It is known that the political enthusiast who attempted the murder, the step-son of a democratic fugitive named Blind, whose name he had assumed, ended his career by suicide before any examination could take place. There were traces of a conspiracy certainly discovered, but they were not pursued; the attempt at assassination therefore can not be regarded as the crime of an individual. It was sad enough to see that the fanatical hatred of Bismarck went so far in Austria and South Germany; that voices were raised, trying to elevate the murderer into a martyr. The Austrian press dishonored itself by the publication of an advertisement in which an obscure advocate set a price on Bismarck’s head. It was very silly that the Ritter von Geist in Vienna endeavored to account for Bismarck’s wonderful escape by changing his shirt into a suit of chain mail, and then with wonderful wit declared that the Prussian Minister-President bought his linen from the ironmonger!
The times were growing more serious; minds began to feel that stillness which precedes the storm.
“Mit Gott für König und Vaterland!”—“With God for King and Fatherland!”—the ancient royal battle-cry of olden time, first crept softly and then louder and louder from heart to heart, from mouth to mouth, until at last it thundered in the roaring of a thousand cannon throughout the trembling world. It seems sad that in those very days a valiant archduke in Italy, most infelicitously altering our old dear Prussian cry, closed an order of the day with the words: “For God with Emperor and Fatherland!”
It was just during these days of omen that Bismarck, although very serious, was more gentle and kind than ever to his relatives and friends. There was expectation, often expectation to the greatest tension, but no vacillation, no doubt in him; he was a brave man from head to foot. In the later hours of evening he was often in the beautiful garden of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, of which garden he was very fond; under its old trees he used to take counsel with Moltke, with Roon, and others; there he often walked up and down restlessly for hours, in deep thought, waiting for a royal message. There, too, the eventful thought flashed upon him, in the night of Thursday to Friday, from the 14th to the 15th of June, to set the Prussian columns in motion twenty-four hours sooner than had been intended. Immediately General von Moltke was sent for, and the telegraph was at work.
In the enthusiasm at the first results, and in the restless activity of those days, Bismarck seemed to have lost every trace of illness. An old partisan of his, who was invited to dinner by him in those days, found him fresher and more vigorous than ever. During the most animated conversation, the news came in that telegraphic communication with Italy was broken off. Bismarck turned to Legations Councillor von Keudell and said, “Dear Keudell, please give directions that telegrams be sent viâ London,” and continued his conversation. Immediately after dinner General von Moltke was announced. Bismarck went out, but returned in ten minutes, quite at ease, and invited his guest to accompany him into the garden, although no doubt those ten minutes had been spent in a conference of the most important eventful character. General von Werder was announced. Another conference, and then Bismarck related, in strolling about the garden, how on that forenoon, worn out by continued exertion to the greatest extent, and waiting in the antechamber of the King, he had fallen asleep on a sofa. He delighted in his garden, and got on the ice-house, from which he could overlook the whole of the green thickets of the fine large garden behind the palace in the Wilhelms-Strasse.
A few days later, on Friday, the 29th of June, the first news of victory arrived. No one, no one will ever forget that day! As if by enchantment, the whole of Berlin was dressed in black-and-white flags; in every street resounded, in joy, “Ich bin ein Preusse, kennt ihr meine Farben?”—“I am a Prussian; do you know my colors?”[51] In thousands the multitude pressed to the palace of the King, who greeted his faithful people from the window, while the General-Intendant von Hülsen read the victorious news from the balcony. There was no end to the rejoicings bursting joyfully from full hearts. It was indeed a Prussian day!
When Count Bismarck, at about 2 P.M., left the royal palace, he was besieged on all sides. Every one wanted to shake hands; on that day, in that hour, every one felt and knew what Count Bismarck was to Prussia; some have already forgotten it, and there are others who would fain have it forgotten.
Bismarck was visibly in deep emotion, but he maintained his serious carriage. The first victories did not intoxicate him; his prudence, indeed, had apparently increased in power. In this hour he thought of the sacrifice, and was humble in his heart.
In the evening, the multitude returned to the palace of the King, and sang Luther’s hymn—“Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott”—“A fortress firm is our God.” The King returned thanks. Only the few persons, close to him could hear the words—the roaring ocean of human voices drowned them—and yet every man knew what the King had said. Prussia’s King could only express what every Prussian felt and thought at this moment. Thence the multitude rushed to the Crown Prince’s palace, and greeted with hoch and hurrah the victorious leader of the second army, which had stood so well against the enemy; thence to the palace of Prince Charles, the eldest Prince of the royal house, whose son, Prince Frederick Charles, had penetrated so gloriously into Bohemia with the first army, and had won “first blood” for Prussia in this war. Next the mass stood head to head in the Wilhelms-Strasse, before Bismarck’s hotel; the never-ending cry of triumph forced the Minister-President to the window. He raised his hand in token that he would speak; all were silent beneath; from the distance on both sides the muffled roaring of the shores of this popular mass toned along. For the second time Count Bismarck addressed the people of Berlin, in powerful but proudly moderate words; he ended with a salute to the King and his army. At the moment a tremendous peal of thunder reverberated over the royal city, a flash of forked lightning illuminated the scene, and, with a strongly ringing voice, Bismarck shouted above the multitude, “The heavens fire a salute!”