In the progressive movement of civilization no nation on earth can claim preeminence over the German. Germany gave to the world the gunpowder which blew up the castles of feudalism, and the printing press which battered down the citadels of ignorance and superstition. In Germany the reformatory movement of the 16th century gained its first strength. The philosophical thought and literature of Germany stands without equal. The historical and scientific researches of Germany take rank among the foremost in the world. The musical creations of Germany take precedence before all others, and her artists compete with the best. Her institutions of learning and systems of popular education command the admiration of all civilized nations. Her industrial enterprise is vigorous and successful, the country is in a high state of agricultural development and covered with manufacturing establishments, and, although Germany has no colonies, German labor and trade is flourishing in all hemispheres and all climes, from Labrador to Cape Horn, from the Mediterranean to the Japanese Sea, and from Algeria to the Cape of Good Hope.
And yet, in spite of all this, Germany as a nation has never, in modern times, commanded the respect of the world abroad in a political sense, and has hardly had its sympathies. In the great transactions of the world we heard of Prussia, we heard of Austria, but of Germany never. Germany was but a geographical idea, but no political entity, and the German abroad had to go into lengthy and circumstantial explanation to define his nationality. What was the cause of all this? It was that the Germans as a nation had no political unity, and therefore no national existence. They were what the American would be had the rebellion succeeded in tearing the Union to pieces and condemned the Republic to the weakness of division.
The historical development which brought about this lamentable result in Germany is easily traced. The first historical accounts represent the inhabitants of Germany, the yellow haired and blue eyed Germani, as a collection of independent tribes frequently at war with one another. Charlemagne, the great Emperor of the 9th century, first consolidated them under his scepter. But he introduced the feudal system and a strong temporal power of the clergy, and subdivided the country again among his military chiefs. The feudal lords in the course of time became more firmly established in their feudal possessions than the emperors themselves. The struggle between them and the imperial power fills thenceforward the history of Germany for many centuries. The King or Emperor was elected by the principal lords, and his power depended in a great measure upon their good will. That good will was not unfrequently denied and an almost uninterrupted series of internecine conflicts was the consequence. Only a few emperors found themselves strong enough to enforce their authority in every part of the empire, such as Henry I., Frederick Barbarossa and Charles V., and then German was the ruling power in Europe, while during the periods of internal strife her neighbors encroached upon her with impunity. Since Charles V., who abdicated in 1558, the imperial authority fell rapidly into utter insignificance, until at last the feudal dependencies of the empire became virtually independent States. Germany became a mass of almost numberless little despotisms, among which a few larger States were endeavoring to obtain a voice in the diplomatic councils of Europe. At last the storm of the French Revolution swept over Europe, and before it the tottering remnants of the German empire fell altogether to pieces, and when at last in 1806, a number of German States formed the Rhenish confederation under Napoleon, the Emperor Francis resigned the German crown, and the German empire was formally dissolved.
Looking back upon the history of Germany from the first formation of the empire to its dissolution, a period covering a thousand years, and looking only at its most prominent and distinguishing features, you will discover a singular analogy with the struggles which, in the history of this country, are compressed within the compass of half a century. There is the emperor representing the principle of Union; there are the feudal lords striving for independence, representing the principle of State Sovereignty; the former continually endeavoring to keep the latter in obedience, the latter continually endeavoring to weaken the former. But there is one point where the analogy stops: while with us the principle of Union is represented by the people, and enforced by the power of the people, in feudal Germany it was represented by the emperor only, and enforced by the power of his name; that is to say, of the feudal possessions held by his family, and by the good will of those feudal lords who saw fit to obey his orders. Feudal society knew no people, and no popular sympathies could therefore counterbalance the selfish aspirations of the feudal lords.
But however distracted the political life of Germany may have been, there was in the hearts of the people a deep-seated and inextinguishable yearning for national unity, which pronounced itself through all the agencies of expression open to a people who have no political voice, — their literature, their songs, their legends. They continued to dream of the magnificence of the German Empire, and an old legend still lives in the mouths of the people: that the grand old emperor Frederick Barbarossa never died but sits in a deep cavern in the mountain Kyffhäuser, sleeping, his grey beard having grown through the stone table upon which his elbows lean, and that one day he will awake, seize his imperial sword, issue from the mountain and unite all the tribes of German tongue under his mighty sway.
In modern times the first opportunity for a great national movement in Germany arose when Europe began to shake off the despotism of the first Napoleon. The German Empire, indeed, existed no longer. But, for the first time, the kings and princes appealed to the people, in the name of the German nationality, the people rose up in their might, and under the lead of Prussia and Austria hurled the power of the French despot across the German frontier. The war of 1813, 14 and 15, was a truly popular war, carried on under the inspiration of the enthusiastic hope that Germany would once more appear as a united and powerful nation among the powers of the earth. This hope was grievously disappointed. No sooner was the expulsion of the French from German soil and the dethronement of Napoleon accomplished by means of the heroic efforts of the German people, than all the great promises with which the princes had stimulated the enthusiastic popular uprising, were quickly forgotten by those who had made them. No liberty was given to the people; no parliamentary institutions were put in the place of the ancient absolutism; and instead of binding together the whole of Germany in the hands of a strong central government, capable of promoting the national welfare at home and respect abroad, an institution was invented which served as a permanent conspiracy against popular liberty at home and never succeeded in giving an expression to the national will when such an expression might have exercised an influence upon the great affairs of the world. The institution I refer to was the so-called Germanic Confederation, or the German Bund. Here we reach that condition of things without a more minute knowledge of which the origin and tendency of the great events of our days cannot be well understood, and you will give me leave to go more into detail. At the time of the dissolution of the German empire the number of independent dynasties and governments had exceeded 300. During the Napoleonic wars a great many of them were abolished by the process of sequestration or mediatization, and at the time of the formation of the German Bund there less than 40 which had succeeded in maintaining their sovereignty. A reduction of that number has since taken place by the extinction of several petty dynasties and more recently by annexation. These states were of the most different size and character.
The largest and strongest of them was Austria. Austria, however, was by no means a wholly German power. On the contrary, a large majority of its population consisted of other nationalities, the Germans constituting only about 20 per cent. of the whole. Austria was then and is now a conglomerate of countries which formerly were independent, and which in the course of time had been acquired by conquest, as, for instance, the ancient kingdoms of Hungary and Bohemia, the duchies of Carviata, Moravia, and the Italian possessions, Lombardy, the ancient republic of Venetia, etc.
Hungary had preserved a remnant of an old independent administration under a constitution of its own, but the rest were despotically governed by the imperial dynasty of the Hapsburgs. Only the German provinces of Austria were counted as parts of the German Confederation, so that, in fact, Austria as a member of the Confederation, was not as strong as Prussia. But the whole empire, the non-German provinces included, was in territorial extent as well as population far superior.
Next in order in point of population, power and influence, comes the kingdom of Prussia. It sprung from the small Margravate of Brandenburg in Northern Germany, and then in the course of centuries enlarged itself by conquests, inheritance and diplomatic arrangements, until after the Napoleonic wars it gathered under its scepter a population of about 15 millions.
Next came the smaller kingdoms, Bavaria and Wurtemberg
in South German, Hanover and Saxony in the North, little
States, not much larger than well-sized counties in the new
States of the American West, but densely peopled. Then there
were a number of Grand duchies, duchies, and smaller
principalities, and finally the four free cities, Frankfort, Hamburg,
Bremen and Lubeck, with a sort of queerly fashioned Republican
governments.
All these States, some thirty-six in number, formed the so-called Germanic Confederation. It would be difficult to imagine a stronger mixture; some so large as to be counted among the great powers of Europe, others so small that, as the German poet Heine said, when you walked across them on a rainy day, the whole surface of the principality would stick to your boots. Some so large, that compared with them in point of population the Empire State of this Republic would appear like a dwarf, others so small that by their side Rhode Island would appear like a giant. And these States bound together in a political organization inside of which each of them maintained its sovereignty in a much higher degree than is the case with the States of this Union.
The Germanic Confederation was in its structure not unlike the old American Confederation previous to the acceptance of the present Constitution with the principle of civil and political liberty left out, and the sovereignty of the different States still more emphatically guarded and recognized. Its organization was as follows: The central organ of the Confederation consisted in the so-called German Diet which held its sessions at Frankfort on the Main, one of the Free Cities. That Diet was by no means an assembly representing the nation. It consisted only of the plenipotentiaries of the kings and princes who, in all they did, were strictly governed by the instructions received from their masters. It became thus a collection of the most unmitigated old fogies of all Germany. The powers of that Diet were necessarily very limited. It had no representatives near foreign governments. Each one of the different States had a foreign policy of its own, just as if in this Republic New York, Michigan, and Rhode Island, would keep their Ambassadors in London and Paris. The Diet had no control over the postal service, that being regulated by the different States or ancient monopolies. It had no control over the commercial policy of the country, the custom duties, etc. Nor had it a financial policy of its own, being supported by contributions from the different States. But it had under its direction an army which, however, existed only on paper. In times of common danger the Diet was authorized to call out the army and appoint its commander; to this army each State had to furnish its quota according to regulations agreed upon. But in times of peace these quota remained at home, as parts of the standing armies of the respective states and princes.
From all this it appears that the business of the Federal Diet was rather limited, and in fact its machinery was so imperfect that it could not have mastered any business requiring rapid and vigorous action. Only in one respect it showed considerable efficiency: and that was in the suppression of popular liberty.
Whenever the people of any State showed symptoms of a progressive disposition, demanding constitutional government, or a free press, or similar highly obnoxious luxuries, the old fogies of the German Diet promptly put their heads together to find a way in which to extinguish the dangerous spark. And thus the German Diet, which was to be the symbol of German unity, became the central machinery of espionage, persecution, oppression and despotism. It is not to be wondered that, in consequence of all this, the Confederation and Diet, which could not enforce respect abroad, and enforced only tyranny at home, became an object of hatred and contempt with the German people. No nation had ever been more cruelly worked with the pretended fulfillment of a promise.
As to the political principles upon which the German princes conducted their governments, it was absolutism and stubborn opposition to constitutional progress everywhere. Only since the French revolution of 1830 a few of the smaller governments yielded to the popular pressure and introduced constitutional forms. But a marked difference had developed itself between the intrinsic characters, tendencies and aspirations of two groups into which the German States divided themselves under two powerful leaders. Austria and Prussia being the two strongest were naturally also the leading powers in the German Confederaton. Prussia, under the brilliant reign of Frederick the Great, had risen to the rank of one of the great powers of Europe, mainly at the expense of Austria, and since then there was an undying jealousy and rivalry between the two about their influence and control over the rest of Germany. During the wars caused by the French revolution, the one was always glad to see the other whipped, until at last the whippings they severally received by Napoleon became so intolerable, that they for once united against him, But when the wars were over the old rivalry sprung up anew and led at last to the great events of the year 1866. In order to understand the character of that rivalry, we must cast a look upon the distinguishing characteristics of the two governments and peoples. The imperial dynasty of Austria, the Hapsburgs, belonged from their earliest rise to the Catholic Church, and their government has always, with the sole exception of Joseph II., a remarkably enlightened sovereign, been noted for a dogged adherence to past traditions and prejudices, and a stubborn opposition to all progressive changes. Since the commencement of the great reformatory movement of the 16th century the history of Austria consisted of a relentless and sometimes atrociously cruel warfare against all new ideas and their advocates. Wherever Austrian influences reached, by this tendency it was felt and known, at home as well as abroad. The Hapsburg dynasty has turned out some of the most stupid sovereigns any European country can boast of. With the exception of Joseph II. there was not a single man of talent among them since the times of the reformation. The race seems to have run to seed. Many of the male members of the family have for several generations been distinguished by very high and expanded foreheads. But it was water, not brains, that the imposing craniums contained. All that is left of original vigor of the family we find in some of the women, and they use it in ruling the males in the interest of the Catholic Church with which we find them always closely allied.
That a government presided over by such a dynasty, should not be remarkably brilliant in its administration is natural enough. Its armies, although consisting of excellent material, were almost uniformly beaten for want of good generals. Although there is an abundance of material resources in the country, they were never properly developed. But by one thing the Austrian government has always distinguished itself, and that is by its remarkable ingenuity in borrowing money. For generations Austria has been known to be bankrupt, and nevertheless her statesmen have always been able to find people to advance funds for promises to pay. In this respect a Yankee might take lessons of them. The whole Austrian goverment is carried on with due bills which have this advantage over our paper currency, that nobody dreams of seeing them placed on a specie basis. And so the thing runs on because the good people are not used to anything better. And they are really good people. The Germans of Austria are a jovial, good-natured, easy going race, cordial, pleasant and openhearted in their social intercourse, fond of a good laugh, exceedingly fond of good eating and drinking, heartily given to the pursuit of Pleasure and enjoyment. Vienna, the capital of Austria, used to be one of the jolliest cities of Europe. Nowhere was the stranger so cordially received, nowhere did he feel himself so soon at home. In the good old times of patriarchal despotism even the imperial family lived on quite intimate terms with the people. They talked the popular dialect — in fact, many of the imperial majesties and highnesses knew no other — and the Emperor used to be quite accessible to his subjects, provided they consented to be as stupid as he. The Austrians are in general such good, pleasant, genial, amiable fellows, and make themselves so popular with those with whom they associate, that it has frequently been known that when an Austrian regiment was only for a week or two quartered in a city and then marched off, ninety nine per cent of the cooks and servant girls ran crying and lamenting after them and refused to be consoled.
But although those people were by no means without native talent, they had dropped somewhat naturally into those habits which the Government and the Church fostered in their own interest: the habit of not thinking more than is absolutely necessary, and of rather disliking the trouble and inconvenience of quick and bold innovation. Thus social as well as political life in Austria lacked that progressive impulse and earnestness which is necessary for the accomplishment of great things. The social body, in business as well as politics, moved rather slowly. This inclination to go slowly forward was studiously cultivated by the Government as well as the clergy. Public education was sadly neglected throughout the Austrian empire, the common schools being under the almost sovereign control of the Catholic priests, and they administered about as much instruction as their religion could stand — so that even at this day there is more of the darkness of ignorance, superstition and religious fanaticism among the people of Austria than of any other country in Western or Central Europe. Some of the tribes subject to Austrian rule — not of German nationality however — are still in a semi-barbarous condition, while even the upper classes cannot rival those of the other German States in point of education and progressive spirit. Such were during the period following the close of the Napoleonic wars, and such are, in spite of the general progress which has taken place even now, the leading traits of Austria, her government and her people. It is Catholicism and its characteristic influence upon the progress of civilization.
No more striking contrast could be imagined than that which, in all these respects, existed between Austria and Prussia. The rulers of Prussia had espoused Protestantism in the first half of the sixteenth century, and in the course of time Prussia became the leading Protestant power in Germany. As Protestantism in the first stages of its development was a revolutionary movement against existing abuses and that stagnant conservatism which was embodied in the Church of Rome, it naturally attracted, and engaged in its cause, the boldest and most active minds of the age, and every government which adopted it became, to a certain extent, liberal and progressive. Such governments provided with all their power for the promotion of home industry, good morals and general instruction among the people, and it is a significant fact that the period of greatest prosperity in some European countries dates most perceptibly from their early connection with the Protestant movement.
It is true, Prussia immediately after the close of the Napoleonic wars, was by no means a free country. The dynasty on the throne, the Hohenzollern, were not at all inclined to give up the despotic pretensions based on the doctrine of the divine right of Kings. Nor were the Prussian Kings all enlightened and remarkably wise men. On the contrary, there were some of them so stupid and bigotted as to get up a sort of competition with their Austrian neighbors, if such a thing were at all possible. But Prussian absolutism had always some redeeming feature, some element of enlightenment in its composition, It was, in the first place, in no way bound to the stagnant conservatism of the Romish Church. Religious toleration was as strictly observed there as in any Protestant country in Europe. The Government continued to foster trade and industry by judicious regulations; it introduced a well-ordered and economical system of civil administration; it kept its finances in most admirable order, and, above all, it established a system of public instruction more complete and efficient than any other country can boast of except perhaps a few cantons in Switzerland, and some States in this Union. Instruction in the elementary branches of learning was made compulsory. The parent who keeps his children out of school is punished by the Government, and thus is not only the acquisition of elementary knowledge placed within the reach of everybody, but, as it were, the Government police does not permit people to remain entirely ignorant. The natural consequence is that it is as difficult to find a person unable to read and write there as it is in Massachusetts, if not more so. The teachers in the 25,000 schools there are all educated in seminaries instituted for the purpose, and even private teachers must submit to a thorough examination before they are permitted to open schools. The number of higher institutions of learning is immense; the Prussian universities are the best in the world, and they are all more or less under the control of the State. Thus, although the Government remained for a long time despotic, the elements of progress were deeply planted and largely developed in the Prussian people, and, as we frequently hear the defenders of aristocracy say that blood will tell, we, as friends of popular liberty, are warranted in saying with equal confidence, that in the long run popular education will tell.
But the difference between the governments of Austria and Prussia is hardly more strongly marked than the difference between the respective characters of the two peoples. The Prussian, with the exception of the inhabitants of the Rhenish provinces, has not that easygoing air and amiable sociability about him which distinguish the Austrian. Like all Northern races, he is more serious in his thoughts as well as his language; he talks less, he laughs less, and is more addicted to pursuits not immediately connected with material enjoyment. The Prussians are by no means very pleasant people in every respect. It seems as if the military institutions of the country had affected the popular character. In Prussia everybody, high or low, is liable to military service, and you will find but very few ablebodied men there who have not been in the army. The strict discipline under which they are held there, seems to have an effect upon their whole lives. There is a certain straightness and stiffness about them which reminds one strongly of the “shoulder arms.” As the German poet Heine satirically expressed it, they seem to have swallowed the stick with which they once were flogged. In all the relations of life you find certain habits of authority on one and discipline and subordination on the other side. At the Prussian court there never was that kind of cordial condescension which I described as prevailing at the Court of Vienna. The King is “His Majesty” all over, and the necessary distance between him and his subjects is strictly preserved. And what the King is in his sphere, every Prussian officers civil as well as military, is in his. There in a certain air of moustachy grandeur about them, highly imposing to all subordinates. The Prussian is proud of his country, thinks a good deal of himself and affects a certain pretentious and even snappish air of superiority which makes him by no means popular with the rest of the German people. But withal he has a good many sterling qualities. He given himself to the tasks he undertakes with that steady perseverance which in the long run is sure to achieve success. He possesses in an eminent degree that vigorous sturdiness of character which in bent upon performing all that appears in the light of duty, as we find it in so many Northern and Protestant countries. In Prussia there exists therefore much of that sober go-ahead spirit which stimulates education as well as industry, leads to improvement, and makes a country thrifty, prosperous and strong. Such is the Prussian government, and such the Prussian people.
Here, then, we have the two most powerful members of the German Confederation as different in their governmental tendencies as in the characteristic qualities of their peoples; one, Prussia, predominating in the Northern, and the other, Austria, predominating in the Southern part of Germany, a North and a South, in their relations not altogether unlike the North and the South in this country. To be sure, there was no slavery question to divide them, but there were and are divergencies hardly less marked: two different civilizations, one drawing its inspirations from Protestantism which at an early day had taken strong root and developed itself in the Northern race the leading features of whose character were admirably adapted to the reception of its influences, and the other drawing its inspirations from Catholicism which had maintained itself among the more congenial habits and modes of thinking of a population living under a more Southern sun, and therefore more addicted to the gratification of the senses, and these differences embodied in their respective systems of government as well as the characters of the peoples. The Prussians are in more than one sense the Yankees of Germany, and the Austrians in more than one sense the Southerners.
It was natural that the smaller States should group themselves according to the respective characters of their governments around these two. The Protestant governments, of course, gravitated towards Prussia and the Catholic ones towards Austria; a rule which was disturbed only here and there by local influences and traditions. This contest for superiority and leadership, which was to some extent latent only as long as the state of things established by the treaties of 1815 remained undisturbed, became at once apparent as soon as reconstitution of Germany on a plan different from the old Confederation was thought of.
In 1848, after the French people had driven away their King Louis Philippe and planted the Republic upon the ruins of the throne, a storm of revolution swept all over Germany. Everywhere the Governments succumbed, and everywhere the people remained masters of the situation. But the people spared the princes on their thrones. But amidst the confusion of ideas which followed that sudden outburst, one great idea ruled every heart that sympathized with the popular movement: it was that Germany must thenceforth be a unity and appear as one strong national power among the nations of the earth. One of the first results of the revolutionary movement was the convocation of a German Parliament to represent the people of all the German States and to frame a constitution embracing the whole.
The Parliament went to work. But, unused to political action, the representatives of the people spent their time in lengthy debates. Months elapsed before they had agreed upon a bill of rights, and it took them nearly a year to finish the constitution. While the constitution was being discussed, the claims of the two great rival powers, Austria and Prussia, came to a straight issue. The United Germany, as the Parliament designed it, had to have a head, and as the princes had remained on their thrones and the component parts of the empire were monarchies, the head was to be a monarchical one also. Who was it to be? He had to be selected from among the princes of Germany, and that prince, as Emperor of Germany, was to rule over his former fellow sovereigns. The question was not who among them was individually the best fitted — for the best fitted might at the same time have been one of the smallest, and for him it would have been difficult to enforce his authority over the larger ones. The choice was thus narrowed down to two, the Emperor of Austria, and the King of Prussia. Here again the two dynasties were brought face to face before the tribunal of the people, and the Parliament feeling that Prussia was the more progressive power of the two, chose the King of Prussia Emperor of Germany. This was in the Spring of 1849.
But while the German Parliament was eloquently discussing the constitution of Germany a great change had taken place in the general condition of things. The revolutionary ardor of the people had subsided. The industrial classes were tired of that suspense and sighed for order and repose. Strong reactionary movements had taken place in all the states. The princes had recovered from the stupor into which the revolutionary movement had thrown them and regained their former power. Here and there they had overcome revolutionary outbreaks in bloody encounters and ruled by the sword, and when the German Parliament after a long incubation had at last finished the Constitution, Germany was no longer in the hands of the people. The Parliament sent a deputation to Berlin to offer the imperial crown to the King of Prussia, and the King of Prussia bluntly and flatly refused to take it.
This was a singular occurrence. It would seem that to refuse an imperial crown when offered by a great people, a man must have very strong reasons. But the reasons of Frederick William IV., the then King of Prussia, were only those of a weak man. Frederick William IV. was not without talent, but without character and lofty ambition. A pleasant companion, he loved a good joke, but he loved a good bottle of champagne still more. The revolutionary explosion of '48 had given his nerves as well as his brain a very severe shock, and a few years afterwards he sank into complete lunacy which became first known to the world when at a public dinner he suddenly began to wash his face in a plate of vermicelli soup. Devoid of all moral force, he always was carried along by the current which was strongest. In March '48, when the people were masters of the situation, he decorated himself with the national colors and promised to put himself at the head of the movement for national unity. Prussia, as he expressed it, was to be absorbed in Germany. Had the imperial crown been offered to him then, he would willingly have taken it. But no sooner had the reactionary tide set in, when the traditional idea that the right divine rests with kings and not with the people was again uppermost in his mind. It appeared offensive to him that the imperial crown was offered to him by the people and not by the princes, and that it was accomplished with a national constitution which put the government under parliamentary control. He might have consented to be Emperor of Germany by the grace of God and of the princes, but not by the grace of the people. Besides, not being a man of great courage, he doubted, and not without reason, whether Austria and her particular friends among the German States, would have willingly submitted to his imperial authority, and he preferred to remain simple King of Prussia and to drink his champagne in quiet. So he flatly refused, and there was the end of the German empire as devised by the revolutionary Parliament of '48. The Parliament was dispersed, all popular, uprisings in its favor were put down by the Prussian army, and the old Confederation with its Diet and other appurtenances restored, just as it had been before the revolution of '48. Such was the lamentable end of the great popular movement in favor of German unity; a great opportunity lost by the people, who wanted liberty and national unity, and an equally great opportunity lost by the King of Prussia, if, true to the traditions of his house, he wanted the leadership among the German States — for the restoration of the old order of things was virtually a victory of the Austrian interests. Austria retained the chairmanship of the German Confederation and controlled by her influence a majority of the German States, and partly by the natural advantage of her position and partly by the vigor and energy of Prince Schwargenberg, who for a short period was at the head of the Austrian ministry, she achieved a few diplomatic victories over Prussia which threatened the very existence of Prussian influence in Germany. But this did not last long. Schwargenberg died and the government of Austria relapsed into weaker hands. Changes of still greater importance took place in Prussia. King Frederick William IV. became totally insane, and the Government was turned over to his brother William as regent of the Kingdom, and on the decease of the King who died without children, the regent was proclaimed King of Prussia as William I. Not long after his accession to the throne he called to the head of the Ministry Count Bismarck, whose fame is now filling the world.
Now we have reached the principal actors in the startling drama of our days. King William I. is by no means a man of great parts. Not only the circumstance that every Prussian prince must be a soldier, but his natural liking drew him to the military profession. From his early days he was passionately fond of soldiering, and of soldiering, too, in the American sense, as it was understood before our civil war. In this country he would have been one of the most gorgeous militia captains. In Prussia he became the first martinet of the army. Nobody was more strict and punctilious with regard to the small details of the service. Nobody know better how many buttons there must be on a soldier's coat, and in how many motions a salute must be executed. The deep interest he took in such small matters was so universally known that the popular wit bestowed upon him the nickname “Corporal Lehman.” He is now an old man, but he bears his years well; tall and strong, he still stands there as a perfect model of the ramrod straightness and moustachy grandeur of the Prussian officer. Nor is he a man of large ideas in any respect. Many go so far as to suspect him, and perhaps justly so, of being rather stupid. When the revolution of '48 broke out, he was, on account of his illiberal views and imperious manners, the most unpopular prince of the royal house, and had to fly out of the country to save himself from popular vengeance. The bloody manner in which he subsequently suppressed the insurrection in Southern Germany seemed to justify another name which was given him: the grapeshot prince. As King of Prussia, the principal object of his policy was to preserve and, if possible, to enlarge, his royal prerogatives. Beyond this narrow circle his mental operations did not seem to go. It is very doubtful whether he would ever have ventured upon the great enterprises in which he occupies so prominent a place, had not Bismarck led him on without his knowing where he was drifting. So he may be capable of doing great things, or of permitting great things to be done, by ignorance and mistake. Such is William I. He is a fair illustration of the truth, that the potentates of the world are sometimes made of rather indifferent material. A good many of them would be nothing, were they not Kings. And he is one of these. If, therefore, in the events of his reign we detect any ideas, we may be sure that he was not the man who furnished them. He was indeed the head of the State, but the brains in that head belonged to somebody else. That somebody else was Bismarck.
Bismarck is a man of a powerful physique tall and broad-chested, of strong and large features, a quick piercing eye; an ironical smile perpetually on his lips, all his movements, his impetuous walk, his long strides betraying force and energy. His character can be read from his acts: quick perceptions; a logical mind, operating upon rules entirely his own; an indomitable will, impatient of resistance and haughtily defying opposition; an unbending energy, and a courage intrepid and daring even to recklessness. In his career we find the most singular contradictions. Bismarck rose first into notoriety in the legislative chambers of Prussia about the time of the revolution of '48. He was by no means a man of liberal views. Belonging to an old noble family, he had been brought up in the narrow prejudices of his order, and when he appeared in public life he defended the privileges of the nobility with a vigor and audacity not free from the most offensive insolence. By the constitution of his mind naturally inclined to go to the utmost consequences wherever he may be placed, he became the most prominent champion of the feudal party, and if he had had his way at that period of his life, he would have imposed upon the nineteenth century the absurd organization of society of the middle ages. Consistently he was an ardent admirer of Austria. In Austria and her system of goverment he saw the great representative of those conservative or rather reactionary ideas of which he was so passionate an advocate, and to consolidate and fortify Austrian influence wherever it could extend, was therefore one of the greatest wishes of his heart. Such was at that period the man who subsequently astonished the world by an almost revolutionary audacity and felled Austria to the ground. No man was more heartily detested by the Liberals of Germany than he.
But Bismarck, although full of strong prejudices, and impatient of opposing argument, was not one of those who obstinately close their eyes against the truth and refuse to see what does not exactly accord with their preconceived opinions. In his independent mind the prejudices of yesterday do not shut out the light of to-day. An anecdote will best illustrate how minds so constituted are apt to proceed to new conclusions. After having in the Prussian chambers vigorously battled for feudal institutions, Bismarck was sent to Frankfort the Plenipotentiary of Prussia in the German Diet. It happened see day that an engraving dropped from the wall of his room, breaking the glass and the frame and leaving an ugly hole in the wall where the nail had been. Bismarck wanted to have it repaired at once and sent for a workman to do the job. But he became suddenly aware that in the city of Frankfort some of those mediaeval institutional existed which he had been so passionately contending for, namely: the trade guilds by the regulations of which a workman belonging to one trade is strictly forbidden to perform work properly belonging to another. Thus Bismarck found that he could get a joiner to repair his picture frame, but not to put the glass in, for that belonged to glazier. He could get a glazier to furnish him a new glass, but not to repair the frame, for that belonged to the joiner. And neither of them could have lawfully filled the hole in the plastering of the wall, for that belonged to the mason or the plasterer. Nor could the plasterer put some paint over the hole so filled, for that part of the business belonged to the house painter, — so that a little job which one man might easily have performed in half an hour at a trifling cost, required the pompous cooperation of four distinct trades and caused an endless deal of time and trouble. When Bismarck had his engraving at last ready for hanging up, he exclaimed: “Hurrah for the freedom of the trades!” and one of the mediaeval institutions he had been so fond of dropped out of his mind. And a great many similar things have dropped out of his mind since.
It was by no means on account of the great statesmanlike qualities which he has since displayed that Bismarck was made Prime Minister by King William. The king chose him as a staunch and uncompromising advocate of conservative principles, and expected to find in him a bold and unflinching champion of the royal prerogative against the democratic aspirations of the people, — and in fact, Bismarck was just the man to bully and browbeat a parliamentary body and to go ahead with a political measure in spite of constitutional prohibition and in defiance of a popular outcry. He seems to be absolutely inaccessible to fear. No obstacles can stagger him in his purpose, and no array of opposition can frighten him. When the liberal majorities of the Chambers rose against him as one man and even his conservative friends counselled moderation, he replied with cold, haughty, disdainful sneers, and hurled provocations at his opponents so insolent and offensive as to call forth cries of rage and indignation. He seems to see nothing but the object he wants to accomplish, and seeing it clearly he rushes forward like a locomotive with breakneck power and speed, overturning all that stands in his way. It was in this manner that he not only enforced his will in the home concerns of Prussia, but made himself the master of European diplomacy. Europe soon perceived the completely reckless determination with which he pursued his ends, and even the most pretentious European powers, when they, in dealing with Bismarck, always saw the alternative of peace or war promptly and bluntly placed before them, and found that savage Prussian so terribly in earnest, gradually accustomed themselves to the idea that it was of no use trying to stop him, and the impression gained ground that what Bismarck wanted was already half done, simply because he willed it.
In his home policy Bismarck justified the expectations of the king as a defender of the royal prerogative, and the champion of absolutism succeeded in making himself as distasteful and odious as formerly had been the champion of the feudal party.
But in some respects Bismarck's views underwent a most important change. Before he became Prime Minister he had been in the diplomatic service of Prussia. It was then, of course, his highest duty to take care of the interests of Prussia against all others, to fortify Prussian power and to enlarge Prussian influence. And here he found Austrian power and Austrian influence continually in his way. This led him to study the nature of the Austrian system of government and diplomacy independently of his former predilections, and he soon discovered its pernicious tendency. From that time he was fully resolved to make Prussia the controlling power in Germany, and the conclusion lay near that Austria must get out of the way; — and as it was the nature of his disposition to break down all obstacles in his path at whatever cost, he became soon as firmly and fiercely bent upon the destruction of Austria, as he had formerly been her ardent admirer. Then that contest for superiority and leadership between the two great rivals in Germany came at last to a burning issue. And another thing happened of striking significance. King William had selected Bismarck as an instrument of despotism; but by one of those strange turns which we frequently observe in the development of great events, the king himself became in his minister's hands an instrument of progress.
Bismarck was well aware that, to accomplish the end he had proposed to himself, a war might become necessary. From this contingency he did not shrink, nay, he rather desired it as the shortest way to the objective point. From that time his whole foreign policy was directed towards bringing about a war with Austria, and his whole home policy was governed by the determination to prepare Prussia for that war. Adroitly taking advantage of the king's favorite ideas, he devoted his whole energies to the task of reorganizing and enlarging the Prussian army and raising it to the degree of efficiency. To that end the government needed money, and the constitution of the kingdom provided that no money could be devoted that such objects, unless regular appropriations were made by the chambers, and the chambers, justly jealous of the increase of the military forces under the command of the king, and ignorant of Bismarck's ulterior intentions, refused to vote the money. But that did not stop Bismarck a moment. He dissolved the chambers again and again, and when the elections continually went against him, he at last raised the funds in direct violation of the constitution. The exasperation against him among the people was extreme, but that did not disturb him in the least.
Having carried this point by the mere force of a despotic will, he then went to work to bring about that war with Austria. To explain in detail the manner in which he did that would oblige me to go into the history of the Schleswig Holstein difficulty, of which Lord Palmerston used to say that he would just as well undertake to understand that as to solve the problem of the square of the circle. And I would have to follow those intricate mazes of the diplomatic game through which Bismarck led Austria from snare into snare. Suffice it to say that in the transactions which grow out of the Schleswig Holstein matter he continually found fault with all Austria proposed or did, accused her of bad faith, represented himself as insulted and resented the pretended insult in the most violent language, until at last, always representing his own intentions as perfectly pacific, he declared that Austria, who in fact did not want to fight at all, had assumed so hostile and positively menacing an attitude as to force Prussia to draw the sword in her own defense. It was the most impudent diplomatic game ever played in modern history, and no candid man can study it without reaching the inevitable conclusion that Bismarck wanted war from the beginning and that he is one of those men who, when they really want a quarrel, are very sure to have it. Keep in mind, the real cause of the war was the rivalry and the contest for superiority which had been going on between Austria and Prussia for many generations. Bismarck was fishing merely for an opportunity to bring that contest to a focus, and it was in the way I have described that he at last succeeded in reaching his object.
No sooner was war declared when it at once became evident that Prussia was wonderfully well prepared. For years the reorganization of the army had quietly proceeded, and it had become the completest and most perfect machinery of war the world ever saw. But Bismarck did not stop there. With admirable foresight he had comprehended almost all Europe in his scheme. Alliances had been provided for. While making sure of the support of most of the states of Northern Germany, an understanding had been arrived at with the government of Italy, in pursuance of which the latter should strike a blow at Austria in the South, while Prussia attacked her in Bohemia, aiming at the heart of her power. Even the shrewd Louis Napoleon, the Emperor of the French, had been propitiated by opening to him some vague indistinct prospect of territorial aggrandizement, and for once the wily Frenchman encountered one deeper than he. But this accomplished, Bismarck was still far from having overcome all difficulties. Then his war was on the point of breaking out, it once more threatened to slip from his grasp. Almost the whole German people, not seeing the drift of things, and detesting Bismarck, were violently opposed to the war. The King of Prussia was almost overwhelmed with petitions from all parts of the kingdom, beseeching him not to disturb the peace of Germany, and when at last the army was mobilized and thousand of husbands and fathers were torn away from their families, Prussia seemed for a moment to be on the very brink of a revolutionary outbreak. Bismarck, who was looked upon as the wanton originator of the mischief, was the object of general execration, and his life was attempted on the streets of Berlin by an enthusiastic youth who sacrificed himself, as he said, for the peace of his fatherland. But amidst all these difficulties the will of the minister remained firm as a rock. The old king was more than once on the point of giving way before the pressure of public opinion. Bismarck held him up with a hand of iron. The wave of popular discontent surged against him with terrible fury, and he looked down upon it with that characteristic haughty smile which seemed to say: “I alone know what I am about.” So he dared all to win all. His policy could have but one justification, and that was success. He was lost if he failed. He knew it, but he commanded fate, an he commanded the minds of men.
When war was declared, Prussia took those of the German states which were most immediately under her influence along with here But all the South German States, together with the Kingdom of Saxony and Hanover, sided with Austria. Thus all Germany was divided into two hostile camps, here Prussia with her allies, there Austria with hers.
The history of the short war which ensued, is still so fresh in your memories that I need not go into detail. While flinging a small army against the South German allies of Austria, Prussia threw the bulk of her forces against Austria herself. The rapidity of the movements of the Prussians completely bewildered their adversaries. At the commencement of the campaign the Austrian officers attempted some small jokes about the apelike agility of the Prussians, but before long they began to feel what it meant. Their General-in-Chief, Field Marshal Benedek, who in the Italian campaigns had won the reputation of an excellent corps commander, stood still in the heart of Bohemia trying to find out by detached bodies from what side the main force the Prussians were coming, when he suddenly saw all his detachments thrown back by vigorous blows, and the whole Prussian army fell upon him like a thunderbolt. Every day had been a day of victory for the Prussians, until at last that magnificent campaign, which may challenge comparison with Napoleon's most brilliant achievements, was crowned with the battle of Sadowa, in which the greatest army Austria had ever assembled on one field, was beaten even to annihilation. The Prussians followed the fleeing enemy in rapid marches until an armistice was concluded within sight of Vienna, the capital of the Austrian empire.
In the meantime another Prussian army had disposed of the allies of Austria in the heart of Germany. In a few weeks the whole business was finished, and Prussia stood alone in the field, the conqueror of all, the conqueror of Austria and her allies by arms, the conqueror of European diplomacy by shrewdness and rapidity of action. Since Napoleon's campaign at Austerlitz, the world had seen nothing equal to this success.
How were all these wonderful results accomplished? The world cried out, “See what the needle-gun has done!” Ah, it was not the needle-gun alone. No doubt, the needle-gun, which, by the way, is by no means superior to most of the breechloading arms we have in this country, gave the Prussian infantry a certain advantage in some of the fights. But the needle-gun had not prepared that campaign with so consummate a skill, that even on Austrian territory the Prussians felt far better at home than the Austrians themselves. The needle-gun had not made those brilliant strategical combinations. The needle-gun had not executed those rapid marches. The needle-gun had not made those brilliant manoeuvres on the field of battle. Nobody can study that campaign impartially without arriving at the conclusion that, had the Prussians been no better armed than the Austrians, the final result would have been just the same. No, it was the superior talent and energy of the leaders, it was the superior organization and discipline of the army, it was the superior intelligence of the soldiers that did the work. It was popular education that told on the field of battle. But above all, it was not the needle-gun that had made those shrewd moves on the diplomatic chessboard, leading Austria from snare to snare, bullying England, and outwitting Louis Napoleon. It was not the needle-gun which had for years, against the opposition of all Europe, against the violent attacks of the popular party, and even against the vacillating timidity of the King, tenaciously maintained those bold conceits which now were crowned with so wonderful a victory. It was the victory of mind, completed by a most vigorous handling of matter.
The rivalry between Austria and Prussia had now come to an end. Prussia was now the undisputed master of the situation in Germany. Bismarck had not only conquered Austria, he had also conquered public opinion. The curses which had pursued him were suddenly turned into admiration. He was the dictator of Germany. What did he do with his success? Bismarck laid down his first programme of policy in the treaty of peace concluded with Austria and her allies. In the first place, Austrian influence in Germany was to be annihilated. Austria was therefore altogether driven out of Germany; in other words, neither the whole nor any part of the Austrian empire should belong to the new political organization to be given to the German states. Secondly, Prussia was to be made all powerful in Germany, and to this end two things were done: first the Duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, the Kingdom of Hanover, the Electorate of Hesse, the City of Frankfort and several other smaller districts, were annexed to and incorporated with the Prussian Kingdom, — and then Germany was to be divided into two separate and distinct confederations: the North German confederation, consisting of the German states north of the river Main, with a population of about 29 millions; and the South German confederation, consisting of a few small German states south of the river main, with a population of about 9 or 10 millions. The North German confederation to stand under the immediate leadership of Prussia, especially an regards military matters and foreign affairs, in fact, being Prussia with a few dependencies — and the South German confederation to constitute itself as it pleases, provided that Austria should not form any part of it. The two confederations were then to maintain such treaty relations among themselves as they should be able to agree upon. And while laying down their plan as a basis of a federal organization, Bismarck protested that he was working for the great national cause of German unity.
It may be said that this is a singular process of unification which commences by cutting Germany into two parts. Why did he not take all Germany at once under Prussian leadership, since he could have done it? This is a very pertinent question. I will give you my theory upon which this singular measure can be explained.
Bismarck, who devised this plan, was never a man of the people. The political sympathies, the political ideals, the wishes of the popular heart do not inspire him. His political conceptions are his own. If they in the main direction or in any particular coincide with the demands of public opinion, it is not because public opinion had been his guide. Bismarck is probably the most independent and autocratic mind of the times. As an individual he stands absolutely on his own feet, and nothing but his own reason influences his will. The old somewhat romantic idea of German unity, which is so potent in the hearts of the people, has, therefore, as such but little charm for him. What he wants is to build up Prussia as the great controlling power of the German continent. To that and Prussia must before all things become larger and more powerful as such. This was accomplished by annexations. Then Prussia must become not only the nucleus but the absolute master of a powerful confederation, the members of which must be assimilated with Prussia as much as possible. And he confined for the present the confederation to the North German states, because this process of assimilation is attended with less difficulty in a smaller than in a larger circle. It is exactly like the process of digestion. Swallowing too much at a time might be attended with dyspeptic difficulties. Had Bismarck taken in the whole of Germany, the smaller states of the confederation combined might have outvoted Prussia. In the North German confederation there is no danger of this. But after having sufficiently Prussianized the North German states, the vast Prussian stomach will in the course of time become ready for the reception and digestion of South Germany. This, undoubtedly, is the plan.
That this is not the United Germany the German patriots have so long been dreaming of, will be readily confessed. Neither can it be denied that it is a way to something like the same end. Every situation has its logic. When in 1848 the German people were masters of their own destinies, the logic of the situation demanded that they should drive away all their princes and constitute Germany upon a republican basis like the United States, or make an empire of it and keep but one prince and to place the head of the whole. This would have been the logical process of uniting Germany by the action of the people. The opportunity slipped away and never came back. Then it remained possible only to unite Germany by the action of one of the princes. The logic of this proceeding demands that that prince should become so powerful as to keep the rest of them without difficulty in a state of obedient submission. The execution of the popular plan would have been unified Germany swallowing up all the particular states. The execution of the other plan means the most powerful of the states swallowing up all Germany. The people failed in carrying out the former, and Bismarck has now undertaken to carry out the latter. The question is, will it not ultimately lead to the same result?
There is one very striking development we witness already. The governments of the South German states, the Kingdoms of Bavaria and Wurtemberg, and the Grand Duchy of Baden, the same states which during the Austrian war fought against Prussia, and which, according to Bismarck's plan, are to form the separate South German confederation, are now manifesting in every possible way their desire to join the organization of states under Prussian leadership. Being shut out from that powerful body which is so sure to play a controlling part in the diplomatic councils of Europe, and seeing clearly that with their small population and limited resources they would never rise to a high degree of influence, or even respectability, they feel themselves in the literal sense of the word standing out in the cold. They are shivering all over at the sight of their future prospects, and so they are irresistibly gravitating towards an organic union with the rest of the German nation.
True, there has been a strong opposition to Prussian leadership among the South German people, and, strange as it may appear, that opposition proceeds mainly from the Liberals, who formerly were the most ardent declaimers about German unity. The Germans are very peculiar people. They deal familiarly with the most complex ideas, but they find it difficult to deal with facts. They feel perfectly at home in the domain of thought, but they move with a certain awkwardness in the domain of action. It has been wittily said of a German savant, that he knows how to define the nature of a chair in twenty dead and living languages, but does not know how to sit upon one without embarrassment. Centuries of despotism and repression have accustomed them to live a mental life closely confined within themselves. This has given them that intensity of thought, that acuteness of speculation, that force of conviction, which have led to such astonishing results on the field of philosophy and science. Thus they have become the great nation of thinkers. In the busy workshops of their minds they elaborate an idea in every detail, and follow it up to its boldest consequences. But you place them face to face with a practical realization of the some idea, which is not quite complete or not just as they have thought it out, and in nine cases out of ten they will refuse to recognize it at all. They are to become the victims of intellectual conscientiousness. They will sometimes let slip great practical results because they are not just as they think they ought to be. Here is, for instance, the unification of Germany, the great political ideal of the German patriot. The individual German has thought out in his mind how German unity should be brought about and how it should be. It is brought about in a different way, or it is only approximately what he thinks it should be, and he will be strongly inclined to absolutely reject the approximation, tenaciously clinging to his own preconceived opinion in all its details. Nothing is, therefore, more difficult than to unite many Germans on a common plan of action for a common object. It is an exaggeration, no doubt, but there is some truth in the saying that if two Germans were shipwrecked on a lonesome island, they would hold three different opinions as to the method of governing the doubleheaded community.
This uncompromising obstinacy in individual opinion is their strength in philosophical thought and scientific inquiry, but it is their weakness in political action which requires the harmonious cooperation of many.
This is largely the result of a lack of political training, and in this respect no greater contrast can be imagined than that between the German and the American. While the German thinks out his mental conceptions to the utmost consequences and tenaciously maintains his logical consistency, the American is apt to jump at the first practical feature of an idea without regard to its logical bearings. While the German has too much of the conscience of logic, the American has too little. While the German is too slow in accommodating himself to fact, the American is too ready to worship fact as such and to forget its logical connections. While the German is apt to lose great practical results by clinging too closely and obstinately to a theoretic conception in all its details, the American is liable to endanger and spoil great practical results by too great a fondness for compromise and palliative measures which decide questions only by halves. It would appear that a good mixture of these natural peculiarities would be a great blessing for both.
But in that school of disappointment and adversity which followed the revolutionary failure of 1848 the Germans have learned something. It has become clear to them that facts and circumstances cannot be disregarded with impunity. The alternative of a united Germany under Prussian leadership, or no united Germany at all, is so clear that no sensible man can close his eyes against it, and it would not be surprising to see the South German states determinedly push their way into the confederation as political members, even if the Prussian government for the time being, on account of the unfinished process of digestion, should not yet be inclined to receive them. That not only the military but also the political union of all Germany, at a period not far distant, is certain — although it may be unsafe to predict what Bismarck may intend to do for the present.
What Bismarck may now intend to do — is not this a very significant question? Is it not a terrible thing that, when the highest interests of a great nation are at stake, the first inquiry should always be: What does this single individual think? How does he mean to dispose of the destiny of forty millions of people? Has he lost enough of his old prejudices to become a friend of popular liberty? What would happen if he should die? Where would be the man to take up his great plans and to carry them through with his gigantic power of will? Such questions point out the great difference between the political life of Europe and that of this American Republic. There we see nations burdened down with the institutions, traditions and customs inherited from past centuries, without the education derived from active self-government; their ideas confused so that they can but with the utmost difficulty unite upon a common plan of action; their will emasculated so that they have hardly any confidence in their own faculty to act — and thus the well being of millions in turned over to the wisdom, the honesty, the will of him who is the great man of the country. What if he errs? What if he is guided by prejudice or passion? What if his will be as selfishly despotic as strong? The people will suffer the penalty of his failings. But here — what a contrast! Look at the history of the war with its dark days of danger and disaster. We had our good, strong, leaders, and yet there was not a moment of that terrible crisis, when not any one of those leaders might have died and become faithless — and yet the people would have marched forward on the path of patriotism and greatness, undisturbed by their loss, true to their eternal purpose and as strong as before. In fact, the greatest character of these days of danger and trial, Abraham Lincoln, was nothing but the embodiment of the popular thought and the popular will. Had we had the despotic genius of a Bismarck in Lincoln's place, victory might have been achieved much sooner, but what would have become of the Republic? We had the popular genius of Lincoln, and both were safe. Happy the country where there is but one great man: the people. Happy the people, who do not need the dangerous luxury of overgrown individual greatness.
It would be unjust to deny, however, that the great will of one man has accomplished much for which the people of Germany have reason to be thankful. The results already achieved are immense. The Protestant civilization of North Germany has achieved a decisive victory, and its most valuable characteristics will impress themselves upon all countries of German tongue, just as in this country the civilization of the free North is making its march of conquest through the states of the South. And the banner of that Protestant civilization will be borne in Germany by a power as great as any that has ruled over Europe in modern times. Already the North German confederation organizing under Prussian leadership, with its 30 millions of people, its vast resources, and its grandly developed military power, is strong enough to defy France in the West and Russia in the East. But add to it the states of South Germany and it will be the great empire of the old world. Strongly knit together in the very heart of the European continent, its tremendous military power in such a compact central geographical position, Germany will become the great moderator of Europe. As Frederick the Great once said: “If I were King of France, no cannon should be fired in Europe without my permission.” — so his successors on the imperial throne of Germany will once be able to say: “No cannon shall be fired in Europe without the consent of the German Emperor.”
Nor is this all. An empire so originated and composed of such elements cannot remain a despotism.