CHAPTER XIII.
THE OUTBREAK OF WAR WITH FRANCE.
1867-1870.
Ever since the conclusion of peace, the danger of a conflict between France and Germany had been apparent. It was not only the growing discontent and suspicion of the French nation and the French army, who truly felt that the supremacy of France had been shaken by the growth of this new power; it was not only that the deep-rooted hatred of France which prevailed in Germany had been stirred by Napoleon’s action, and that the Germans had received confidence from the consciousness of their own strength. Had there been nothing more than this, year after year might have gone by and, as has happened since and had happened before, a war always anticipated might have been always deferred. We may be sure that Bismarck would not have gone to war unless he believed it to be necessary and desirable, and he would not have thought this unless there was something to be gained. He has often shewn, before and since, that he was quite as well able to use his powers in the maintenance of peace as in creating causes for war. There was, however, one reason which made war almost inevitable. The unity of Germany was only half completed; the southern States still existed in a curious state of semi-isolation. This could not long continue; their position must be regulated. War arises from that state of uncertainty which is always present when a political community has not found a stable and permanent constitution. In Germany men were looking forward to the time when the southern States should join the north. The work was progressing; the treaties of offensive and defensive alliance had been followed by the creation of a new Customs’ Union, and it was a further step when at Bismarck’s proposal a Parliament consisting of members elected throughout the whole of Germany was summoned at Berlin for the management of matters connected with the tariff. Further than this, however, he was not able to go; the new Constitution was working well; they could risk welcoming the States of the south into it; but this could not be done without a war with France. Bismarck had rejected the French proposal for an alliance. He knew, and everyone else knew, that France would oppose by the sword any attempt to complete the unity of Germany; and, which was more serious, unless great caution was used, that she would be supported by Austria and perhaps by the anti-Prussian party in Bavaria. There were some who wished to press it forward at once. Bismarck was very strongly pressed by the National Liberals to hasten the union with the south; at the beginning of 1870 the Grand Duke of Baden, himself a son-in-law of the King of Prussia and always the chief supporter of Prussian influence in the south, formally applied to be admitted into the Federation. The request had to be refused, but Bismarck had some difficulty in defending his position against his enthusiastic friends. He had to warn them not to hurry; they must not press the development too quickly. If they did so, they would stir the resentment of the anti-Prussian party; they would play into the hands of Napoleon and Austria. But if there was danger in haste, there was equal danger in delay; the prestige of Prussia would suffer.
It is clear that there was one way in which the union might be brought about almost without resistance, and that was, if France were to make an unprovoked attack upon Germany, an attack so completely without reason and excuse that the strong national passion it provoked might in the enthusiasm of war sweep away all minor differences and party feelings.
There was another element which we must not omit. These years witnessed the growth in determination and in power of the Ultramontane party. We can find their influence in every country in Europe; their chief aim was the preservation of the temporal power of the Pope and the destruction of the newly created Kingdom of Italy. They were also opposed to the unity of Germany under Prussia. They were very active and powerful in South Germany, and at the elections in 1869 had gained a majority. Their real object must be to win over the Emperor of the French to a complete agreement with themselves, to persuade him to forsake his earlier policy and to destroy what he had done so much to create. They had a strong support in the person of the Empress, and they joined with the injured vanity of the French to press the Emperor towards war.
In 1867, war had almost broken out on the question of Luxemburg. Napoleon had attempted to get at least this small extension of territory; relying on the support of Prussia he entered into negotiations with the King of Holland; the King agreed to surrender the Grand Duchy to France, making, however, a condition that Napoleon should secure the assent of Prussia to this arrangement. At the very last moment, when the treaty was almost signed, Bismarck made it clear that the national feeling in Germany was so strong that if the transaction took place he would have to declare war against France. At the same time, he published the secret treaties with the southern States. These events destroyed the last hope of maintaining the old friendly relations with Napoleon; “I have been duped,” said the Emperor, who at once began reorganising and rearming his forces. For some weeks there was great danger of war concerning the right of garrisoning Luxemburg; this had hitherto belonged to Prussia, but of course with the dissolution of the German Confederation the right had lapsed. The German nation, which was much excited and thought little of the precise terms of treaties, wished to defend the right; Bismarck knew that in this matter the Prussian claim could not be supported; moreover, even if he had wished to go to war with France he was not ready; for some time must elapse before the army of the North German Confederation could be reorganised on the Prussian model. He therefore preserved the peace and the matter was settled by a European Congress. In the summer of 1867, he visited Paris with the King; externally the good relations between the two States were restored, but it was in reality only an armed peace.
It is difficult to decipher Napoleon’s wishes; he seems to have believed that war was inevitable; there is no proof that he desired it. He made preparations; the army was reorganised, the numbers increased, and a new weapon introduced. At the same time he looked about for allies. Negotiations were carried on with Austria; in 1868 a meeting was arranged between the two Emperors; Beust, who was now Chancellor of the Austrian Empire, was anxious to make an attempt to overthrow the power of Prussia in Germany. In 1870, negotiations were entered into for a military alliance; a special envoy, General Lebrun, was sent to Vienna to discuss the military arrangements in case of war. No treaty was signed, but it was an almost understood thing that sooner or later an alliance between the two Emperors should be formed against Prussia.
It will be seen then that at the beginning of 1870 everything was tending towards war, and that under certain circumstances war was desirable, both for France and for Germany; much seemed to depend on the occasion of the outbreak. If Prussia took the offensive, if she attempted by force to win the southern States, she would be faced by a coalition of France and Austria, supported only too probably by Bavaria, and this was a coalition which would find much sympathy among the discontented in North Germany. On the other hand, it was for the advantage of Prussia not to delay the conflict: the King was growing old; Bismarck could never be sure how long he would remain in office; moreover, the whole forces of North Germany had now been completely reorganised and were ready for war, but with the year 1871 it was to be foreseen that a fresh attempt would be made to reduce their numbers; it was desirable to avoid a fresh conflict on the military budget; everything shews that 1870 was the year in which it would be most convenient for Prussia to fight.
Prussia, at this time, had no active allies on whom she could depend; Bismarck indeed had secured the neutrality of Russia, but he did not know that the Czar would come actively to his help; we may feel sure that he would prefer not to have to call upon Russia for assistance, for, as we have seen in older days, a war between France and Russia, in which Germany joined, would be very harmful to Germany. It was in these circumstances that an opportunity shewed itself of gaining another ally who would be more subservient than Russia. One of the many revolutions which had harassed Spain during this century had broken out. Queen Isabella had lost the throne, and General Prim found himself obliged to look about for a new sovereign. He applied in vain to all the Catholic Courts; nobody was anxious to accept an honour coupled with such danger as ruling over the Spanish people. Among others he applied to Leopold, hereditary Prince of Hohenzollern, eldest son of that Prince of Hohenzollern who a few years before had been President of the Prussian Ministry. The choice seemed a good one: the Prince was an amiable, courageous man; he was a Catholic; he was, moreover, connected with the Napoleonic family. His brother had, three years before, been appointed King of Roumania with Napoleon’s good-will.
The proposal was probably made in all good faith; under ordinary circumstances, the Prince, had he been willing to accept, would have been a very proper candidate. It was, however, known from the first that Napoleon would not give his consent, and, according to the comity of Europe, he had a right to be consulted. Nor can we say that Napoleon was not justified in opposing the appointment. It has indeed been said that the Prince was not a member of the Prussian Royal House and that his connection with Napoleon was really closer than that with the King of Prussia. This is true, but to lay stress on it is to ignore the very remarkable voluntary connection which united the two branches of the House of Hohenzollern. The Prince’s father had done what no sovereign prince in Germany has ever done before or since: out of loyalty to Prussia he had surrendered his position as sovereign ruler and presented his dominions to the King of Prussia; he had on this occasion been adopted into the Royal Family; he had formally recognised the King as Head of the House, and subjected himself to his authority. More than this, he had even condescended to accept the position of Prussian Minister. Was not Napoleon justified if he feared that the son of a man who had shewn so great an affection to Prussia would not be an agreeable neighbour on the throne of Spain?
It was in the early spring of 1869 that the first proposals were made to the Prince; our information as to this is very defective, but it seems that they were at once rejected. Benedetti’s suspicions were, however, aroused. He heard that a Spanish diplomatist, who had formerly been Ambassador at Berlin, had again visited the city and had had two interviews with Bismarck. He feared that perhaps he had some mission with regard to the Hohenzollern candidature, and, in accordance with instructions from his Government, enquired first of Thiele and, after a visit to Paris, saw Bismarck himself. The Count was quite ready to discuss the matter; with great frankness he explained all the reasons why, if the throne were offered to the Prince, the King would doubtless advise him not to accept it. Benedetti was still suspicious, but for the time the matter dropped. From what happened later, though we have no proof, we must, I think, share his suspicion that Bismarck was already considering the proposal and was prepared to lend it his support.
In September of the same year, the affair began to advance. Prim sent Salazar, a Spanish gentleman, to Germany with a semi-official commission to invite the Prince to become a candidate, and gave him a letter to a German acquaintance who would procure him an introduction to the Prince. This German acquaintance was no other than Herr von Werther, Prussian Ambassador at Vienna. If we remember the very strict discipline which Bismarck maintained in the Diplomatic Service we must feel convinced that Werther was acting according to instructions.[9] He brought the envoy to the Prince of Hohenzollern; the very greatest caution was taken to preserve secrecy; the Spaniard did not go directly to the castle of Weinburg, but left the train at another station, waited in the town till it was dark, and only approached the castle when hidden from observation by night and a thick mist. He first of all asked Prince Charles himself to accept the throne, and when he refused, offered it to Prince Leopold, who also, though he did not refuse point-blank, left no doubt that he was disinclined to the proposal; he could only accept, he said, if the Spanish Government procured the assent of the Emperor Napoleon and the King of Prussia. Notwithstanding the reluctance of the family to take the proffered dignity, Herr von Werther (and we must look on him as Bismarck’s agent[9]) a fortnight later travelled from Munich in order to press on the Prince of Roumania that he should use his influence not to allow the House of Hohenzollern to refuse the throne. For the time, however, the subject seems to have dropped. A few months later, for the third time, the offer was repeated, and now Bismarck uses the whole of his influence in its favour. At the end of February, Salazar came on an official mission to Berlin; he had three letters, one to the King, one to Bismarck, one to the Prince. The King refused to receive him; Prince Leopold did not waver in his refusal and was supported by his father; their attitude was that they should not consider the matter seriously unless higher reasons of State required it. With Prince Bismarck, however, the envoy was more successful; he had several interviews with the Minister, and then left the city in order that suspicions might not be aroused or the attention of the French Government directed to the negotiations. Bismarck pleaded with great warmth for the acceptance of the offer; in a memoir to the King, he dwelt on the great importance which the summons of a Hohenzollern prince to the Spanish throne would have for Germany; it would be politically invaluable to have a friendly land in the rear of France; it would be of the greatest economic advantage for Germany and Spain if this thoroughly monarchical country developed its resources under a king of German descent. In consequence of this, a conference was held at Berlin, at which there were present, besides the King, the Crown Prince, Prince Carl Anton, and Prince Leopold, Bismarck, Roon, Moltke, Schleinitz, Thiele, and Delbrueck. By summoning the advice of these men, the matter was taken out of the range of a private and family matter; it is true that it was not officially brought before the Prussian Ministry, but those consulted were the men by whom the policy of the State was directed. The unanimous decision of the councillors was for acceptance on the ground that it was the fulfilment of a patriotic duty to Prussia. The Crown Prince saw great difficulties in the way, and warned his cousin, if he accepted, not to rely on Prussian help in the future, even if, for the attainment of a definite end, the Prussian Government furthered the project for the moment. The King did not agree with his Ministers; he had many serious objections, and refused to give any definite order to the Prince that he should accept the offer; he left the final decision to him. He eventually refused.
Bismarck, however, was not to be beaten; he insisted that the Hohenzollerns should not let the matter drop; and, as he could not persuade the King to use his authority, acted directly upon the family with such success that Prince Carl Anton telegraphed to his third son, Frederick, to ask if he would not accept instead of his brother. Bismarck had now declared that the acceptance by one of the Princes was a political necessity; this he said repeatedly and with the greatest emphasis. At the same time, he despatched a Prussian officer of the general staff and his private secretary, Lothar Bucher, to Spain in order that they might study the situation. It was important that as far as possible the official representative of Prussia should have no share in the arrangement of this matter.
Prince Frederick came to Berlin, but, like his brother, he refused, unless the King gave a command. At the end of April, the negotiations seemed again to have broken down. Bismarck, who was in ill health, left Berlin for Varzin, where he remained for six weeks.
We are, however, not surprised, since we know that Bismarck’s interest was so strongly engaged, that he was able after all to carry the matter through. He seems to have persuaded Prince Carl Anton; he then wrote to Prim telling him not to despair; the candidature was an excellent thing which was not to be lost sight of; he must, however, negotiate not with the Prussian Government, but with the Prince himself. When he wrote this he knew that he had at last succeeded in breaking down the reluctance of the Prince, and that the King, though he still was unwilling to undertake any responsibility, would not refuse his consent if the Prince voluntarily accepted. Prince Leopold was influenced not only by his interest in the Spanish race, but also by a letter from Bismarck, in which he said that he ought to put aside all scruples and accept in the interests of Prussia. The envoys had also returned from Spain and brought back a favourable report; they received an extraordinarily hearty welcome; we may perhaps suspect with the King that they had allowed their report to receive too rosy a colour; no doubt, however, they were acting in accordance with what they knew were the wishes of the man who had sent them out. In the beginning of June the decision was made; Prince Leopold wrote to the King that he accepted the crown which had been offered to him, since he thereby hoped to do a great service to his Fatherland. King William immediately answered that he approved of the decision.
Bismarck then at last was successful. A few days later Don Salazar again travelled to Germany; this time he brought a formal offer, which was formally-accepted. The Cortes were then in session; it was arranged that they should remain at Madrid till his return; the election would then be at once completed, for a majority was assured. The secrecy had been strictly maintained; there were rumours indeed, but no one knew of all the secret interviews; men might suspect, but they could not prove that it was an intrigue of Bismarck. If the election had once been made the solemn act of the whole nation, Napoleon would have been confronted with a _fait accompli_. To have objected would have been most injurious; he would have had to do, not with Prussia, which apparently was not concerned, but with the Spanish nation. The feeling of France would not allow him to acquiesce in the election, but it would have deeply offended the dignity and pride of Spain had he claimed that the King who had been formally accepted should, at his demand, be rejected. He could scarcely have done so without bringing about a war; a war with Spain would have crippled French resources and diverted their attention from Prussia; even if a war did not ensue, permanent ill feeling would be created. It is not difficult to understand the motives by which Bismarck had been influenced. At the last moment the plan failed. A cipher telegram from Berlin was misinterpreted in Madrid; and in consequence the Cortes, instead of remaining in session, were prorogued till the autumn. All had depended on the election being carried out before the secret was disclosed; a delay of some weeks must take place, and some indiscreet words of Salazar disclosed the truth. General Prim had no course left him but to send to the French Ambassador, to give him official information as to what had been done and try to calm his uneasiness.
What were Bismarck’s motives in this affair? It is improbable that he intended to use it as a means of bringing about a war with France. He could not possibly have foreseen the very remarkable series of events which were to follow, and but for them a war arising out of this would have been very unwise, for German public opinion and the sympathy of all the neutral Powers would have been opposed to Prussia, had it appeared that the Government was disturbing the peace of Europe simply in order to put a Prussian prince on the throne of Spain contrary to the wishes of France. He could not ignore German public opinion now as he had done in old days; he did not want to conquer South Germany, he wished to attract it. It seems much more probable that he had no very clear conception of the results which would follow; he did not wish to lose what might be the means of gaining an ally to Germany and weakening France. It would be quite invaluable if, supposing there were to be war (arising from this or other causes), Spain could be persuaded to join in the attack on France and act the part which Italy had played in 1866. What he probably hoped for more than anything else was that France would declare war against Spain; then Napoleon would waste his strength in a new Mexico; he would no longer be a danger to Germany, and whether Germany joined in the war or not, she would gain a free hand by the preoccupation of France. If none of these events happened, it would be an advantage that some commercial gain might be secured for Germany.
On the whole, the affair is not one which shews his strongest points as a diplomatist; it was too subtle and too hazardous.
The news aroused the sleeping jealousy of Prussia among the French people; the suspicion and irritation of the Government was extreme, and this feeling was not ill-founded. They assumed that the whole matter was an intrigue of Bismarck’s, though, owing to the caution with which the negotiations had been conducted, they had no proofs. They might argue that a Prussian prince could not accept such an offer without the permission of his sovereign, and they had a great cause of complaint that this permission had been given without any communication with Napoleon, whom the matter so nearly concerned. The arrangement itself was not alone the cause of alarm. The secrecy with which it had been surrounded was interpreted as a sign of malevolence.
Of course they must interfere to prevent the election being completed. Where, however, were they to address themselves? With a just instinct they directed their remonstrance, not to Madrid, but to Berlin; they would thereby appear not to be interfering with the independence of the Spaniards, but to be acting in self-defence against the insidious advance of German power.
They could not, however, approach Bismarck; he had retired to Varzin, to recruit his health; the other Ministers also were absent; the King was at Ems. It was convenient that at this sudden crisis they should be away, for it was imperative that the Prussian Government should deny all complicity. Bismarck must not let it appear that he had any interest in, or knowledge of, the matter; he therefore remained in the seclusion of Pomerania.
Benedetti also was absent in the Black Forest. On the 4th of July, therefore, the French _Charge d’Affaires,_ M. de Sourds, called at the Foreign Office and saw Herr von Thiele. “Visibly embarrassed,” he writes, “he told me that the Prussian Government was absolutely ignorant of the matter and that it did not exist for them.” This was the only answer to be got; in a despatch sent on the 11th to the Prussian agents in Germany, Bismarck repeated the assertion. “The matter has nothing to do with Prussia. The Prussian Government has always considered and treated this affair as one in which Spain and the selected candidate are alone concerned.” This was literally true, for it had never been brought before the Prussian Ministry, and no doubt the records of the office would contain no allusion to it; the majority of the Ministers were absolutely ignorant of it.
Of course M. de Sourds did not believe Herr von Thiele’s statement, and his Government was not satisfied with the explanation; the excitement in Paris was increasing; it was fomented by the agents of the Ministry, and in answer to an interpolation in the Chamber, the Duc de Grammont on the 6th declared that the election of the Prince was inadmissible; he trusted to the wisdom of the Prussian and the friendship of the Spanish people not to proceed in it, but if his hope were frustrated they would know how to do their duty. They were not obliged to endure that a foreign Power by setting one of its Princes on the throne of Charles V. should destroy the balance of power and endanger the interests and honour of France. He hoped this would not happen; they relied on the wisdom of the German and the friendship of the Spanish people to avoid it; but if it were necessary, then, strong in the support of the nation and the Chamber, they knew how to fulfil their duty without hesitation or weakness.
The French Ministry hereby publicly declared that they held the Prussian Government responsible for the election, and they persisted in demanding the withdrawal, not from Spain, but from Prussia; Prim had suggested that as the Foreign Office refused to discuss the matter, Grammont should approach the King personally. Benedetti received instructions to go to the King at Ems and request him to order or advise the Prince to withdraw. At first Grammont wished him also to see the Prince himself; on second thoughts he forbade this, for, as he said, it was of the first importance that the messages should be conveyed by the King; he was determined to use the opportunity for the humiliation of Germany.
If it was the desire of the French in this way to establish the complicity of Prussia, it was imperative that the Prussian Government should not allow them to do so. They were indeed in a disagreeable situation; they could not take up the French challenge and allow war to break out; not only would the feeling of the neutral Powers, of England and of Russia, be against them, but that of Germany itself would be divided. With what force would the anti-Prussian party in Bavaria and Wurtemberg be able to oppose a war undertaken apparently for the dynastic interests of the Hohenzollern! If, however, the Prince now withdrew, the French would be able to proclaim that he had done so in consequence of the open threats of France; supposing they were able to connect the King in any way with him, then they might assert that they had checked the ambition of Prussia; Prussian prestige would be seriously injured at home, and distrust of Prussian good faith would be aroused abroad.
The King therefore had a difficult task when Benedetti asked for an interview. He had been brought into this situation against his own will, and his former scruples seemed fully justified. He complained of the violence of the French Press and the Ministry; he repeated the assertion that the Prussian Government had been unconnected with the negotiations and had been ignorant of them; he had avoided associating himself with them, and had only given an opinion when Prince Leopold, having decided to accept, asked his consent. He had then acted, not in his sovereign capacity as King of Prussia, but as head of the family. He had neither collected nor summoned his council of Ministers, though he had informed Count Bismarck privately. He refused to use his authority to order the Prince to withdraw, and said that he would leave him full freedom as he had done before.
These statements were of course verbally true; probably the King did not know to what extent Bismarck was responsible for the acceptance by the Prince. They did not make the confidence of the French any greater; it was now apparent that the King had been asked, and had given his consent without considering the effect on France; they could not acquiesce in this distinction between his acts as sovereign and his acts as head of the family, for, as Benedetti pointed out, he was only head of the family because he was sovereign.
All this time Bismarck was still at Varzin; while Paris was full of excitement, while there were hourly conferences of the Ministers and the city was already talking of war, the Prussian Ministers ostentatiously continued to enjoy their holidays. There was no danger in doing so; the army was so well prepared that they could afford quietly to await what the French would do. What Bismarck’s plans and hopes were we do not know; during these days he preserved silence; the violence of the French gave him a further reason for refusing to enter into any discussion. When, however, he heard of Benedetti’s visit to Ems he became uneasy; he feared that the King would compromise himself; he feared that the French would succeed in their endeavour to inflict a diplomatic defeat on Prussia. He proposed to go to Ems to support the King, and on the 12th left Varzin; that night he arrived in Berlin. There he received the news that the Prince of Hohenzollern, on behalf of his son, had announced his withdrawal.
The retirement was probably the spontaneous act of the Prince and his father; the decisive influence was the fear lest the enmity of Napoleon might endanger the position of the Prince of Roumania. Everyone was delighted; the cloud of war was dispelled; two men only were dissatisfied–Bismarck and Grammont. It was the severest check which Bismarck’s policy had yet received; he had persuaded the Prince to accept against his will; he had persuaded the King reluctantly to keep the negotiations secret from Napoleon; however others might disguise the truth, he knew that they had had to retreat from an untenable position, and retreat before the noisy insults of the French Press and the open menace of the French Government; his anger was increased by the fact that neither the King nor the Prince had in this crisis acted as he would have wished.
We have no authoritative statement as to the course he himself would have pursued; he had, according to his own statement, advised the King not to receive the French Ambassador; probably he wished that the Prince should declare that as the Spaniards had offered him the crown and he had accepted it, he could not now withdraw unless he were asked to do so by Spain; the attempt of Grammont to fasten a quarrel on Prussia would have been deprived of any responsible pretext; he would have been compelled to bring pressure to bear on the Spaniards, with all the dangers that that course would involve. We may suspect that he had advised this course and that his advice had been rejected. However this may be, Bismarck felt the reverse so keenly that it seemed to him impossible he could any longer remain Minister, unless he could obtain redress for the insults and menaces of France. What prospect was there now of this? It was no use now going on to Ems; he proposed to return next day to Varzin, and he expected that when he did so he would be once more a private man.
He was to be saved by the folly of the French. Grammont, vain, careless, and inaccurate, carried away by his hatred of Prussia, hot-headed and blustering, did not even see how great an advantage he had gained. When Guizot, now a very old man, living in retirement, heard that the Prince had withdrawn, he exclaimed: “What good fortune these people have! This is the finest diplomatic victory which has been won in my lifetime.” This is indeed the truth; how easy it would have been to declare that France had spoken and her wishes had been fulfilled! the Government need have said no more, but every Frenchman would have always told the story how Bismarck had tried to put a Hohenzollern on the throne of Spain, had been foiled by the word of the Emperor, and had been driven from office. Grammont prepared to complete the humiliation of Prussia, and in doing so he lost all and more than all he had won.
He had at first declared that the withdrawal of the Prince was worthless when it was officially communicated to him by Prussia; now he extended his demands. He suggested to the Prussian Ambassador at Paris that the King should write to the Emperor a letter, in which he should express his regret for what had happened and his assurance that he had had no intention of injuring France. To Benedetti he telegraphed imperative orders that he was to request from the King a guarantee for the future, and a promise that he would never again allow the Prince to return to the candidature. It was to give himself over to an implacable foe. As soon as Bismarck heard from Werther of the first suggestion, he telegraphed to him a stern reprimand for having listened to demands so prejudicial to the honour of his master, and ordered him, under the pretext of ill health, to depart from Paris and leave a post for which he had shewn himself so ill-suited.
That same morning he saw Lord Augustus Loftus, and he explained that the incident was not yet closed; Germany, he said, did not wish for war, but they did not fear it. They were not called on to endure humiliations from France; after what had happened they must have some security for the future; the Duc de Grammont must recall or explain the language he had used; France had begun to prepare for war and that would not be allowed.
“It is clear,” writes the English Ambassador, “that Count Bismarck and the Prussian Ministry regret the attitude which the King has shewn to Count Benedetti, and feel, in regard to public opinion, the necessity of guarding the honour of the nation.”
To the Crown Prince, who had come to Berlin, Bismarck was more open; he declared that war was necessary.
This very day there were taking place at Ems events which were to give him the opportunity for which he longed. On Benedetti had fallen the task of presenting the new demands to the King; it was one of the most ungrateful of the many unpleasant duties which had been entrusted to him during the last few years. In the early morning, he went out in the hope that he might see someone of the Court; he met the King, himself who was taking the waters. The King at once beckoned to him, entered into conversation, and shewed him a copy of the _Cologne Gazette_ containing the statement of the Prince’s withdrawal. Benedetti then, as in duty bound, asked permission to inform his Government that the King would undertake that the candidature should not be resumed at any time. The King, of course, refused, and, when Benedetti pressed the request, repeated the refusal with some emphasis, and then, beckoning to his adjutant, who had withdrawn a few paces, broke off the conversation. When a few hours later the King received a letter from the Prince of Hohenzollern confirming the public statement, he sent a message to Benedetti by his aide-decamp, Count Radziwill, and added to it that there would now be nothing further to say, as the incident was closed. Benedetti twice asked for another interview, but it was refused.
He had done his duty, he had made his request, as he expected, in vain, but between him and the King there had been no departure by word or gesture from the ordinary courtesy which we should expect from these two accomplished gentlemen. All the proceedings indeed had been unusual, for it was not the habit of the King, as it was of Napoleon, to receive foreign envoys except on the advice of his Ministers, and the last conversation had taken place on the public promenade of the fashionable watering-place; but the exception had been explained and justified by the theory that the King’s interest in the affair was domestic and not political. Both were anxious to avoid war, and the King to the last treated Benedetti with marked graciousness; he had while at Ems invited him to the royal table, and even now, the next morning before leaving Ems, granted him an audience, at the station to take leave. Nevertheless, he had been seriously annoyed by this fresh demand; he was pained and surprised by the continuance of the French menaces; he could not but fear that there was a deliberate intention to force a quarrel on him. He determined, therefore, to return to Berlin, and ordered Abeken, Secretary to the Foreign Office, who was with him, to telegraph to Bismarck an account of what had taken place, with a suggestion that the facts should be published.
It happened that Bismarck, when the telegram arrived, was dining with Roon and Moltke, who had both been summoned to Berlin. The three men were gloomy and depressed; they felt that their country had been humiliated, and they saw no prospect of revenge. This feeling was increased when Bismarck read aloud the telegram to his two colleagues. These repeated and impatient demands, this intrusion on the King’s privacy, this ungenerous playing with his kindly and pacific disposition, stirred their deepest indignation; to them it seemed that Benedetti had been treated with a consideration he did not deserve; the man who came with these proposals should have been repulsed with more marked indignation. But in the suggestion that the facts should be published, Bismarck saw the opportunity he had wished. He went into the next room and drafted a statement; he kept to the very words of the original telegram, but he left out much, and arranged it so that it should convey to the reader the impression, not of what had really occurred, but of what he would have wished should happen. With this he returned, and as he read it to them, Roon and Moltke brightened; here at last was an answer to the French insults; before, it sounded like a “Chamade” (a retreat), now it is a “Fanfare,” said Moltke. “That is better,” said Roon. Bismarck asked a few questions about the army. Roon assured him that all was prepared; Moltke, that, though no one could ever foretell with certainty the result of a great war, he looked to it with confidence; they all knew that with the publication of this statement the last prospect of peace would be gone. It was published late that night in a special edition of the _North German Gazette_, and at the same time a copy was sent from the Foreign Office to all German embassies and legations.
It is not altogether correct to call this (as has often been done) a falsification of the telegram. Under no circumstances could Bismarck have published in its original form the confidential message to him from his sovereign; all he had to do was to communicate to the newspapers the facts of which he had been informed, or so much of the facts as it seemed to him desirable that the public should know. He, of course, made the selection in such a form as to produce upon public opinion the particular effect which for the purposes of his policy he wished. What to some extent justifies the charge is that the altered version was published under the heading, “Ems.” The official statement was supplemented by another notice in the _North German Gazette_, which was printed in large type, and stated that Benedetti had so far forgotten all diplomatic etiquette that he had allowed himself to disturb the King in his holidays, to intercept him on the promenade, and to attempt to force demands upon him. This was untrue, but on this point the telegram to Bismarck had been itself incorrect. Besides this, Bismarck doubtless saw to it that the right instructions should be given to the writers for the Press.
But, indeed, this was hardly necessary; the statement itself was a call to arms. During all these days the German people had been left almost without instruction or guidance from the Government; they had heard with astonishment the sudden outbreak of Gallic wrath; they were told, and were inclined to believe it, that the Prussian Government was innocent of the hostile designs attributed to it; and the calm of the Government had communicated itself to them. They remained quiet, but they were still uneasy, they knew not what to think; now all doubt was removed. It was then true that with unexampled eagerness the French had fastened an alien quarrel upon them, had without excuse or justification advanced from insult to insult and menace to menace; and now, to crown their unparalleled acts, they had sent this foreigner to intrude on the reserve of the aged King, and to insult him publicly in his own country. Then false reports came from Ems; it was said that the King had publicly turned his back on Benedetti on the promenade, that the Ambassador had followed the King to his house, and had at last been shewn the door, but that even then he had not scrupled again to intrude on the King at the railway station.[10] From one end of Germany to another a storm of indignation arose; they had had enough of this French annoyance; if the French wished for war then war should they have; now there could no longer be talk of Prussian ambition; all differences of North and South were swept away; wherever the German tongue was spoken men felt that they had been insulted in the person of the King, that it was theirs to protect his honour, and from that day he reigned in their hearts as uncrowned Emperor.
The telegram was as successful in France as in Germany. There the question of peace and war was still in debate; there was a majority for peace, and indeed there was no longer an excuse for war which would satisfy even a Frenchman. Then there came in quick succession the recall and disavowment of the Prussian Ambassador, news of the serious language Bismarck had used to Lord A. Loftus, and then despatches from other Courts that an official message had been sent from Berlin carrying the record of an insult offered to the King by the French Ambassador; add to this the changed tone of the German Press, the enthusiasm with which the French challenge had been taken up; they could have no doubt that they had gone too far; they would now be not the accuser but the accused; had they wished, they did not dare retreat with the fear of the Paris mob before them, and so they decided on war, and on the 15th the official statement was made and approved in the Chamber.
It was on this same day that the King travelled from Ems to Berlin. When he left Ems he still refused to believe in the serious danger of war, but as he travelled north and saw the excited crowd that thronged to meet him at every station his own belief was almost overthrown. To his surprise, when he reached Brandenburg he found Bismarck and the Crown Prince awaiting him; the news that they had come to meet the King was itself looked on almost as a declaration of war; all through the return journey Bismarck unsuccessfully tried to persuade his master to give the order for mobilisation. When they reached Berlin they found the station again surrounded by a tumultuous throng; through it pressed one of the secretaries of the Foreign Office; he brought the news that the order for mobilisation had been given in France. Then, at last, the reluctance of the King was broken down; he gave the order, and at once the Crown Prince, who was standing near, proclaimed the news to all within earshot. The North German Parliament was summoned, and five days later Bismarck was able to announce to them that he had received the Declaration of War from France, adding as he did so that this was the first official communication which throughout the whole affair he had received from the French Government, a circumstance for which there was no precedent in history.
What a contrast is there between the two countries! On the one hand, a King and a Minister who by seven years of loyal co-operation have learnt to trust and depend upon one another, who together have faced danger, who have not shrunk from extreme unpopularity, and who, just for this reason, can now depend on the absolute loyalty of the people. On the other side, the Emperor broken in health, his will shattered by prolonged pain and sickness, trying by the introduction of liberal institutions to free himself from the burden of government and weight of responsibility which he had voluntarily taken upon his shoulders. At Berlin, Bismarck’s severity and love of power had brought it about that the divergent policy and uncertainty of early years had ceased; there was one mind and one will directing this State; the unauthorised interference and amateur criticism of courtiers were no longer permitted. In France, all the evils from which Prussia had been freed by Bismarck were increasing; here there was no single will; the Ministry were divided, there was no authority over them; no one could foresee by whom the decision of the Emperor would be determined; the deliberate results of long and painful negotiations might be overthrown in ten minutes by the interference of the Empress or the advice of Prince Napoleon. The Emperor would pursue half a dozen inconsistent policies in as many hours. And then, below all, there was this fatal fact, that Napoleon could not venture to be unpopular. He knew the folly of the course into which he was being driven, but he did not dare to face the mob of Paris, or to defy the Chamber of Deputies. He owed his throne to universal suffrage, and he knew that the people who had set him up could quickly overthrow him. No man can ever govern who fears unpopularity. Bismarck did not, Napoleon did.
Before the campaign began, two events took place which we must record. The first was the publication in the _Times_ of the text of the treaty with France regarding Belgium. We need not add anything further to what we have said regarding it; published at this moment it had a great effect on English public opinion. The other arose out of the opposition which the exiled King of Hanover had continued to maintain. He had used the very large sums of money which he possessed to keep together a Hanoverian Legion, recruited from former officers and soldiers of the Hanoverian army. He had hoped that war would break out before this and would be accompanied by a rising in Hanover. His means had now come to an end, and the unfortunate men were living in Paris almost without support. They were now exposed to a terrible alternative. They could not return to Germany; they did not wish to take part in a war on the French side. Their only hope was emigration to America. Bismarck heard of their position; he offered to pardon them all and to pay to them from the Prussian funds the full pension which they would have received had they continued to serve in the Hanoverian army. It was a timely act of generosity, and it had the effect that the last element of hostility in Germany was stilled and the whole nation could unite as one man in this foreign war.
NOTE.–In this chapter, besides the ordinary authorities, I have depended largely on the memoirs of the King of Roumania. Bismarck, in his own memoirs, states that the writer was not accurately informed; but even if there are some errors in detail, the remarkable statements contained in this work must command belief until they are fully contradicted and disproved. There has, I believe, been no attempt to do this.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE WAR WITH FRANCE AND FOUNDATION OF THE EMPIRE.
1870-1871.
On July 31, 1870, Bismarck left Berlin with the King for the seat of war, for, as in 1866, he was to accompany the army in the field. For the next few months indeed Germany was to be governed from the soil of France, and it was necessary for the Minister to be constantly with the King. Bismarck never forgot that he was a soldier; he was more proud of his general’s uniform than of his civil rank, and, though not a combatant, it was his pride and pleasure that he should share something of the hardships and dangers of war. He was as a matter of fact never so well as during the campaign: the early hours, the moderate and at times meagre food, the long hours in the saddle and the open air, restored the nerves and health which had been injured by the annoyances of office, late hours, and prolonged sedentary work. He was accompanied by part of the staff of the Foreign Office, and many of the distinguished strangers who followed the army were often guests at his table; he especially shewed his old friendliness for Americans: General Sheridan and many others of his countrymen found a hearty welcome from the Chancellor.
It was not till the 17th of August that the headquarters came up with the fighting front of the army; but the next day, during the decisive battle of Gravelotte, Bismarck watched the combat by the side of the King, and, as at Koeniggraetz, they more than once came under fire. At one period, Bismarck was in considerable danger of being taken prisoner. His two sons were serving in the army; they were dragoons in the Cuirassiers of the Guards, serving in the ranks in the same regiment whose uniform their father was entitled to wear. They both took part in the terrible cavalry charge at Mars-la-Tour, in which their regiment suffered so severely; the eldest, Count Herbert, was wounded and had to be invalided home. Bismarck could justly boast that there was no nepotism in the Prussian Government when his two sons were serving as privates. It was not till the war had gone on some weeks and they had taken part in many engagements, that they received their commissions. This would have happened in no other country or army. This was the true equality, so different from the exaggerated democracy of France,–an equality not of privilege but of obligation; every Pomeranian peasant who sent his son to fight and die in France knew that the sons of the most powerful man in the country and in Europe were fighting with them not as officers but as comrades. Bismarck was more fortunate than his friends in that neither of his sons–nor any of his near relatives–lost his life; Roon’s second son fell at Sedan, and the bloody days of Mars-la-Tour and Gravelotte placed in mourning nearly every noble family in Prussia.
From Gravelotte to Sedan he accompanied the army, and he was by the King’s side on that fatal day when the white flag was hoisted on the citadel of Sedan, and the French general came out of the town with the message that Napoleon, having in vain sought death at the head of his troops, placed his sword in the hands of the King of Prussia.
The surrender of Sedan was a military event, and the conditions had to be arranged between Moltke and Wimpffen, who had succeeded MacMahon in command, but Bismarck was present at the conference, which was held in his quarters, in case political questions arose. As they rode down together to Doncheroy he and Moltke had agreed that no terms could be offered except the unconditional surrender of the whole army, the officers alone being allowed to retain their swords. Against these conditions Wimpffen and his companions struggled long, but in vain. Moltke coldly assured them that they could not escape, and that it would be madness to begin the fight again; they were surrounded; if the surrender were not complete by four o’clock the next morning the bombardment of the town would begin. Wimpffen suggested that it would be more politic of the Germans to show generosity; they would thereby earn the gratitude of France, and this might be made the beginning of a lasting peace; otherwise what had they to look forward to but a long series of wars? Now was the time for Bismarck to interfere; it was impossible, he declared, to reckon on the gratitude of nations; at times men might indeed build with confidence on that of a sovereign and his family; “but I repeat, nothing can be expected from the gratitude of a nation.” Above all was this true of France. “The Governments there have so little power, the changes are so quick and so unforeseen, that there is nothing on which one can rely.” Besides, it would be absurd to imagine that France would ever forgive us our successes. “You are an irritable and jealous people, envious and jealous to the last degree. You have not forgiven us Sadowa, and would you forgive us Sedan? Never.”
They could not therefore modify the terms in order to win the gratitude and friendship of France; they might have done so had there been prospects of immediate peace. One of the officers, General Castelnau, announced that he had a special message from Napoleon, who had sent his sword to the King and surrendered in the hope that the King would appreciate the sacrifice and grant a more honourable capitulation. “Whose sword is it that the Emperor Napoleon has surrendered?” asked Bismarck; “is it the sword of France or his own? If it is the sword of France the conditions can be greatly softened; your message would have an extraordinary importance.” He thought and he hoped that the Emperor wished to sue for peace, but it was not so. “It is only the sword of the Emperor,” answered the General. “All then remains as it was,” said Moltke; he insisted on his demands; Wimpffen asked at least that time might be allowed him to return to Sedan and consult his colleagues. He had only come from Algeria two days before; he could not begin his command by signing so terrible a surrender. Even this Moltke refused. Then Wimpffen declared the conference ended; rather than this they would continue the battle; he asked that his horses might be brought. A terrible silence fell on the room; Moltke, with Bismarck by his side, stood cold and impenetrable, facing the three French officers; their faces were lighted by two candles on the table; behind stood the stalwart forms of the German officers of the staff, and from the walls of the room looked down the picture of Napoleon I. Then again Bismarck interfered; he begged Wimpffen not in a moment of pique to take a step which must have such horrible consequences; he whispered a few words to Moltke, and procured from him a concession; hostilities should not be renewed till nine o’clock the next morning. Wimpffen might return to Sedan and report to the Emperor and his colleagues.
It was past midnight when the conference broke up; before daybreak Bismarck was aroused by a messenger who announced that the Emperor had left Sedan and wished to see him. He hastily sprang up, and as he was, unwashed, without breakfast, in his undress uniform, his old cap, and his high boots, shewing all the marks of his long day in the saddle, he mounted his horse and rode down to the spot near the highroad where the Emperor in his carriage, accompanied by three officers and attended by three more on horseback, awaited him. Bismarck rode quickly up to him, dismounted, and as he approached saluted and removed his cap, though this was contrary to etiquette, but it was not a time when he wished even to appear to be wanting in courtesy. Napoleon had come to plead for the army; he wished to see the King, for he hoped that in a personal interview he might extract from him more favourable terms. Bismarck was determined just for this reason that the sovereigns should not meet until the capitulation was signed; he answered, therefore, that it was impossible, as the King was ten miles away. He then accompanied the Emperor to a neighbouring cottage; there in a small room, ten feet square, containing a wooden table and two rush chairs, they sat for some time talking; afterwards they came down and sat smoking in front of the cottage.
“A wonderful contrast to our last meeting in the Tuileries,” wrote Bismarck to his wife. “Our conversation was difficult, if I was to avoid matters which would be painful to the man who had been struck down by the mighty hand of God. He first lamented this unhappy war, which he said he had not desired; he had been forced into it by the pressure of public opinion. I answered that with us also no one, least of all the King, had wished for the war. We had looked on the Spanish affair as Spanish and not as German.”
The Emperor asked for more favourable terms of surrender, but Bismarck refused to discuss this with him; it was a military question which must be settled between Moltke and Wimpffen. On the other hand, when Bismarck enquired if he were inclined for negotiations for peace, Napoleon answered that he could not discuss this; he was a prisoner of war and could not treat; he referred Bismarck to the Government in Paris.
This meeting had therefore no effect on the situation. Bismarck suggested that the Emperor should go to the neighbouring Chateau of Belle Vue, which was not occupied by wounded; there he would be able to rest. Thither Bismarck, now in full uniform (for he had hurried back to his own quarters), accompanied him, and in the same house the negotiations of the previous evening were continued; Bismarck did not wish to be present at them, for, as he said, the military men could be harsher; and so gave orders that after a few minutes he should be summoned out of the room by a message that the King wished to see him. After the capitulation was signed, he rode up with Moltke to present it to the King, who received it on the heights whence he had watched the battle, surrounded by the headquarters staff and all the princes who were making the campaign. Then, followed by a brilliant cavalcade, he rode down to visit the captive sovereign.
Bismarck would at this time willingly have made peace, but there was no opportunity of opening negotiations and it is doubtful whether even his influence would have been able successfully to combat the desire of the army to march on Paris. On September 4th, the march, which had been interrupted ten days before, was begun. Immediately afterwards news came which stopped all hopes of a speedy peace. How soon was his warning as to the instability of French Governments to be fulfilled! A revolution had broken out in Paris, the dethronement of the Emperor had been proclaimed, and a Provisional Government instituted. They at once declared that they were a government of national defence, they would not rest till the invaders were driven from the land, they appealed to the memories of 1792. They were indeed ready to make peace, for the war, they said, had been undertaken not against France but against the Emperor; the Emperor had fallen, a free France had arisen; they would make peace, but they would not yield an inch of their country or a stone of their fortresses. With great energy they prepared the defence of Paris and the organisation of new armies; M. Thiers was instructed to visit the neutral Courts and to beg for the support of Europe.
Under these circumstances it was Bismarck’s duty to explain the German view; he did so in two circular notes of September 13th and September 16th. He began by expounding those principles he had already expressed to Wimpffen, principles which had already been communicated by his secretaries to the German Press and been repeated in almost every paper of the country. The war had not been caused by the Emperor; it was the nation which was responsible for it. It had arisen from the intolerance of the French character, which looked on the prosperity of other nations as an insult to themselves. They must expect the same feeling to continue:
“We cannot seek guarantees for the future in French feeling. We must not deceive ourselves; we must soon expect a new attack; we cannot look forward to a lasting peace, and this is quite independent of the conditions we might impose on France. It is their defeat which the French nation will never forgive. If now we were to withdraw from France without any accession of territory, without any contribution, without any advantage but the glory of our arms, there would remain in the French nation the same hatred, the same spirit of revenge, for the injury done to their vanity and to their love of power.”
Against this they must demand security; the demand was addressed not to any single Government but to the nation as a whole; South Germany must be protected from the danger of French attack; they would never be safe so long as Strasburg and Metz were in French hands; Strasburg was the gate of Germany; restored to Germany, these cities would regain their defensive character. Twenty times had France made war on Germany, but from Germany no danger of disturbance to the peace of Europe was to be feared.
For the first time he hereby officially stated that Germany would not make peace without some accession of territory; that this would be the case, everyone had known since the beginning of the war. At a council of war directly after Gravelotte it was determined to require Alsace; after Sedan the terms naturally rose. The demand for at least some territory was indeed inevitable. The suggestion that from confidence in the peaceful and friendly character of the French nation they should renounce all the advantages gained by their unparalleled victories scarcely deserved serious consideration. Had the French been successful they would have taken all the left bank of the Rhine; this was actually specified in the draft treaty which General Le Brun had presented to the Emperor of Austria. What claim had France to be treated with a leniency which she has never shewn to any conquered enemy? Bismarck had to meet the assumption that France was a privileged and special land; that she had freedom to conquer, pillage, and divide the land of her neighbours, but that every proposal to win back from her what she had taken from others was a crime against humanity.
So long as the Provisional Government adopted the attitude that they would not even consider peace on the basis of some surrender of territory, there was no prospect of any useful negotiations. The armies must advance, and beneath the walls of Paris the struggle be fought out to its bitter end. Bismarck meanwhile treated the Government with great reserve. They had no legal status; as he often pointed out, the Emperor was still the only legal authority in France, and he would be quite prepared to enter into negotiations with him. When by the medium of the English Ambassador they asked to be allowed to open negotiations for an armistice and discuss the terms of peace, he answered by the question, what guarantee was there that France or the armies in Metz and Strasburg would recognise the arrangements made by the present Government in Paris, or any that might succeed it? It was a quite fair question; for as events were to shew, the commander of the army in Metz refused to recognise them, and wished to restore the Emperor to the throne; and the Government themselves had declared that they would at once be driven from power if they withdrew from their determination not to accept the principle of a cession of territory. They would be driven from power by the same authority to which they owed their existence,–the mob of Paris; it was the mob of Paris which, from the beginning, was really responsible for the war. What use was there in a negotiation in which the two parties had no common ground? None the less Bismarck consented to receive M. Jules Favre, who held the portfolio of Foreign Affairs, and who at the advice of Lord Lyons came out from Paris, even at the risk of a rebuff, to see if by a personal interview he might not be able to influence the German Chancellor. “It is well at least to see what sort of man he is,” was the explanation which Bismarck gave; but as the interview was not strictly official he did not, by granting it, bind himself to recognise Favre’s authority.
Jules Favre met Bismarck on September 18th. They had a long conversation that evening, and it was continued the next day at Ferneres, Baron Rothschild’s house, in which the King was at that time quartered. The French envoy did not make a favourable impression; a lawyer by profession, he had no experience in diplomatic negotiations; vain, verbose, rhetorical, and sentimental, his own report of the interview which he presented to his colleagues in Paris is sufficient evidence of his incapacity for the task he had taken upon himself. “He spoke to me as if I were a public meeting,” said Bismarck afterwards, using an expression which in his mouth was peculiarly contemptuous, for he had a platonic dislike of long speeches. But let us hear Favre himself:
“Although fifty-eight years of, age Count Bismarck appeared to be in full vigour. His tall figure, his powerful head, his strongly marked features gave him an aspect both imposing and severe, tempered, however, by a natural simplicity amounting to good-nature. His manners were courteous and grave, and quite free from stiffness or affectation. As soon as the conversation commenced he displayed a communicativeness and good-will which he preserved while it lasted. He certainly regarded me as a negotiator unworthy of him and he had the politeness not to let this be seen, and appeared interested by my sincerity. I was struck with the clearness of his ideas, his vigorous good sense, and his originality of mind. His freedom from all pretensions was no less remarkable.”
It is interesting to compare with this the account given by another Frenchman of one of the later interviews between the two men[11]:
“The negotiations began seriously and quietly. The Chancellor said simply and seriously what he wanted with astonishing frankness and admirable logic. He went straight to the mark and at every turn he disconcerted Jules Favre, who was accustomed to legal quibbles and diplomatic jobbery, and did not in the least understand the perfect loyalty of his opponent or his superb fashion of treating questions, so different from the ordinary method. The Chancellor expressed himself in French with a fidelity I have never met with except among the Russians. He made use of expressions at once elegant and vigorous, finding the proper word to describe an idea or define a situation without effort or hesitation.”
“I was at the outset struck by the contrast between the two negotiators. Count Bismarck wore the uniform of the White Cuirassiers, white tunic, white cap, and yellow band. He looked like a giant. In his tight uniform, with his broad chest and square shoulders and bursting with health and strength, he overwhelmed the stooping, thin, tall, miserable-looking lawyer with his frock coat, wrinkled all over, and his white hair falling over his collar. A look, alas, at the pair was sufficient to distinguish between the conqueror and the conquered, the strong and the weak.”
This, however, was four months later, when Jules Favre was doubtless much broken by the anxieties of his position, and perhaps also by the want of sufficient food, and Comte d’Herisson is not an impartial witness, for, though a patriotic Frenchman, he was an enemy of the Minister.
Bismarck in granting the interview had said that he would not discuss an armistice, but only terms of peace. For the reasons we have explained, Favre refused to listen even to the proposition of the only terms which Bismarck was empowered to bring forward. The Chancellor explained those ideas with which we are already acquainted: “Strasburg,” he said, “is the key of our house and we must have it.” Favre protested that he could not discuss conditions which were so dishonourable to France. On this expression we need only quote Bismarck’s comment:
“I did not succeed in convincing him that conditions, the fulfilment of which France had required from Italy, and demanded from Germany without having been at war, conditions which France would undoubtedly have imposed upon us had we been defeated and which had been the result of nearly every war, even in the latest time, could not have anything dishonourable in themselves for a country which had been defeated after a brave resistance, and that the honour of France was not of a different kind to that of other countries.”
It was impossible to refuse to discuss terms of an armistice; as in 1866 the military authorities objected to any kind of armistice because from a military point of view any cessation of hostilities must be an advantage to France; it would enable them to continue their preparations and get together new armies, while Germany would have the enormous expense of maintaining 500,000 men in a foreign country. Bismarck himself from a political point of view also knew the advantage of bringing the war to a rapid close, while the moral effect of the great victories had not been dissipated. However, France had no Government; a legal Government could not be created without elections, and Favre refused to consider holding elections during the progress of hostilities. After a long discussion Bismarck, other suggestions being rejected, offered an armistice on condition that the war should continue round Metz and Paris, but that Toul and Strasburg should be surrendered and the garrison of Strasburg made prisoners of war. “The towns would anyhow fall into our hands,” he said; “it is only a question of engineering.” “At these words,” says Favre, “I sprang into the air from pain and cried out, ‘You forget that you speak to a Frenchman. To sacrifice an heroic garrison which is the object of our admiration and that of the world would be a cowardice. I do not promise even to say that you have offered such a condition.'” Bismarck said that he had no wish to offend him; if the King allowed it the article might be modified; he left the room, and after a quarter of an hour returned, saying that the King would accept no alteration on this point. “My powers were exhausted,” writes Favre; “I feared for a moment that I should fall down; I turned away to overcome the tears which choked me, and, while I excused myself for this involuntary weakness, I took leave with a few simple words.” He asked Bismarck not to betray his weakness. The Count, who seems really to have been touched by the display of emotion, attempted in some sort of way to console him, but a few days later his sympathy was changed into amusement when he found that the tears which he had been asked to pass over in silence were paraded before the people of Paris to prove the patriotism of the man. “He may have meant it,” said Bismarck, “but people ought not to bring sentiment into politics.”
The terms which Bismarck had offered were as a matter of fact not at all harsh; a week later the garrison of Strasburg had become prisoners of war; had the French accepted the armistice and begun negotiations for peace they would probably, though they could not have saved Strasburg and Alsace, have received far better terms than those to which they had to assent four months later.
Bismarck in refusing to recognise the Provisional Government always reminded them that the Emperor was still the only legitimate Government in France. He professed that he was willing to negotiate with the Emperor, and often talked of releasing him from his confinement in Germany, coming to terms with Bazaine, and allowing the Emperor at the head of the army at Metz to regain his authority in France. We do not quite know to what extent he was serious in using this language, for he often threatened more than he intended to perform. It is at least possible that he only used it as a means for compelling the Provisional Government quickly to come to terms and thereby to bring the war to an end. It is, however, certain that negotiations went on between him and the Empress and also with Bazaine. They came to nothing because the Empress absolutely refused to negotiate if she was to be required to surrender any French territory. In this she adopted the language of the Provisional Government in Paris, and was supported by the Emperor.
The negotiations with the Provisional Government were more than once renewed; soon after the investiture of Paris had begun, General Burnside and another American passed as unofficial messengers between the French and German Governments, and at the beginning of November, Thiers came as the official agent of the Government in Tours; these attempts were, however, always without result; the French would not accept an armistice on the only conditions which Bismarck was authorised by the King and the military authorities to offer. During the rest of the year there was little direct communication with the French authorities. Bismarck, however, was not idle. In his quarters at Versailles he had with him many of the Foreign Office staff; he had not only to conduct important diplomatic negotiations, but also to maintain control over the nation, to keep in touch with the Press, to communicate to the newspapers both events and comments on them. At this crisis he could not leave public opinion without proper direction; he had to combat the misstatements of the French, who had so long had the ear of Europe, and were still carrying their grievances to the Courts of the neutral Powers, and found often eager advocates in the Press of the neutral countries. He had to check the proposal of the neutral Powers to interfere between the two combatants, to inform the German public of the demands that were to be made on France and the proposals for the unity of the country, and to justify the policy of the Government; all this was done not only by official notes, but by articles written at his dictation or under his instruction, and by information or suggestions conveyed by his secretaries to his newspapers. In old days the Prussian Government had been inarticulate, it had never been able to defend itself against the attacks of foreign critics; it had suffered much by misrepresentation; it had lost popularity at home and prestige abroad. In the former struggles with France the voice of Germany had scarcely been heard; Europe, which was accustomed to listen to every whisper from Paris, ignored the feelings and the just grievances of Germany. Bismarck changed all this; now he saw to it that the policy of the Government should be explained and defended in Germany itself; for though he despised public opinion when it claimed to be the canon by which the Government should be directed, he never neglected this, as he never neglected any means by which the Government might be strengthened. Speaking now from Versailles, he could be confident that Europe would listen to what Germany said, and it was no small benefit to his nation that it had as its spokesman a man whose character and abilities ensured that no word that he uttered would be neglected.
The neutral Powers really gave him little concern. There was no intention of supporting France either in England, Russia, or Austria. He shewed great activity, however, in defending the Germans from the charges so freely made against them by the French Press, of conducting the war in a cruel manner; charges which were untrue, for, according to the unanimous testimony of foreign observers who accompanied the army, the moderation of the German soldiers was as remarkable as their successes. Bismarck was not content with rebutting unjust accusations,–he carried on the war into the enemy’s camp. He was especially indignant at the misuse made by the French of irregular troops; he often maintained that the German soldiers ought never to imprison the _franc-tireurs,_ but shoot them at once. He feared that if civilians were encouraged to take part in the war it would necessarily assume a very cruel character. At Meaux he came upon a number of _franc-tireurs_ who had been taken prisoners. “You are assassins, gentlemen,” he said to them; “you will all be hung.” And, indeed, these men who fired secretly on the German troops from behind hedges and in forests, and had no kind of uniform, could not claim to be treated as prisoners of war. When the bombardment of Paris began he took great pains to defend a measure which was much attacked in other countries; he had used all his influence that the bombardment should not be delayed, and often spoke with great annoyance of the reluctance of the military authorities to begin. He wished every measure to be taken which would bring the war to an end as soon as possible. The long delay before Paris seems to have affected his nerves and spirits; there were many anxious hours, and it was always difficult for him to wait patiently the result of what others were doing. The military authorities were, as always, very jealous of all attempts by him to interfere in their department, and he was not always satisfied with their decisions. Like all the Germans he was surprised and angry at the unexpected resistance of Paris, and the success of Gambetta’s appeal to the nation. He was especially indignant at the help which Garibaldi gave: “This,” he said, “is the gratitude of the Italians”; he declared that he would have the General taken prisoner and paraded through the streets of Berlin.
During the long weeks at Versailles, Bismarck was much occupied with German affairs. The victory of Sedan was the foundation of German unity; Bismarck’s moderation and reserve now earned its reward; he had always refused to press the southern States into the Federation; now the offer to join came from them. Baden asked, as she had already done at the beginning of the year, to be received into the Union; the settlement with Wurtemberg, and above all with Bavaria, was less simple. At the request of the Bavarian Government Delbrueck was sent to Munich for an interchange of opinion, and the negotiations which were begun there were afterwards continued at Versailles and Berlin. There were many difficulties to be overcome: the Bavarians were very jealous of their independence and were not prepared to put themselves into the position which, for instance, Saxony occupied. But the difficulties on the Prussian side were equally great: the Liberal party wished that the Constitution should be revised and those points in it which they had always disliked altered; they would have made the government of the Federal authorities more direct, have created a Federal Ministry and a Federal Upper House, and so really changed the Federation into a simple State, thereby taking away all the independence of the dynasties. It was quite certain that Bavaria would not accept this, and there was some considerable danger that their exaggerated demands might lead to a reaction in South Germany. Probably under any circumstances the unification of Germany would have been completed, but it required all Bismarck’s tact to prevent the outbreak of a regular party struggle. The most extreme line was taken by the Crown Prince of Prussia; he desired the immediate creation of an emperor who should have sovereign authority over the whole of Germany, and he even went so far as to suggest that, if the Bavarians would not accept this voluntarily, they might be compelled to do so. He had repeated conversations with Bismarck on this, and on one occasion at least it ended in an angry scene. The Crown Prince wished to threaten the South Germans. “There is no danger,” he said; “let us take a firm and commanding attitude. You will see I was right in maintaining that you are not nearly sufficiently conscious of your own power.” It is almost incredible that he should have used such language, but the evidence is conclusive; he was at this time commanding the Bavarian troops against the French; Bavaria had with great loyalty supported Prussia through the war and performed very valuable services, and now he proposed to reward their friendship by compelling them to accept terms by which the independence of the King and the very existence of the State would be endangered. The last request which the King of Bavaria had sent to the Crown Prince as he left Munich to take command of the Bavarian army was that nothing might be done to interfere with Bavarian independence. Of course Bismarck refused to listen to these suggestions; had he done so, the probable result would have been that the Bavarian army would have been withdrawn from France and then all the result of the victories would have been lost.
What Bismarck did was in accordance with his usual practice to make no greater alteration in existing institutions than was absolutely necessary; he did not therefore undertake any reform of the Federal Constitution, but simply proposed treaties by which the southern States, each separately, entered into the existing alliance. Certain special conditions were allowed: the King of Bavaria was to maintain the command over his troops in time of peace; a Voice was given to Bavaria in the management of foreign affairs; she retained her own post and telegraph, and there were certain special privileges with regard to finance to meet the system of taxation on beer; and then the Prussian military code was not to apply to Bavaria, and Bavaria was to retain her own special laws with regard to marriage and citizenship. These concessions were undoubtedly very considerable, but Bismarck granted them, for, as he said to the Bavarian envoys, “we do not want a discontented Bavaria; we want one which will join us freely.” The Liberal Publicists in Germany with characteristic intolerance complained that when they had hoped to see the Constitution made simpler and the central government stronger it had really become more federal; they did not see that this federalism was merely the expression of existing facts which could not be ignored. They prophesied all kinds of difficulties which have not been fulfilled, for they forgot that harmonious working, in an alliance voluntarily made, would be a firmer bond of union than the most stringent articles of treaties which were looked on as an unjust burden. Bismarck’s own words, spoken the evening after the agreements were signed, give the true account of the matter:
“The newspapers will not be satisfied, the historian may very likely condemn our Conventions; he may say, ‘The stupid fellow might easily have asked for more, he would have got it, they would have had to give it him; his might was his right.’ I was more anxious that these people should go away heartily satisfied. What is the use of treaties which men are forced to sign? I know that they went away satisfied. I do not wish to press them or to take full advantage of the situation. The Convention has its defects, but it is all the stronger on account of them.”
He could afford now to be generous because in 1866 he had been so stern; he had refused to take in Bavaria when it would have weakened the association of the North; now that the nucleus had been formed he could allow the Catholic South greater freedom. He was right; the concessions granted to Bavaria have not been in any way a danger to the Empire.
As soon as he had signed the Convention he looked into the room where his secretaries were and said: “The work is done; the unity of Germany is completed and with it Kaiser and Reich.” Up to this time he had taken no open steps towards the proclamation of the Empire; but it was unanimously demanded by almost the whole nation and especially by the South Germans. But here he kept himself in the background; he refused to make it appear as though he were to make the Emperor or found the Empire. He allowed the natural wish of the people to work itself out spontaneously. There was indeed some reluctance to assume the title at the Prussian Court; the King himself was not anxious for a new dignity which would obscure that title which he and his ancestors had made so honourable. This feeling was shared by many of the nobility and the officers; we find it strongest in Roon, who in this represents the genuine feeling of the older Prussian nobility. They disliked a change which must mean that the Prussia to which they were so devotedly attached was to become merged in a greater Germany. There was also some apprehension that with the new title the old traditions of the Prussian Court, traditions of economy, almost of parsimony, might be forgotten, and that a new career might begin in which they would attempt to imitate the extravagance and pomp of less prudent sovereigns. With this perhaps Bismarck himself had some sympathy.
The King would, of course, only assume the new title if it was offered to him by his fellow-princes; there was some danger lest the Reichstag, which had been summoned to ratify the treaties, might ask him to assume it before the princes did; had they done so, he would probably have refused. The Crown Prince, who was very eager for the new title, and the Grand Duke of Baden used all their influence with their fellow-princes. The initiative must come from the King of Bavaria; he was in difficulty as to the form in which the offer should be made. Bismarck, who throughout the whole negotiations worked behind the scenes, smoothing away difficulties, thereupon drafted a letter which he sent by special messenger to the King of Bavaria. The King at once adopted it, copied it out and signed it, and at the same time wrote another letter to the other princes, asking them to join in the request which he had made to the King of Prussia, to assume the title of Emperor which had been in abeyance for over sixty years. So it came about that the letter by which the offer to the King was made had really emanated from his own Chancellor. It shews to what good purpose Bismarck used the confidence which, by his conduct in the previous negotiations, the King of Bavaria had been led to place in him.
On the 18th of January, 1871, in the Palace of Versailles, the King publicly assumed the new title; a few days later Bismarck was raised to the rank of Prince.
A few days later Paris fell; the prolonged siege was over and the power of resistance exhausted; then again, as three months before, Favre asked for an audience, this time to negotiate the capitulation of the city; we need not here dwell on the terms of the capitulation–we need only quote what Favre himself says of Bismarck’s attitude:
“I should be unfaithful to truth if I did not recognise that in these mournful discussions I always found the Chancellor eager to soften in form the cruelty of his requirements. He applied himself as much as was possible to temper the military harshness of the general staff, and on many points he consented to make himself the advocate of our demands.”
A few weeks were allowed for elections to be held and an assembly to meet at Bordeaux, and then once more M. Thiers appeared, to negotiate the terms of peace. He knew that the demands would be very heavy; he anticipated that they would be asked to surrender Alsace, including Belfort, and of Lorraine at least the department of the Moselle, with Metz; he expected a large war indemnity–five thousand million francs. The terms Bismarck had to offer were almost identical with these, except that the indemnity was placed at six thousand million francs. The part Thiers had to play was a very difficult one; he knew that if Germany insisted on her full demands he must accept; he was too experienced a politician to be misled by any of the illusions under which Favre had laboured. He, as all other Frenchmen, had during the last three months learned a bitter lesson. “Had we made peace,” he said, “before the fall of Metz, we might at least have saved Lorraine.” He hoped against hope that he might still be able to do so. With all the resources of his intellect and his eloquence he tried to break down the opposition of the Count. When Metz was refused to him then he pleaded for Belfort. Let us hear what Favre, who was present at the decisive interview, tells us; we may use his authority with more confidence that he was a silent and passive auditor.
“One must have been present at this pathetic scene to have an idea of the superhuman resources which the illustrious statesman displayed. I still see him, pale, agitated, now sitting, now springing to his feet; I hear his voice broken by grief, his words cut short, his tones in turn suppliant and proud; I know nothing grander than the sublime passion of this noble heart bursting out in petitions, menaces, prayers, now caressing, now terrible, growing by degrees more angry in face of this cruel refusal, ready for the last extremities, impervious to the counsels of reason, so violent and sacred were the sentiments by which he was governed.”
Bismarck remained obdurate; he would surrender neither Metz nor Belfort. Then Thiers cried out:
“Well, let it be as you will; these negotiations are a pretence. We appear to deliberate, we have only to pass under your yoke. We ask for a city absolutely French, you refuse it to us; it is to avow that you have resolved to wage against us a war of extremity. Do it! Ravish our provinces, burn our houses, cut the throats of their unoffending inhabitants, in a word, complete your work. We will fight to the last breath; we shall succumb at last, but we will not be dishonoured.”
It was a burst of passion, all the more admirable that Thiers knew his threats were vain; but it was not ineffective. Bismarck was troubled; he said he understood what they suffered; he would be glad to make a concession, “but,” he added, “I can promise nothing; the King has commanded me to maintain the conditions, he alone has the right to modify them; I will take his orders; I must consult with Mons. de Moltke.” He left the room; it was nearly an hour before he could find Moltke; then he returned to give the answer to the Frenchmen. “You had refused that we should enter Paris; if you will agree that the German troops occupy Paris, then Belfort shall be restored to you.” There could be no doubt as to the answer, and some hours later the assent of the King was given to this alteration in the conditions. Before this the indemnity had been reduced to five thousand million francs; below that all the efforts of the French were not able to bring it. There were many other exciting scenes during the progress of the negotiations; on one occasion Thiers threatened Bismarck with interposition of the neutral Powers; “If you speak to me of Europe, I will speak of the Emperor,” was Bismarck’s answer. He threatened to open negotiations with him and to send him back to France at the head of Bazaine’s army. On another occasion–it was during the discussion of finance–another scene took place which Favre describes:
“As the discussion continued, he grew animated, he interrupted Thiers at every word, accused him of wishing to spoil everything; he said that he was ill, at the end of his powers, he was incapable of going further, in a work that we were pleased to make of no use. Then, allowing his feelings to break out, walking up and down the little room in which we were deliberating with great strides, he cried, ‘It is very kind of me to take the trouble to which you condemn me; our conditions are ultimatums–you must accept or reject them. I will not take part in it any longer; bring an interpreter to-morrow, henceforward I will not speak French any longer.'”
And he began forthwith to talk German at a great rate, a language which of course neither of the Frenchmen understood.
It is interesting to compare with this Bismarck’s own account of the same scene:
“When I addressed a definite demand to Thiers, although he generally could command himself, he sprang up and cried, ‘Mais c’est un indignite.’ I took no notice but began to talk German. For a time he listened, but obviously did not know what to think of it. Then in a plaintive voice he said, ‘But, Count, you know that I do not understand German.’ I answered him now in French. ‘When just now you spoke of _indignite_, I found that I did not understand French enough and preferred to speak German, here I know what I say and hear.’ He understood what I meant and at once agreed to that which he had just refused as an indignite.”
Bismarck’s part in these negotiations was not altogether an easy one, for it is probable that, in part at least, he secretly sympathised with the arguments and protests of the French. He was far too loyal to his master and his country not to defend and adopt the policy which had been accepted; but there is much reason to believe that, had he been completely master, Germany would not have insisted on having Metz, but would have made the demand only to withdraw it. The arguments for the annexation of Alsace were indeed unanswerable, and again and again Bismarck had pointed out that Germany could never be safe so long as France held Strasburg, and a French army supported on the strong basis of the Vosges could use Strasburg as a gate whence to sally forth into Germany. No one indeed who has ever stood on the slopes of the Black Forest and looked across the magnificent valley, sheltered by the hills on either side, through which the Rhine flows, can doubt that this is all one country, and that the frontier must be sought, not in the river, which is not a separation, but the chief means of communication, but on the top of the hills on the further side. Every argument, however, which is used to support German claims to Strasburg may be used with equal force to support French claims to Metz. If Strasburg in French hands is the gate of Germany, Metz in German hands is, and always will remain, a military post on the soil of France. No one who reads Bismarck’s arguments on this point can fail to notice how they are all nearly conclusive as to Strasburg, but that he scarcely takes the trouble to make it even appear as though they applied to Metz. Even in the speech before the Reichstag in which he explains and justifies the terms of peace, he speaks again and again of Strasburg but hardly a word of Metz. He told how fourteen years before, the old King of Wuertemberg had said to him, at the time of the Crimean troubles, that Prussia might count on his voice in the Diet as against the Western Powers, but only till war broke out.
“Then the matter takes another form. I am determined as well as any other to maintain the engagements I have entered into. But do not judge me unjustly; give us Strasburg and we shall be ready for all eventualities, but so long as Strasburg is a sally-port for a Power which is always armed, I must fear that my country will be overrun by foreign troops before my confederates can come to my help.”
The King was right; Germany would never be secure so long as Strasburg was French; but can France ever be secure so long as Metz is German?
The demand for Metz was based purely on military considerations; it was supported on the theory, which we have already learnt, that Germany could never take the offensive in a war with France, and that the possession of Metz would make it impossible, as indeed is the case, for France to attack Germany. It was not, however, Bismarck’s practice to subordinate political considerations to military. It may be said that France would never acquiesce in the loss of either province, but while we can imagine a generation of Frenchmen arising who would learn to recognise the watershed of the Vosges as a permanent boundary between the two nations, it is difficult to believe that the time will ever come when a single Frenchman will regard with contentment the presence of the Germans on the Upper Moselle.
Even after the preliminaries of peace were settled fresh difficulties arose; the outbreak of the Commune in Paris made it impossible for the French to fulfil all the arrangements; Bismarck, who did not trust the French, treated them with much severity, and more than once he threatened again to begin hostilities. At last Favre asked for a fresh interview; the two statesmen met at Frankfort, and then the final treaty of peace was signed.
CHAPTER XV.
THE NEW EMPIRE.
1871-1878.
WITH the peace of Frankfort, Bismarck’s work was completed. Not nine years had passed since he had become Minister; in that short time he completed the work which so many statesmen before him had in vain attempted. Nine years ago he had found the King ready to retire from the throne; now he had made him the most powerful ruler in Europe. Prussia, which then had been divided in itself and without influence in the councils of Europe, was the undisputed leader in a United Germany.
Fate, which always was so kind to Bismarck, was not to snatch him away, as it did Cavour, in the hour of his triumph; twenty years longer he was to preside over the State which he had created and to guide the course of the ship which he had built. A weaker or more timid man would quickly have retired from public life; he would have considered that nothing that he could do could add to his fame, and that he was always risking the loss of some of the reputation he had attained. Bismarck was not influenced by such motives. The exercise of power had become to him a pleasure; he was prepared if his King required it to continue in office to the end of his days, and he never feared to hazard fame and popularity if he could thereby add to the prosperity of the State.
These latter years of Bismarck’s life we cannot narrate in detail; space alone would forbid it. It would be to write the history of the German Empire, and though events are not so dramatic they are no less numerous than in the earlier period. Moreover, we have not the material for a complete biographical narrative; there is indeed a great abundance of public records; but as to the secret reasons of State by which in the last resource the policy of the Government was determined, we have little knowledge. From time to time indeed some illicit disclosure, the publication of some confidential document, throws an unexpected light on a situation which is obscure; but these disclosures, so hazardous to the good repute of the men who are responsible and the country in which they are possible, must be treated with great reserve. Prompted by motives of private revenge or public ambition, they disclose only half the truth, and a portion of the truth is often more misleading than complete ignorance.
In foreign policy he was henceforward sole, undisputed master; in Parliament and in the Press scarcely a voice was raised to challenge his pre-eminence; he enjoyed the complete confidence of the allied sovereigns and the enthusiastic affection of the nation; even those parties which often opposed and criticised his internal policy supported him always on foreign affairs. Those only opposed him who were hostile to the Empire itself, those whose ideals or interests were injured by this great military monarchy–Poles and Ultramontanes, Guelphs and Socialists; in opposing Bismarck they seemed to be traitors to their country, and he and his supporters were not slow to divide the nation into the loyal and the _Reichsfeindlich_.
He deserved the confidence which was placed in him. He succeeded in preserving to the newly founded Empire all the prestige it had gained; he was enabled to soothe the jealousy of the neutral Powers. He did so by his policy of peace. Now he pursued peace with the same decision with which but two years before he had brought about a war. He was guided by the same motive; as war had then been for the benefit of Germany, so now was peace. He had never loved war for the sake of war; he was too good a diplomatist for this; war is the negation of diplomacy, and the statesman who has recourse to it must for the time give over the control to other hands. It is always a clumsy method. The love of war for the sake of war will be found more commonly among autocratic sovereigns who are their own generals than among skilled and practised ministers, and generally war is the last resource by which a weak diplomatist attempts to conceal his blunders and to regain what he has lost.
There had been much anxiety in Europe how the new Empire would deport itself; would it use this power which had been so irresistible for fresh conflicts? The excuse might easily have been found; Bismarck might have put on his banner, “The Union of All Germans in One State”; he might have recalled and reawakened the enthusiasm of fifty years ago; he might have reminded the people that there were still in Holland and in Switzerland, in Austria and in Russia, Germans who were separated from their country, and languishing under a foreign rule. Had he been an idealist he would have done so, and raised in Germany a cry like that of the Italian Irredentists. Or he might have claimed for his country its natural boundaries; after freeing the upper waters of the Rhine from foreign dominion he might have claimed that the great river should flow to the sea, German. This is what Frenchmen had done under similar circumstances, but he was not the man to repeat the crimes and blunders of Louis and Napoleon.
He knew that Germany desired peace; a new generation must grow up in the new order of things; the old wounds must be healed by time, the old divisions forgotten; long years of common work must cement the alliances that he had made, till the jealousy of the defeated was appeased and the new Empire had become as firm and indissoluble as any other State in Europe.
The chief danger came from France; in that unhappy country the cry for revenge seemed the only link with the pride which had been so rudely overthrown. The defeat and the disgrace could not be forgotten; the recovery of the lost provinces was the desire of the nation, and the programme of every party. As we have seen, the German statesmen had foreseen the danger and deliberately defied it. They cared not for the hostility of France, now that they need not fear her power. _Oderint dum metuant._ Against French demands for restitution they presented a firm and unchangeable negative; it was kinder so and juster, to allow no opening for hope, no loophole for negotiation, no intervention by other Powers. Alsace-Lorraine were German by the right of the hundred thousand German soldiers who had perished to conquer them. Any appearance of weakness would have led to hopes which could never be realised, discussions which could have had no result. The answer to all suggestions was to be found in the strength of Germany; the only diplomacy was to make the army so strong that no French statesman, not even the mob of Paris, could dream of undertaking single-handed a war of revenge.
This was not enough; it was necessary besides to isolate France. There were many men in Europe who would have wished to bring about a new coalition of the armies by whose defeat Germany had been built up–France and Austria, Denmark and the Poles; then it was always to be expected that Russia, who had done so much for Germany in the past, would cease to regard with complacency the success of her protege; after all, the influence of the Czar in Europe had depended upon the divisions of Germany as much as had that of France. How soon would the Russian nation wake up, as the French had done, to the fact that the sympathies of their Emperor had created a great barrier to Russian ambition and Russian diplomacy? It was especially the Clerical party who wished to bring about some coalition; for them the chief object was the overthrow of Italy, and the world still seemed to centre in Rome; they could not gain the assistance of Germany in this work, and they therefore looked on the great Protestant Empire as an enemy. They would have liked by monarchical reaction to gain control of France; by the success of the Carlist movement to obtain that of Spain, and then, assisted by Austria, to overthrow the new order in Europe. Against this Bismarck’s chief energies were directed; we shall see how he fought the Ultramontanes at home. With regard to France, he was inclined to support the Republic, and refused all attempts which were made by some German statesmen, and especially by Count Arnim, the Ambassador at Paris, to win German sympathy and support to the monarchical party. In Spain his support and sympathy were given to the Government, which with difficulty maintained itself against the Carlists; a visit of Victor Emmanuel to Berlin confirmed the friendship with Italy, over which the action of Garibaldi in 1870 had thrown a cloud. The greatest triumph of Bismarck’s policy was, however, the reconciliation with Austria. One of the most intimate of his councillors, when asked which of Bismarck’s actions he admired most, specified this. It was peculiarly his own; he had long worked for it; even while the war of 1866 was still being waged, he had foreseen that a day would come when Germany and Austria, now that they were separated, might become, as they never had been when joined by an unnatural union, honest allies. It was probably to a great extent brought about by the strong regard and confidence which the Austrian Emperor reposed in the German Chancellor. The beginnings of an approximation were laid by the dismissal of Beust, who himself now was to become a personal friend of the statesman against whom he had for so long and with such ingenuity waged an unequal conflict. The union was sealed when, in December, 1872, the Czar of Russia and Francis Joseph came to Berlin as guests of the Emperor. There was no signed contract, no written alliance, but the old union of the Eastern monarchies under which a generation before Europe had groaned, was now restored, and on the Continent there was no place to which France could look for help or sympathy.
The years that followed were those in which foreign affairs gave Bismarck least anxiety or occupation. He even began to complain that he was dull; after all these years of conflict and intrigue he found the security which he now enjoyed uninteresting. Now and again the shadow of war passed over Europe, but it was soon dispelled. The most serious was in 1875.
It appears that the French reforms of the army and some movements of French troops had caused alarm at Berlin; I say alarm, though it is difficult to believe that any serious concern could have been felt. There was, however, a party who believed that war must come sooner or later, and it was better, they said, not to wait till France was again powerful and had won allies; surely the wisest thing was while she was still weak and friendless to take some excuse (and how easy would it be to find the excuse!), fall upon her, and crush her–crush and destroy, so that she could never again raise her head; treat her as she had in old days treated Germany. How far this plan was deliberately adopted we do not know, but in the spring of this year the signs became so alarming that both the Russian and the English Governments were seriously disturbed, and interfered. So sober a statesman as Lord Derby believed that the danger was real. The Czar, who visited Berlin at the beginning of April, dealt with the matter personally; the Queen of England wrote a letter to the German Emperor, in which she said that the information she had could leave no doubt that an aggressive war on France was meditated, and used her personal influence with the sovereign to prevent it. The Emperor himself had not sympathised with the idea of war, and it is said did not even know of the approaching danger. It did not require the intervention of other sovereigns to induce him to refuse his assent to a wanton war, but this advice from foreign Powers of course caused great indignation in Bismarck; it was just the kind of thing which always angered him beyond everything. He maintained that he had had no warlike intentions, that the reports were untrue. The whole story had its origin, he said, in the intrigues of the Ultramontanes and the vanity of Gortschakoff; the object was to make it appear that France owed her security and preservation to the friendly interference of Russia, and thereby prepare the way for an alliance between the two Powers. It is almost impossible to believe that Bismarck had seriously intended to bring about a war; he must have known that the other Powers of Europe would not allow a second and unprovoked attack on France; he would not be likely to risk all he had achieved and bring about a European coalition against him. On the other hand his explanation is probably not the whole truth; even German writers confess that the plan of attacking France was meditated, and it was a plan of a nature to recommend itself to the military party in Prussia.
Yet this may have been the beginning of a divergence with Russia. The union had depended more on the personal feelings of the Czar than on the wishes of the people or their real interests. The rising Pan-Slavonic party was anti-German; their leader was General Ignatieff, but Gortschakoff, partly perhaps from personal hostility to Bismarck, partly from a just consideration of Russian interests, sympathised with their anti-Teutonic policy. The outbreak of disturbances in the East roused that national feeling which had slept for twenty years; in truth the strong patriotism of modern Germany naturally created a similar feeling in the neighbouring countries; just as the Germans were proud to free themselves from the dominant culture of France, so the Russians began to look with jealousy on the Teutonic influence which since the days of Peter the Great had been so powerful among them.
In internal matters the situation was very different; here Bismarck could not rule in the same undisputed manner; he had rivals, critics, and colleagues. The power of the Prussian Parliament and the Reichstag was indeed limited, but without their assent no new law could be passed; each year their assent must be obtained to the Budget. Though they had waived all claim to control the foreign policy, the parties still criticised and often rejected the laws proposed by the Government. Then in Prussian affairs he could not act without the good-will of his colleagues; in finance, in legal reform, the management of Church and schools, the initiative belonged to the Ministers responsible for each department. Some of the difficulties of government would have been met had Bismarck identified himself with a single party, formed a party Ministry and carried out their programme. This he always refused to do; he did not wish in his old age to become a Parliamentary Minister, for had he depended for his support on a party, then if he lost their confidence, or they lost the confidence of the country, he would have had to retire from office. The whole work of his earlier years would have been undone. What he wished to secure was a Government party, a Bismarck party _sans phrase_, who would always support all his measures in internal as well as external policy. In this, however, he did not succeed. He was therefore reduced to another course: in order to get the measures of the Government passed, he executed a series of alliances, now with one, now with another party. In these, however, he had to give as well as to receive, and it is curious to see how easily his pride was offended and his anger roused by any attempt of the party with which at the time he was allied to control and influence his policy. No one of the alliances lasted long, and he seems to have taken peculiar pleasure in breaking away from each of them in turn when the time came.
The alliance with the Conservatives which he had inherited from the older days had begun to break directly after 1866. Many of them had been disappointed by his policy in that year. The grant of universal suffrage had alarmed them; they had wished that he would use his power to check and punish the Parliament for its opposition; instead of that he asked for an indemnity. They felt that they had borne with him the struggle for the integrity of the Prussian Monarchy; no sooner was the victory won than he held out his hand to the Liberals and it was to them that the prize went. They were hurt and disappointed, and this personal feeling was increased by Bismarck’s want of consideration, his brusqueness of manner, his refusal to consider complaints and remonstrances. Even the success of 1870 had not altogether reconciled them; these Prussian nobles, the men to whom in earlier days he himself had belonged, saw with regret the name of King of Prussia hidden behind the newer glory of the German Emperor; it is curious to read how even Roon speaks with something of contempt and disgust of this new title: “I hope,” he writes, “Bismarck will be in a better temper now that the Kaiser egg has been safely hatched.” It was, however, the struggle with the Catholic Church which achieved the separation; the complete subjection of the Church to the State, the new laws for school inspection, the introduction of compulsory civil marriage, were all opposed to the strongest and the healthiest feelings of the Prussian Conservatives. These did not seem to be matters in which the safety of the Empire was concerned; Bismarck had simply gone over to, and adopted the programme of, the Liberals; he was supporting that all-pervading power of the Prussian bureaucracy which he, in his earlier days, had so bitterly attacked. Then came a proposal for change in the local government which would diminish the influence of the landed proprietors. The Conservatives refused to support these measures; the Conservative majority in the House of Lords threw them out. Bismarck’s own brother, all his old friends and comrades, were now ranged against him. He accepted opposition from them as little as from anyone else; the consent of the King was obtained to the creation of new peers, and by this means the obnoxious measures were forced through the unwilling House. Bismarck by his speeches intensified the bitterness; he came down himself to make an attack on the Conservatives. “The Government is disappointed,” he said; “we had looked for confidence from the Conservative party; confidence is a delicate plant; if it is once destroyed it does not grow again. We shall have to look elsewhere for support.”
A crisis in his relations to the party came at the end of 1872; up to this time Roon had still remained in the Government; now, in consequence of the manner in which the creation of peers had been decided upon, he requested permission to resign. The King, who could not bear to part with him, and who really in many matters of internal policy had more sympathy with him than with Bismarck, refused to accept the resignation. The crisis which arose had an unexpected ending: Bismarck himself resigned the office of Minister-President of Prussia, which was transferred to Roon, keeping only that of Foreign Minister and Chancellor of the Empire.
A letter to Roon shews the deep depression under which he laboured at this time, chiefly the result of ill-health. “It was,” he said, “an unheard-of anomaly that the Foreign Minister of a great Empire should be responsible also for internal affairs.” And yet he himself had arranged that it should be so. The desertion of the Conservative party had, he said, deprived him of his footing; he was dispirited by the loss of his old friends and the illness of his wife; he spoke of his advancing years and his conviction that he had not much longer to live; “the King scarcely knows how he is riding a good horse to death.” He would continue to do what he could in foreign affairs, but he would no longer be responsible for colleagues over whom he had no influence except by requests, and for the wishes of the Emperor which he did not share. The arrangement lasted for a year, and then Roon had again to request, and this time received, permission to retire into private life; his health would no longer allow him to endure the constant anxiety of office. His retirement occasioned genuine grief to the King; and of all the severances which he had to undergo, this was probably that which affected Bismarck most. For none of his colleagues could he ever have the same affection he had had for Roon; he it was who had brought him into the Ministry, and had gone through with him all the days of storm and trouble. “It will be lonely for me,” he writes, “in my work; ever more so, the old friends become enemies and one makes no new ones. As God will.” In 1873 he again assumed the Presidency. The resignation of Roon was followed by a complete breach with the party of the _Kreuz Zeitung_; the more moderate of the Conservatives split off from it and continued to support the Government; the remainder entered on a campaign of factious opposition.
The quarrel was inevitable, for quite apart from the question of religion it would indeed have been impossible to govern Germany according to their principles. We may, however, regret that the quarrel was not conducted with more amenity. These Prussian nobles were of the same race as Bismarck himself; they resembled him in character if not in ability; they believed that they had been betrayed, and they did not easily forgive. They were not scrupulous in the weapons they adopted; the Press was used for anonymous attacks on his person and his character; they accused him of using his public position for making money by speculation, and of sacrificing to that the alliance with Russia. More than once he had recourse to the law of libel to defend himself against these unworthy insults. When he publicly in the Reichstag protested against the language of the _Kreuz Zeitung_, the dishonourable attacks and the scandalous lies it spread abroad, a large number of the leading men among the Prussian nobility signed a declaration formally defending the management of the paper, as true adherents of the monarchical and Conservative banner. These _Declaranten_, as they were called, were henceforward enemies whom he could never forgive. At the bottom of the list we read, not without emotion, the words, “Signed with deep regret, A. von Thadden”; so far apart were now the two knight-errants of the Christian Monarchy. It was in reality the end of the old Conservative party; it had done its work; Bismarck was now thrown on the support of the National Liberals.
Since 1866 they had grown in numbers and in weight. They represented at this time the general sense of the German people; it was with their help that during the years down to 1878 the new institutions for the Empire were built up. In the elections of 1871 they numbered 120; in 1874 their numbers rose to 152; they had not an absolute majority, but in all questions regarding the defence of the Empire, foreign policy, and the army they were supported by the moderate Conservatives; in the conflict with the Catholics and internal matters they could generally depend on the support of the Progressives; so that as long as they maintained their authority they gave the Government the required majority in both the Prussian and the German Parliament. There were differences in the party which afterwards were to lead to a secession, but during this time, which they looked upon as the golden era of the Empire, they succeeded in maintaining their unity. They numbered many of the ablest leaders, the lawyers and men of learning who had opposed Bismarck at the time of the conflict. Their leader was Bennigsen; himself a Hanoverian, he had brought no feelings of hostility from the older days of conflict. Moderate, tactful, restrained, patriotic, he was the only man who, when difficulties arose, was always able to approach the Chancellor, sure of finding some tenable compromise. Different was it with Lasker, the ablest of Parliamentary orators, whose subordination to the decisions of the party was often doubtful, and whose criticism, friendly as it often was, always aroused Bismarck’s anger.
As a matter of fact the alliance was, however, never complete; it was always felt that at any moment some question might arise on which it would be wrecked. This was shewn by Bismarck’s language as early as 1871; in a debate on the army he explained that what he demanded was full support; members, he said, were expressly elected to support him; they had no right to make conditions or withdraw their support; if they did so he would resign. The party, which was very loyal to him, constantly gave up its own views when he made it a question of confidence, but the strain was there and was always felt. The great question now as before was that of the organisation of the army. It will be remembered that, under the North German Confederation, a provisional arrangement was made by which the numbers of the army in peace were to be fixed at one per cent. of the population. This terminated at the end of 1871; the Government, however, did not then consider it safe to alter the arrangement, and with some misgiving the Reichstag accepted the proposal that this system should be applied to the whole Empire for three years. If, however, the numbers of the army were absolutely fixed in this way, the Reichstag would cease to have any control over the expenses; all other important taxes and expenses came before the individual States. In 1874, the Government had to make their proposal for the future. This was that the system which had hitherto been provisionally accepted should become permanent, and that the army should henceforward in time of peace always consist of the same number of men. To agree to this would be permanently to give up all possibility of exercising any control over the finance. It was impossible for the National Liberal party to accept the proposal without giving up at the same time all hope of constitutional development; Bismarck was ill and could take no part in defending the law; they voted against it, it was thrown out, and it seemed as though a new conflict was going to arise.
When the Reichstag adjourned in April for the Easter holidays the agitation spread over the country, but the country was determined not again to have a conflict on the Budget. “There was a regular fanaticism for unconditional acceptance of the law; those even on the Left refused to hear anything of constitutional considerations,” writes one member of the National Liberty party after meeting his constituents. If the Reichstag persisted in their refusal and a dissolution took place, there was no doubt that there would be a great majority for the Government. It was the first time since 1870 that the question of constitutional privileges was raised, and now it was found, as ever afterwards was the case, that, for the German people, whatever might be the opinion of their elected representatives, the name of Bismarck alone outweighed all else. Bennigsen arranged a compromise and the required number of men was agreed to, not indeed permanently, but for seven years. For four years more the alliance was continued.
At this time all other questions were thrown into the shade by the great conflict with the Roman Catholic Church on which the Government had embarked. Looking back now, it is still difficult to judge or even to understand the causes which brought it about. Both sides claim that they were acting in self-defence. Bismarck has often explained his motives, but we cannot be sure that those he puts forward were the only considerations by which he was moved. He, however, insisted that the struggle was not religious but political; he was not moved by Protestant animosity to the Catholic Church, but by his alarm lest in the organisation of the Roman hierarchy a power might arise within the Empire which would be hostile to the State. But even if the Chancellor himself was at first free from Protestant hatred to Catholicism,–and this is not quite clear,–he was forced into alliance with a large party who appealed at once to the memories of the Reformation, who stirred up all that latent hatred of Rome which is as strong a force in North Germany as in England; and with others who saw in this an opportunity for more completely subduing all, Protestant and Catholic alike, to the triumphant power of the State, and making one more step towards the dissociation of the State from any religious body.
The immediate cause of the struggle was the proclamation of the infallibility of the Pope. It might be thought that this change or development in the Constitution of the Roman Church was one which concerned chiefly Roman Catholics. This is the view which Bismarck seems to have taken during the meetings of the Vatican Council. The opposition to the decrees was strongest among the German Bishops, and Prince Hohenlohe, the Prime Minister of Bavaria, supported by his brother the Cardinal, was anxious to persuade the Governments of Europe to interfere, and, as they could have done, to prevent the Council from coming to any conclusion. Bismarck refused on behalf of the Prussian Government to take any steps in this direction. The conclusion of the Council and the proclamation of the decrees took place just at the time of the outbreak of war with France. For some months Bismarck, occupied as he was with other matters, was unable to consider the changes which might be caused; it was moreover very important for him during the negotiations with Bavaria, which lasted all through the autumn, not to do anything which would arouse the fears of the Ultramontanes or intensify their reluctance to enter the Empire.
In the winter of 1870 the first sign of the dangers ahead was to be seen. They arose from the occupation of Rome by the Italians. The inevitable result of this was that the Roman Catholics of all countries in Europe were at once given a common cause of political endeavour; they were bound each of them in his own State to use his full influence to procure interference either by diplomacy or by arms, and to work for the rescue of the prisoner of the Vatican. The German Catholics felt this as