Lord O. Russell to Lord Derby.
Berlin, Nov. 9, 1874.
I found Prince Bismarck in one of his confidential moods the other day, and he indulged me in a long talk about his own interests, past, present, and prospective.
Among many other things, he said that his life had been strangely divided into phases or periods of twelve years each.
Born in 1815, he had left home when he was twelve years old to begin his studies. At 24 he inherited his small patrimony and his father's debts, and entered upon the life and duties of a country gentleman. At 36 (1851) his diplomatic career began, and he was sent to Frankfort, Vienna, St. Petersburg and Paris. At 48 (1863) he was recalled to form the present Administration, which in twelve years had carried on three wars and made the German Empire. He was now 60 and worn out with the responsibilities and anxieties of office, and he was resolved to enter upon a new phase (of 12 years he hoped) by resigning and retiring into private life—a resolution he begged I would keep to myself for the present.
I said I could well understand his wish for rest, but I did not believe the Emperor or the country would allow him to indulge in it, as he was well enough and strong enough to govern Germany for many years to come.
He replied that he felt quite strong enough to govern Germany, but not to be governed himself any longer by the Emperor, whose obstinacy and narrow mindedness were more than he could bear.
I said I had often heard him complain of his Court duties before, but it appeared to me that he always carried his points, and that after some resistance the Emperor gave way in the end and followed his advice.
He replied that it was that very struggle with his Imperial Master that had worn him out and that he no longer felt strong enough to carry on after sixty. He then related to me a series of very curious anecdotes illustrating his struggles with the Crown, and what he called the want of confidence and ingratitude of the Emperor.
I asked him whether anything had lately occurred calculated to increase his wish for rest.
He said that his present difference with the Emperor related to the new army organization. The Emperor and his generals thought the sole object of the German Empire was to turn the nation into an army for the greater glory of the House of Hohenzollern; whilst he held that there must be some limit to the heavy strain of military obligations the Crown was ever anxious to impose on the people.
I asked whether he was alluding to the Landsturm Bill, which placed every German from the age of 16 to 42 at the disposal of the War Department.
He replied that he did not exactly allude to that, but there were other measures in contemplation, elaborated in the Emperor's military Cabinet, he could not give his sanction to, and which would consequently lead to another painful struggle. He considered that his great task had been completed in 1870 to 1872, and that he could now retire and leave the internal organization of Germany to other hands. The Crown Prince, he thought, might possibly govern on more Constitutional principles than his father, who, born in the last century, had not yet been able to realize what the duties of a Constitutional Sovereign were, and thought himself as King of Prussia above the Constitution, as the Emperor Sigismund thought himself above grammar when he wrote bad Latin. A danger to which the Crown Prince would be exposed as Sovereign was his love for intrigue and backstairs influence—'some one or other always concealed behind the door or curtain.' The Prince was not as straightforward as he appeared, and he suffered from the weakness of obstinacy and the obstinacy of weakness due to unbounded conceit and self-confidence—but at the same time he meant well.
After a good deal more talk about his family, his property, and his longing for country life and pursuits, we parted.
Without attaching undue importance to Prince Bismarck's oft-repeated threat of resignation, I do not suppose he would go out of his way to tell me and others so, without intention. My impression is that he wants to obtain something or other from the Emperor which he can make conditional on remaining in office, well knowing that His Majesty cannot do without him. Besides which, his retirement from office would have the appearance of a defeat, consequent on his failure to coerce the Pope and his legions. He is not the man to admit a defeat while he lives. Time will show what more he wants to satisfy his gigantic ambition.
The fear of war with Germany had died away temporarily in the summer, and the various political parties in France were free to continue their struggles and to reduce the situation to almost unexampled confusion. The motives of the Comte de Chambord and his followers were too remote for ordinary human understanding, and their object appeared to be to bring about a crisis and a dissolution of the Assembly on the most disadvantageous terms to themselves. Moderate Republicans were looking to the Duc d'Aumale as a safeguard against the Imperialists on the one hand, and the Reds on the other. Republicans of various shades, and the Reds in particular, were coquetting with Prince Napoleon, and he with them. Most men and most parties appeared to have particular objects, which they hated with a hatred more intense than their love for the object of their affections. Thiers, it was believed, would have rather seen anything, even a restoration of the Empire, than have the Duc de Broglie and the Orleanists in power. Notwithstanding the fusion, the Legitimists would have probably preferred Gambetta (or some one still more extreme) than an Orleans Prince—and so on.
'I cannot make head or tail of French internal politics,' Lord Derby wrote, at the end of the year, 'and presume that most Frenchmen are in the same condition. It looks as if nobody could see their way till the present Assembly is dissolved and a new one elected.'
The beginning of the new year was signalized in Paris by the appearance of the Lord Mayor of London, who had been invited to attend the opening of the new Opera House. That functionary has always been invested in French popular opinion with semi-fabulous attributes, and he seems to have risen to the level of the occasion. 'The Lord Mayor,' wrote the unimpressionable Lord Lyons, 'is astonishing the Parisians with his sword, mace, trumpeters, and State coaches. So far, however, I think the disposition here is to be pleased with it all, and I keep no countenance and do what I have to do with becoming gravity.' A little later, however, he was constrained to add:—
I am afraid the Lord Mayor's head has been turned by the fuss which was made with him here, for he seems to have made a very foolish speech on his return to England. Strange to say the Parisians continued to be amused and pleased with his pomps and vanities to the end, although the narrow limits between the sublime and the ridiculous were always on the point of being over passed. I abstained from going to the banquets given to him, or by him, except a private dinner at the Elysée; but I had him to dinner here, and, I think, sent him away pleased with the Embassy, which it is always as well to do, and if so, I have reaped the reward of my diplomatic command over my risible muscles.