Ambassador.—Interview with the King.—Lieut.-General von Rochow.—Anecdotes.—Frankfurt.—Reception of the Prince of Prussia.—Society at Frankfurt.—The King’s Birthday.—Position of Prussia.—Correspondence.
At some resting-place on a journey into Pomerania which Bismarck undertook in the early spring of 1851, he heard from several persons of his appointment as Ambassador to the Diet in Frankfurt-on-the Maine, where the Diet was just then re-assembling. That this was not true he knew, but that he was very likely intended for the post he considered far from impossible. He thought deeply over the matter; the reflection was a novel one, but by no means unwelcome; to him a parliamentary career had become the less pleasing the longer he had followed it—he was not vain enough for that: his manly self-confidence, however, was considerable, and perhaps he thought of his mother’s predictions. On his return to Berlin, after minute self-examination, he determined to accept the position of Ambassador to the Diet, should it be offered him.
We do not know whether the idea of intrusting Bismarck with this office—unquestionably the most important which Prussia at that time had to fill—first occurred to Frederick William IV. himself, or whether it was the thought of the Minister von Manteuffel; at any rate it was founded on the assumption that Bismarck would be a persona grata to Austria, as it was then Prussia’s problem to treat of German politics with the best understanding towards Austria. It was the custom of Frederick William IV., who more than proved how dear every thing that concerned Germany was to his heart, to select his Ambassador to the Diet with the utmost care; and the delicate circumstances of the time rendered the necessity for caution all the greater. Yet, it will be said, on this occasion his choice fell upon a man who had hitherto never served in diplomatic matters. We certainly know from the mouth of a Minister of State, on very confidential terms with the King, that the latter “was much attached to Bismarck, and expected great things at his hands.”
Bismarck paid a visit to Herr von Manteuffel; the latter soon told him that His Majesty the King desired to speak with him, and then, without any circumlocution, asked him in what his views concerning the ambassadorship consisted. The cautious Minister was not a little surprised when Bismarck, in so many words, declared himself prepared to undertake it. He was evidently not without hesitation at so rapid a decision; desiring him, however, to wait upon His Majesty the King without delay.
Bismarck was received by his King, at Sans-Souci, with that favor and grace which he ever evinced towards him; but the King was even perhaps more astonished than his Prime Minister, when Bismarck frankly and honestly declared—“If your Majesty is desirous of trying the experiment, I am ready to fulfill your wishes!”
Frederick William IV. perhaps thought there was a certain degree of temerity in the rapid decision of Bismarck, and drew his attention to the significance and difficulty of the position.
“Your Majesty can surely try me,” replied Bismarck; “if it prove a failure, I can be recalled in six months, or even sooner than that!”
Despite all the doubts and hesitation which arose in his mind, the King remained firm to his intention, and in May, 1851, Bismarck was appointed to the post of First Secretary of the Embassy to the Diet, with the title of Privy Councillor.
He immediately departed for his post. He here found himself on new, and, to him, entirely strange ground, and his duty was certainly not rendered easy for him. Lieut.-General Theodor Rochus von Rochow, who was to introduce him to his new position, kept him at a distance from actual business, with the well-known and intelligible jealousy which most men entertain towards their successors in office. Herr von Gruner was a liberal and an opponent of Bismarck’s, but the other German representatives felt a sort of virtuous shudder at the famous reactionary Junker. Perhaps the Presiding Deputy, Count von Thun-Hohenstein, who thought to see in Bismarck the thorough partisan of Austria, was the only person who bid him welcome, at the same time with the intention of causing him to see what marked influence Austria possessed. This was a rather strong diplomatic blunder, for Bismarck knew precisely how to take and retain his proper position.
A pretty anecdote was related at the time, for which certainly we can not absolutely vouch, but if not true, it might have been. Bismarck one day paid the Presiding Deputy a visit. Count Thun received him with a sort of brusque familiarity, went on coolly smoking his cigar, and did not even ask Bismarck to take a chair. The latter simply took out his cigar-case, pulled out a cigar, and said, in an easy tone, “May I beg a light, Excellency?” Excellency, astonished to the greatest degree, supplied the desired light. Bismarck got a good blaze up and then took the unoffered seat in the coolest way in the world, and led the way to a conversation.
Bismarck never allowed any liberties with himself, but still less would he tolerate them when they were offered to him as the representative of his Sovereign.
In the August of the same year he received the rank of Ambassador. The Councillors at the Embassy consisted of the Legations—Rath Otto Wentzel, and as Attachés, the Count Lynar, and Count Theodor of Stolberg-Wernigerode.
General von Rochow continued his jealous behavior to the end. On the day of his departure he pretended to send Bismarck the current papers in a green portfolio; but Bismarck found it empty. Bismarck immediately went to the station, which Rochow had not expected, and was accordingly much embarrassed. In the choicest expressions, Bismarck thanked him for all the delicate kindnesses he had experienced from him, and added, that he presumed to ascribe it to the friendship that Rochow had entertained for his deceased father. These few moments could scarcely have been very pleasant to the poor General.
During this first visit to Frankfurt, Bismarck resided with his friend Count Lynar (who subsequently died at Paris), in the house of M. Krug, a merchant, in the Hoch-Strasse, whose wife was a native of Berlin. He was unable to work much at the Bills of the Bund, and General von Rochow, famous for his wit, jested not a little at Bismarck’s late habits of rising, although he was far more industrious than was generally apparent, being engaged in an active correspondence with his political friends in Berlin, especially with the Actual Privy Councillor, Freiherr von Manteuffel II. Before dinner he usually rode out, and, in order to feel his ground, visited the neighboring Courts of Darmstadt, Biebrich, and Karlsruhe, where his old friend Von Savigny was then Prussian Envoy. An acute, sometimes a severe, judge of character, as well as an observer of passing events; Bismarck had, at the desire, or, at any rate, with the consent of Rochow, undertaken an immediate part in the press. The articles contributed or suggested by him created much attention; they possessed wit and point, often destroying the arguments of his opponents; this became his peculiar province. At other times, as a new man in diplomacy, he assisted at the discussions in the society of Herr von Rochow, in order to become familiar with the course of business and the exterior formalities of diplomacy.
On the 11th of July, 1851, the then Prince of Prussia (now King) visited Frankfurt, and was received by the body corporate of the Bund, and the general staff. The Prince was graciously inclined towards Bismarck, but made some observations during his passage to the terminus to Herr von Rochow, on the anomaly of this militia-lieutenant—for Bismarck had appeared in uniform, being a Deputy of the Bund. General von Rochow, however, who was wise enough not to undervalue Bismarck’s importance, although he did not always testify the liveliest friendship towards him, replied, “The selection is worthy, novel, and vigorous; your Royal Highness will certainly find all your requirements fulfilled.”
The Prince could reply nothing to this, and, in fact, he certainly entertained the most favorable opinion of this still somewhat youthful champion of the justice and the honor of Prussia.
“I believe,” General von Rochow said at the time, “he only wished him to have possessed gray hair and a few additional years; but it is questionable whether the plans of the Prince would be much nearer their fulfillment for those.”
This is all very characteristic, considering the relation destined at a future time to subsist between King William and Bismarck. Personal good-will in the highest degree he entertained for him, but want of confidence in his youth and inexperience.
The Prince of Prussia frequently alluded to this view, but Rochow found means of quieting his fears. Otherwise he was fond of having Bismarck about him, conversed with him freely, drove about, and soon went to the theatre with him. The Prince exhibited real friendship for Bismarck, and, on the occasion of the birth of a son, in the following year (2d August, 1852), became its sponsor. Bismarck’s younger son is named William after his royal godfather, although his usual name has continued to be “Bill.” General von Rochow also, on his return to his post at St. Petersburg, freely stated his anticipation of great things from the talents and decision of character of his successor at Frankfurt.
When Bismarck became Envoy to the Bund, on the 18th August, 1851, he rented a villa of the younger Rothschild of Naples, distant some quarter of an hour from the city gate on the Bockenheimer Chaussée, close to the frontier of Hesse; the same dwelling previously inhabited by the Archduke John in his official capacity as Imperial Curator. In the garden, as upon the flight of steps, the most magnificent flowers were arranged; it is said there were more than one thousand camellias. Bismarck’s house, after the arrival of Madame von Bismarck with her children, became the most prominently hospitable house in Frankfurt.
He soon became intimate with the Austrian Ambassador. Count Thun was a noble cavalier, and his very handsome wife, born a Countess Lamberg, knew how to invest his house with great attractions. Bismarck also managed to keep on terms with Count Thun’s successor, the well-known Freiherr Prokesch von Osten, whose hatred of Prussia was so little a secret that his nomination to the office was regarded as a demonstration against Prussia; and this Bismarck did without in the least lowering the dignity of Prussia—a problem somewhat difficult, considering the reputation of this entirely Eastern diplomatist. Of a much more friendly character were his relations to Count Rechberg, who replaced Prokesch.
The other representatives with whom Bismarck came into more intimate contact were, Von Scherff, who represented the King of the Netherlands as Grand-duke of Luxemburg, Von Fritsch (Grand-duke of Saxony), Von Bülow (King of Denmark as Duke of Holstein and Lauenburg), Von Oertzen (Mecklenburg), and Von Eisendecher (Oldenburg). Bismarck farmed some sporting in conjunction with the English Ambassador, Sir Alexander Malet.
Besides enjoying the society of the diplomatists, Bismarck liked to mingle with the Prussian and foreign higher military officers; to his dinners, soirées, and balls, he also invited musicians, authors, and artists—a fact not of very frequent occurrence among the chief diplomatists in Frankfurt, and one which created some notice. His intercourse with these circles was principally conducted by the highly esteemed artist Professor Becker, who, with his wife and handsome daughters, belonged to the most intimate society of his house. The excellent portrait of Bismarck which hangs in the room of the Countess at Berlin, is by Professor Becker.
Still more remarkable than this intercourse with painters and sculptors were certain domestic festivals, of which the people of Frankfurt had never even dreamt before, and in which he was imitated by no one. He used to give a feast to the domestics of his Pomeranian and Alt Mark property on Twelfth Night, in the old Pomeranian style—about which there was much curiosity.
The most brilliant festival of the year was that of the 15th October, on the birthday of the King. In the morning there was solemn service in the large Reformed Church in the Corn-market, at which Bismarck attended with the whole suite of the Embassy in full gala dress. Then followed a magnificent dinner, and in the evening he was accustomed to visit the Prussian soldiers, who lay in garrison in Frankfurt, amidst their festivities.
Bismarck will never be forgotten by the Prussian soldiers who were in Frankfurt during his days; they all knew him, for at every solemnity he appeared in his uniform as Landwehr Lieutenant, with the “Safety” Medal, to witness the parades and exercises.
The soldiers always called him “His Excellency Herr Lieutenant von Bismarck;” they loved him sincerely, because they felt that he loved every Prussian soldier.
The “Safety” Medal was no longer solitary upon his breast; the time had arrived when stars and grand crosses were sent to him from every side.
Prussian travellers on their journey were hospitably received at his house, and many of those who were returning from the Rhenish Baths, he not only invited to dinner, but, in the discreetest manner, aided with loans, often of the greatest necessity to them. In short, Bismarck not only represented his Sovereign in the most brilliant but the wisest manner.
When with considerable rapidity he had familiarized himself with the duties of his office, he began to work with assiduity and continuity. After tea, at ten o’clock, he often dictated for three or four hours, and so well, that there was seldom any necessity for altering a word, so that dispatches could be forwarded to Berlin by half-past six.
After business and receptions, which latter often rendered quiet necessary, his recreations consisted of hunting and riding. He often had his horse saddled at four in the morning, and rode for miles into the country.
The more brilliant the social position of Bismarck had become, the more difficult and thorny the political position remained. He was conscious—we may say, to his great sorrow—from the very beginning, that the equal rights of Prussia which he had always assumed, in speaking of going hand-in-hand with Austria, as to German affairs, were not recognized by Austria, but, on the contrary, she endeavored, with suspicious and inimical feelings, to increase the difficulties which Prussia had to fight against with all her might. Bismarck, by his personal influence, had now obtained a few advantages, and worked decisively through the press, on which he not only fixed his attention, but to which he devoted his personal activity. In the matters of the Zollverein, he had a severe and especial battle to fight, against the machinations of Austrian politics. The Hanover Zeitung published angry articles against the ratification of the treaty of 7th September, 1851, just concluded with Prussia. It was the personal influence of Bismarck alone upon the Hanoverian Ambassador, Von Schele, that caused the opposition against the ratification of this treaty to be abandoned.
In the Diet itself, Bismarck was successful in establishing such an order of business, to some extent limiting the arbitrary action of the President, and finally led to some method in the debates of the Diet. It might even be said that he soon attained a leading power in the Diet, and thereby worked blessings for Prussia; but even all this could not alter the unfortunate position of Prussian Germany, founded as it was upon the principles of the Diet and the Zollverein. Had Austria given its good-will, all this might have been effected, but in the teeth of its ill-will, the whole negotiations could only terminate in ruin or in a rupture.
The position of Prussia consisted in the fact, that the constitution of the Diet had only become possible through the policy of Prince Metternich. This policy, which advocated a probable segregation of Austria from Germany, and at least left Prussia free room to act in North Germany, ever moved in the most limited grooves. As Prince Schwarzenberg adopted a policy diametrically opposed to this, which consciously and deliberately determined upon the humiliation of Prussia, in order afterwards to destroy it, and violated every form with the uttermost carelessness, the conflict could only be a matter of time.
Bismarck was therefore necessarily made an antagonist of Austria by the Schwarzenberg policy, continued by Count Buol Schauenstein; and opposition against the anti-Prussian policy of the Vienna Cabinet became the watchword for his political activity. This was soon very apparent, nor did he conceal it the less, as his vigorous patriotism impelled him to bring his opposition actually to bear; his frankness also rendered any equivocation impossible. In such a course he could hardly depend upon any co-operation from the King and the Prime Minister, Von Manteuffel, who both hoped, discouraged by the failure of the Union negotiations, that Austria might still revert to the earlier pro-Prussian policy of Prince Metternich. Bismarck himself, although he could scarcely hope this, ardently desired it. A position worthy of the Prussian kingdom in Germany was that for which he had to strive—a position it ought to occupy, if it were to worthily maintain its place in Europe; and desired to secure to the German people those advantages, to be resigned by no people unless at the peril of political death. Bismarck was determined to devote his life to aiding the Prussian Crown in the attainment of this position. He would rather have gone hand-in-hand with Austria; if this were an impossibility, then without Austria; but should it prove necessary, then antagonism to Austria. It must not be overlooked how, in the sequel, Bismarck in every political struggle attempted to accomplish it in union with Austria, in which he was sometimes successful, and how, when it was impossible, he continued the effort without Austria, and finally in opposition to Austria. It were superfluous here to pursue Bismarck’s political career in the details of his German policy.
The following correspondence (rearranged by the translator in their proper chronological order) passed during these years.
Frankfurt, 18th May, ’51.
Frankfurt is wretchedly wearisome; I am so spoilt with having so much affection about me, and a great deal to do; and I now first perceive how unthankful I have been towards many people in Berlin—for I will not take you and yours into the question. Even the coolness of fellow-countrymen and party associates I had in Berlin is an intimate connection compared with the relations one makes here; being, in fact, nothing more than mutual suspicious espionage. If one had any thing indeed to detect or to conceal! The people here worry themselves about the merest trifles; and these diplomatists, with their important nothings, already appear more ridiculous to me than a Deputy of the Second Chamber in his full-blown dignity. Unless outward events take place—and those we clever members of the Diet can neither guide nor predetermine—I now know accurately what we shall have done in one, two, or five years, and could bring it about in twenty-four hours, if the others would for a single day be reasonable and truthful. I never doubted that they all made soup with water; but such a simple, thin water-gruel, in which you can’t see a globule of fat, astonishes me! Send me Justice X. or Herr von Sarsky hither from the toll-gate, when they are washed and combed, and I will lord it in diplomacy with them. I am making enormous progress in the art of saying nothing in a great many words. I write reports of many sheets, which read as tersely and roundly as leading articles; and if Manteuffel can say what there is in them, after he has read them, he can do more than I can.
Each of us pretends to believe of his neighbor that he is full of thoughts and plans, if he would only tell; and at the same time we none of us know an atom more of what is going to happen to Germany than of next year’s snow. Nobody, not even the most malicious skeptic of a democrat, believes what quackery and self-importance there is in this diplomatizing. Well, I have railed long enough, and now I will tell you that I am very well. Yesterday I was in Mainz: the neighborhood is lovely. The rye is in full ear, although it is infamously cold all night and in the mornings. Excursions by railroad are the best here. One can reach Heidelberg, Baden-Baden, Odenwald, Homburg, Soden, Wiesbaden, Bingen, Rüdesheim, and Niederwald comfortably in one day, stop five or six hours, and return here in the evening. Until now I have not gone much about, but shall do so, that I may take you about when you come. Rochow started yesterday for Warsaw—he went off at nine o’clock in the evening; the day after to-morrow he will be there, and probably back in a week. As to politics and people, I can not write much, as most of the letters are opened here. When they know your address on mine, and your handwriting on your letters, they will very likely find out they have no time to read family letters.
Frankfurt, 3d July, 1851.
The day before yesterday I thankfully received your letter and the news that you were all well. But do not forget, when you write to me, that the letters are not only read by myself, but by all sorts of postal spies; and do not inveigh against certain persons in them, for that is all set down to the husband—to my account; besides, you do the people injustice. As to my appointment or non-appointment, I know no more than was told me at my departure: all other things are possibilities and conjectures. What is irregular in the matter is the silence of the Government towards me, as it would be as well to let me know for certain, and indeed officially, whether I am to live here or in Pomerania with wife and child next month. Be prudent in all you say to people, then, without exception—not only against ——, particularly in opinions of persons, for you can not conceive what one has to endure if one once becomes an object of observation; be assured that whatever you say in the —— or the bathing-machine is served up with sauce either here or at Sans-Souci. Forgive me for scolding you so, but after your last letter I must take up the diplomatic hedge-knife. If —— and others could sow distrust in our diplomatic camp, they would thereby attain one of the chief ends of their letter robberies. I went the day before yesterday to Wiesbaden to ——, and, with a mixture of sadness and wisdom, we went to see the scene of former folly. Would it might please God to fill this vessel with his clear and strong wine, in which formerly the champagne of twenty-one years of youth foamed uselessly, and left nothing but loathing behind. Where now are —— and Miss ——? How many are buried with whom I then flirted, drank, and diced? How many transformations have taken place in my views of the world in these fourteen years, among which I have ever looked upon the actually Present as the True? How little are some things to me that then appeared great? How much is venerable to me now, that I then ridiculed? How much foliage may bud, grow green, give shadow, rustle, and worthlessly fade within the next fourteen years, till 1865, if we live to see it? I can not understand how a man who considers his own nature, and yet knows nothing of God, and will know nothing, can endure his existence from contempt and wearisomeness. I know not how I could formerly support it; were I to live as then, without God, without you, without my children! I should not, indeed, know whether I had not better abandon life like a dirty shirt; and yet most of my acquaintances are in that state, and live on! If I ask of an individual, what object he has in living on, in laboring and growing angry, in intriguing and spying, I obtain no answer. Do not conclude from this tirade that my mood is dark; on the contrary, I feel like a person who looks, on a fine September morning, on the yellowing foliage; I am healthy and cheerful, but I feel some melancholy, some longing for home, a desire for forests, ocean, wilderness, for you and my children, mingled with the impressions of sunset and of Beethoven. Instead of which I have to pay dreary visits to —— and read endless ciphers about German steam corvettes and cannon-balls, rusting and eating up money in Bremerhaven. I should like to have a horse, but I could not ride alone—it is too wearisome; and the society with whom one rides is also wearisome. And now I must go to Rochow, and to all sorts of-ins and-offs, who are here with the Archduchess Olga.
Frankfurt, 8th July, 1851.
Yesterday and to-day I have been anxious to write to you, but in the whirl of business could not get so far until the evening late, on my return from a walk during which I blew away the dust of business with the summer night’s breeze, moonlight, and the rustle of poplar foliage. On Saturday afternoon I went with Rochow and Lynar to Rüdesheim. I there took a boat, went out on the Rhine, and swam in the moonlight, eyes and nose only above the tepid water, to the Rat Tower, near Bingen, where the bad bishop met his end. There is something strangely dreamy to lie in the water on a still night, slowly driven by the stream, seeing the heavens, with moon and stars, above, and on either hand the wood-capped mountains and city spires in the moonlight, without hearing any thing but one’s own gentle splashing. I should like to swim like that every night. I then drank some very decent wine, and sat for a long time smoking with Lynar on the balcony, the Rhine below us. My small Testament and the starry night led to some conversation on Christianity; and I shook earnestly at the Rousseau-like virtue of his soul, only reducing him to silence. As a child he has been ill-treated by nurses and tutors, without really knowing his parents, and has emerged from his youth with similar ideas, founded on a similar education, to my own, but bears them with more content than ever has been my case. Next day we went in the steamer to Coblenz, breakfasted there for an hour, and returned in the same way to Frankfurt, where we arrived in the evening. I undertook the journey with the object of visiting old Metternich, at Johannisberg, at his invitation; but the Rhine delighted me so much, that I preferred a trip to Coblenz, and postponed the visit. We saw the river, on our immediate journey to the Alps, in the finest weather; on this fresh summer morning, and after the dusty weariness in Frankfurt, it rises much in my esteem. I look forward with real delight to spending a couple of days with you, at Rüdesheim; the place is so calm and rural, the people pleasant, and nothing dear. We would then take a small rowing-boat, and go quietly down, climb the Niederwald, and this and the other castle, and return by the steamer. One can leave here in the morning early, stay eight hours at Rüdesheim, Bingen, Rheinstein, and so forth, and return hither by the evening. My appointment here seems now to be certain.
Frankfurt, 13th August, 1851.
I worked very hard to-day and yesterday about the King’s journey, and a multitude of petty details concerning the minor Courts, and I am now in hourly expectation of a tiresome ambassadorial visit; so that this letter must be very short, and yet serve as a love-token. Who has started this nonsense about St. Petersburg? I heard the very first of it from your letters. Will you not go to Nicolai? I should not think one winter there at all disagreeable; but I am tired of these separations, and the climate might not suit you and the babies. I yesterday took a long and solitary walk into the mountains, deep into the wonderful night. I had been at work from eight o’clock till five, then dined, and luxuriated in the fresh evening mountain air of the Taunus, after leaving this dusty hole, by half an hour’s railway to Soden, some two miles behind me. The King passes through here on the 19th, and returns, by way of Ischl and Prague, to Berlin about the 7th of September. I shall meet him at Coblenz, as I have much to say to ——. If he brings my appointment, as I expect, I shall immediately hire quarters, and then we can talk of your coming.
Frankfurt, 23d August, 1851.
In the midst of my business post time has arrived, and I will rather write you a hasty note than not at all. Since Monday I have been still going on. First, there was a great State dinner here to the Emperor of Austria—twenty-thousand thalers’ worth of uniforms at table; then I went to Mainz to receive the King; he was very gracious to me, for the first time after a long interval harmless and merry. Next came a grand supper, then work with Manteuffel till two; then a cigar with dear old Stolberg; at half-past six parade, and a great theatrical representation. I went on as far as Darmstadt; there we dined. The King then went to Baden, and after three weary hours I reached this place in the evening with ——. On Wednesday I was summoned from my bed to the Duke of Nassau at Bieberich, and there dined. Late in the evening I returned, to be waked very early next morning by the President G. and I., who took possession of me and led me off to Heidelberg, where I remained the night, and enjoyed some delightful hours with them at Castle Wolfsbrunn and Neckarsteinach and last night returned from this excess. G. was pleasanter than ever, did not dispute, grew enthusiastic, poetical, and generous. At the Castle we saw a sunset the day before yesterday like that one at Rigi. We breakfasted up there, walked to Wolfsbrunn, where I drank some beer at the same table I did with you; then boated up the Neckar to Steinach, and parted in the evening at Heidelberg. G. goes to-day to Coblenz, I. to Italy.
Bismarck was so often summoned to Berlin during his residence at Frankfurt, that it would be wearisome to relate all these journeys here. In one year, we do not exactly remember which, he travelled between Berlin and Frankfurt no less than 2600 miles. His counsel was often required by the highest authority, and very often Bismarck was very nearly becoming a Minister, even then; nor was it the powerful influence of both sides which conclusively prevented his entry into the Ministry, but his own aversion to become a Minister so soon. He declared to an acquaintance in those days that he would prefer to be first an ambassador for ten years, and then a Minister for ten years more, that he might close his days as a country nobleman thereafter in peace. King Frederick William IV., who regarded it as necessary for Bismarck’s political education that he should go to Vienna, intrusted him in the May of 1852 with an important mission thither; but above this was his desire to restore a complete understanding between Austria and Prussia. We already know that in this Bismarck was likely to become wrecked upon the Schwarzenberg policy. In a personal sense, however, on following the Imperial Court into Hungary, Bismarck received very pleasing impressions, as to which he speaks in the following letters to his wife:—
Halle, 7th January, 1852.
I have never, as well as I can recollect, ever written to you from hence, and I hope that it will not happen again. I have really been thinking whether, after all, yesterday was not Friday, on which I set out; it was certainly a dies nefastus (N. N. will tell you what this means). In Giessen I got a room as cold as ice, with three windows that wouldn’t shut; a bed too short and too narrow; it was dirty, with bugs; infamous coffee—never knew it so bad. At Guntershausen ladies came into the first class; there was an end of smoking. A high lady of commerce (N. N. will tell you what that is), with two lady’s maids; sable furs; they spoke alternately with a Russian and English accent in German, French very well, a little English, but in my opinion they came from the Reezen Alley in Berlin, and one of the lady’s maids was her mother, or elder lady of commerce (N. N., etc.). Between Guntershausen and Gerstungen a tube in the engine burst, so gently! The water all ran away; so there we sat for an hour and a half in the open—very pretty neighborhood, and a warm sunlight. I got into the second class to smoke, and fell into the hands of a Berlinese Chamber and Privy Council colleague, who had been drinking Homburg waters for a fortnight, and asked me a lot of questions before a number of Jews coming from the fair, until, in despair, I took refuge with the Princess from the Reezen Alley. By this stoppage we reached Halle three hours too late; the Berlin train was gone a long time. Here I must sleep, and travel with the luggage-train at half-past one to arrive at two. In the station-yard there are two hotels; by accident I’m in the wrong one; a gend’arme walked up and down the saloon, and seemed very thoughtful about my beard, while I ate a tough beefsteak. I am very unhappy, but will finish my bit of goose, drink some port wine, and then to bed.
Berlin, 1st May, 1852.
I have just returned from an infinitely tedious dinner at Le Coq’s, where I sat between L. G. and the younger M.—two persons widely different in nature. I tried in vain to settle some dispute about what is now agitating the King and the Chamber. The one was dry, wise, and practical; the other delightful, enthusiastic, and theoretical; he might really have forgotten the world and its government, in his own views about them, but the air of the Chambers has stimulated this impractical direction in him, and in this gymnastic exercise of soul and tongue he forgets, or holds cheap, what is necessary to be done. There is really something quite demoralizing in the atmosphere of the Chambers—the best people grow vain without perceiving it, and get accustomed to the tribune as to a toilet-table, by means of which they exhibit themselves to the public. Forgive this political avalanche.
Berlin, 3d May, 1852.
I am really tired of being here, and long for the day of departure. Chamber intrigues I find terribly shallow and undignified; if one lives always amongst them, one deceives one’s self, and they seem wonders. When I come straightforwardly from Frankfurt I feel like a sober man who has suddenly fallen amongst tipplers, I wish they would send me to Constantinople; it would not be necessary to be returning here every minute.
Vienna, 11th June, 1852.
“’S g’fällt mer hier gar net” (I don’t like this place at all) as Schrenck says, although it was so pleasant with you, anno ’47; but I not only miss you, but I find myself not wanted, and that is worse than I can make plain to your unpolitical mind. If I were here, as I was there, for amusement, I could not grumble: all those whom I have become acquainted with are remarkably charming people, and the town is rather hot with narrow streets, but still a splendid town. In business, however, there prevails great nonchalance; either the people don’t want to arrange with us, or they think we look upon it as more important than appears to them. I fear that the opportunity of coming to an understanding is gone, which will prove a bad result for us; for it was thought that a very great step towards reconciliation was taken in sending me, and they will not soon send another here so desirous of coming to an understanding, and who at the time can deal so freely. Forgive me for writing polities to you, but when the heart is full, etc. I am really drying up in this mishmash, and I am afraid I shall begin to take an interest in it. I have just come from the opera with old Westmoreland; Don Giovanni, played by a good Italian Opera troop, in hearing which I felt the wretchedness of the Frankfurt theatre doubly. Yesterday I went to Schönbrunn, and thought of our romantic moonlight expedition, as I looked at the tall hedges and the white statues in the green thickets, peeped also at the private garden which we first got into—quite forbidden ground—so, that the Jäger sentinel, who was at his post, would not allow its even being looked into.
Ofen, 23d June, ’52.
I have just come from the steamboat, and do not know how to employ the interval until Hildebrand follows with my luggage, better than in giving you some account of this very eastward but very beautiful world. The Emperor graciously assigned me quarters in his palace, and I am seated at an open window in a spacious vaulted hall, listening to the evening bells of Pesth. The view is charming. The castle stands high; beneath me flows the Danube, spanned by the suspension bridge; beyond is Pesth, and in the far distance is an endless plain melting away into the purple twilight. Next to Pesth, on the left, I see the upper course of the Danube; far, very far off from me, viz., on the right bank, the river is fringed by the town of Ofen; behind this are mountains, blue and bluer, and then tinged with brownish-red in the evening, heaven glowing behind them. In the midst of the two cities the broad sheet of water lies, like Linz, broken only by the suspension bridge and a woody island. The passage hither, at least from Gran to Pesth, would have delighted you. Think of the Odenwald and the Taunus brought close together, and the interval filled with the waters of the Danube. The shady side of the voyage was the sunny side, for the sun burnt us as if Tokay were to grow on the ship, and the number of travellers was very great; but only fancy, not a single Englishman amongst them—they can hardly have discovered Hungary as yet. Otherwise these were queer folks—from every oriental and occidental nation—greasy and washed. My chief travelling companion was a very delightful General, with whom I sat for the most part on the paddle-box and smoked. I am getting somewhat impatient as to where Hildebrand can be; I am lying in the window, half enthusiastic at the moonlight, half waiting for him, as for one’s beloved—for I feel a marvellous disposition for a clean shirt. If you could be here for a moment, and could see the silvery stream of the Danube, the dark mountains on a pale red ground, and the lights twinkling up from Pesth, Vienna would sink in your estimation as compared with Buda-Pesth, as the Hungarian calls it; you see I am also an enthusiast for nature. I will now calm my excited blood with a cup of tea, as Hildebrand has really arrived, and then soon go to bed.
Last night I only had four hours’ sleep, and the Court is very early here. The young Duke rises at five; I should then be a very bad courtier if I thought of sleeping longer. Therefore, with a glance at a gigantic tea-urn, and a seductive dish containing ices, amongst other things, as I see, I waft you a good-night from afar. What can that song be which has haunted me all day long?
I can not tell who it was who sang this to me in “Old lang syne.”
The 24th June.—After a good night’s rest although upon a flinty bed, I wish you a good morning. The entire landscape before me swims in bright burning sunshine, so that I can not look out without being dazzled. Until it is time to begin my visits, I am sitting here alone at breakfast and smoking in a very spacious apartment, four rooms—all vaulted massively—two about the size of our dining-room, thick walls like Schönhausen, giant walnut-wood cabinets, furniture of blue silk, on the floor a number of yard-wide black stains, that a more excited imagination than mine would take for blood, but which I, décidément, declare to be ink. An incredibly unskillful writer must have lived here, or another Luther must several times have thrown very large inkstands at the Adversary. A very obliging old servant in a bright yellow livery shares the duties of the household with Hildebrand; indeed they are all very obliging. In honor of the King’s representative, the steamer yesterday hoisted the great Prussian standard, and, thanks to the telegraph, a royal carriage was in waiting at the landing-place. Don’t tell N. N., or he will write articles about it. Below, on long rafts, are floating the queerest brown broad-hatted and broad-breeched figures along the Danube. I am sorry that I am not an artist; I should like to have introduced you to these wild faces, with heavy mustaches and long hair, flashing black eyes, and their picturesque draperies, as I beheld them yesterday. I must now make an end and begin my visits. I do not know when you will receive these lines; perhaps I shall send a courier to-morrow or next day to Berlin, who can take them with him.
Evening.—I have not had any opportunity as yet of forwarding this. The lights again are twinkling up from Pesth; towards the horizon, near the Theiss, there is lightning; above us the heavens are full of stars. I have been in uniform the greater part of the day, in private audience; I handed my credentials to the youthful ruler of this land, and have been agreeably impressed. After dinner the whole Court made an excursion into the mountains, to the “pretty shepherdess;” who is long since dead; some centuries ago King Matthew Corvinus loved her. Thence there is a prospect of Ofen, its mountains and plains, over woody Neckar-like rocks. A national feast had brought thousands forth, thronging around the Emperor, who mingled freely with them; with resounding eljen evviva they danced Csardas, waltzed, sang, played music, climbed the trees, and crowded round the Court. Upon a grass slope there was a supper-table laid out for some twenty people—only on one side, the other being left free for a view of the forest, castle, city, and country; above us were tall beeches with climbing Hungarians on the branches; behind us dense crowds of people thronged together and pushing each other about; in the distance wind instruments mingled with song, wild gypsy music. Illuminations, moonshine, and the rosy twilight, torches flitting through the forest—the whole might have figured unchanged as a great scene of effect in a romantic opera. Next to me sat the venerable Archbishop of Gran, the Primate of Hungary, in a black silk talar with a red cape; on the other a very charming and elegant cavalry general. You see that the picture was a variegated one, rich in contrasts. Then we drove home in the moonshine by torchlight. Tell Frau von V. that her brother was a most delightful man, as I could not but expect from her two sisters whom I already knew. I had just received a telegraphic dispatch from Berlin; it contained only four letters—Nein (No!). A word full of significance. I was told to-day of the storm of the castle three years ago by the insurgents; at this the brave General Hentzi and the whole garrison, after a wonderfully courageous resistance, were cut down. The black stains upon my floor are partly the result of fire, and where I am writing bursting grenades were then dancing, and the fight went on over smoking ruins. It has only been restored a few weeks ago, before the arrival of the Emperor. It is very quiet and peaceful up here now. I hear nothing but the ticking of a clock, and the sound of distant carriage-wheels below. May angels watch over thee—a bearskin-capped grenadier does so with me—I can see six inches of his bayonet at a couple of arms’ length from me above the window-sill, and the reflection of a foot. He stands on the terrace by the Danube, and is probably thinking of his Nanny.
BISMARCK’S ONLY SISTER.
(Frau von Arnim.)
Szolnok, 27th June, 1852.
In your atlases you will find a map of Hungary, and on this a river Theiss, and, if you follow up the source towards Szegedin, a place named Szolnok. Yesterday I went by railway from Pesth to Alberti-Josa, where a Prince W. lies in garrison. He is married to a Princess M. I paid him a visit in order to inform —— of the state of his health. This place lies on the edge of the Hungarian steppes between the Danube and the Theiss, which I desired to see by way of a joke. I was not allowed to ride without an escort, as the district is overrun by cavalry robber bands, here called Betyars, and is therefore unsafe. After a comfortable breakfast under the shade of a Schönhausen lime, I got upon a low wagon with sacks of straw and three horses; the Uhlans loaded their carbines, mounted, and away they went at full gallop. Hildebrand and a Hungarian servant occupied the front seat, and our coachman was a dark brown peasant, with a mustache, a broad-brimmed hat, long hair shining with fat, a shirt only reaching to the stomach, leaving a broad band of dark brown skin visible, to where the white trowsers begin, each leg of which would make a woman’s gown, and reach to the knee, where boots and spurs complete the costume. Only think of firm grass plat, as level as a table, on which nothing can be seen for miles towards the horizon, except the tall naked beams of the wells dug for the half-wild horses and oxen; thousands of whity-brown oxen, with long horns, as timorous as deer; rough, disreputable-looking horses, watched by half-naked shepherds on horseback, with lances; endless herds of swine, among which you see a donkey carrying the fur-cloak (bunda) of the herdsman, and sometimes himself; huge swarms of bustards, hares, rabbits, and other small deer; near a salt-water pool, wild geese, ducks, and lapwings; such were the objects we flew by, and which flew by us during our three hours’ journey of seven miles to Ketskemet, with a slight halt at a csarda (inn). Ketskemet is a village, the streets of which, if the inhabitants are left out, reminds one of the small end of Schönhausen. It has, however, forty-five thousand inhabitants, unpaved streets, low houses, closed on the eastern side against the sun, with huge cattle-yards. A foreign ambassador was such an unusual sight there—and my Magyar servant rattled out the “excellency” to such a degree—that I immediately obtained a guard of honor, the village authorities announced themselves, and a change of horses was required. I spent the evening with a delightful set of officers, who insisted upon my taking an additional escort, and entertained me with a number of robber stories. In the very neighborhood into which I was going the worst robber-nests exist; on the Theiss, the morasses and wilds render their destruction almost impossible. They are splendidly horsed and armed, these Betyars; they attack travellers and farms in bands of fifteen or twenty strong, and next day are twenty miles away. They are polite to respectable people. I had left the greater part of my ready money with Prince W., and only had some linen with me, and really felt a desire to make the nearer acquaintance of these mounted brigands, in their great fur dresses, with double-barrelled guns and pistols in their girdles. Their captains wear black masks, and sometimes belong to the small country gentry. Some days ago the gens-d’armes had a skirmish with them, and some were killed; two robbers, however, were caught, and shot, with all the honors, in Ketskemet. We don’t hear of such things in our tiresome districts. About the time you woke this morning, you little thought that I was flying over the steppes of Cumania, in the neighborhood of Felegyhaza and Csonygrad, with Hildebrand at full gallop, a delightful sunburnt Uhlan officer by my side, loaded pistols lying in the hay before us, and a squadron of Uhlans with ready carbines in their hands wildly dashing after us. Three swift horses drew us, called Rosa, Csillak (star), and Betyar (vagabond). The driver unintermittingly called them by name, in a piteous tone, until he got his whip handle well over their heads, and with a cry of “mega! mega!” (hold on!) the gallop changed into a wild career. A delightful sensation! We saw no robbers; as my light-brown lieutenant told me, they knew before daylight that I was travelling under protection; certainly some of them were among those worthy-looking and dignified peasants who gazed seriously at us at the stations, in their sleeveless sheepskin cloaks reaching to the ground, and greeted us with an honorable “istem adiamek” (praised be God!) The sun’s heat was scorching all day—I am as red as a crab in the face. We made eighteen miles in twelve hours, to which must be reckoned two or three hours, if not more, in putting-to and waiting, as the twelve horses I required had first to be caught for myself and escort. A third of the distance was shifting sands and downs, like those of Stolpmünde.
At five I reached this place, the streets of which are animated by a gay crowd of Hungarians, Slowaks, and Wallachians, who fill my chamber with a din of the wildest and maddest gypsy melodies. (Szolnok is a village of some six thousand inhabitants, but there is a railway and steamboat station on the Theiss.) At times they sing through the nose, with gaping mouths, in a weak minor discord, histories of black eyes, and of the brave death of some robber, in sounds that remind one of the wind howling Lettish songs down a chimney. The women are generally well grown, a few remarkably handsome; they all have raven hair, bound in tresses behind with red ribbons. The married women wear either bright green and red cloths, or red velvet caps on their heads; about their shoulders and bosoms a handsome yellow silk shawl; black or pure blue short gowns, and red Turkey leather shoes, reaching up under the petticoats. Their faces have a yellowish brown hue, with lustrous black eyes; a group of these women present a play of colors that would please you; every color is as distinctly expressed as possible. Since my arrival at five I have been swimming in the Theiss, while expecting dinner. I have seen Csardas danced; it vexes me that I can not draw, to bring these fairy-tale forms on paper for you. I then had paprika, stürl (fish), and tick for dinner, drank a good deal of Hungarian, and now shall go to bed, if the gypsy music will let me sleep. Good night. Istem adiamek.