Chapter I: On the Voyage of Life (1)

[1851-1859.]

Ambassador.—Interview with the King.—Lieut.-General von
Rochow.—Anecdotes.—Frankfurt.—Reception of the Prince of
Prussia.—Society at Frankfurt.—The King’s Birthday.—Position of
Prussia.—Correspondence.

At some resting-place on a journey into Pomerania which Bismarck undertook in the early spring of 1851, he heard from several persons of his appointment as Ambassador to the Diet in Frankfurt-on-the Maine, where the Diet was just then re-assembling. That this was not true he knew, but that he was very likely intended for the post he considered far from impossible. He thought deeply over the matter; the reflection was a novel one, but by no means unwelcome; to him a parliamentary career had become the less pleasing the longer he had followed it—he was not vain enough for that: his manly self-confidence, however, was considerable, and perhaps he thought of his mother’s predictions. On his return to Berlin, after minute self-examination, he determined to accept the position of Ambassador to the Diet, should it be offered him.

We do not know whether the idea of intrusting Bismarck with this office—unquestionably the most important which Prussia at that time had to fill—first occurred to Frederick William IV. himself, or whether it was the thought of the Minister von Manteuffel; at any rate it was founded on the assumption that Bismarck would be a _persona grata_ to Austria, as it was then Prussia’s problem to treat of German politics with the best understanding towards Austria. It was the custom of Frederick William IV., who more than proved how dear every thing that concerned Germany was to his heart, to select his Ambassador to the Diet with the utmost care; and the delicate circumstances of the time rendered the necessity for caution all the greater. Yet, it will be said, on this occasion his choice fell upon a man who had hitherto never served in diplomatic matters. We certainly know from the mouth of a Minister of State, on very confidential terms with the King, that the latter “was much attached to Bismarck, and expected great things at his hands.”

Bismarck paid a visit to Herr von Manteuffel; the latter soon told him that His Majesty the King desired to speak with him, and then, without any circumlocution, asked him in what his views concerning the ambassadorship consisted. The cautious Minister was not a little surprised when Bismarck, in so many words, declared himself prepared to undertake it. He was evidently not without hesitation at so rapid a decision; desiring him, however, to wait upon His Majesty the King without delay.

Bismarck was received by his King, at Sans-Souci, with that favor and grace which he ever evinced towards him; but the King was even perhaps more astonished than his Prime Minister, when Bismarck frankly and honestly declared—“If your Majesty is desirous of trying the experiment, I am ready to fulfill your wishes!”

Frederick William IV. perhaps thought there was a certain degree of temerity in the rapid decision of Bismarck, and drew his attention to the significance and difficulty of the position.

“Your Majesty can surely try me,” replied Bismarck; “if it prove a failure, I can be recalled in six months, or even sooner than that!”

Despite all the doubts and hesitation which arose in his mind, the King remained firm to his intention, and in May, 1851, Bismarck was appointed to the post of First Secretary of the Embassy to the Diet, with the title of Privy Councillor.

He immediately departed for his post. He here found himself on new, and, to him, entirely strange ground, and his duty was certainly not rendered easy for him. Lieut.-General Theodor Rochus von Rochow, who was to introduce him to his new position, kept him at a distance from actual business, with the well-known and intelligible jealousy which most men entertain towards their successors in office. Herr von Gruner was a liberal and an opponent of Bismarck’s, but the other German representatives felt a sort of virtuous shudder at the famous reactionary Junker. Perhaps the Presiding Deputy, Count von Thun-Hohenstein, who thought to see in Bismarck the thorough partisan of Austria, was the only person who bid him welcome, at the same time with the intention of causing him to see what marked influence Austria possessed. This was a rather strong diplomatic blunder, for Bismarck knew precisely how to take and retain his proper position.

A pretty anecdote was related at the time, for which certainly we can not absolutely vouch, but if not true, it might have been. Bismarck one day paid the Presiding Deputy a visit. Count Thun received him with a sort of brusque familiarity, went on coolly smoking his cigar, and did not even ask Bismarck to take a chair. The latter simply took out his cigar-case, pulled out a cigar, and said, in an easy tone, “May I beg a light, Excellency?” Excellency, astonished to the greatest degree, supplied the desired light. Bismarck got a good blaze up and then took the unoffered seat in the coolest way in the world, and led the way to a conversation.

Bismarck never allowed any liberties with himself, but still less would he tolerate them when they were offered to him as the representative of his Sovereign.

In the August of the same year he received the rank of Ambassador. The Councillors at the Embassy consisted of the Legations—Rath Otto Wentzel, and as Attachés, the Count Lynar, and Count Theodor of Stolberg-Wernigerode.

General von Rochow continued his jealous behavior to the end. On the day of his departure he pretended to send Bismarck the current papers in a green portfolio; but Bismarck found it empty. Bismarck immediately went to the station, which Rochow had not expected, and was accordingly much embarrassed. In the choicest expressions, Bismarck thanked him for all the delicate kindnesses he had experienced from him, and added, that he presumed to ascribe it to the friendship that Rochow had entertained for his deceased father. These few moments could scarcely have been very pleasant to the poor General.

During this first visit to Frankfurt, Bismarck resided with his friend Count Lynar (who subsequently died at Paris), in the house of M. Krug, a merchant, in the Hoch-Strasse, whose wife was a native of Berlin. He was unable to work much at the Bills of the Bund, and General von Rochow, famous for his wit, jested not a little at Bismarck’s late habits of rising, although he was far more industrious than was generally apparent, being engaged in an active correspondence with his political friends in Berlin, especially with the Actual Privy Councillor, Freiherr von Manteuffel II. Before dinner he usually rode out, and, in order to feel his ground, visited the neighboring Courts of Darmstadt, Biebrich, and Karlsruhe, where his old friend Von Savigny was then Prussian Envoy. An acute, sometimes a severe, judge of character, as well as an observer of passing events; Bismarck had, at the desire, or, at any rate, with the consent of Rochow, undertaken an immediate part in the press. The articles contributed or suggested by him created much attention; they possessed wit and point, often destroying the arguments of his opponents; this became his peculiar province. At other times, as a new man in diplomacy, he assisted at the discussions in the society of Herr von Rochow, in order to become familiar with the course of business and the exterior formalities of diplomacy.

On the 11th of July, 1851, the then Prince of Prussia (now King) visited Frankfurt, and was received by the body corporate of the Bund, and the general staff. The Prince was graciously inclined towards Bismarck, but made some observations during his passage to the terminus to Herr von Rochow, on the anomaly of this militia-lieutenant—for Bismarck had appeared in uniform, being a Deputy of the Bund. General von Rochow, however, who was wise enough not to undervalue Bismarck’s importance, although he did not always testify the liveliest friendship towards him, replied, “The selection is worthy, novel, and vigorous; your Royal Highness will certainly find all your requirements fulfilled.”

The Prince could reply nothing to this, and, in fact, he certainly entertained the most favorable opinion of this still somewhat youthful champion of the justice and the honor of Prussia.

“I believe,” General von Rochow said at the time, “he only wished him to have possessed gray hair and a few additional years; but it is questionable whether the plans of the Prince would be much nearer their fulfillment for those.”

This is all very characteristic, considering the relation destined at a future time to subsist between King William and Bismarck. Personal good-will in the highest degree he entertained for him, but want of confidence in his youth and inexperience.

The Prince of Prussia frequently alluded to this view, but Rochow found means of quieting his fears. Otherwise he was fond of having Bismarck about him, conversed with him freely, drove about, and soon went to the theatre with him. The Prince exhibited real friendship for Bismarck, and, on the occasion of the birth of a son, in the following year (2d August, 1852), became its sponsor. Bismarck’s younger son is named William after his royal godfather, although his usual name has continued to be “Bill.” General von Rochow also, on his return to his post at St. Petersburg, freely stated his anticipation of great things from the talents and decision of character of his successor at Frankfurt.

When Bismarck became Envoy to the Bund, on the 18th August, 1851, he rented a villa of the younger Rothschild of Naples, distant some quarter of an hour from the city gate on the Bockenheimer Chaussée, close to the frontier of Hesse; the same dwelling previously inhabited by the Archduke John in his official capacity as Imperial Curator. In the garden, as upon the flight of steps, the most magnificent flowers were arranged; it is said there were more than one thousand camellias. Bismarck’s house, after the arrival of Madame von Bismarck with her children, became the most prominently hospitable house in Frankfurt.

He soon became intimate with the Austrian Ambassador. Count Thun was a noble cavalier, and his very handsome wife, born a Countess Lamberg, knew how to invest his house with great attractions. Bismarck also managed to keep on terms with Count Thun’s successor, the well-known Freiherr Prokesch von Osten, whose hatred of Prussia was so little a secret that his nomination to the office was regarded as a demonstration against Prussia; and this Bismarck did without in the least lowering the dignity of Prussia—a problem somewhat difficult, considering the reputation of this entirely Eastern diplomatist. Of a much more friendly character were his relations to Count Rechberg, who replaced Prokesch.

The other representatives with whom Bismarck came into more intimate contact were, Von Scherff, who represented the King of the Netherlands as Grand-duke of Luxemburg, Von Fritsch (Grand-duke of Saxony), Von Bülow (King of Denmark as Duke of Holstein and Lauenburg), Von Oertzen (Mecklenburg), and Von Eisendecher (Oldenburg). Bismarck farmed some sporting in conjunction with the English Ambassador, Sir Alexander Malet.

Besides enjoying the society of the diplomatists, Bismarck liked to mingle with the Prussian and foreign higher military officers; to his dinners, soirées, and balls, he also invited musicians, authors, and artists—a fact not of very frequent occurrence among the chief diplomatists in Frankfurt, and one which created some notice. His intercourse with these circles was principally conducted by the highly esteemed artist Professor Becker, who, with his wife and handsome daughters, belonged to the most intimate society of his house. The excellent portrait of Bismarck which hangs in the room of the Countess at Berlin, is by Professor Becker.

Still more remarkable than this intercourse with painters and sculptors were certain domestic festivals, of which the people of Frankfurt had never even dreamt before, and in which he was imitated by no one. He used to give a feast to the domestics of his Pomeranian and Alt Mark property on Twelfth Night, in the old Pomeranian style—about which there was much curiosity.

The most brilliant festival of the year was that of the 15th October, on the birthday of the King. In the morning there was solemn service in the large Reformed Church in the Corn-market, at which Bismarck attended with the whole suite of the Embassy in full gala dress. Then followed a magnificent dinner, and in the evening he was accustomed to visit the Prussian soldiers, who lay in garrison in Frankfurt, amidst their festivities.

Bismarck will never be forgotten by the Prussian soldiers who were in Frankfurt during his days; they all knew him, for at every solemnity he appeared in his uniform as Landwehr Lieutenant, with the “Safety” Medal, to witness the parades and exercises.

The soldiers always called him “His Excellency Herr Lieutenant von Bismarck;” they loved him sincerely, because they felt that he loved every Prussian soldier.

The “Safety” Medal was no longer solitary upon his breast; the time had arrived when stars and grand crosses were sent to him from every side.

Prussian travellers on their journey were hospitably received at his house, and many of those who were returning from the Rhenish Baths, he not only invited to dinner, but, in the discreetest manner, aided with loans, often of the greatest necessity to them. In short, Bismarck not only represented his Sovereign in the most brilliant but the wisest manner.

When with considerable rapidity he had familiarized himself with the duties of his office, he began to work with assiduity and continuity. After tea, at ten o’clock, he often dictated for three or four hours, and so well, that there was seldom any necessity for altering a word, so that dispatches could be forwarded to Berlin by half-past six.

After business and receptions, which latter often rendered quiet necessary, his recreations consisted of hunting and riding. He often had his horse saddled at four in the morning, and rode for miles into the country.

The more brilliant the social position of Bismarck had become, the more difficult and thorny the political position remained. He was conscious—we may say, to his great sorrow—from the very beginning, that the equal rights of Prussia which he had always assumed, in speaking of going hand-in-hand with Austria, as to German affairs, were not recognized by Austria, but, on the contrary, she endeavored, with suspicious and inimical feelings, to increase the difficulties which Prussia had to fight against with all her might. Bismarck, by his personal influence, had now obtained a few advantages, and worked decisively through the press, on which he not only fixed his attention, but to which he devoted his personal activity. In the matters of the Zollverein, he had a severe and especial battle to fight, against the machinations of Austrian politics. The _Hanover Zeitung_ published angry articles against the ratification of the treaty of 7th September, 1851, just concluded with Prussia. It was the personal influence of Bismarck alone upon the Hanoverian Ambassador, Von Schele, that caused the opposition against the ratification of this treaty to be abandoned.

In the Diet itself, Bismarck was successful in establishing such an order of business, to some extent limiting the arbitrary action of the President, and finally led to some method in the debates of the Diet. It might even be said that he soon attained a leading power in the Diet, and thereby worked blessings for Prussia; but even all this could not alter the unfortunate position of Prussian Germany, founded as it was upon the principles of the Diet and the Zollverein. Had Austria given its good-will, all this might have been effected, but in the teeth of its ill-will, the whole negotiations could only terminate in ruin or in a rupture.

The position of Prussia consisted in the fact, that the constitution of the Diet had only become possible through the policy of Prince Metternich. This policy, which advocated a probable segregation of Austria from Germany, and at least left Prussia free room to act in North Germany, ever moved in the most limited grooves. As Prince Schwarzenberg adopted a policy diametrically opposed to this, which consciously and deliberately determined upon the humiliation of Prussia, in order afterwards to destroy it, and violated every form with the uttermost carelessness, the conflict could only be a matter of time.

Bismarck was therefore necessarily made an antagonist of Austria by the Schwarzenberg policy, continued by Count Buol Schauenstein; and opposition against the anti-Prussian policy of the Vienna Cabinet became the watchword for his political activity. This was soon very apparent, nor did he conceal it the less, as his vigorous patriotism impelled him to bring his opposition actually to bear; his frankness also rendered any equivocation impossible. In such a course he could hardly depend upon any co-operation from the King and the Prime Minister, Von Manteuffel, who both hoped, discouraged by the failure of the Union negotiations, that Austria might still revert to the earlier pro-Prussian policy of Prince Metternich. Bismarck himself, although he could scarcely hope this, ardently desired it. A position worthy of the Prussian kingdom in Germany was that for which he had to strive—a position it ought to occupy, if it were to worthily maintain its place in Europe; and desired to secure to the German people those advantages, to be resigned by no people unless at the peril of political death. Bismarck was determined to devote his life to aiding the Prussian Crown in the attainment of this position. He would rather have gone hand-in-hand with Austria; if this were an impossibility, then without Austria; but should it prove necessary, then antagonism to Austria. It must not be overlooked how, in the sequel, Bismarck in every political struggle attempted to accomplish it in union with Austria, in which he was sometimes successful, and how, when it was impossible, he continued the effort without Austria, and finally in opposition to Austria. It were superfluous here to pursue Bismarck’s political career in the details of his German policy.

The following correspondence (rearranged by the translator in their proper chronological order) passed during these years.

Frankfurt, 18th May, ’51.

Frankfurt is wretchedly wearisome; I am so spoilt with having
so much affection about me, and a great deal to do; and I now
first perceive how unthankful I have been towards many people
in Berlin—for I will not take you and yours into the question.
Even the coolness of fellow-countrymen and party associates
I had in Berlin is an intimate connection compared with the
relations one makes here; being, in fact, nothing more than
mutual suspicious espionage. If one had any thing indeed
to detect or to conceal! The people here worry themselves
about the merest trifles; and these diplomatists, with their
important nothings, already appear more ridiculous to me than
a Deputy of the Second Chamber in his full-blown dignity.
Unless outward events take place—and those we clever members
of the Diet can neither guide nor predetermine—I now know
accurately what we shall have done in one, two, or five years,
and could bring it about in twenty-four hours, if the others
would for a single day be reasonable and truthful. I never
doubted that they all made soup with water; but such a simple,
thin water-gruel, in which you can’t see a globule of fat,
astonishes me! Send me Justice X. or Herr von Sarsky hither
from the toll-gate, when they are washed and combed, and I will
lord it in diplomacy with them. I am making enormous progress
in the art of saying nothing in a great many words. I write
reports of many sheets, which read as tersely and roundly as
leading articles; and if Manteuffel can say what there is in
them, after he has read them, he can do more than I can.

Each of us pretends to believe of his neighbor that he is
full of thoughts and plans, if he would only tell; and at the
same time we none of us know an atom more of what is going
to happen to Germany than of next year’s snow. Nobody, not
even the most malicious skeptic of a democrat, believes what
quackery and self-importance there is in this diplomatizing.
Well, I have railed long enough, and now I will tell you that
I am very well. Yesterday I was in Mainz: the neighborhood is
lovely. The rye is in full ear, although it is infamously cold
all night and in the mornings. Excursions by railroad are the
best here. One can reach Heidelberg, Baden-Baden, Odenwald,
Homburg, Soden, Wiesbaden, Bingen, Rüdesheim, and Niederwald
comfortably in one day, stop five or six hours, and return
here in the evening. Until now I have not gone much about, but
shall do so, that I may take you about when you come. Rochow
started yesterday for Warsaw—he went off at nine o’clock in the
evening; the day after to-morrow he will be there, and probably
back in a week. As to politics and people, I can not write
much, as most of the letters are opened here. When they know
your address on mine, and your handwriting on your letters,
they will very likely find out they have no time to read family
letters.

* * * * *

Frankfurt, 3d July, 1851.

The day before yesterday I thankfully received your letter and
the news that you were all well. But do not forget, when you
write to me, that the letters are not only read by myself,
but by all sorts of postal spies; and do not inveigh against
certain persons in them, for that is all set down to the
husband—to my account; besides, you do the people injustice.
As to my appointment or non-appointment, I know no more than
was told me at my departure: all other things are possibilities
and conjectures. What is irregular in the matter is the silence
of the Government towards me, as it would be as well to let
me know for certain, and indeed officially, whether I am to
live here or in Pomerania with wife and child next month. Be
prudent in all you say to people, then, without exception—not
only against ——, particularly in opinions of persons, for you
can not conceive what one has to endure if one once becomes an
object of observation; be assured that whatever you say in the
—— or the bathing-machine is served up with sauce either here
or at Sans-Souci. Forgive me for scolding you so, but after
your last letter I must take up the diplomatic hedge-knife. If
—— and others could sow distrust in our diplomatic camp, they
would thereby attain one of the chief ends of their letter
robberies. I went the day before yesterday to Wiesbaden to ——,
and, with a mixture of sadness and wisdom, we went to see the
scene of former folly. Would it might please God to fill this
vessel with his clear and strong wine, in which formerly the
champagne of twenty-one years of youth foamed uselessly, and
left nothing but loathing behind. Where now are —— and Miss ——?
How many are buried with whom I then flirted, drank, and diced?
How many transformations have taken place in my views of the
world in these fourteen years, among which I have ever looked
upon the actually Present as the True? How little are some
things to me that then appeared great? How much is venerable
to me now, that I then ridiculed? How much foliage may bud,
grow green, give shadow, rustle, and worthlessly fade within
the next fourteen years, till 1865, if we live to see it? I
can not understand how a man who considers his own nature, and
yet knows nothing of God, and will know nothing, can endure
his existence from contempt and wearisomeness. I know not how
I could formerly support it; were I to live as then, without
God, without you, without my children! I should not, indeed,
know whether I had not better abandon life like a dirty shirt;
and yet most of my acquaintances are in that state, and live
on! If I ask of an individual, what object he has in living
on, in laboring and growing angry, in intriguing and spying,
I obtain no answer. Do not conclude from this _tirade_ that
my mood is dark; on the contrary, I feel like a person who
looks, on a fine September morning, on the yellowing foliage;
I am healthy and cheerful, but I feel some melancholy, some
longing for home, a desire for forests, ocean, wilderness, for
you and my children, mingled with the impressions of sunset
and of Beethoven. Instead of which I have to pay dreary visits
to —— and read endless ciphers about German steam corvettes
and cannon-balls, rusting and eating up money in Bremerhaven.
I should like to have a horse, but I could not ride alone—it
is too wearisome; and the society with whom one rides is also
wearisome. And now I must go to Rochow, and to all sorts of-ins
and-offs, who are here with the Archduchess Olga.

* * * * *

Frankfurt, 8th July, 1851.

Yesterday and to-day I have been anxious to write to you,
but in the whirl of business could not get so far until the
evening late, on my return from a walk during which I blew
away the dust of business with the summer night’s breeze,
moonlight, and the rustle of poplar foliage. On Saturday
afternoon I went with Rochow and Lynar to Rüdesheim. I there
took a boat, went out on the Rhine, and swam in the moonlight,
eyes and nose only above the tepid water, to the Rat Tower,
near Bingen, where the bad bishop met his end. There is
something strangely dreamy to lie in the water on a still
night, slowly driven by the stream, seeing the heavens, with
moon and stars, above, and on either hand the wood-capped
mountains and city spires in the moonlight, without hearing any
thing but one’s own gentle splashing. I should like to swim
like that every night. I then drank some very decent wine, and
sat for a long time smoking with Lynar on the balcony, the
Rhine below us. My small Testament and the starry night led to
some conversation on Christianity; and I shook earnestly at the
Rousseau-like virtue of his soul, only reducing him to silence.
As a child he has been ill-treated by nurses and tutors,
without really knowing his parents, and has emerged from his
youth with similar ideas, founded on a similar education, to
my own, but bears them with more content than ever has been my
case. Next day we went in the steamer to Coblenz, breakfasted
there for an hour, and returned in the same way to Frankfurt,
where we arrived in the evening. I undertook the journey
with the object of visiting old Metternich, at Johannisberg,
at his invitation; but the Rhine delighted me so much, that
I preferred a trip to Coblenz, and postponed the visit. We
saw the river, on our immediate journey to the Alps, in the
finest weather; on this fresh summer morning, and after the
dusty weariness in Frankfurt, it rises much in my esteem. I
look forward with real delight to spending a couple of days
with you, at Rüdesheim; the place is so calm and rural, the
people pleasant, and nothing dear. We would then take a small
rowing-boat, and go quietly down, climb the Niederwald, and
this and the other castle, and return by the steamer. One can
leave here in the morning early, stay eight hours at Rüdesheim,
Bingen, Rheinstein, and so forth, and return hither by the
evening. My appointment here seems now to be certain.

* * * * *

Frankfurt, 13th August, 1851.

I worked very hard to-day and yesterday about the King’s
journey, and a multitude of petty details concerning the minor
Courts, and I am now in hourly expectation of a tiresome
ambassadorial visit; so that this letter must be very short,
and yet serve as a love-token. Who has started this nonsense
about St. Petersburg? I heard the very first of it from your
letters. Will you not go to Nicolai? I should not think one
winter there at all disagreeable; but I am tired of these
separations, and the climate might not suit you and the babies.
I yesterday took a long and solitary walk into the mountains,
deep into the wonderful night. I had been at work from eight
o’clock till five, then dined, and luxuriated in the fresh
evening mountain air of the Taunus, after leaving this dusty
hole, by half an hour’s railway to Soden, some two miles behind
me. The King passes through here on the 19th, and returns, by
way of Ischl and Prague, to Berlin about the 7th of September.
I shall meet him at Coblenz, as I have much to say to ——. If he
brings my appointment, as I expect, I shall immediately hire
quarters, and then we can talk of your coming.

* * * * *

Frankfurt, 23d August, 1851.

In the midst of my business post time has arrived, and I will
rather write you a hasty note than not at all. Since Monday
I have been still going on. First, there was a great State
dinner here to the Emperor of Austria—twenty-thousand thalers’
worth of uniforms at table; then I went to Mainz to receive
the King; he was very gracious to me, for the first time after
a long interval harmless and merry. Next came a grand supper,
then work with Manteuffel till two; then a cigar with dear
old Stolberg; at half-past six parade, and a great theatrical
representation. I went on as far as Darmstadt; there we dined.
The King then went to Baden, and after three weary hours I
reached this place in the evening with ——. On Wednesday I
was summoned from my bed to the Duke of Nassau at Bieberich,
and there dined. Late in the evening I returned, to be waked
very early next morning by the President G. and I., who took
possession of me and led me off to Heidelberg, where I remained
the night, and enjoyed some delightful hours with them at
Castle Wolfsbrunn and Neckarsteinach and last night returned
from this excess. G. was pleasanter than ever, did not dispute,
grew enthusiastic, poetical, and generous. At the Castle we
saw a sunset the day before yesterday like that one at Rigi.
We breakfasted up there, walked to Wolfsbrunn, where I drank
some beer at the same table I did with you; then boated up the
Neckar to Steinach, and parted in the evening at Heidelberg. G.
goes to-day to Coblenz, I. to Italy.

Bismarck was so often summoned to Berlin during his residence at Frankfurt, that it would be wearisome to relate all these journeys here. In one year, we do not exactly remember which, he travelled between Berlin and Frankfurt no less than 2600 miles. His counsel was often required by the highest authority, and very often Bismarck was very nearly becoming a Minister, even then; nor was it the powerful influence of both sides which conclusively prevented his entry into the Ministry, but his own aversion to become a Minister so soon. He declared to an acquaintance in those days that he would prefer to be first an ambassador for ten years, and then a Minister for ten years more, that he might close his days as a country nobleman thereafter in peace. King Frederick William IV., who regarded it as necessary for Bismarck’s political education that he should go to Vienna, intrusted him in the May of 1852 with an important mission thither; but above this was his desire to restore a complete understanding between Austria and Prussia. We already know that in this Bismarck was likely to become wrecked upon the Schwarzenberg policy. In a personal sense, however, on following the Imperial Court into Hungary, Bismarck received very pleasing impressions, as to which he speaks in the following letters to his wife:—

Halle, 7th January, 1852.

I have never, as well as I can recollect, ever written to you
from hence, and I hope that it will not happen again. I have
really been thinking whether, after all, yesterday was not
Friday, on which I set out; it was certainly a _dies nefastus_
(N. N. will tell you what this means). In Giessen I got a room
as cold as ice, with three windows that wouldn’t shut; a bed
too short and too narrow; it was dirty, with bugs; infamous
coffee—never knew it so bad. At Guntershausen ladies came into
the first class; there was an end of smoking. A high lady of
commerce (N. N. will tell you what that is), with two lady’s
maids; sable furs; they spoke alternately with a Russian and
English accent in German, French very well, a little English,
but in my opinion they came from the Reezen Alley in Berlin,
and one of the lady’s maids was her mother, or elder lady of
commerce (N. N., etc.). Between Guntershausen and Gerstungen a
tube in the engine burst, so gently! The water all ran away;
so there we sat for an hour and a half in the open—very pretty
neighborhood, and a warm sunlight. I got into the second class
to smoke, and fell into the hands of a Berlinese Chamber and
Privy Council colleague, who had been drinking Homburg waters
for a fortnight, and asked me a lot of questions before a
number of Jews coming from the fair, until, in despair, I
took refuge with the Princess from the Reezen Alley. By this
stoppage we reached Halle three hours too late; the Berlin
train was gone a long time. Here I must sleep, and travel with
the luggage-train at half-past one to arrive at two. In the
station-yard there are two hotels; by accident I’m in the wrong
one; a gend’arme walked up and down the saloon, and seemed very
thoughtful about my beard, while I ate a tough beefsteak. I am
very unhappy, but will finish my bit of goose, drink some port
wine, and then to bed.

* * * * *

Berlin, 1st May, 1852.

I have just returned from an infinitely tedious dinner at Le
Coq’s, where I sat between L. G. and the younger M.—two persons
widely different in nature. I tried in vain to settle some
dispute about what is now agitating the King and the Chamber.
The one was dry, wise, and practical; the other delightful,
enthusiastic, and theoretical; he might really have forgotten
the world and its government, in his own views about them,
but the air of the Chambers has stimulated this impractical
direction in him, and in this gymnastic exercise of soul and
tongue he forgets, or holds cheap, what is necessary to be
done. There is really something quite demoralizing in the
atmosphere of the Chambers—the best people grow vain without
perceiving it, and get accustomed to the tribune as to a
toilet-table, by means of which they exhibit themselves to the
public. Forgive this political avalanche.

* * * * *

Berlin, 3d May, 1852.

I am really tired of being here, and long for the day
of departure. Chamber intrigues I find terribly shallow
and undignified; if one lives always amongst them, one
deceives one’s self, and they seem wonders. When I come
straightforwardly from Frankfurt I feel like a sober man who
has suddenly fallen amongst tipplers, I wish they would send me
to Constantinople; it would not be necessary to be returning
here every minute.

* * * * *

Vienna, 11th June, 1852.

“’S g’fällt mer hier gar net” (I don’t like this place at all)
as Schrenck says, although it was so pleasant with you, anno
’47; but I not only miss you, but I find myself not wanted,
and that is worse than I can make plain to your unpolitical
mind. If I were here, as I was there, for amusement, I could
not grumble: all those whom I have become acquainted with
are remarkably charming people, and the town is rather hot
with narrow streets, but still a splendid town. In business,
however, there prevails great _nonchalance_; either the people
don’t want to arrange with us, or they think we look upon
it as more important than appears to them. I fear that the
opportunity of coming to an understanding is gone, which will
prove a bad result for us; for it was thought that a very great
step towards reconciliation was taken in sending me, and they
will not soon send another here so desirous of coming to an
understanding, and who at the time can deal so freely. Forgive
me for writing polities to you, but when the heart is full,
etc. I am really drying up in this mishmash, and I am afraid I
shall begin to take an interest in it. I have just come from
the opera with old Westmoreland; Don Giovanni, played by a good
Italian Opera troop, in hearing which I felt the wretchedness
of the Frankfurt theatre doubly. Yesterday I went to
Schönbrunn, and thought of our romantic moonlight expedition,
as I looked at the tall hedges and the white statues in the
green thickets, peeped also at the private garden which we
first got into—quite forbidden ground—so, that the Jäger
sentinel, who was at his post, would not allow its even being
looked into.

* * * * *

Ofen, 23d June, ’52.

I have just come from the steamboat, and do not know how to
employ the interval until Hildebrand follows with my luggage,
better than in giving you some account of this very eastward
but very beautiful world. The Emperor graciously assigned me
quarters in his palace, and I am seated at an open window in
a spacious vaulted hall, listening to the evening bells of
Pesth. The view is charming. The castle stands high; beneath
me flows the Danube, spanned by the suspension bridge; beyond
is Pesth, and in the far distance is an endless plain melting
away into the purple twilight. Next to Pesth, on the left, I
see the upper course of the Danube; far, very far off from
me, viz., on the right bank, the river is fringed by the town
of Ofen; behind this are mountains, blue and bluer, and then
tinged with brownish-red in the evening, heaven glowing behind
them. In the midst of the two cities the broad sheet of water
lies, like Linz, broken only by the suspension bridge and a
woody island. The passage hither, at least from Gran to Pesth,
would have delighted you. Think of the Odenwald and the Taunus
brought close together, and the interval filled with the waters
of the Danube. The shady side of the voyage was the sunny side,
for the sun burnt us as if Tokay were to grow on the ship, and
the number of travellers was very great; but only fancy, not a
single Englishman amongst them—they can hardly have discovered
Hungary as yet. Otherwise these were queer folks—from every
oriental and occidental nation—greasy and washed. My chief
travelling companion was a very delightful General, with whom
I sat for the most part on the paddle-box and smoked. I am
getting somewhat impatient as to where Hildebrand can be; I am
lying in the window, half enthusiastic at the moonlight, half
waiting for him, as for one’s beloved—for I feel a marvellous
disposition for a clean shirt. If you could be here for a
moment, and could see the silvery stream of the Danube, the
dark mountains on a pale red ground, and the lights twinkling
up from Pesth, Vienna would sink in your estimation as compared
with Buda-Pesth, as the Hungarian calls it; you see I am also
an enthusiast for nature. I will now calm my excited blood
with a cup of tea, as Hildebrand has really arrived, and then
soon go to bed.

Last night I only had four hours’ sleep, and the Court is very
early here. The young Duke rises at five; I should then be a
very bad courtier if I thought of sleeping longer. Therefore,
with a glance at a gigantic tea-urn, and a seductive dish
containing ices, amongst other things, as I see, I waft you a
good-night from afar. What can that song be which has haunted
me all day long?

“Over the blue mountain, over the white sea foam,
Come, thou beloved one, come to thy lonely home!”

I can not tell who it was who sang this to me in “Old lang
syne.”

_The 24th June._—After a good night’s rest although upon a
flinty bed, I wish you a good morning. The entire landscape
before me swims in bright burning sunshine, so that I can
not look out without being dazzled. Until it is time to
begin my visits, I am sitting here alone at breakfast and
smoking in a very spacious apartment, four rooms—all vaulted
massively—two about the size of our dining-room, thick walls
like Schönhausen, giant walnut-wood cabinets, furniture of blue
silk, on the floor a number of yard-wide black stains, that
a more excited imagination than mine would take for blood,
but which I, _décidément_, declare to be ink. An incredibly
unskillful writer must have lived here, or another Luther
must several times have thrown very large inkstands at the
Adversary. A very obliging old servant in a bright yellow
livery shares the duties of the household with Hildebrand;
indeed they are all very obliging. In honor of the King’s
representative, the steamer yesterday hoisted the great
Prussian standard, and, thanks to the telegraph, a royal
carriage was in waiting at the landing-place. Don’t tell N. N.,
or he will write articles about it. Below, on long rafts, are
floating the queerest brown broad-hatted and broad-breeched
figures along the Danube. I am sorry that I am not an artist;
I should like to have introduced you to these wild faces, with
heavy mustaches and long hair, flashing black eyes, and their
picturesque draperies, as I beheld them yesterday. I must now
make an end and begin my visits. I do not know when you will
receive these lines; perhaps I shall send a courier to-morrow
or next day to Berlin, who can take them with him.

_Evening._—I have not had any opportunity as yet of forwarding
this. The lights again are twinkling up from Pesth; towards
the horizon, near the Theiss, there is lightning; above us
the heavens are full of stars. I have been in uniform the
greater part of the day, in private audience; I handed my
credentials to the youthful ruler of this land, and have been
agreeably impressed. After dinner the whole Court made an
excursion into the mountains, to the “pretty shepherdess;” who
is long since dead; some centuries ago King Matthew Corvinus
loved her. Thence there is a prospect of Ofen, its mountains
and plains, over woody Neckar-like rocks. A national feast
had brought thousands forth, thronging around the Emperor,
who mingled freely with them; with resounding _eljen evviva_
they danced Csardas, waltzed, sang, played music, climbed the
trees, and crowded round the Court. Upon a grass slope there
was a supper-table laid out for some twenty people—only on
one side, the other being left free for a view of the forest,
castle, city, and country; above us were tall beeches with
climbing Hungarians on the branches; behind us dense crowds
of people thronged together and pushing each other about; in
the distance wind instruments mingled with song, wild gypsy
music. Illuminations, moonshine, and the rosy twilight, torches
flitting through the forest—the whole might have figured
unchanged as a great scene of effect in a romantic opera. Next
to me sat the venerable Archbishop of Gran, the Primate of
Hungary, in a black silk talar with a red cape; on the other
a very charming and elegant cavalry general. You see that
the picture was a variegated one, rich in contrasts. Then we
drove home in the moonshine by torchlight. Tell Frau von V.
that her brother was a most delightful man, as I could not
but expect from her two sisters whom I already knew. I had
just received a telegraphic dispatch from Berlin; it contained
only four letters—_Nein_ (No!). A word full of significance.
I was told to-day of the storm of the castle three years ago
by the insurgents; at this the brave General Hentzi and the
whole garrison, after a wonderfully courageous resistance,
were cut down. The black stains upon my floor are partly the
result of fire, and where I am writing bursting grenades were
then dancing, and the fight went on over smoking ruins. It
has only been restored a few weeks ago, before the arrival
of the Emperor. It is very quiet and peaceful up here now.
I hear nothing but the ticking of a clock, and the sound of
distant carriage-wheels below. May angels watch over thee—a
bearskin-capped grenadier does so with me—I can see six inches
of his bayonet at a couple of arms’ length from me above the
window-sill, and the reflection of a foot. He stands on the
terrace by the Danube, and is probably thinking of his Nanny.

(Frau von Arnim.)]

* * * * *

Szolnok, 27th June, 1852.

In your atlases you will find a map of Hungary, and on this
a river Theiss, and, if you follow up the source towards
Szegedin, a place named Szolnok. Yesterday I went by railway
from Pesth to Alberti-Josa, where a Prince W. lies in garrison.
He is married to a Princess M. I paid him a visit in order
to inform —— of the state of his health. This place lies on
the edge of the Hungarian steppes between the Danube and the
Theiss, which I desired to see by way of a joke. I was not
allowed to ride without an escort, as the district is overrun
by cavalry robber bands, here called Betyars, and is therefore
unsafe. After a comfortable breakfast under the shade of a
Schönhausen lime, I got upon a low wagon with sacks of straw
and three horses; the Uhlans loaded their carbines, mounted,
and away they went at full gallop. Hildebrand and a Hungarian
servant occupied the front seat, and our coachman was a dark
brown peasant, with a mustache, a broad-brimmed hat, long
hair shining with fat, a shirt only reaching to the stomach,
leaving a broad band of dark brown skin visible, to where the
white trowsers begin, each leg of which would make a woman’s
gown, and reach to the knee, where boots and spurs complete the
costume. Only think of firm grass plat, as level as a table, on
which nothing can be seen for miles towards the horizon, except
the tall naked beams of the wells dug for the half-wild horses
and oxen; thousands of whity-brown oxen, with long horns, as
timorous as deer; rough, disreputable-looking horses, watched
by half-naked shepherds on horseback, with lances; endless
herds of swine, among which you see a donkey carrying the
fur-cloak (_bunda_) of the herdsman, and sometimes himself;
huge swarms of bustards, hares, rabbits, and other small deer;
near a salt-water pool, wild geese, ducks, and lapwings; such
were the objects we flew by, and which flew by us during our
three hours’ journey of seven miles to Ketskemet, with a slight
halt at a csarda (inn). Ketskemet is a village, the streets
of which, if the inhabitants are left out, reminds one of the
small end of Schönhausen. It has, however, forty-five thousand
inhabitants, unpaved streets, low houses, closed on the eastern
side against the sun, with huge cattle-yards. A foreign
ambassador was such an unusual sight there—and my Magyar
servant rattled out the “excellency” to such a degree—that I
immediately obtained a guard of honor, the village authorities
announced themselves, and a change of horses was required.
I spent the evening with a delightful set of officers, who
insisted upon my taking an additional escort, and entertained
me with a number of robber stories. In the very neighborhood
into which I was going the worst robber-nests exist; on the
Theiss, the morasses and wilds render their destruction almost
impossible. They are splendidly horsed and armed, these
Betyars; they attack travellers and farms in bands of fifteen
or twenty strong, and next day are twenty miles away. They are
polite to respectable people. I had left the greater part of
my ready money with Prince W., and only had some linen with
me, and really felt a desire to make the nearer acquaintance
of these mounted brigands, in their great fur dresses, with
double-barrelled guns and pistols in their girdles. Their
captains wear black masks, and sometimes belong to the small
country gentry. Some days ago the gens-d’armes had a skirmish
with them, and some were killed; two robbers, however, were
caught, and shot, with all the honors, in Ketskemet. We don’t
hear of such things in our tiresome districts. About the time
you woke this morning, you little thought that I was flying
over the steppes of Cumania, in the neighborhood of Felegyhaza
and Csonygrad, with Hildebrand at full gallop, a delightful
sunburnt Uhlan officer by my side, loaded pistols lying in the
hay before us, and a squadron of Uhlans with ready carbines in
their hands wildly dashing after us. Three swift horses drew
us, called Rosa, Csillak (star), and Betyar (vagabond). The
driver unintermittingly called them by name, in a piteous tone,
until he got his whip handle well over their heads, and with
a cry of “_mega! mega!_” (hold on!) the gallop changed into a
wild career. A delightful sensation! We saw no robbers; as my
light-brown lieutenant told me, they knew before daylight that
I was travelling under protection; certainly some of them were
among those worthy-looking and dignified peasants who gazed
seriously at us at the stations, in their sleeveless sheepskin
cloaks reaching to the ground, and greeted us with an honorable
“_istem adiamek_” (praised be God!) The sun’s heat was
scorching all day—I am as red as a crab in the face. We made
eighteen miles in twelve hours, to which must be reckoned two
or three hours, if not more, in putting-to and waiting, as the
twelve horses I required had first to be caught for myself and
escort. A third of the distance was shifting sands and downs,
like those of Stolpmünde.

At five I reached this place, the streets of which are animated
by a gay crowd of Hungarians, Slowaks, and Wallachians,
who fill my chamber with a din of the wildest and maddest
gypsy melodies. (Szolnok is a village of some six thousand
inhabitants, but there is a railway and steamboat station on
the Theiss.) At times they sing through the nose, with gaping
mouths, in a weak minor discord, histories of black eyes, and
of the brave death of some robber, in sounds that remind one
of the wind howling Lettish songs down a chimney. The women
are generally well grown, a few remarkably handsome; they all
have raven hair, bound in tresses behind with red ribbons. The
married women wear either bright green and red cloths, or red
velvet caps on their heads; about their shoulders and bosoms
a handsome yellow silk shawl; black or pure blue short gowns,
and red Turkey leather shoes, reaching up under the petticoats.
Their faces have a yellowish brown hue, with lustrous black
eyes; a group of these women present a play of colors that
would please you; every color is as distinctly expressed as
possible. Since my arrival at five I have been swimming in the
Theiss, while expecting dinner. I have seen Csardas danced; it
vexes me that I can not draw, to bring these fairy-tale forms
on paper for you. I then had _paprika_, _stürl_ (fish), and
_tick_ for dinner, drank a good deal of Hungarian, and now
shall go to bed, if the gypsy music will let me sleep. Good
night. _Istem adiamek._

* * * * *

Pesth, the 28th.