For Sceptre and Crown.
Vol. I.
by Gregor Samarow.
PREFACE.
The success which "Um Szepter und Kronen" has met with on the Continent justifies an English translation. The author, who writes under the _nom de plume_ of Gregor Samarow, is, if report speak truly, himself one of the characters described in his work as the friend and confidant of the chivalrous and unfortunate sovereign who is its princ.i.p.al hero. This explains the ease and familiarity with which the various courts and cabinets are described, the author"s personal acquaintance with the statesmen and diplomatists he has pourtrayed, and it accounts for the value of the work as a clever and interesting political sketch.
It is as a political sketch, and not as an ordinary novel, that it is offered to this country.
Although the great events of 1870 and 1871 have almost swept from memory the history of preceding years, yet the struggle of 1866--the Seven Weeks" War--must ever be memorable; it was the prelude to the great Franco-German War, and its immediate result was that immense increase in the power of Prussia which placed her in her present position of supreme leader in Germany.
CHAPTER I.
BISMARCK AND MANTEUFFEL.
About nine o"clock on a dark April evening in the year 1866, a Berlin cab drove up the Wilhelmsstra.s.se with the trot peculiar to those vehicles, and stopped between the two lamps illuminating the door of No. 76, the house of the Minister for Foreign Affairs. The ground floor of this long two-storeyed house was well lighted up, and any one who peeped through the green blinds could see into many office-like rooms, well-filled with industrious writers, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The windows of the upper storey were only faintly lighted here and there.
From the cab which drew up before this house stepped a middle-sized man, dressed in a dark paletot and black hat; he came close to the gas-lamp to look in his purse for the right coins with which to pay the fare, and as soon as he had settled with the numbered Automedon he rang loudly at the door-bell.
The door opened almost immediately, and the person demanding admittance entered a s.p.a.cious _porte-cochere_, at the end of which, between two large sleeping stone lions, ascended the flight of steps leading to the interior of the house. On one side of the doorway a window opened into the porter"s lodge, and at the window appeared the porter"s face, wearing that peculiarly stolid expression common to the door-keepers of all great houses.
The porter looked at the new-comer inquisitively through the half-open window, but he only gave him a hasty glance as he walked on with quiet, measured tread to the flight of steps.
As he moved forwards, the light fell brightly on his face, and showed the features of a man of about sixty years of age, of a rather dark and healthy complexion. The quick, animated dark eyes looked piercing and bright, even through gold-rimmed spectacles, though they also expressed calmness and benevolence. His well-chiselled, regular nose was slightly bowed over the small, firm, beardless mouth, and an energetic up-turned chin completed a countenance so characteristic, that when once beheld it was seldom forgotten.
No sooner did the look darted through these gold spectacles reach the window of the porter"s lodge, than the porter"s face changed as if by magic.
The expression of indifference and easy condescension vanished instantly, the countenance a.s.sumed the look befitting a zealous servant, and its possessor hastened from the door of his lodge leading to the steps, and at last stood in a precise att.i.tude, proving him to be an old soldier, before the visitor, who in the meantime had gained the entrance hall on the ground floor, to which the large stone steps led.
"Is the minister at home?" he inquired, with simple politeness, which, equally unlike the over-strained courtesy of the pet.i.tioner and the haughty _nonchalance_ of the _parvenu_, proved him to be a man accustomed to move with ease in the highest society.
"At your command, your Excellency," replied the porter in his official manner. "The French Amba.s.sador has just gone, and no one is here. The minister is now alone."
"And how do you get on? still sound and fit for service?" asked the visitor, kindly.
"Most humble thanks for your Excellency"s gracious inquiries. I still get about, although somewhat weaker. Everyone does not wear so well as your Excellency."
"Well, well, we all get older, and draw nearer to the end. Keep a brave heart, and G.o.d be with you!" With these kind words, heartily spoken, the grave-looking man walked up the broad staircase towards the first storey, while the old door-keeper watched him with respectful pleasure, and then returned to his lodge.
In the ante-room on the upper floor "his Excellency" found Herr von Bismarck"s _valet-de-chambre_, Schonhausen, and was at once conducted through a large, dimly-lighted apartment to the cabinet of the minister. The door was thrown open by the servant, who announced for his master"s benefit, "His Excellency von Manteuffel!"
Herr von Bismarck sat at a large writing-table, piled with acts and papers. It was placed in the middle of the room, and lighted by a tall lamp with a dark shade. An arm-chair stood on the other side of the table, in which the minister usually seated his visitors.
Herr von Bismarck rose at his servant"s announcement and walked towards his visitor, whilst Manteuffel took in the whole room with one glance from his quick eyes; then, with a slight half-melancholy smile, he seized the president-minister"s outstretched hand.
It was a picture of the deepest interest. In the half-second during which these two men stood opposite each other, the present touched the past and the future--the old, the new Prussia.
Both the men were sensible of this impression. They stood opposite one another for a moment in silence.
Herr von Manteuffel we have already described whilst he was entering the Foreign Office. It is only needful to add that the removal of his hat showed hair which was grey and thin, and cut very short. He stood quite still, his right hand clasped in Bismarck"s, whilst the slender white fingers of his left held his hat. His features maintained perfect calmness; his mouth was firmly closed, and a guarded reserve appeared to stamp its seal upon the whole being of the man.
Herr von Bismarck, almost a head taller, stood towering above him. The bearing of his powerful form showed he was accustomed to wear uniform; his ma.s.sive, strongly-marked countenance spoke in its decided features of a vehement, pa.s.sionate soul; the clear, penetrating grey eyes turned boldly, with a cold gaze, upon the object they wished to watch; and the broad, high brow, which from being somewhat bald appeared even higher than it was, showed immense power of forcing, by an iron will, thoughts and ideas to logical arrangement.
"I thank you for your kind visit," said Bismarck, after a few moments.
"You preferred coming to me here, instead of receiving me as I requested."
"It is better so," replied Manteuffel. "Your visit to me would have excited curiosity. Here, too, we are safe from eavesdroppers; and, I suppose, an important subject is to be discussed."
"Yes, unhappily, only a grave and extraordinary occasion can procure me the happiness of hearing the experienced counsels of my old chief. You know how often I long for your advice, and yet you always avoid every expression of opinion," said Herr von Bismarck, with a slight accent of reproach.
"What good would it do?" returned Herr von Manteuffel, politely but coldly. "To act for myself, to answer for myself, was my rule when I occupied the position you now fill. If once a leading statesman begins to ask advice right and left, he loses the power of advancing resolutely on the path which his reason and his conscience point out to him as the right one."
"Now, truly, it is not my way to listen to every one, and no want of resolution prevents my choosing my own path," cried Bismarck, warmly; "and," he added, with a slight smile, "my friends the members of the Diet cast it daily in my teeth that I do not sufficiently heed their good advice; yet you will own that there are moments when the strongest brain may long to hear the views and the advice of a master mind, who can look back, my honoured friend, upon such actions as yours."
"And such a moment has now come?" asked Manteuffel, quietly, whilst his piercing eyes rested on Bismarck"s animated face, his own features not in the least responding to the compliment just paid him.
"If ever there was a time in which the strongest mind must be a.s.sailed by doubt, it is the present moment. You know the position of Germany and of Europe, and you know that the mighty crisis _must_ come, upon which the fate of centuries depends," said Herr von Bismarck.
"I believe it _will_ come, whether it _must_ come or not; but," added Herr von Manteuffel, after a short pause, "our conference will touch upon subjects of the highest importance, and you know my profound dislike of officious meddling in things which do not concern me. May I then ask, does the king know of this conversation, and of its subject?"
"His Majesty knows, and desires I should ask your advice," answered Bismarck.
"Then it is my duty to express my humble opinion so far as it is formed in my own mind," said Manteuffel, quietly, as he seated himself in the arm-chair near the writing-table, while Bismarck took his usual place.
"Before, however, I can speak on the present situation, I must know what your intentions are, what is the aim of your policy, and by what means you intend to attain that end. Permit me," he continued, as with a slight movement of the hand he politely repressed a remark from Herr von Bismarck--"permit me to state, from my private and remote observations, what I believe your intentions to be. You must then honestly tell me if I am right or mistaken."
Herr von Bismarck bowed in silence, and fixed his candid eyes with a look of the greatest attention upon Herr von Manteuffel.
"Your aim is," continued the latter, quietly, "according to the conviction I feel from the progress of events, to solve, or rather to end, the great German question; your aim is to place Prussia at the head of the political and military power of Germany, and to turn the edge of the sword against any who shall oppose you. In a word, you wish to bring that long, chronic sickness, called "the German Question," to an acute crisis, and to cure it for ever by the arcanum of blood and iron."
"I do," replied Bismarck, without moving or raising his voice; but it vibrated so strangely that these two words rang through the room like the clash of arms, and his eyes, which were still fixed on Herr von Manteuffel, seemed to emit an electric stream. Thus, when Laoc.o.o.n"s lance touched the horse of Troy, there rang from within, the low, faint clang of the Grecian arms, the first note of that terrible harmony, before which the walls of Pergamus were destroyed, and which, echoing back from the strings of Homer"s lyre, for two thousand years has thrilled the hearts of men.
"You do not deceive yourself as to the strong opposition you will encounter," continued Herr von Manteuffel; "the crisis is come, and the struggle will take place, and before long, for unless I am quite deceived, the other side is equally anxious to bring matters to an issue."
"I know it," replied Herr von Bismarck.
"Well," added Manteuffel, "we must then consider the means we can employ in this struggle. There is, to begin with, the Prussian army--a thing of great preponderance, which will weigh heavily in the balance, and the importance of which I do not undervalue for a moment. This army possesses advantages which I do not understand, but which are very important in a military point of view: the needle-gun, the artillery, and the general staff. But in this struggle other powers must be taken into consideration; our allies, and public opinion. Our allies seem to me doubtful--France? You must know better than I, your position with the Man of Silence; England will wait for the success of one side or the other; Russia is safe. As to public opinion----"
"Is there such a thing?" interrupted Bismarck.
Herr von Manteuffel smiled slightly, and continued, "Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, public opinion is the result of an effective bit of decoration, which makes a lively impression on the crowd, now lighting up Fiesco"s restless sea, now throwing a flood of heavenly glory into Egmont"s dungeon. To those behind the scenes, it is the result of machinery, and is produced by pulling the right string at the right moment. I believe _we_ understand both scenes and machinery. But there is another kind of public opinion that rises like the wind, incomprehensible, unmanageable, and terrible as the wind when it rouses itself to a storm. The strife that lies nearest in the lap of Fate is a strife of German against German, a civil war, and in such a war Public Opinion claims her right: she is a powerful ally and a terrible foe, terrible above all to the vanquished, against whom she calls up relentlessly the _vae victis_. Public opinion, however, is against war, less perhaps in Germany than in Prussia itself, and honestly considering the composition of the Prussian army, that is no subject for indifference."