offer them. This he cannot possibly know. He has no idea of
what the great mass of the workingmen are thinking. Probably he has
some accurate information of what the eloquent place-hunters are
thinking of the bill, people who are at the head of the labor
movements, and the professional publicists, who need a following of
workingmen--dissatisfied workingmen. But as to the workingman in
general, we had better wait and see what he is thinking. I do not know
whether the full meaning of this question has even yet sufficiently
penetrated into his circles to make it a subject of discussion, except
in the learned clubs of laborers, and among the leading place-hunters
and speakers. In the next election we shall be able to tell whether
the workingmen have formed their opinion of the bill by then, not to
speak of now.

The legislation on which we are entering with this bill has to do with
a question which will probably stay on your calendar for a long while.
The previous speaker has correctly said that "it opens up a very deep
perspective," and it is not at all impossible that it may also make
the moderate Socialists judge more kindly of the government. We have
been talking of a social question for fifty years; and, since the
passage of the law against the Socialists, I have been constantly
reminded, officially, from high quarters, and by the people, that we
gave a promise at that time. Something positive should be done to
remove the causes for Socialism, in so far as they are legitimate. _I_
have received such reminders daily. Nor do I believe that this social
question, which has been before us for fifty years now, will be
definitely settled even by our children and children's children. No
political question ever reaches so complete a mathematical solution
that the books can be balanced. Such questions arise, abide a while
and finally give way to other historical problems. This is the way of
organic developments.

I deem it my duty to take up this question quietly and without party
vehemence, because I do not know who else could do this successfully
if not the Imperial Government. It is a pity that party questions
should be mixed up in it. The previous speaker has referred to a
supposedly active exchange of telegrams between "certain parties" and
"an high official," which in this case, I must believe, means me. I am
mentioning this, in passing, because he said the same thing a few days
ago in another speech. Gentlemen, this is a very simple matter. I
receive thousands of telegrams; and, being a polite man, I should
probably reply also to a telegram from Mr. Richter, if he were to
honor me with a friendly despatch. When I am cordially addressed in a
message, I have to reply in cordial terms. I cannot possibly have the
police ascertain to what party the senders belong. Nor am I so
diffident in my views that I should wish to catechize the senders as
to their political affiliations. If anybody takes pleasure in making
me appear to be a member of anti-semitic societies, let him do so. I
have kept away from all undesirable movements, as my position demands,
and I could wish that also you gentlemen would refrain more than
heretofore from inciting the classes against each other, and from
oratorical phrases which fan class-hatred. This refers especially to
those gentlemen who have bestowed their kind attention upon the
Government and upon me personally. When we heard the representative,
Mr. Lasker, say the other day that the policy of the government was
aristocratic, this term was bound to render the whole aristocracy and
what belongs to it suspected of selfishness in the eyes of the poor
men, at whose expense the aristocracy seemingly exists. When such
expressions fall on anti-semitic ground, how is it possible to avoid
reprisals? The anti-semites will coin their own word with which to
designate--as they think appropriately--the policies opposed to ours.
The resulting epithet I do not care to mention; every one will think
of it himself. When afterwards a newspaper like the _Tribune_, which
is said to be owned by Mr. Bamberger, makes itself the mouthpiece of
Mr. Lasker's expression, claiming it to be correct, and hailing the
invention of this word as a discovery worthy of Columbus, and when the
_Tribune_ finally asserts that "care for the poor" and "aristocracy"
cannot exist in the same train of thought, can you not imagine what
will happen when all this is turned around, and altered by an
anti-semite? Are you in doubt what he will substitute for
"aristocracy," and do you not know that he will repeat every twist and
turn of speech with which Mr. Bamberger's sheet imputes selfish
injustice to the aristocracy?

The representative Mr. Richter has called attention to the
responsibility of the State for everything it does in the field on
which it is entering today. Well, gentlemen, I feel that the State may
become responsible also for the things it does _not_ do. I do not
believe that the "_laissez faire, laissez aller_, theory," and the
unadulterated political theories of Manchester, such as "let each one
do what he chooses, and fare as he will," or "who is not strong enough
to stand, let him be crushed," or "he who has will receive more, and
he who has not from him let us take," can be practised in any State,
least of all in a monarchical State, governed by the father of his
country. On the contrary, I believe that those who shudder at the
State exerting its influence for the protection of the weaker
brethren, themselves intend to capitalize their strength--be it
financial, rhetorical, or what not--that they may gain a following, or
oppress the rest, or smooth their own way to party control. They
become angry, of course, as soon as their plans are spoiled by the
rising influence of the State.

The representative Mr. Richter says this legislation does not go far
enough. If he will have patience, we may perhaps be able to satisfy
him a little later--one should not be hasty or try to do everything at
once! Such laws are not made arbitrarily out of theories and as the
result of asking "what kind of law would it be wise to make now?"
They are the gradual outgrowth of earlier events. The reason why we
come to you today only with an accident-insurance law is because this
branch of the care of the poor and the weak was especially vigorous
even before I seriously concerned myself with such matters. Bequests,
suggestions, and notes for such a bill were on file when I assumed
office. According to the records this bill was needed more than any
other. When I began to study it, I must confess that it did not seem
to me to go far enough in theory, and that I was tempted to change the
words which occur, I believe in the first paragraph, "every workingman
who" and "shall be reimbursed in such and such a way," to read, "every
German." There is something ideal in this change. If one thinks of it
more seriously, however, and especially if one plans to include also
the independent workmen, who meet with an accident at no one's behest
but their own, the question of insurance is even more difficult. No
two hours' speech of any representative can give us so much concern as
this problem has given us: "How far is it possible to extend this law
without creating at the very start an unfavorable condition, or
reaching out too far and thus overreaching ourselves?" As a farmer I
was tempted to ask, whether it would be possible to extend the
insurance, for instance, also to the farmhands, who constitute the
majority of the workingmen in our eastern provinces. I shall not give
up hope that this may be possible, but there are difficulties, which
for the time being have prevented us from doing this; and concerning
these I wish to say a few words.

The farming industry, in so far as it has to do with machinery and
elemental forces, is, of course, not excluded from the law. But the
remaining great majority of the country population also comes in
frequent contact with machines, although these are set in motion not
by elemental forces, but by horses or fellow-laborers. Such
occupations are often dangerous and unwholesome, but it is
exceedingly difficult to gather statistics and percentages, and to
define the necessary amount of contributions to an insurance fund.
The representative Mr. Richter knows, apparently from experience, the
proper percentage in every branch of human occupation, for he has
quoted his figures with much assurance. I should be grateful to him if
he would mention also the source of his valuable information. We have
done the best we could. The preliminary drafts of the bill were based
on carefully selected facts--notice please, selected facts, and not
arbitrary statistics based on conjecture. If we had discovered those
figures, which the quicker eye of the honorable Mr. Richter seems to
have detected at a glance, and if we had believed them to be accurate,
we should have gone further in this bill.

When I say that I do not give up hope that the farming industry may
yet be included, I am thinking of an organization which cannot be
created at one session of the Reichstag. Like the child which must be
small if it is to be born at all, and which gradually assumes its
proper proportions by growth, so also this organization will have to
develop gradually. Eventually the various branches of industry which
have insured their laborers should be formed into incorporated
associations, and each association should raise among its own members
the premiums needed for the proper insurance of its laborers. It
should at the same time exercise supervision over its members to the
extent that the dues should be as low as possible. Or, to put it
differently, the personal interest of the contributing members should
see to it that adequate means for the prevention of accidents are
adopted. If this can be accomplished by a gradual advance based on
experience, we may also hope to find, by experience, the proper
percentage as regards that branch of farming which does not employ
elemental forces.

Our lack of experience in these matters has also induced us to be very
careful about the assessment of the necessary contributions. I
certainly should not have the courage to press this bill if the
expenses which it entails were to be borne exclusively by the various
industries. If the assistance which the State would render--either by
provincial or county associations, or directly--were to be entirely
omitted, I should not dare to answer to our industries for the
consequences of this law. Perhaps this can be done, and after a few
years of experience we may be able to judge whether it is possible.
The State contribution, therefore, may be limited at first to three
years, or to whatever period you wish. But without any actual
experience, without any practical test of what we are to expect, I do
not dare to burden our industries with all the expenses of this
government-institution, and to add to their taxes. I do not dare to
place upon them the whole burden of caring for the injured factory or
mill hands. The county associations used to do this, and in the future
it will be done more fully and in a more dignified way by the insurers
and the State.

No entirely new charges are here contemplated; the charges are merely
transferred from the county associations to the State. I do not deny
that the tax of him who pays and the advantages which accrue to the
laborer will be increased. The increase, however, does not equal the
full third which the State is to bear, but only the difference between
what at present the county associations are obliged to do for the
injured workingmen, and what these men will receive in future. You
see, it is purely a question of improving the lot of the laboring man.
This difference, therefore, is the only new charge on the State, with
which you have to reckon. And you will have to ask yourselves: "Is the
advantage gained worth this difference,--when we aim to procure for
the laborer who has been injured a better and more adequate support,
and relieve him of the necessity of having to fight for his right in
court, and when he will receive without delay the moderate stipend
which the State decrees?" I feel like answering the question with a
strong affirmative.

Our present poor laws keep the injured laboring man from starvation.
According to law, at least, nobody need starve. Whether in reality
this never happens I do not know. But this is not enough in order to
let the men look contentedly into the future and to their own old age.
The present bill intends to keep the sense of human dignity alive
which even the poorest German should enjoy, if I have my way. He
should feel that he is no mere eleemosynary, but that he possesses a
fund which is his very own. No one shall have the right to dispose of
it, or to take it from him, however poor he may be. This fund will
open for him many a door, which otherwise will remain closed to him
and it will secure for him better treatment in the house where he has
been received, because when he leaves he can take away with him
whatever contributions he has been making to the household expenses.

If you have ever personally investigated the conditions of the poor in
our large cities, or of the village paupers in the country, you have
been able to observe the wretched treatment which the poor
occasionally receive even in the best managed communities, especially
if they are physically weak or crippled. This happens in the houses of
their stepmothers, or relatives of any kind, yes also in those of
their nearest of kin. Knowing this, are you not obliged to confess
that every healthy laboring man, who sees such things, must say to
himself: "Is it not terrible that a man is thus degraded in the house
which he used to inhabit as master and that his neighbor's dog is not
worse off than he?" Such things do happen. What protection is there
for a poor cripple, who is pushed into a corner, and is not given
enough to eat? There is none. But if he has as little as 100 or 200
marks of his own, the people will think twice before they oppress him.
We have been in a position to observe this in the case of the military
invalids. Although only five or six dollars are paid every month, this
actual cash amounts to something in the household where the poor are
boarded, and the thrifty housewife is careful not to offend or to lose
the boarder who pays cash.

I, therefore, assure you that we felt the need of insisting by this
law on a treatment of the poor which should be worthy of humanity.
Next year I shall be able fully to satisfy Mr. Richter in regard to
the amount and the extent of attention which the State will give to a
better and more adequate care of all the unemployed. This will come as
a natural consequence, whether or no the present bill is passed. Today
this bill is a test, as it were. We are sounding to see how deep the
waters are, financially, into which we are asking the State and the
country to enter. You cannot guard yourselves against such problems by
delivering elegant and sonorous speeches, in which you recommend the
improvement of our laws of liability, without in the least indicating
how this can be done. In this way you cannot settle these questions,
for you are acting like the ostrich, who hides his head lest he see
his danger. The Government has seen its duty and is facing, calmly and
without fear, the dangers which we heard described here a few days ago
most eloquently and of which we were given convincing proofs.

We should, however, also remove, as much as possible, the causes which
are used to excite the people, and which alone render them susceptible
to criminal doctrines. It is immaterial to me whether or no you will
call this Socialism. If you call it Socialism, you must have the
remarkable wish of placing the Imperial Government, in so far as this
bill of the allied governments is concerned, in the range of the very
critique which Mr. von Puttkamer passed here on the endeavors of the
Socialists. It would then almost seem that with this bill only a very
small distance separated us from the murderous band of Hasselmann, the
incendiary writings of Most, and the revolutionary conspiracies of the
Congress of Wyden; and that even this distance would soon disappear.
Well, gentlemen, this is, of course, the very opposite of true. Those
who fight with such oratorical and meaningless niceties are counting
on the many meanings of the word "socialism." As a result of the kind
of programs which the Socialists have issued, this term is, in our
public opinion today, almost synonymous with "criminal." If the
government endeavors to treat the injured workingmen better in the
future, and especially more becomingly, and not to offer to their as
yet vigorous brethren the spectacle, as it were, of an old man on the
dump heap slowly starving to death, this cannot be called socialistic
in the sense in which that murderous band was painted to us the other
day. People are playing a cheap game with the shadow on the wall when
they call our endeavors socialistic.

If the representative Mr. Bamberger, who took no offense at the word
"Christian," wishes to give a name to our endeavors which I could
cheerfully accept, let it be: "Practical Christianity," but _sans
phrase_, for we shall not pay the people with words and speeches, but
with actual improvements. Yet, death alone is had for the asking. If
you refuse to reach into your pocketbook, or that of the State, you
will not accomplish anything. If you should place the whole burden on
the industries, I do not know whether they could bear it. Some might
be able to do it, but not all. Those who could do it are the
industries where the wages are but a small fraction of the total cost
of production. Among such I mention the chemical factories, and the
mills which with twenty mill hands can do an annual business of
several million marks. The great mass of laborers, however, does not
work in such establishments, which I am tempted to call
aristocratic--without wishing to excite any class-hatred. They are in
industries where the wages amount to 80 or 90 per cent, of the cost of
production. Whether the latter can bear the additional burden I do not
know.

It is, moreover, perfectly immaterial whether the assessment is made
on the employer or on the employee. In either case the industry will
have to bear it, for the contribution of the laborer will
eventually, and of necessity, be added to the expenses of the
industry. There is a general complaint that the average wages of the
laborers make the saving of a surplus impossible. If you wish,
therefore, to add a burden to the laborers whose present wages are no
more than sufficient, the employers will have to increase the wages,
or the laborers will leave them for other occupations.

The previous speaker called the bill defective, because the principle
of relieving the laborer from all contributions had not been
consistently followed; and he spoke as if this principle had not been
at all followed. Laborers, receiving more than 750 marks in three
hundred working days, are, it is true, not affected by it; and this is
due to the origin of the bill. The first draft read that one-third of
the contributions should be made by those county associations which
would have to support the injured man in conformity with the poor-laws
of the State. We did not wish merely to make a gift to these
associations, which at present are responsible for 80 per cent. of all
injured working-men, that is for those who do not come under the law
of liability. We, therefore, accepted as just the proposition that
these associations should pay one-third toward the insurance of those
men who formerly would have become their charges. Laborers, however,
whose pay is large enough to keep them from becoming public charges,
when they meet with an accident, hold an exceptional position. I am,
nevertheless, perfectly willing to drop this exception in the bill, as
I have said repeatedly. But since the Reichstag in its entirety has
thus far placed itself on record as opposed to any contribution from
the State, I should not gain thereby any votes for the bill. I wish to
declare, however, that this limit of 750 marks is of no consequence
compared with the theory on which the bill is based. It arose from a
sense of justice toward the county associations, which were not to be
burdened with higher taxes than would equal their savings under this
bill. Later it was discovered from many actual examples that the
insurance according to the existing county associations was
impossible, because the State, which really is responsible for the
care of the poor, had distributed it in an arbitrary and unjust way on
the various county associations. Small and weak country communities
are often overburdened with the care of poor people, while large and
wealthy communities may have practically no charges, since the
geographical position alone has determined the membership in the
various county associations. The result, therefore, of levying the
necessary contributions on these associations would have been a very
uneven distribution of the assessments. Being convinced of this, I
suggested the substitution of "provincial association" for "county
association"; and thus the bill read for several weeks, until we
yielded to the wishes of the allied states and of the Economic
Council, and left to each state the question whether it wished to take
the place of these various associations or preferred to call upon them
in any way it chose. These are the steps by which we reached the 750
mark exemption, and the unconditional share which is to be paid by the
State. This share is nothing but a hint to the legislature how to
distribute the care of the poor to the various county--and other
associations. Whatever is done, you will agree with me that we need a
revision of our poor-laws. Just how this will eventually be
accomplished is immaterial to me.

I am not astonished that the most divergent views are held on this new
subject, which touches our lives very intimately, and which no
experience has as yet illuminated. Because of this divergence of
opinion I am also aware that we may be unable to pass an acceptable
law at this session. My own interest in this entire work would be very
much lessened if I were to notice that the principle of a State
contribution were to be definitely rejected, and that the legislative
assembly of the country were to vote against State-contributions. This
would transfer the whole matter to the sphere of open commerce, if I
may say so, and in that case it might be better to leave the
insurance to private enterprise rather than to establish a
State-institution without any compulsion. I should certainly not have
the courage to exercise compulsion, if the State did not at the same
time make a contribution.

If compulsion is exercised, it is necessary for the law to establish a
department of insurance. This is cheaper and safer than any company.
You cannot expose the savings of the poor to possible insolvency, nor
can you allow any part of the contributions to be used for the payment
of dividends or interest on stocks and bonds. The representative Mr.
Bamberger based his opposition to the bill--you remember his strong
words--largely on his sorrow at the impending ruin of the insurance
companies. He said they would be crushed and annihilated, and he
added, that they were soliciting the gratitude of their
fellow-citizens. I always thought they were soliciting the money of
their fellow-citizens. If in addition they can get their gratitude,
they are turning a very clever trick. That they should be willing,
like good souls, to sacrifice themselves in the interest of the
workingmen, and establish their institutions of insurance without
issuing any shares, I have never believed, and it would be difficult
to convince me of it. According to my feeling of right and wrong, we
cannot force anybody to join private insurance companies which may
become bankrupt even under good management, owing to fluctuations in
the market, or to panics, and which have to arrange their premiums so
that dividends are realized for those who are investing their capital,
or at least interest on the invested money and the hope of dividends.
To this I cannot lend my assistance. If the State is going to exercise
compulsion, it must, I believe, undertake the insurance itself. It may
be the empire for all, or the individual State--but, without this, no
compulsion!

Nor have I the courage, as I have already said, to exercise any
compulsion if I cannot offer something in return. This contribution of
a third is, as I said before, much smaller than it looks, because
the associations will be greatly relieved of the old burdens which the
State had imposed on them. If this is communism, as the last speaker
called it, and not socialism, I do not care one iota. I shall call it
again and again "practical Christianity legally demonstrated." If,
however, it is communism, then communism has been extensively
practised in the districts for a long while, and actually under State
compulsion.

The previous speaker said that by our method the lower classes would
be oppressed with indirect taxes in order to collect the funds for the
care of the poor. But I ask you, gentlemen, what is being done in the
large cities, in Berlin for instance, which the speaker thinks is
splendidly governed by the liberal ring? Here the poor man is taken
care of with the proceeds of the tax on rents, which is exacted of his
slightly less poor brother; and to-morrow he may have this brother as
his companion in misery, when a warrant is executed against the latter
for the non-payment of this tax. That is more cruel than if the
payment were made from the tax on tobacco or on alcohol.

The previous speaker said that I had spoken against the tax on
alcohol. I really do not remember this, and I should be grateful if he
would prove this by quoting one word. I have always mentioned tobacco
and alcohol as commodities on which larger taxes should be levied, but
I have expressed a doubt whether it is right to tax the alcohol in
factories while it is being made. Many States, as for instance France,
do not levy any tax on alcohol, or assess it at a different time. The
representative, therefore, has made a mistake--no doubt
unintentionally. When, however, this mistake will be printed, without
refutation, in many papers, which are under his influence, it will, I
am sure, make no mean impression.

I will not dilate on the defects of the law of liability, which will
be discussed by experienced men, who have had more to do with it than
I. These defects, however, added their weight to the promise we made
when the law against the Socialists was promulgated--you undoubtedly
remember it and I have been reminded of it often enough--and were my
chief reasons for submitting to you the present bill. Our present law
of liability has shown surprisingly bad results. I have convinced
myself, by actual occurrences, that the suits arising under this law
often terminate unexpectedly and unfairly, if they are successful. And
if they are unsuccessful, they are frequently equally unfair. I have
been assured by many creditable people that this law does not improve
the relations between the employer and the employees. On the contrary,
the bitter feeling between them is increased, wherever there are many
such suits, especially where there are shyster-lawyers who like to sow
discord with an eye to the elections. This is in strong contrast to
the good intentions of the law. The workingmen, however, consider
themselves injured by it, because not even a decree of the court will
convince them that they are wrong, especially if they have lawyers who
tell them they are right, and that they should appeal their cases to
four or five higher courts, if there were as many.

These observations made me wish to introduce a system which would work
smoothly, and in which there would be no question of suits-at-law, or
investigations into anyone's culpability. The latter is quite
immaterial for him who has been injured. He remains unfortunate,
crippled, and unable to earn a living, if this has been his lot, or,
if he has been killed, his family is left without its bread-winner,
whether the accident was due to criminal neglect, carelessness, or
unavoidable circumstances. These are not questions of corrective or
distributive justice, but of protection. Without a proper law a great
part of our population is helpless before the hardships of life, or
the consequences of an accident. Without any capital of their own
these people have no redress against the cruelties which are the lot
of the pauper who has become a public charge.

I will not reply at length to the reproach that this is communism, but
I should like to ask you not to discuss everything from the point
of view of party-strategy, or faction-strategy, or from the feeling
"away with Bismarck." We have to do here with matters where not one of
us can see his way clearly, and where we must search for the right
road with sticks and sounding-rods. I should like to see another man
in my place as speedily as possible, if he would continue my work. I
should gladly say to him, "Son, take up your father's spear," even if
he were not my own son. This undesirable way of discussing matters
showed itself the other day, when the gentlemen fought for "the poor
man," as if they had to do with the body of Patroclus. Mr. Lasker took
hold of him at one end, and I tried to snatch him away from Mr. Lasker
as best I could. But where do imputed motives, and class-hatred, and
the excitement of misery and suffering lead us? Such behavior comes
too near being socialism in the sense in which Mr. von Puttkamer
exposed it the other day.

Alms constitute the first step of Christian charity, such as must
exist in France, for instance, to a great extent. There are no
poor-laws in France, and every poor man has the right to starve to
death if charitable people do not prevent him from doing so. Charity
is the first duty, and the second is, the assistance given by
districts and according to law. A State, however, which is composed
very largely of Christians--even if you are horrified at hearing it
called a Christian State,--should let itself be permeated with the
principles which it confesses, and especially with those which have to
do with the help of our neighbors, and the sympathy one feels for the
lot which threatens the old and the sick.

The extensive discussions, which I have partly heard, and partly read
in the Parliamentary extracts of yesterday, compel me to make some
further observations. The representative Mr. Richter has said that the
whole bill amounted to a subsidy of the big industries. Well, here
again, you have an instance of class-hatred, which would receive new
fuel if his words were true. I do not know why you assume that the
Government cherishes a blind and special love for the big industries.
The big manufacturers are, it is true, children of fortune, and this
creates no good will toward them among the rest of the people. But to
weaken or to confine their existence would be a very foolish
experiment. If we dropped our big industries, making it impossible for
them to compete with those of other countries, and if we placed
burdens on them which they have not yet been proved able to bear, we
might meet with the approval of all who are vexed at seeing anybody
richer than other people, most especially than themselves. But, if we
ruin the big industries, what shall we do with the laborers? In such a
case we should be facing the problem, to which the representative Mr.
Richter referred with much concern, of the organization of labor. If a
business, employing twenty thousand laborers and more, goes to pieces,
and if the big industries go to pieces, because they have been
denounced to public opinion and to the legislature as dangerous and
liable to heavier taxes, we could not let twenty thousand, and
hundreds of thousands of laborers starve to death. In such a case we
should have to organize a genuine State-socialism, and find work for
these laborers, similar to what we have been doing during every panic.

If the objections of the representative Mr. Richter, who claimed that
we must guard ourselves against State-socialism as against some
disease, were well taken, how does it happen that we are providing
work whenever a calamity has afflicted one or another of the
provinces? Such work would not be provided, if the workingmen could
find other remunerative occupations. In such cases we build railways
of doubtful productivity, and make improvements, which under ordinary
circumstances are left to the individual citizens to make. If this is
communism, I am by no means opposed to it. But the use of such
catch-words does not advance the solution of any problem.

I have already commented on Mr. Bamberger's defence of the private
insurance companies. I am, however, convinced that we are not
called upon to espouse their cause of all others when we are
confronted by tremendous economic needs. He has also referred to the
"four weeks" which have to elapse before the insurance takes effect.
This was done in the hope that the unions and societies would wish to
do something themselves. We are always told that the laborers deem
insurance to be contrary to their honor, unless they contribute
something toward it. For this reason we have left the first four weeks
uninsured. I am not certain on this point, but if another solution
seems better, I believe that the law should cover also this hiatus.
There is no fundamental objection to this.

One single fact will throw much light on the considerable burdens of
which the county communities will be relieved when the care of their
poor will pass, according to this bill, to the community of the State.
I have been unable to ascertain the number of persons to whom
assistance is given in the empire or in the kingdom of Prussia, and
even less to discover the amount of money spent for this purpose. In
the country, and elsewhere, private charity and public help are so
intermingled that it is impossible to separate them, or to keep
accurate accounts. The one hundred and seventy cities, however, which
have more than ten thousand inhabitants expend on the average four
marks per capita for the care of their poor. This item varies between
0.63 mark and 12.84 marks--a great variation as you see. The most
remarkable results are found where the majority of laborers are banded
together in unions or similar associations. It would be natural to
think that places like Oberneunkirchen and Duttweiler with large
factory populations would have a very large budget for the poor; and
that Berlin, which is only in part an industrial centre, would be an
average locality, for our purposes, if its finances were well managed.
As a matter of fact it pays far more than the average for the care of
its poor without doing this exceptionally well. Anyone who is
interested in private charities, and cares to visit the poor of
Berlin, will be convinced of their pitiful condition.

Nevertheless, the Berlin budget for the poor amounts to 5,000,000
marks--these are the latest figures--and for the care of the sick poor
to 1,900,000 marks. Why these two items should be separated I do not
know. Together, therefore, they amount to about 7,000,000 marks, or 7
marks per capita, while the average of the large cities is 4 marks. If
such a poor-tax of 7 marks per capita were extended to the whole
empire, it would yield 300,000,000 marks; and if the direct taxes of
Berlin, amounting to 23 marks per capita, were levied on the empire,
we should receive more than one milliard marks in direct taxes,
including those on rents and incomes. Fortunately not all the people
of the empire are living under a liberal ring, and least of all the
inhabitants of cities where the majority of the workingmen have joined
unions or similar associations. We have discovered the remarkable fact
that Oberneunkirchen with its large factory population pays only 0.58
mark, and Duttweiler 0.72 mark per capita for the care of their poor.

These are instances which throw light on the relief of the communities
if a system similar to that of the unions would be introduced. I do
not at all intend to make so expensive a proposition to you, and I
have already said that we shall have to work on this legislation for
at least a generation. But look at the glaring examples of Duttweiler
and Oberneunkirchen. Without their unions their budgets for the poor
would perhaps not rise to the Berlin figure, but they would easily
amount to 5 marks per capita. Actually, however, they are less than 1
mark, and almost as low as 1/2 mark. What a tremendous burden will be
taken from the charity departments of a city of ten thousand
inhabitants by a law like the one under discussion! Why, then, should
they not be asked to make some kind of a contribution to the insurance
fund? But the contributions should not be made by the districts, but
by larger units, and, since the State is the largest, I insist that
the contributions should be made by the State. If you do not yield in
this point to the allied governments, I shall look placidly, and
without being offended, toward further discussions and another session
of the Reichstag. This I consider to be the all-important part of the
law, and without it the bill would no longer appear to me to be as
valuable as I have thought it was, and would seem to lack the chief
characteristic which induced me to become its sponsor.

The previous speaker and the Honorable Mr. Bamberger have looked
askance at the Economic Council. This, gentlemen, was perfectly
natural, for competition in eloquence is as much disliked as in
business; and there are in this Council not only men of exceptionally
great practical knowledge, but also some very good speakers. When the
Council has been more firmly established these men will perhaps
deliver as long and expert speeches as those representatives are doing
who pass themselves off as the expert spokesmen of labor. I really do
not consider it to be polite, or politically advantageous, to refer to
the councillors who have come here, at the call of their king, to
voice their honest opinions with as much contempt as the
representatives whom I have mentioned have done. Most woods return the
echo of what we call into them; and why should the representative Mr.
Richter unnecessarily make for himself even more enemies than he has?
He is like me, in that the number of his opponents is growing, and is
no longer small. His ear, however, is not so keen as mine to detect
the existence of an opponent, and I am satisfied to wait and see which
one of us in the long run will appear to have been right. Possibly,
this may not be decided in our lifetime. That also will be agreeable
to me.

The representative Mr. Bamberger has expressed his astonishment, in
discussing matters with the Council, that the delegates of the
sea-coast cities had been granted the right to decide about questions
relating to gunpowder and playing-cards. Well, gentlemen, the
delegates from the inland districts are far more numerous than those
from the seacoast, and we have not made this division arbitrarily.
Since we look upon the free-trade theory as an epidemic, which is
afflicting us like the Colorado Beetle, or similar evils, you cannot
possibly expect that we should ask the free traders to represent the
whole country in matters where we happen to have the choice. Generally
speaking, the free traders represent the interests of maritime
commerce, of merchants, and of a very few other people. Opposed to
them is the much greater weight of all the inland districts. The more,
therefore, the Economic Council will be perfected, the more the
propriety and reasonableness of the present arrangement will be
appreciated. The Council has, to my great delight, excellent chances
of extending its usefulness over the whole empire. These remarks will
scarcely win me, I believe, the good graces of Messrs. Richter and
Bamberger. If they did, it would be for me an _argumentum e
contrario_. I am always of the opinion that the very opposite of their
views is serviceable for the State and the interests of the
fatherland, as I understand them.

I have already replied to the reproach of home-socialism. One of the
previous speakers, however, goes so far as to identify me with
foreigners, because I am glad to assume the responsibility for this
law and its intellectual origin. These foreigners are, no doubt,
excellent men, but they have nothing to do with our affairs. They are
men like Nadaud, Clemenceau, Spuller, Lockroy, and others. I believe
this was intended to be a complicated reproach of both socialism and
communism. You see, it is always the same tune. Then he mentioned the
"intrepidity," which I translate for myself to mean the "frivolous
levity," of the government in suggesting such matters. The considerate
politeness of the speaker induced him to call it "intrepidity."
Gentlemen, our intrepidity springs from our good conscience. We are
convinced that what we are proposing is the result of dutiful and
careful consideration, and is not in the least tinged with
party-politics. In this we are superior to our opponents, who will
never be able to free themselves from the soil of party-warfare which
clings to their boots.

The previous speaker compared us also with the Romans. You see he made
his historical excursions not only into France, but also into the
past. The difference between Mr. Bamberger's and our point of
view--which Mr. Lasker may call aristocratic, if he chooses--appears
in his very choice of words. Mr. Bamberger spoke of theatres which we
were erecting for the "sweet rabble." Whether there is anything sweet
in the rabble for Mr. Bamberger I do not know. But we are filled with
satisfaction at the thought that we may be able to do something in the
legislature for the less fortunate classes--whom he designates as
rabble--and to wrest them, if you will grant the money, from the evil
influences of place-hunters whose eloquence is too much for their
intelligence.

The expression "rabble" did not fall from our lips, and if the
representative spoke of the "rabble" first, and afterwards of "those
who cut off coupons," I deny having used also this word. "To cut off
coupons" is linguistically not familiar to me. I believe I said "those
who cut coupons." The meaning, of course, remains the same. But let me
remark that I consider this class of people to be highly estimable,
and from a minister's point of view exceedingly desirable, because
they combine wealth with that degree of diffidence which keeps them
from all tainted or dangerous enterprises. The man who pays a large
tax and loves peace is from the ministerial point of view the most
agreeable of citizens. He must, of course, not try to escape the
burdens which his easily collected income should bear in comparison
with others. And you will see that he really does not do it. He is an
honest man, and when we shall at last have outgrown the
finance-ministerial mistrust of olden times--which my present
colleagues no longer share--we shall see that not everybody is willing
to lie for his own financial benefit, and that even the man who cuts
coupons will declare his wealth honestly, and pay his taxes
accordingly. The Honorable Mr. Bamberger also asked: "Where will you
find the necessary money?" This law really implies few new expenses,
as I have already said, because all the government asks is to be
permitted to substitute the State for the communities, which at
present are taking care of the poor, and to make a very modest
allowance to those who cannot earn their living. This allowance should
be entirely at the disposal of the recipient and be inalienable from
him. It will thus secure for him independence even when he is an
invalid. The increase over the present cost of caring for the poor is
slight. I do not know whether it should be estimated at half of
one-third--one sixth--or even at less.

I am, therefore, of the opinion that a State which is at war with the
infernal elements recently described to you here in detail, and which
possesses among its citizens an overwhelming majority of sincere
adherents of the Christian religion, should do for the poor, the weak,
and the old much more than this bill demands--as much as I hope to be
able to ask of you next year. And such a State, especially when it
wishes to demonstrate its practical Christianity, should not refuse
our demands, for its own sake and for the sake of the poor!

       *       *       *       *       *



WE GERMANS FEAR GOD, AND NOUGHT ELSE IN THE WORLD

February 6, 1888

TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.

[In view of the constantly increasing armaments in France, the
government had secured from the Reichstag of 1887 an increase also of
the German army. Danger, however, was threatening from Russia as well
as from France, and it became necessary to arrange matters in a way
which would place the full strength of the German people at the
disposal of the government. A bill to this effect was introduced in
the Reichstag on December 9, 1887, and another bill, which was to
procure the money for this increase in armaments, was introduced on
January 31, 1888. Both bills were on the calendar of February 6.
Prince Bismarck opened the discussion with the following speech, the
effect of which was electric, and resulted in the Reichstag passing
both bills by a unanimous vote.]

In addressing you today I do not intend to recommend to you the
acceptance of the bill which your president has just mentioned. I have
no fear concerning its acceptance, nor do I believe that I can do
anything to increase the majority with which it will be passed,
although this is, of course, of great importance both at home and
abroad. The representatives of the various parties have, no doubt,
decided how they will vote, and I am confident that the German
Reichstag will grant us again an increase in our armed force and thus
reestablish the standard which we gradually gave up between 1867 and
1882, and will do so, not on account of the position in which we
happen to find ourselves, nor of any fears which may be swaying the
stock exchange and public opinion, but because of an anticipatory
estimate of the general conditions of Europe. In addressing you,
therefore, I shall have to say more about these conditions than about
the bill.

I do not like to do this, for in these matters one unskilful word can
do great harm, and many words can do small good beyond making people
understand the situation at home and abroad, which they will do in due
time anyhow. I do not like to speak, but if I should keep silence the
nervous excitement of public opinion at home and abroad will be
increased rather than decreased, I fear, in view of the expectations
which have been based on today's debate. People would believe the
situation to be so difficult and critical that a minister of foreign
affairs did not even dare to touch upon it. For these reasons I am
addressing you, but I must say that I am doing it reluctantly.

I might be satisfied with a reference to what I said here just about a
year ago, for matters are but slightly changed. A newspaper clipping
has been handed to me containing a summary in the _Liberal News_, an
organ which has closer relations, I believe, with my political friend,
the Honorable Mr. Richter, than with myself. This clipping might offer
me a starting point from which to develop the situation as a whole,
but I can refer to it, and the chief points made there, only with the
general declaration that the situation has been improved rather than
otherwise, if it has been changed at all.

A year ago we were largely concerned with the possible cause of war
emanating from France. Since then a peace-loving president has dropped
the reins of government, and another peace-loving president has
succeeded him. It is a favorable sign that the French government did
not dip into Pandora's box in calling to office another chief
magistrate, and that we may be assured of the continuance under
President Carnot of the peaceful policy which President Grevy was
known to represent. Changes in the French cabinet are even more
reassuring than the change in the presidency, where a great many
different reasons had to be considered. The ministers who might have
been ready to subordinate the peace of their own country and of
Europe to their personal plans have resigned, and others have taken
their places of whom we need not fear this. I believe, therefore that
I may state that our outlook toward France is more peaceful and less
explosive today than it was a year ago and I am glad to do this,
because I wish to quiet, not to excite, public opinion.

The fears which have sprung up during the last twelve months have had
to do more with Russia than with France, or I may say with the
exchange of mutual excitement, threats, insults, and challenges in the
French and Russian papers during the past summer.

Nevertheless, I believe that our relations with Russia have not
changed from what they were last year. The _Liberal News_ has stated,
in especially heavy type, that I said a year ago: "Our friendship with
Russia has suffered no interruption during our wars, and is today
beyond a doubt. We expect of Russia neither an attack nor a hostile
policy." The reason why this was printed in heavy type may have been
either to give me an easy starting point, or because the writer hoped
that I had changed my mind since I said these things, and was at
present convinced that I had erred in my confidence in the Russian
policy a year ago. This is not the case. The only events which could
have occasioned a change of opinion are the attitude of the Russian
press and the allocation of the Russian troops.

As regards the press, I cannot assign any importance to it _per se_.
People say that it is of greater consequence in Russia than in France.
I believe the very opposite to be true. In France the press is a power
influencing the decisions of the government. In Russia it is not, nor
can it be. In both cases, however, the press is, so far as I am
concerned, mere printer's ink on paper, against which we do not wage
war. It cannot contain a challenge for us. Back of each article in the
press there stands after all only the single man who guided the pen
which launched this particular article into the world. Even in a
Russian sheet--suppose it to be an independent Russian sheet,
one which maintains relations with the French secret funds, it is of
no consequence. The pen which there indites an anti-German article is
backed by no one but him who is guiding it, the solitary man who is
concocting the sad stuff in his office, and the protector which every
Russian sheet is accustomed to have. He is some kind of a higher
official, run wild in party politics, who happens to bestow his
protection on this particular paper. Both weigh like feathers in the
scale against the authority of His Majesty the Emperor of Russia.

In Russia the press has not the same influence on public opinion as in
France. At best its declarations are the barometer by which to gauge
how much can be printed according to the Russian press-laws, but they
do not obligate the Russian government or His Majesty the Emperor of
Russia in any way. In contrast with the voices of the Russian press I
have the immediate testimony of Emperor Alexander himself, when a few
months ago I had again the honor of being received by him in audience
after the lapse of several years. I was then able to convince myself
afresh that the emperor of Russia harbors no hostile feelings against
us and does not intend to attack us, or to wage any aggressive wars at
all. What the Russian press says, I do not believe, what Emperor
Alexander says, I believe; I have absolute confidence in it. When both
are in the scales, the testimony of the Russian press, with its hatred
of Germany, rises light as a feather, and the personal testimony of
Emperor Alexander has the only effective weight, so far as I am
concerned. I repeat, therefore, the press does not induce me to
consider our relations with Russia to be worse today than they were a
year ago.

I now come to the other point, the allocation of the troops. It used
to take place on a big scale, but only since 1879, when the Turkish
war was concluded, has it assumed the proportions which today seem
threatening. It may easily appear as if this accumulation of Russian
troops near the German and Austrian frontiers--where their support
is more difficult and more expensive than farther inland--could only
be dictated by the intention of surprising and attacking one of the
neighbors unprepared, _sans dire gare!_ (I cannot for the moment think
of the German expression.) Well, I do not believe this. In the first
place, it would be contrary to the character of the sovereign and his
own words, and secondly its object could not easily be understood.
Russia cannot intend to conquer any Prussian provinces, nor, I
believe, any Austrian provinces. Russia has, I believe, as many Polish
subjects as it cares to have, and has no desire to increase their
numbers. To annex anything but Polish districts from Austria would be
even more difficult. No reason exists, no pretense which could induce
a European monarch suddenly to assail his neighbors. I even go so far
in my confidence as to be convinced that a Russian war would not ensue
if we should become involved in a French war because of some explosive
happenings in France, which no one can foresee and which surely are
not intended by the present French government. A French war, on the
other hand, would be an absolute certainty if we should be involved in
a Russian war, for no French government would be so strong that it
could prevent it, even if it was inclined to do so. But as regards
Russia I still declare that I am not looking for an attack; and I take
back nothing from what I said last year.

You will ask: "If that is so, what is the use of this expensive
allocation of the Russian troops?" That is one of the questions for
which one hardly can expect an answer from a ministry of foreign
affairs, itself vitally interested. If we should begin to ask for
explanations, we might receive forced replies, and our surrejoinders
would also have to be forced. That is a dangerous path which I do not
like to tread. Allocations of troops are things for which one does not
take the other country to task, asking for categorical explanations,
but against which one takes counter precautions with equal reserve and
circumspection. I cannot, therefore, give an authentic declaration
concerning the motives of this Russian allocation, but, having been
familiar through a generation with foreign politics and the policy of
Russia, I can form my own ideas concerning them. These ideas lead me
to assume that the Russian cabinet is convinced, probably with good
reason, that the weight of the Russian voice in the diplomatic
Areopagos of Europe will be the weightier in the next European crisis,
the stronger Russia is on the European frontier and the farther west
the Russian armies stand. Russia is the more quickly at hand, either
as an ally or as a foe, the nearer her main army, or at least a large
army, is to her western frontier.

This policy has directed the Russian allocation of troops for a long
while. You will remember that the army assembled in the Polish kingdom
during the Crimean War was so large that this war might have ended
differently if the army had started on time. If you think farther
back, you will see that the events of 1830 found Russia unprepared and
not ready to take a hand, because she had an insufficient number of
troops in the western part of her empire. I need not, therefore, draw
the conclusion from the accumulation of Russian troops in the western
provinces (_sapadnii Gubernii_, as the Russians say), that our
neighbors mean to attack us. I assume they are waiting, possibly for
another Oriental crisis, intending then to be in the position of
pressing home the Russian wishes by means of an army situated not
exactly in Kasan, but farther west.

When may such an Oriental crisis take place, you ask. Forsooth, we
have no certainty. During this century we have had, I think, four
crises, if I do not include the smaller ones and those which did not
culminate. One was in 1809 and ended with the treaty which gave Russia
the Pruth-frontier, and another in 1828. Then there was the Crimean
War of 1854, and the war of 1877. They have happened, therefore, at
intervals of about twenty years and over. Why, then, should the next
crisis take place sooner than after a similar interval, or at about
1899, twenty years after the last one? I for one should like to
reckon with the possibility of its being postponed and not occurring
immediately.

Then there are other European events which are wont to take place at
even intervals, the Polish uprisings, for instance. Formerly we had to
expect one every eighteen or twenty years. Possibly this is one reason
why Russia wishes to be so strong in Poland that she may prevent them.
Then there are the changes of government in France which also used to
happen every eighteen or twenty years; and no one can deny that a
change of government in France may bring about such a crisis that
every interested nation may wish to be able to intervene with her full
might--I mean only diplomatically, but with a diplomacy which is
backed by an efficient army close at hand.

I assume on the strength of my purely technical-diplomatic judgment,
which is based on my experience, that these are the intentions of
Russia and that she has no wish to comply with the somewhat uncouth
threats and boastings of the newspapers. And, if this is so, then
there is surely no reason why we should look more gloomily into the
future now than we have done at any time during the past forty years.
The Oriental crisis is undoubtedly the most likely to occur, and in
this our interests are only secondary. When it happens, we are in a
position to watch whether the powers, who are primarily interested in
the Mediterranean and the Levante, will make their decisions and come
to terms, if they choose, or go to war with Russia about them. We are
not immediately called upon to do either. Every great power which is
trying to influence or to restrain the policies of other countries in
matters which are beyond the sphere of its interests is playing
politics beyond the bounds which God has assigned to it. Its policy is
one of force and not of vital interests. It is working for prestige.
We shall not do this. If Oriental crises happen, we shall wait before
taking our position until the powers who have greater interests at
stake than we have declared themselves. There is, therefore, no
reason, gentlemen, why you should look upon our present situation with
unusual gravity, assuming this to be the cause of our asking for the
mighty increase of our armaments which the military bill contemplates.
I should like to separate the question of reestablishing the
_Landwehr_ of the second grade, in short the big military bill and the
financial bill, from the question of our present situation. It has to
do, not with a temporary and transient arrangement, but with the
permanent invigoration of the German empire.

That no temporary arrangement is contemplated will be perfectly clear,
I believe, when I ask you to survey with me the dangers of war which
we have met in the past forty years without having become nervously
excited at any one time.

In the year 1848, when many dikes and flood gates were broken, which
until then had directed the peaceful flow of countless waters, we had
to dispose of two questions freighted with the danger of war. They
concerned Poland and Schleswig-Holstein. The first shouts after the
Martial days were: war with Russia for the rehabilitation of Poland!
Soon thereafter the danger was perilously near of being involved in a
great European war on account of Schleswig-Holstein. I need not
emphasize how the agreement of Olmuetz, in 1850, prevented a great
conflagration--a war on a gigantic scale. Then there followed two
years of greater quiet out of general ill feeling, at the time when I
first was ambassador in Frankfort. In 1853 the earliest symptoms of
the Crimean War made themselves felt. This war lasted from 1853 to
1856, and during this whole time we were near the edge of the cliff, I
will not say the abyss, whence it was intended to draw us into the
war. I remember that I was obliged at that time, from 1853 to 1855 to
alternate like a pendulum, so to speak, between Frankfort and Berlin
because the late king, thanks to the confidence he had in me, used me
as the real advocate of his independent policy whenever the
insistence of the western powers that we too should declare war on
Russia grew too strong, and the opposition of his cabinet too flabby
for his liking. Then the play was staged--I do not know how
often--when I was called back here and ordered to write for His
Majesty a more pro-Russian dispatch, and Mr. von Manteuffel resigned,
and I requested to be instructed by His Majesty to follow Mr. von
Manteuffel, after the dispatch was gone, into the country or anywhere
else, and to induce him to resume his office. Yet each time Prussia,
as it was then constituted, was hovering on the brink of a great war.
It was exposed to the hostility of the whole of Europe, except Russia,
if it refused to join in the policies of the west European powers,
and, if it did, it was forced to break with Russia, possibly for a
very long while, because the defection of Prussia would probably have
been felt very painfully in Russia.

During the Crimean War, therefore, we were in constant danger of war.
The war lasted till 1856, when it was at last concluded by the treaty
of Paris, and we found, in the Congress of Paris a sort of Canossa
prepared for us, for which I should not have assumed the
responsibility, and against which I vainly counseled at the time. We
were not at all obliged to play the part of a greater power than we
were, and to sign the treaties made there. But we were dancing
attendance with the view of being permitted to sign the treaty. This
will not again happen to us.

That was in 1856, and as early as in 1857 the problem of Neuchatel was
again threatening us with war. This did not become generally known. In
the spring of that year I was sent to Paris by the late king to
negotiate with Emperor Napoleon concerning the passage of Prussian
troops in an attack upon Switzerland. Everyone who hears this from me
will know what this would have meant in case of an understanding, and
that it could have become a far-reaching danger of war, and might have
involved us with France as well as with other powers. Emperor Napoleon
 was not unwilling to agree. My negotiations in Paris, however, were
terminated because his majesty the king in the meanwhile had come to
an amicable understanding in the matter with Austria and Switzerland.
But the danger of war, we must agree, was present also during that
year.

While I was on this mission in Paris, the Italian War hung in the air.
It broke out a little more than a year later and came very near
drawing us into a big general war of Europe. We went so far as to
mobilize, and we should undoubtedly have taken the field, if the peace
of Villafranca had not been concluded, somewhat prematurely for
Austria, but just in time for ourselves, for we should have been
obliged to wage this war under unfavorable circumstances. We should
have turned this war, which was an Italian affair, into a
Franco-Prussian war, and its cessation, outcome, and treaty of peace
would no longer have depended on us, but on the friends and enemies
who stood behind us.

Thus we came into the sixties without the clouds of war having cleared
from the horizon for even one single year.

Already in 1863 another war threatened hardly less ominously, of which
the people at large knew little, and which will only be appreciated
when the secret archives of the cabinets will be made public. You may
remember the Polish uprising of 1863, and I shall never forget the
morning calls which I used to receive at that time from Sir Andrew
Buchanan, the English ambassador, and Talleyrand, the French
representative, who tried to frighten me out of my wits by attacking
the Prussian policy for its inexcusable adherence to Russia, and who
used rather a threatening language with me. At noon of the same days I
then used to have the pleasure of listening in the Prussian diet to
somewhat the same arguments and attacks which the foreign ambassadors
had made upon me in the morning. I suffered it quietly, but Emperor
Alexander lost his patience, and wished to draw his sword against the
plotting of the western powers. You will remember that the
French forces were then engaged with American projects and in Mexico,
which prevented France from taking a vigorous stand. The Emperor of
Russia was no longer willing to stand the Polish intrigues of the
other powers, and was ready to face events in our company and to go to
war. You will remember that Prussia was struggling at that time with
difficult interior problems, and that in Germany the leaven had begun
to work in the minds of the people, and the council of the princes in
Frankfort was under contemplation. It may be readily granted,
therefore, that the temptation for my gracious master was very strong
to cut, and thus to heal, his difficult position at home by agreeing
to a military undertaking on a colossal scale.

At that time war of Prussia and Russia together against those who were
protecting the Polish insurrection against us would undoubtedly have
taken place if his majesty had not recoiled from the thought of
solving home difficulties, Prussian as well as German, with foreign
help. We declined in silence, and without revealing to the other
German powers who had hostile projects against us the reasons which
had determined our course. The subsequent death of the King of Denmark
changed the trend of thought of everybody interested. But all that was
needed to bring about the great coalition war in 1863 was a "Yes"
instead of a "No" from His Majesty the King in Gastein. Anybody but a
German minister would perhaps have counseled affirmatively, from
reasons of utility and opportunism in order to solve thereby our home
difficulties. You see neither our own people nor foreigners really
have a proper appreciation of the amount of national loyalty and high
principles which guides both the sovereign and his ministers in the
government of German states.

The year 1864--we just spoke of 1863--brought a new pressing danger of
war. From the moment when our troops crossed the Eider, I was ready
every week to see the European Council of Elders interfere in this
Danish affair, and you will agree with me that this was highly
probable. But in those days we could observe that it is not so very
easy for Europe to attack Austria and Prussia when they are united;
and remember that the German federation which supported these two
states at that time had not nearly the same military importance which
the identical countries possess today. The difficulty of an attack on
Austria and Prussia showed itself even then, but the danger of a war
remained the same.

In 1865 it faced about, and the preparations for the war of 1866 were
beginning. I only remember a meeting of the Prussian cabinet which
took place in Regensburg in 1865 with a view to procuring the
necessary money, but which was rendered futile by the agreement of
Gastein. In 1866, however, the war broke out in full force, as you
know. A circumspect use of events alone enabled us to ward off the
existing danger of turning this duel between Prussia and Austria into
a fierce European war of coalition, when our very existence, our life
and all we had, would have been at stake.

This was in 1866, and in 1867 the Luxembourg problem arose, when only
a somewhat firmer reply was needed to bring about the great French war
in that year,--and we might have given it, if we had been so strong
that we could have counted on sure success. From then on, during 1868,
1869, and up to 1870 we were living in constant apprehension of war,
and of the agreements which in the time of Mr. von Beust were being
made in Salzburg and other places between France, Italy, and Austria,
and which, we feared, were directed against us. The apprehension of
war was so great at that time that I received calls--I was the
President of the cabinet--from merchants and manufacturers, who said:
"The uncertainty is unbearable. Why don't you strike the first blow?
War is preferable to this continued damper on all business!" We waited
quietly until we were struck, and I believe we did well to arrange
matters so that we were the nation which was assailed and were not
ourselves the assailants.

Now, since the great war of 1870 was waged, has there been a year, I
ask you, without the danger of war? In the first years of the
seventies--the very moment we came home, the question arose: "When
will be the next war? When will revenge be given? Within five years at
the latest, no doubt?" We were told: "The question whether we shall
have to fight and with what success surely rests with Russia
now-a-days. Russia alone holds the hilt." It was a representative of
the Catholic party who thus remonstrated with me in the Reichstag. I
may possibly revert to this subject later. In the meanwhile I wish to
complete the picture of the forty years by saying that in 1876 the
clouds of war again began to gather in the south. In 1877 the Balkan
War was waged, which would have led to a conflagration of the whole of
Europe, if this had not been prevented by the Congress gathered in
Berlin. After the Congress an entirely new eastern picture presented
itself to us, for Russia was offended by our attitude in the Congress.
I may revert to this later, if my strength permits.

Then there followed a period when we felt the results of the intimate
relations of the three emperors, which for some time permitted us to
face the future with greater placidity. But at the first symptoms of
any instability in the relations of the three emperors or of the
termination of the agreements which they had made with one another,
public opinion was possessed by the same nervous and, I believe,
exaggerated excitement with which we have had to contend these last
years, and which I consider especially uncalled for today.

From my belief that this excitement is uncalled for I am far from
drawing the conclusion that we do not need an increase in our
armaments. The very opposite is my view, and this may explain the
tableau of forty years which I have just exhibited before you,
possibly not for your enjoyment, and I ask your pardon.
[Illustration: THE BISMARCK MONUMENT AT HAMBURG LEDERER]

But if I had omitted even one of those years, which you yourselves
have lived through with trembling, you would not have received the
impression that the state of apprehension of great wars is permanent
with us. Great complications and all kinds of coalitions, which no one
can foresee, are constantly possible and we must be prepared for them.
We must be so strong, irrespective of momentary conditions, that we
can face any coalition with the assurance of a great nation which is
strong enough under circumstances to take her fate into her own hands.
We must be able to face our fate placidly with that self reliance and
confidence in God which are ours when we are strong and our cause is
just. And the Government will see to it that the German cause will be
just always.

We must, to put it briefly, be as strong in these times as we possibly
can be, and we can be stronger than any other nation of equal numbers
in the world. I shall revert to this later--but it would be criminal
if we were not to make use of our opportunity. If we do not need our
full armed strength, we need not summon it. The only problem is the
not very weighty one of money--not very weighty I say in passing,
because I have no wish to enter upon a discussion of the financial and
military figures, and of the fact that France has spent three
milliards for the improvement of her armaments these last years, while
we have spent scarcely one and one half milliards, including what we
are asking of you at this time. But I leave the elucidation of this to
the minister of war and the representatives of the treasury
department.

When I say that it is our duty to endeavor to be ready at all times
and for all emergencies, I imply that we must make greater exertions
than other people for the same purpose, because of our geographical
position. We are situated in the heart of Europe, and have at least
three fronts open to an attack. France has only her eastern, and
Russia only her western frontier where they may be attacked. We are
also more exposed to the dangers of a coalition than any other nation,
as is proved by the whole development of history, by our geographical
position, and the lesser degree of cohesiveness, which until now has
characterized the German nation in comparison with others. God has
placed us where we are prevented, thanks to our neighbors from growing
lazy and dull. He has placed by our side the most warlike and restless
of all nations, the French, and He has permitted warlike inclinations
to grow strong in Russia, where formerly they existed to a lesser
degree. Thus we are given the spur, so to speak, from both sides, and
are compelled to exertions which we should perhaps not be making
otherwise. The pikes in the European carp-pond are keeping us from
being carps by making us feel their teeth on both sides. They also are
forcing us to an exertion which without them we might not make, and to
a union among us Germans, which is abhorrent to us at heart. By nature
we are rather tending away, the one from the other. But the
Franco-Russian press within which we are squeezed compels us to hold
together, and by pressure our cohesive force is greatly increased.
This will bring us to that state of being inseparable which all other
nations possess, while we do not yet enjoy it. But we must respond to
the intentions of Providence by making ourselves so strong that the
pikes can do nothing but encourage us.

Formerly in the years of the Holy Alliance--I am just thinking of an
American song which I learned of my late friend Motley: "In good old
colonial times, when we lived under a King"--well those were the good
old patriarchal times when we had many posts to guide us, and many
dikes to protect us from the wild floods of Europe. There were the
German Union, and the real support and consummation of the German
Union, the Holy Alliance. We had support in Russia and in Austria,
and, above all, the guaranty of our diffidence that we should never
express an opinion before the others had spoken.

All this we have lost; we must help ourselves. The Holy Alliance was
wrecked in the Crimean War--not through our fault. The German Union
has been destroyed by us, because the existence which we were granted
within it was unbearable in the long run for ourselves and the German
people as well. After the dissolution of the German Union and the war
of 1866, Prussia, as it was then, or North Germany, would have become
isolated, if we had been obliged to count with the fact that nobody
would be willing to pardon our new successes--the great successes
which we had won. No great power looks with favor on the successes of
its neighbors.

Our relations with Russia, however, were not disturbed by the
experience of 1866. In that year the memory of Count Buol's policy and
of the policy of Austria during the Crimean War was too fresh in
Russia to permit the rise of the thought that Russia could assist the
Austrian monarchy against the Prussian attack, or could renew the
campaign, which Emperor Nicholas had fought for Austria in 1849--ask
your pardon, if I sit down for a moment. I cannot stand so long.

Our most natural support, therefore, still remained with Russia, due
very properly to the policy of Emperor Alexander I. in this
century--not to speak of the last century at all. In 1813 he might
well have turned back at the Polish frontier, and have made peace, and
later he might have dropped Prussia. We certainly owed our
reestablishment on the old basis at that time to the benevolence of
Emperor Alexander I.--or, if you wish to be sceptical, you may say to
the Russian policy, which was such as Prussia needed. Gratitude for
this dominated the reign of Frederick William III. The credit,
however, which Russia had in the Prussian accounts was used up by the
friendship, I may even say servility, of Prussia during the enti