# Littell's Living Age/Volume 138/Issue 1785/Prince Bismarck

From Blackwood's Magazine.
﻿PRINCE BISMARCK.
BY ONE OF HIS COUNTRYMEN.
I.
He is a powerful man. That is what strikes at once every one who sees him for the first time. He is very tall and of enormous weight, but not ungainly. Every part of his gigantic frame is well-proportioned, — the large, round head, the massive neck, the broad shoulders, and the vigorous limbs. He is now more than sixty-three, and the burden he has had to bear has been unusually heavy; but though his step has become slow and ponderous, he carries his head high — looking down, even, on those who are as tall as himself — and his figure is still erect. During these latter years he has suffered frequent and severe bodily pain, but no one could look upon him as an old man, or as one to be pitied. On the contrary, everybody who ​sees him feels that Prince Bismarck is still in possession of immense physical power. Photography has made his features known to all. It is a strange face, which would attract attention anywhere, even if we did not know that it belonged to a man whose doings have changed our modern world. It is a face never to be forgotten − by no means a handsome, but still less an ugly one. It was remarkably bright, full of humor, of merry mischief even, in days long gone by. It has now become serious − almost solemn − with an expression of unflinching energy and daring.
The bald, round forehead − an object of admiration for the phrenologist − is of quite extraordinary dimensions; the large, prominent blue eyes seem as if they could look into the sun without blinking. They are not quick, − they wander slowly from one object to another; but when they rest on a human countenance, they become so intensely inquiring, that many people, when they have to undergo this searching look, feel uneasy; and all, even Bismarck's equals or superiors, are made aware that they are in presence of a man with whom it would be wise to play fair, as he would probably discover the subtlest tricks. His thick, well-set eyebrows are singularly long and shaggy, and they add not a little to the stern, and, at times, somewhat fierce expression of his countenance. The nose is of ordinary size − not as long, perhaps, as might be expected from the rest of the face; the chin is large and massive.
Prince Bismarck has said of himself, that he was the best-hated man in Europe. He has indeed many furious enemies in various parts of the world: in his own country to begin with, among the Particularists, the Catholics, and the Socialists; and again at Rome, in Austria, and in France. He has not often been heard to complain of this; still, a bright intellect cannot possess the knowledge of such a fact without being saddened by it. Prince Bismarck is by no means a light-hearted man. Sorrow and care have taken up their abode with him. They throw a shadow on his brow, and make themselves felt in the sound of his voice, and in the frequent bitterness of his hesitating speech. He is no longer young; he fully realizes the fact that the best part of his life is gone, that his greatest battles have been fought; and maybe in his inner heart there is the feeling, that while he has achieved much for the greatness of his country, he has done but little for his own happiness. Sometimes, when he is sitting among his personal and intimate friends − he has, besides his family, some five or six of these − free from all restraint, smoking his long pipe, patting the head of his huge dog, attending listlessly to a conversation going on around him in subdued tones, there passes over his cold face a something like a soft transparent veil, behind which his hard features relax and take an unlooked-for expression of wistful sadness.
After all, Otto von Bismarck, a child of the Marches, where his family has been known since the thirteenth century, is a thorough-bred German. Though one of the most matter-of-fact men the world has ever known, he carries within his breast a hidden vein of deep feeling; and though that feeling is certainly not of the kind which gives birth to morbid sentimentality, and it is difficult to believe that young Bismarck ever addressed his complainings to the moon, still it enables him to feel keenly all that a sensitive heart has to endure during the passage through life.
His love for his wife and children is very great, and these attend on him and take care of him in a way which shows that the deepest affection unites them to the head of the family. They look on all those who bring hard work, trouble, or anxiety to the prince, as personal enemies; they protect his sleep, his rest, his leisure even, as the most precious thing in the world. When he is ill, they nurse him with untiring care his slightest wishes are respected laws they enjoy his pleasures; and if any man has succeeded in amusing the prince, or even in making him smile, you may be assured that the princess and her children will thank him as though he had done them a personal service.
​It was in 1866. Bismarck − then Count Bismarck − was returning from the palace, where he had been to see the king. While passing through the large street of Berlin called Unter den Linden, and quite near the place where Hoedel and Nobiling have since attempted the life of the emperor William, he suddenly heard a shot fired close behind him. He turned sharply round and saw a young man who, with a smoking revolver, was aiming at him. He strode at once up to the man and seized the arm that held the, revolver, while with his other hand he grasped the throat of the would-be murderer. Blind, however, had had time to pass his weapon on to his left hand, and now fired three shots in quick succession. Bismarck felt himself hurt in his shoulder and in one of his ribs but he held his furious assailant fast till some soldiers came up and took hold of him. Then Bismarck walked home at a brisk pace, and reached his own house long before anybody there could know what had happened.
The countess had some friends with her when her husband entered the drawing-room. He greeted all in a friendly manner, and begged to be excused for a few minutes, as he had some urgent business to attend to. He then walked into the next room where his desk stood, and wrote to inform the king of the accident. Having attended to this duty, he returned to the drawing-room, and made one of his little standing jokes, ignoring his own unpunctuality, and saying to his wife, −
"Well! are we to have no dinner to-day? You always keep me waiting."
He sat down and partook heartily of the dishes set before him, and it was only when the dinner was over that he walked up to the countess, kissed her on the fore-head, wished her in the old German way, "Gesegnete Maltzeit!" (May your meal be blessed!) and then added, −
"You see I am quite well."
She looked up at him. "Well," he continued, "you must not be anxious, my child. … Somebody has fired at me; but it is nothing, as you see."
Bismarck was the idol of his peasants as long as he remained among them at Kniephof and at Schoenhausen. Though his life has been investigated with extraordinary minuteness by his friends as well as by his enemies, nothing has ever been brought forward which would show him in any other light than that of a kind master. He is by no means what some people call severe, but just, which, in most cases, signifies simply, very hard. He was always really kind to all those who had a right to look up to him for protection. One day he was inspecting the dikes at Schoenhausen. He came to a spot where infiltrations from the Elba had caused a large space of ground to be covered with water to about the depth of a foot. He wanted to get over, but not being dressed for the occasion, he looked about to find a suitable passage. One of the Schoenhausen peasants, angling near him, saw his difficulty.
"Get on my back," he said to young Bismarck, who was then about twenty-four; "I'll carry you over."
"You don't know what you offer," answered Bismarck, with a laugh; I ride thirteen stone."
"Never mind," replied the man. "We would all of us like to carry you through anything, even if you were a deal heavier."
Bismarck has not changed as regards his kindness to humble folks. While among the great personages who approach him − privy-councillors, ministers, ambassadors, princes even − there are many who fear him to an almost incredible degree, and who literally tremble before him, his old servants speak of him and to him with that peculiar, respectful familiarity which exists only between a good master and attached servants.
Last year, when Bismarck's favorite dog, "Sultan," was dying, he watched beside the poor animal with such manifestly deep sorrow that Count Herbert, the princes eldest son, at last endeavored to get his father away. The prince took a few steps towards the door, but on looking back, his eyes met those of his old friend. "No, leave me alone," he said, and he returned to poor Sultan. When the dog was dead, Bismarck turned to a friend who was standing near, and said, "Those old German forefathers of ours had a kind religion. They believed that, after death, they would meet again in the celestial hunting-grounds all the good dogs that had been their faithful companions in life. … I wish I could believe that."
Bismarck's love for his dogs can be traced back to his earliest youth, and is very peculiar. It does not in the least resemble the commonplace liking most people are able to feel for some pet animal. It is a real affection, deeply rooted in his large heart, and closely allied to the kindness which he shows to all on whose faithfulness he can rely, and who look up to him for protection. Another thoroughly German characteristic in Prince Bismarck is his love for ​nature, and especially for the forest. In many of his letters to his wife, dated from Biarritz, Fontarabia, San Sebastian, and other places, he speaks also with enthusiasm of the beauty of the sea. "My conscience smites me," he says in one of these letters, "for enjoying all this beauty by myself, − for seeing it without you."
When Bismarck is in the country, his greatest pleasure is to take long rides and walks in the thick forest, frequently quite alone; and those who live with him have observed that he is never in a gentler mood than when he returns from one of these visits to his oldest friends, as he calls the trees. When he is absent from home, overburdened with work and responsibility, his chief recreation is to get away from the town, to seek peace and rest in the nearest forest. In Berlin, at the Radziwill Palace, where the prince now lives − that same palace where the Congress has been holding its sittings − the prince's private office looks out upon a fine old park, extending behind the house. Bismarck likes to sit there alone after some hot political discussion, and in the soft music of the trees he seems to find a soothing balm for his over-excited nerves.
When he insisted last year on retiring from office, after many important concessions had been made to him, he made use of one argument, which it was not found easy to combat.
"Business will keep me in Berlin," he said. "I hate the Wilhelm Strasse. I have not many years to live; I would like to spend them near my trees."
The chancellor's tender of his resignation has often been sneered at by "knowing people." These know little of Bismarck's private character, or they would not doubt that he really yearns for peace and rest. He has been a very ambitious man; but his unclouded judgment, which the most astonishing success in life has not been able to obscure, tells him that he cannot go beyond, or rather above, the position which he has occupied since the close of the French war. The prince has no longer any personal interest in remaining in office; if he does so, it is chiefly out of love and respect for his royal master.
Foreigners can scarcely imagine how deeply loyalty towards the Hohenzollerns is rooted in old Prussian families like Bismarck's. This feeling has not been modified by modern influences — it belongs to the Middle Ages. The thorough-bred Prussian Junker — and Bismarck prides himself on being one — looks on his king as his sovereign by the grace of God, holding sway over the life and the blood of his loyal vassals. Very often Count Bismarck — as afterwards Prince Bismarck — has not agreed with the king; and, far oftener than the public fancies, Bismarck has been the one to yield. When he speaks of the king he says "his Majesty," — a term which is far from being in general use — and the words are never uttered save with the deepest respect.
"I can never forget," said Prince Bismarck one day, "that his Majesty, in following my advice, has twice imperilled his crown. He condescended to take my counsel before going to war with Austria, and, four years later, before going to war with France. He knew full well when he did so that all he valued in the world was at stake. But he trusted me implicitly. For that reason alone I would serve him to the best of my power, so long as my services may be required by him."
It was really in order to satisfy the old emperor that Prince Bismarck consented last year to remain in office. His health, however, forbade him to continue the work he had done up to that time. A long leave of absence was granted to him. Count Stolberg-Wernigerode was appointed vice-chancellor, and it was agreed that the management of all ordinary business should be left to experienced statesmen like Von Bulow and Camphausen. It was settled, however, that all exceptionally great questions were to be referred for decision to Bismarck himself. His promise to attend personally to important business was couched in the form of a curious apologue.
"When a man goes out shooting early in the morning," he said at one of his Parliamentary receptions, "he begins by firing away at all sorts of game, and is quite willing to walk a couple of miles over heavy ground in order to get a shot at some wild fowl. But when he has travelled the whole day long, when his game-bag is full, and he is nearing home hungry, thirsty, covered with dust, and tired to death all he asks for is rest. He shakes his head when the keeper tells him that he has only a few steps to take to get at some birds in the adjoining field, quite near the house. 'I have enough of that game,' he says. But let somebody come and tell him — 'There, in the thickest part of yonder forest, you can get at a boar,' and you will see that weary man, if he has the blood of a sportsman in his ​veins, forget all his fatigue, gather himself up, and, striding away, penetrate into the forest, — not to be satisfied until he has found the animal and slain it. I am like that man. I have been out shooting since sunrise. It is now getting late. I have done a good days hard work, and I am weary. Other people may fire at hares and partridges; I have quite enough of that sort of game. … But, gentlemen, if a boar is to be slain, let me know about it, and I will go into the thick of the forest and try to kill him."
He has kept his word. He has lived on quietly at Varzin and at Friedrichsruhe, as long as there were only small birds flying over the political horizon; but as soon as Congress met, Bismarck was there to preside. And we may feel sure that he will not desert the field so long as the battle against Socialism is raging in Germany.
Women seem to have exercised singularly little influence over Bismarck. There is an old story of his having once been in love before he married; but the story is so vague, that we may well doubt its resting on any solid foundation. It is more than likely that he did not entirely escape that sweet disease of youth called "love-fever;" but he had it probably in a mild form, and it soon passed away. At all events, it left no traces. The fact is, that he married at the age of thirty-two, and that since that day nobody — not even his worst enemy — has attempted to throw the slightest suspicion on his character as a husband and a father. His domestic life has been thoroughly pure, and it is well known by all who surround him that he shows unflinching severity towards all breakers of the seventh commandment. While he is indulgent to most youthful extravagances and frolics — of which his own early days were full — he cannot tolerate libertines, who seem to inspire him with a natural antipathy bordering on disgust. Though always kind and courteous in female society, Bismarck has never distinguished any of the numerous beauties he has met in his life so as to authorize even a suspicion that he paid special attention to any woman, still less that he courted any. He has had affectionate and respected female friends — among whom the grand duchess Helena of Russia must be reckoned — but the only women who, to all appearances, have found room in his heart and occupied it, are his mother, his sister, his wife, and his daughter.
Bismarck's mother, Louise Wilhelmine Menken, was born in 1789, and married in 1806, when she was only sixteen. She died on the 1st of January 1839, without having witnessed her sons greatness. She bore to her husband, Karl Wilhelm Ferdinand von Bismarck (born in 1771, died in 1845), six children, three of whom Ferdinand; Johanna, and Franz, died in infancy; while three others, Bernard (born 1810), Otto (born 1815), and Malvina are still living.
Malvina, Bismarck's youngest and only surviving sister, was born in 1827, and married in 1844 Baron Oscar von Arnim-Kroechlendorff. The relations between this lady and her brother Otto have always been of a singularly affectionate character. He used to treat her, when they were both at home, with a tender deference that student-brothers rarely show to their younger sisters. Those who remember seeing them as young people together, say that he was as kind and respectful to her as if she had been his bride. When she married, he wrote her a letter which is a curious mixture of playfulness and regret. "It is most unnatural and egotistical," he says, "that girls, who have bachelor brothers, should in an inconsiderate way go and get married, just as if they had nothing else to do in this world but to follow their own inclinations." In his letters he gives her all sorts of pet names; and even when he is at his hardest work, with his health giving way, and when all who approach him are awed by the expression of almost terrific severity on his countenance, his letters to "his beloved sister, his dearest Malvina, his dear little one," remain invariably kind, and are often full of evident good-humor. He cuts jokes about important affairs, about men who think themselves very big, and about himself. But when his sister is in trouble, he finds wonderfully concise expressions for conveying tender and deep sympathy, and through the whole correspondence there runs, so to speak, one unbroken thread of profound brotherly love.
The wife of Prince Bismarck, Johanna von Putkammer, of an old and noble Pomeranian family, was born in 1824. He made her acquaintance at the marriage of one of his friends, where she acted as bridesmaid, and two years later in 1847 he asked her to become his wife. Her family was not at first disposed to accept his proposals. At that time Herr von Bismarck enjoyed a rather curious reputation. He was surnamed "der tolle Bismarck" (mad Bismarck), and had earned this title by his numerous duels, his daring feats of horsemanship, and some widely-spread ​anecdotes concerning his attitude generally towards professors, burgomasters, and other respectable members of what Ger- man students call "Philistine society." But more especially he owed his surname to the very noisy revels he used to hold with a number of exceedingly loud young men at Kniephof and at Schoenhausen. To quiet, respectable, religious people like the Putkammers, he did not appear a very eligible suitor for an only and beloved child. Bismarck, however, settled the question at once. He walked up to Miss Johanna, and having ascertained by a look that she sided with him, he folded her in his arms and said, turning to her astonished relatives, "What God has united, no man shall put asunder."
Princess Bismarck has preserved all the simplicity of her youth. She is a perfect specimen — in the best sense of the word — of the German Hausfrau (housewife). She is very quiet, bears her honors as the most natural thing in the world, holds fast by the old friends of humbler days, and has but one great object in life — to make her husband and children happy. She cares for them in a peaceful, motherly way; and her serenity and patience, which have always secured for Bismarck a quiet home, have certainly contributed to his success through life. "She it is," he once said to a friend, "who has made me what I am."
Prince Bismarck has three children Marie, Herbert, and William. Count Herbert has entered the diplomatic service, and is at present his fathers private secretary; his brother William has studied for the bar. Both brothers will probably enter Parliament this year. Countess Marie is said to be her father's favorite child and to resemble him most in character. She was betrothed two years ago to Count Eulenburg; but her affianced lover, while staying at Varzin, fell ill and died suddenly of typhoid fever. This tragic event cast for some time a deep gloom over the Bismarck family.
We have already quoted several letters of Prince Bismarck's. A very curious anthology might be made out of his correspondence, for he is an accomplished letter-writer. His writing is unusually large, bold, and distinct. It does not look like the hand of a man who writes quickly. It is probable that he writes as he speaks — rather slowly, always looking for the clearest possible expression of his thought. He especially dislikes obscurity and diffuseness. Knowing as he does, before he either writes or speaks, precisely what he wants to say, he is not satisfied until he has found the exact translation into words of his ideas. Hence his hesitation in speech, and hence, probably, his slowness, likewise, in writing. His style, however, shows no signs of hesitation; it is limpid and fluent.
In his private letters Bismarck is witty, full of lively but not sarcastic humor, a close observer of men and things, and a contemptuous judge in respect of all that is mean. His letters seldom contain anything but facts and descriptions, and he scarcely ever indulges in sentiment. Now and then, however, one meets with a short passage which betrays genuine feeling stirring the depths of his heart. His imagery and comparisons are mostly very good, and sometimes exceedingly humorous.
Bismarck's official correspondence is remarkable for it lucidity. He does not leave a doubt as to what he means to say; and he is so concise, that from his longest despatches it would be difficult to strike out even a few words without impairing the sense of the whole document. He has a strong objection to exaggeration, and seldom employs a superlative of any kind. But when he does use a strong expression you may be sure be means it — as when he said, "We will never go to Canossa."
Of late Prince Bismarck has given up writing his despatches himself. On very important occasions only he now takes up the pen. Sometimes he notes down in pencil certain short sentences to be used in a despatch. He does this only when he wishes his opinion on some point to be expressed in the very words chosen by himself. But in most cases he is content to give his secretaries, who are well trained to their work, a few verbal instructions. While doing so he either walks up and down the room, or sits at his desk playing with a paper-knife. The attendant official, often himself a functionary of high rank, listens while the chancellor speaks, and takes short notes of his words. The countenance of Prince Bismarck during this kind of work is very curious. If he could be painted at such a time, and an abstract name were given to the picture, it would be entitled "Concentration of Thought."
Like all men who have accomplished great things, Bismarck has the power of concentrating, at a given moment, all the strength of his mind on one special point, and it is wonderful how clearly and how well he then sees that one point. He certainly could not dictate half-a-dozen letters at once, as it is said that Cæsar and Napoleon I. were able to do; it is even probable that he would consider it as a kind of humbug, ​well fitted to astonish bystanders, but of very little use for the acceleration of work. Bismarck has frequently expressed the opinion that a thing is not well done unless it is done as well as possible; and that no thing, not even a small one, can be done as well as possible unless thorough attention is given to it. But while he objects to doing more than one thing at a time, he is able to pass quickly from one to another. Just as his eye, which seems to be fixed on the object upon which it rests, does not on that account dwell long on the same point, so his mind looks fixedly and through and through. so to speak, a special question, leaving it nevertheless suddenly and entirely as soon as attention is required by some other subject. The exhaustiveness of Bismarck's despatches, which seldom leave any part of a question unelucidated, should be attributed to the fact that he has trained himself always to attend thoroughly to the one special matter he has in hand.
Many of Bismarck's peculiarities as a writer are also observable in him as a speaker. He lacks some of the qualities which are considered almost indispensable to an orator. He not only speaks slowly, he actually stops — at the beginning of his speeches, at least — at every third or fourth word; one might suppose he had to overcome some organic difficulty in pronouncing his words. He sways himself gently backwards and forwards, he twirls his thumbs, and from time to time he looks at a scrap of paper upon which he has put down notes before speaking. To one who did not know him well he would certainly appear to be embarrassed, nay, even intimidated. But this is not the case. He takes due account of those who are listening to him, but he is probably less disturbed by their presence than any other public speaker. He is heart and soul at his work, he wants to say all he thinks about the question, and he does not much care whether his way of speaking is pleasant or not. When he comes to a stop, his auditors feel that after all they have heard something worth listening to, and that every word Bismarck has used, and which he has taken so much pains to find, was the right one, bearing directly on the question. Somebody interrupts him; he does not retort quick as lightning, but after a few seconds — the time for weighing what he has just heard — there comes a crushing reply which falls heavily on the interrupter, and not unfrequently raises a laugh at his expense.
After a while he warms to his work, and the conclusion of some of his speeches is very good, even from an exclusively oratorical point of view. The greater part of what he has said in debate reads well; it is full of sound common sense and logic, and is utterly free from high-sounding, empty phrases. If what Bismarck says were not good and forcible, no one would attend to him; but generally what he says appears from the first so weighty, that though he speaks badly, there is no orator more attentively listened to. And this was the case before he became a great man. In 1848, when his adversaries used to sneer freely at the Prussian Junker, and when he possessed but little influence, none of his speeches in the Prussian Parliament failed to attract more or less attention. One may like, or one may hate Bismarck, but every one must acknowledge that he is intellectually what he is physically — a powerful man. He himself knows this well, and relies on his own powers to an extraordinary extent. Hence his daring, which also forms so marked a feature in his character.
Bismarck's life is full of authentic anecdotes recording his singular fearlessness. As a child, he does not seem to know what danger is. His mother is in constant fear about him. If he does not get drowned, he will certainly break his neck. Many accidents happen to him, and he often has very narrow escapes, but somehow he always does escape. As he grows older he becomes more prudent, but still he does not know fear. Nothing daunts him. He likes his masters when they treat him kindly, and in that case they find him docile, studious, quiet even; but he rebels against those who try to subdue him by severity, and they can never get an authority over him.
In Göttingen, whither he went to study law, he got involved in four duels on the very day of his arrival, because, quite regardless of the respect due by a freshman to his seniors, he coolly and deliberately insulted four of these who had taken the liberty to laugh at him.
While in the army he saved his servant from drowning, at the risk of his own life. For this deed he got a medal, which for many years was the only decoration he had. He wears it still; and it is said — and we readily believe — that he is quite as proud of it as of the numberless ribbons, crosses, and stars which now cover his breast. An Austrian Excellency asked him one day in Frankfurt what that poor medal meant. "Oh," replied Bismarck coolly, "I rather like to save people from ​drowning when I have a chance. That's what I got that medal for."
After 1848, Bismarck's courage was displayed on other fields. He was among the first, and certainly among the most conspicuous, of those who, while all around were carried away by the Revolution, or despaired of being able to resist it, stood up boldly and agitated openly against it. He took the lead of the reactionary party, and became very unpopular. The Liberal press in Prussia attacked him with great violence. In Parliament he met with vehement opposition. He seldom lost his temper, but he never retracted a single word of his attacks on the Revolution. Some allusions having been made to the fate which generally awaits those who try to resist the demands of a great people for liberty, he merely shrugged his shoulders. He is of opinion that "death on the scaffold may be a very honorable death."
While he was canvassing for his election at a place called Rathenow, an old farmer asked him if he thought it were of any use to fight against those Berlin democrats. "It is better to be the hammer than the anvil," replied Bismarck. "Let us attack them by all means!" This has been Bismarck's policy through life. As soon as he sees an enemy before him he commences the attack. He has always managed to be the hammer.
When he was on the point of leaving Rathenow, a mob surrounded the carriage, in which he was seated with his friend, Mr. Von Stechow. Stones were thrown at him, and one struck him on the shoulder. He rose, and, picking up the stone that had fallen in the carriage, he hurled it back at the crowd. It was a multitude against two men; but nobody dared to stop Bismarck's carriage.
In 1850, when the tide of political passion was still running very high, Bismarck went one day into a tavern at Berlin to take a glass of beer. A man near him, feeling himself supported by the presence of his friends, began to abuse a member of the royal family. Bismarck looked at him, and said quietly, "If you have not left this room before I have finished my beer, Ill break this pot over your head." He then emptied his glass very deliberately, and as the man took no heed of the warning, he did as he had threatened. He went up to the fellow and knocked him about the head with the pot till he fell, howling, on the ground. Bismarck then asked the waiter, "How much for the glass?" and, having paid for it, he walked away leisurely, without any one having dared to molest him. Even at that time he was already a man of some political standing, and the acknowledged leader of the Conservative party; but, true to his principle, he always took the offensive, attacking his adversaries wherever he met them, and with all weappons.
Bismarck's attitude in Parliament had, of course, been much noticed at court. The king, Frederick William IV., had taken a great liking to the Junker, and when the post of Prussian minister at Frankfurt became vacant, he thought of offering it to Bismarck. He was rather surprised, however, when this latter, without asking time for reflection, declared himself ready to accept the king's proposal.
"But you are aware that it is a very difficult post, and it involves great responsibility?" said the king.
"Your Majesty may at all events give me a chance," replied Bismarck; "if I do not succeed, I can be recalled at any time."
The position which he at once assumed at Frankfurt created considerable astonishment there. Austria was at that time the ruling power in the Bundesrath, and the minor German States not only suffered this, as being legitimate and unavoidable, but they actually favored the pretensions of Austria; for they saw in the house of Hapsburg their natural protector against the Hohenzollern. The last representative of Prussia at the Bund had not been able to resent this, and had quietly consented to play a humble second part, Count Thun, the Austrian minister, and president of the Bund, being unmistakably No. I. This had gone so far that Bismarck's predecessor had, like his colleagues, allowed Count Thun to be the only member to smoke during the committee meetings. No consideration could prevent Bismarck from protesting against this. He took a cigar out of his pocket, asked Count Thun, to his amazement, for a light, and puffed away freely long after the Austrian minister had thrown his cigar away. It was but a trifle, but that trifle required more courage than any of his colleagues possessed; and Bismarck acquired thereby a personal position which his predecessor had never enjoyed.
We have recalled these stories, though they are unimportant in themselves, because we have thought it interesting to show that Bismarck's historical audacity — if such a term may be used — has its origin in his native, inborn daring. It is not difficult to show a fearless front ​when one is sure of being the strongest; boldness in such a case may be akin to arrogance and insolence. But it is far different when one man, to all appearances the weaker party, in the defence of what he thinks right faces powerful enemies. Bismarck has never been mean-spirited. He has not begun to talk loud and proudly and to be aggressive, since he has become a great man ; on the contrary, he has risen to what he now is because he spoke and acted boldly and proudly when he was but a very small personage. At that time he was no more afraid of his horse, of his masters, of the senior students who wanted to snub him, of drowning, of a mob, than in later years he was afraid of a murderer firing at him, of Parliamentary majorities, of the hatred of a powerful political party, and lastly, of great nations who rose in arms agaiast his policy. He has faced every kind of danger, though he was not blind to it, with the same undaunted courage.
He was not daunted when he was called a conspirator by his countrymen, nor when they accused him of having violated the Prussian constitution; and he showed singular serenity in those eventful days when William I., by his advice, went to war first with Austria and then with France. Prussia has proved herself stronger than either of those empires; but it should be borne in mind that, when she took the field, the almost universal belief, even among her friends, was that she would be beaten. But Bismarck was gifted with that boundless optimism, verging almost on madness, without which no great deed has ever been accomplished — the optimism which gives audacity, and which be longs to all great conquerors, — to Alex ander, to Cæsar, and to Napoleon. He certainly hoped to win the game he was playing, but he could not conceal from himself that all would be over with him if he lost it. Like a man who is always willing to double his stakes, and who, though he has had for a long time an uninterrupted run of good luck, will nevertheless at each new game stake again and again his whole fortune on a single card, Bismarck has played higher and higher. What would Prince Bismarck be now if, after Duppel, Prussia had been beaten at Sadowa, or after Sadowa at Gravelotte? He thought of this, but he was never afraid. The poor gentleman-farmer, the Junker who had to contract debts in order to be able to live in town, became successively an influential politician, a Parliamentary leader, minister at Frankfurt, St. Petersburg, Paris; prime minister, chancellor, count, prince; but still remained ready to give his adversaries new chances of defeating and crushing him; and it is our firm belief that, at the present moment, when he is at the pinnacle of power, presiding, so to speak, over the destinies of the civilized world, he would take up the gauntlet if it were thrown down to him, risk all he possesses, all he has won, and fight fiercely, fearlessly, with all his might and with all weapons, as he has always done.
There is a story told of Marshal Soult, It is said that in a battle where a strong position was to be carried by some of his troops who had been repulsed several times, and were hesitating to obey a new order to attack, Soult went to the front and called out to his soldiers: "You are afraid? What have you to lose? You can only win. You are nothing and have nothing. I am a marshal of France; I have two hundred thousand francs a year; I can gain nothing but may lose all — yet I am not afraid. Forward follow me!" And he led the way and won the battle.
Such a man is Prince Bismarck. He has nothing more to gain; he can lose all he possesses, and that is immense; but he shows to the front whenever there is danger — and he is not afraid. This should be taken into account when he is judged. Fortune has not spoiled him, or, perhaps we ought rather to say, has not changed him. He has not become overbearing. He has never been the anvil — always the hammer. He is now, in that respect, what he was forty years ago; only then his will was not felt beyond Schoenhausen and Kniephof, whereas now it is felt all over the world.
A man cannot, with impunity, be raised above the great majority of his fellow-creatures. He inevitably acquires an exalted notion of his personal value, and is induced to form at the same time a rather low estimate of mankind in general. A man who has accomplished great things in spite of manifold obstacles is likely to think himself always in the right, and to consider those who oppose him as always in the wrong.
It should also be borne in mind that, as a rule, mankind has not much pride or self respect, and that most men go about begging — for bread, for money, for titles, for favors, for colored ribbon even, to be wore in the button-hole of their coat. Mendicity is even more widespread over the world than mendacity; and none have so much to suffer from it as those who, having conquered a high position for ​themselves by energy, audacity, and self-reliance, feel, for that very reason, a specially uncharitable dislike to mendicants.
The begging letters received by a man like Prince Bismarck may be literally reckoned by thousands. Some time ago, when the chancellor was ill at Varzin, all letters addressed to him, which were not of a strictly private character, were sent back to Berlin, to be there read and answered. The greater number of these letters contained "most humble requests" — gehorsamste Gesuche, — yet scarcely any of these begging-letter-writers had any claim on the prince. One of the officials whose busi ness it was to read these petitions — an orderly man, and apparently an amateur of statistics — amused himself by drawing up a list of all the requests for money only. They amounted to half a million sterling! The prince did not laugh when he was told this, but he shrugged his shoulders with a look of bitter contempt. On the other hand, it is natural that quiet, respectable people with proper dignity, who require nothing from the prince and do not wish to trouble him with their private affairs, should never be brought into contact with him, unless they stand in some official relation to him, or unless some real business takes them to him. So it has come to pass quite naturally, that Prince Bismarck sees a great deal of the mean side of humanity; and it is scarcely surprising that he should have become sceptical and even misanthropical. His experience proves that men, as a rule — a rule which, happily, suffers many exceptions — are not proud; that they are willing to humble themselves for very small considerations; that there are many bullies among them, and that those same bullies may be easily bullied. Bismarck is certainly well aware that there are many good, honest people in the world, but experience has taught him that it is his ill-fate to have dealings with a proportionately small number of these. He is firmly attached to the few men and women whom he trusts, because he knows them to be his true friends; but he is suspicious of strangers. His first thought, when he sees a new face, may naturally be, "Well, what does this man want of me?" This would explain why he is generally feared, though his intimate friends are loud in their praises of his kindness and amiability.
Prince Bismarck's health has given way of late. He has not husbanded his strength, and has never led what may be called, from a hygienic point of view, a rational life. His nerves, which have been overstrained, have become morbidly sensitive. His sleep is not good: he goes to bed at abnormally late hours, and often only finds rest when the sun is above the- horizon. Under these circumstances, life in the country, where he sees nobody but members of his own family and a few friends who have been invited either as his guests or to act as his secretaries, is what suits him best. His visits to Varzin and to Friedrichsruhe have gradually become longer and longer. It is probable that this will go on, and that he will end his eventful life as the "Hermit of Varzin" — a name which has already been applied to him.
When he is in the country Bismarck leads the life of a squire of the old school. He looks carefully after his property, takes great interest in his peasants, goes out riding, hunting, and shooting; and is no free-thinker. He has always without ostentation but with great earnestness professed to be a religious man. "Life would be worth nothing," he writes to his brother-in-law, "if it were to be ended by death here below." And in another letter of his we find the following passage: "I do not understand how a man who reflects on his own condition can endure the sorrows and troubles of this life, if he has not a firm belief in God."
II.
In the foregoing pages we have attempted to sketch the outline of Bismarck's character. We do not pretend to have exhausted the subject. A mans character is a wonderfully complicated affair a curious compound of things good and evil, great and mean. Strange and even inexplicable contradictions puzzle the observer; and he who aspires to be complete in his description must always fail. It is impossible, in such matters, to speak "the whole truth." "Nothing but the truth" may be said by any one who chooses; and we have endeavored to perform, at any rate, that part of the duty of an honest witness.
To complete our sketch within its narrow limits, we have still to give, in chronological order, the most important dates in the German chancellor's life.
​Schoenhausen had been very badly treated by the French soldiery during the invasion. Fearful stories as to the cruelty of the enemy were told among the peasantry; and there can be no doubt that young Bismarck's early impressions in regard to Frenchmen were of anything but an agreeable nature. This explains why he was not very willing to listen when, in 1871, complaints were brought him respecting the conduct of the German soldiers in France. He had reasons of his own for believing that his countrymen, when compared to the victorious French in Germany, had behaved with humanity.
At six years old young Otto was sent to school in Berlin. He did not distinguish himself there in any particular way, but he managed somehow, and without taking much trouble, to get in good time through all the classes of the gymnasium. At seventeen — a rather early age — he obtained his qualification for the university. His favorite study at school had been history.
From Berlin, Bismarck went, in 1832, to Göttingen, where he remained during three half-years, and where his memory still lives among his successors at the "Georgia-Augusta" — his college — as an expert rider, swordsman, and swimmer, and above all, a most joyous companion. In a picture of that date, he is represented as tall and slender, with enormous riding-boots called Kanonen, he has a long pipe in his hand, and by his side is an immense mastiff. His predilection for this somewhat dangerous kind of animal has remained unaltered, and he has always had, and still has, at least one dog of that species. His attendance at college while at Göttingen left everything to be desired, — in fact, he scarcely attended at all.
Bismarck concluded his academical studies in Berlin, and began in 1835, at the age of twenty, his official career as Aus-kultator at the Stadtgericht — municipal court of justice — in that town. He spent afterwards some time at Aix la-Chapelle, Potsdam, and Greifswald, and served as a soldier in the Prussian army from 1838 to 1839; but soon afterwards he left the public service altogether to take charge — conjointly with his elder brother, Bernard — of his fathers estates, which were at that time in very bad condition.
Old Herr von Bismarck died in 1845. His son Otto, who of late had been living in Pomerania, on a property called Kniephof, now took possession of Schoenhausen. He added the name of this place, where his family had lived for centuries, to his own, and thenceforward was known as Bismarck-Schoenhausen.
In 1847, at the age of thirty-two, he began his parliamentary career in the first Prussian Landtag, as one of the representatives of the nobility (Ritterschaft) of the Marches. This assembly only sat for a short time: Bismarck, however, found an opportunity to make known his political opinions, which were those of a stanch Tory.
After the Revolution — 18th March 1848 — Bismarck once more appeared in the Landtag at Berlin. He opposed with all his might, but unsuccessfully, the electoral law proposed by the Liberals, which he designated as "the Jena of the Prussian nobility;" and was one of the originators and the leading spirit of the Kreuz-Zeitung, the organ of the Conservative, or, to speak more correctly, the reactionary party in Prussia. It was then — when the Revolution was at the height of its power and seemed irresistible — that Bismarck used words which have become historical, and have often been thrown in his teeth: "All great cities ought to be swept off the face of the earth, for they are the hotbeds of Revolution."
After the dissolution — in the autumn of 1848 — of the first National Assembly, in which Bismarck had not been able to obtain a seat, he was elected, in 1849, member for West Havelland (Brandenburg). His reputation as a fierce opponent of democracy was already well established, and- he confirmed it by his attitude in the Chamber. He boldly declared that the men of '48 — the heroes of March, as they were often called — were merely rebels, and thereby raised a storm of indignation which swept through the whole Liberal press of Germany, and made Herr von Bismarck the most unpopular leader of the Conservative party. During the next two years he took a prominent part in all the political battles which were fought in Germany. "Proud of being a Prussian nobleman," as he declared on several occasions, he opposed all measures which tended to the establishment of a German empire, in which the power of Prussia would have been swamped. Even the offer of the imperial crown to Frederick-William IV. did not make Bismarck waver. He was quite willing, as he proved twenty years later, that his sovereign should become emperor of Germany, but only on condition of his power being supreme. Rather than see the king of Prussia become a vassal of the president of a ​parliament, he preferred to use his own words — that Prussia should remain Prussia.
Frederick-William IV. acknowledged his obligations to Bismarck for his defence of the privileges of the Prussian crown, by appointing him in 1851 minister to the Bundestag at Frankfurt, where he remained till 1859. The letters he wrote at that time show very little respect for his colleagues, who seem to have at once exasperated and amused him by their slowness and their love for empty form. The eight years which he spent in their society were, however, of immense service to him. He had an opportunity of studying in their minutest details all the political questions which were then agitating Europe, and especially of coming to the conclusion that the relations between Austria and Prussia, as they then existed, could not endure — Austria on every occasion asserting a sort of supremacy to which Prussia could no longer submit.
"Our relations with Austria must inevitably change," he said to Count Karolyi, the Austrian ambassador in Berlin; "they must become either better or worse. The government of his Majesty the king of Prussia would most sincerely prefer the first alternative; but if the Austrian cabinet refuses to meet us half-way, it will become necessary for us to prepare for the second."
When Bismarck spoke thus in 1862, he was minister for foreign affairs in Berlin, but the opinion he expressed was founded on what he had seen and felt while he represented Prussia at the Bundestag.
From Frankfurt, Bismarck went in 1859 as Prussian minister to St. Petersburg. There he met with the warmest welcome. Prince Gortschakoff, who had been in Frankfurt from 1850 to 1854, was on very friendly terms with him. They sympathized on many points. The Russians had bitterly resented the attitude of Austria during the Crimean war, and "Austrian ingratitude" was still proverbial in St. Petersburg. Bismarck openly expressed the opinion that Prussia would make a great mistake if she became Austria' s ally against France and Italy. This being known not only at court, but among the public, made him at once popular. The good understanding between the Prussian and the Russian governments, which proved of such great service to Prussia in 1870, while, at the present moment, it is so advantageous to Russia, may, no doubt, be traced in its origin to the family ties which unite the emperors William and Alexander, but it has been singularly strengthened by that friendly policy of Prussia towards Russia which Bismarck invariably recommended.
He left St. Petersburg in the beginning of 1862, and in May of the same year was appointed minister to Paris. He remained only a few months in France, and as it was summer-time and Paris was empty, he passed the greater part of his time away from his official residence. We hear of his being at Trouville, Chambord, Biarritz, Luchon, Montpeilier, Toulouse, etc. He travelled over a good deal of French ground, and his observant eyes saw a good deal of the French people. His relations with the government were excellent; he was liked at court, and particularly distinguished by the emperor Napoleon III.
Then came what has been called in Prussia "the conflict." William I., who in January 1861 had become king of Prussia, could not agree with the representatives of the people. He wanted money for the reorganization of the army, and they would not vote the budget which his ministers required. The House of Nobles sided with the king against the Lower House; but the king required a man of more than common energy, as president of the cabinet, to fight his parliamentary battles. Neither Prince Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, nor Prince Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen, had shown themselves competent. William I. saw only one man who was both willing and able to fill efficiently the post of premier in a cabinet, which was firmly resolved to maintain the royal will to the last, — and that man was Bismarck. In September 1862 he assumed the presidency of the cabinet.
The new prime minister fully justified the king's choice. He threw himself boldly into the fight; and seeing that it was impossible to win over the majority of the Chamber on the military question, and that a dissolution and new elections did not bring him nearer to his object, he undertook to govern the country without a budget regularly voted by Parliament. Like the king, he was convinced that Prussia must have a strong army; on that point he would not yield; and it was while defending the position he had taken up on that question that he used the words which have so often been quoted since: "The great questions of the world," he said, "are not settled by speeches or by the decisions of a parliamentary majority, but by blood and iron."
It is but right to note here that Bismarck's resistance to the Chamber was based on his interpretation of a particular ​paragraph of the Prussian constitution; and that, some years later, Parliament, by passing a bill of indemnity, condoned all that had been declared unconstitutional in his administration during "the conflict."
The internal difficulties against which Bismarck had to contend did not prevent his giving full attention to foreign affairs. Prussia could only be made as great as he wished her to be — as great as, in his opinion, she ought to be — if she took an active part in all the important questions of European politics. There were great risks to be incurred; but Bismarck was not afraid of risks. He felt almost unlimited confidence in the value of Prussian soldiers; and he was quite willing to give them a chance of proving their superiority. It was unavoidable that, sooner or later, they would have to try their strength against one or other of Prussia's neighbors. Hence Bismarck's attitude towards foreign cabinets. At the very time when he seemed to be overwhelmed with troubles at home, he stood with his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at the shortest notice, if any one should even hint at the necessity for a change in Prussia's foreign policy.
During the Polish insurrection, he signed a convention, with Russia. This gave great dissatisfaction, not only in Berlin, where the Liberal party attacked the government with much vehemence, but also in London and in Paris. There were rumors afloat of an armed intervention of France, England, and Austria in favor of Poland. Bismarck took no heed of these, and they died away, without having done him any harm, soon after the insurrection had been crushed by the Russian government.
The next eight years, from 1863 to 1871, are the most eventful in Bismarck's life. They are marked by the three wars against Denmark, Austria, and France. All his actions belong thenceforward to history. But for that very reason we cannot and must not dwell upon them. We cannot attempt to write the contemporary history of Europe.
Throughout these eight years, which have seen Austria — so long the leading power in Germany fall back behind Prussia; which have witnessed the downfall of the Napoleonic dynasty, the establishment of a republic in France, and a new empire in Germany — Bismarck's will and Bismarck's power have been the great impelling forces at work on the Continent. He has accomplished what he has aimed at during his whole life; Germany has become the greatest military power in Europe; the chief of the Hohenzollern family is at the head of that power; and Bismarck himself is the most powerful man in his own country.
Prince Bismarck's triumph was complete. Every German knew that it was Bismarck who, standing by the king's side, had urged him not to hesitate, but boldly to try the strength of Prussia against Austria and against France. Every German felt proud of the success which had been achieved, and proud of having, in some degree, contributed to it; for there was scarcely a man who — if he had not been himself in the field — had not had some of his nearest relatives fighting at Königsgrätz or Sedan. "He knew better than we did what we were worth," they said, speaking of Bismarck: they were grateful to him for having held them in such high esteem, and elated at having deserved it.