BISMARCK'S BIRTHDAY;
Or, a Tardy Tribute.
["In the presence of this band I now come to hand my gift to your Serene Highness. I could find no better present than a sword, the noblest weapon of the Germans, a symbol of that weapon which your Highness, with my blessed grandfather, helped to forge, to sharpen, and also to wield—a symbol of that great building-time during which the mortar was blood and iron, a remedy which never fails."—The German Emperor, in presenting a Sword of Honour to Prince Bismarck, in celebration of his eightieth birthday.]
["The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it."—Doctor Johnson to the Earl of Chesterfield.]
Not the Dropped Pilot now![*] The circling years
Bring their revenges, and to-day he stands,
Age-bowed but firm, amidst the ringing cheers
Of the young Monarch's mailed Germanic bands;
And with proud patience takes, from lesser hands,
The proffered Symbol-sword!
Grim face, with years and labours scarred and scored,
What marvel should those lines relax awhile
To a Saturnian smile?
Splendid old Sword-smith, Wieland of our day,
Bestwielder of the matchless steel you made,
This "Sword of Honour" is but baby play
Compared with that tremendous Balsung-blade
Forged by the mightiest master of his trade
Since the great Norseman wrought,
For the fierce battle-field where Titans fought.
What may the shouting young Amilias know
Of its great swashing blow?
He prates of Brandenburg, Iron and Blood,
In swelling royal rhetoric, but you hear
The clash of squadrons in war's sternest mood
In that "great building-time"; and the boy-cheer
Of him who, eager the State-bark to steer,
Snatched from your hands the helm,
Impetuous Palinurus of the realm,—
That cheer seems bitter and belated now,
Hollow, all sound and show!
You forged the blade he flourishes with pride,
That new Excalibur, "Unity"; you gave
That mighty weapon to Germania's side,
You and the iron comrades, silent, brave,
Who fought beneath the flag he loves to wave.
The man of scanty speech,
Who smote and shouted not, in war's dread breach,
The valiant Emperor, and his noble son,—
By these the work was done.
And he, the inheritor of fulfilled renown,
Set the survivor of the Splendid Four
Coldly aside; wearing the iron crown,
Won for his wearing 'midst red battle's roar,
Jauntily, and the blade you sharpened bore
With cool complacent pride
As though his own hands bound it to his side.
And now he comes like Mars amidst his ranks,
And brings—belated thanks!
What thinks the ancient Sword-smith in his soul?
Like the old scholar, sick with long neglect,
And help delayed till he had reached the goal,
Fame-crowned but solitary, self-respect
Might tempt him, old and weary,[‡] to reject,
The tardy tribute. Raise
"Hochs," Emperor-fugled! Shout hurrahs of praise!
Render such honour as it may afford;
That glittering Symbol-sword!
All well-deserved, all worthily received!
But think they cold ingratitude's slug-trail
Dims not that blade? All generous spirits grieved
That grudging party malice so should fail
Of patriot magnanimity, and rail
At the great chief who gave
The sword they turned against him. Let the brave
Join in one voice in shouting loud, "Well done!"
To one who made them One!
Footnote [*]: See Cartoon, "Dropping the Pilot," pp. 50-51, Vol. 98, March 29, 1890.
Footnote [‡]: "I am a weary old man."—Prince Bismarck's speech in reply to his birthday congratulations.
Mrs. R.'s Abstinence.—The good lady says, "My dear, I always like to strictly observe our Church's audiences, and so every Friday morning during Lent I invariably have a broiled skipper for breakfast."
Concentration.—Mightn't the verdicts of separation or divorce be reported in the papers under the ordinary business heading of "Partnerships Dissolved"?