On the 4th of August Bismarck returned, in the suite of the King, to Berlin, amidst the nameless rejoicings of the nation. On the next day came the solemn opening of the Diet, and a torrent of work overwhelmed the Minister-President. Then ensued the peace-treaties with individual States, the consolidation of the conquered provinces, the formation of the North German Confederation, cares as to envious malice; and through all this the suffering man held himself up, pale, but firm, sustained by his high sense of duty, by the consciousness of his supreme mission. For days and hours the powers of Bismarck, stretched to their utmost tension, gave way, but he always recovered himself, presenting an undaunted front in every direction.
This, indeed, was necessary; for the victorious war had brought him no rest. The relations towards the West were growing more and more menacing; the cloud he had perceived from Nicolsburg was assuming form. It could no longer be compared at will to a weasel or a camel. Had the cloud obtained a name, a new war on the Rhine was almost unavoidable, a war in which Prussia would unquestionably have to shed her blood only for the laurels, without winning the fruits, of victory. Such a war, however, Bismarck desired—was indeed forced—to avoid from a sense of duty. Let us allow a Frenchman to relate in what manner he accomplished this task.
A long essay was published in the Revue Moderne of Paris, by J. Vilbort, under the title of “Germany since Sadowa.” Contained in this is the speech on territorial compensations, demanded by France in August, 1866, at the very time when the rejoicings in Prussia were at their height.
“On the 7th of August,” says M. Vilbort, “we took our leave of M. de Bismarck, from whom we had received, before, during, and after the war, a consistently kind reception, for which we are bound to express our liveliest acknowledgments. About 10 P.M. we were in the study of the Premier, when M. Benedette, the French ambassador, was announced. ‘Will you take a cup of tea in the salon?’ M. de Bismarck said to me. ‘I will be yours in a moment.’ Two hours passed away; midnight struck; one o’clock. Some twenty persons, his family and intimate friends, awaited their host. At last he appeared, with a cheerful face and a smile upon his lips. Tea was taken; there was smoking and beer, in German fashion. Conversation turned, pleasantly or seriously, on Germany, Italy, and France. Rumors of a war with France were then current for the tenth time in Berlin. At the moment of my departure, I said:—‘M. le Ministre, will you pardon me a very indiscreet question? Do I take war or peace with me back to Paris?’ M. de Bismarck replied, with animation, ‘Friendship, a lasting friendship with France! I entertain the firmest hope that France and Prussia, in the future, will represent the dualism of intelligence and progress.’ Nevertheless, it seemed to us that at these words we surprised a singular smile on the lips of a man who is destined to play a distinguished part in Prussian politics, the Privy Councillor Baron von ——. We visited him the next morning, and admitted to him how much reflection this smile had caused us. ‘You leave for France to-night,’ he replied; ‘well, give me your word of honor to preserve the secret I am about to confide to you until you reach Paris. Ere a fortnight is past we shall have war on the Rhine, if France insists upon her territorial demands. She asks of us what we neither will nor can give. Prussia will not cede an inch of German soil; we can not do so without raising the whole of Germany against us, and, if it be necessary, let it rise against France rather than ourselves.’ This step of the Cabinet of the Tuileries, especially impolitic and unskillful at such a moment, served M. de Bismarck, on the other hand, in all his German undertakings. He found in it an irresistible argument to prove the necessity of great armaments against France, while, at the same time, his refusal to give up the smallest portion of German territory elevated the dignity of Prussia in the eyes of all patriots; nor did it benefit the Minister less, who thus upheld the national standard high and firmly in the sight of the foreigner. Thus it happened that, after half a century, the Napoleonistic policy for the second time divided two great nations, who, by their intellectual, moral, and material development, by all their interests and aspirations, are destined to form a fraternal alliance, and thus insure the freedom and peace of Europe on an infrangible basis.”
On the 20th of September, 1866, Bismarck, after a short rest, was able to assume the place of honor which was his due in the memorable triumphant entry of the troops to Berlin, as Major-General and Chief of the Seventh Heavy Landwehr Regiment of Horse, to which his grateful Sovereign had appointed him. Immediately before the King there rode, in one rank, Count Bismarck, the War Minister General von Roon, General von Moltke, the Chief of the General Staff, General von Voigts-Rheetz as Chief of the General Staff of the First Army, and General von Blumenthal as Chief of the General Staff of the Second; while the King was immediately followed by the Royal Princes and other commanders. There was a great and intelligent recognition in this Royal order of arrangement.
As may be understood, the loud rejoicings on the occasion of this magnificent festival of victory were in honor of the Army and its Royal Commander-in-Chief; but many an eye followed, with grateful admiration and emotion, the powerful form of the Minister-President, in the white uniform, with the yellow collar and accoutrements of his regiment, wearing the orange sash of the Exalted Order of the Black Eagle on his broad chest, his flashing helmet being deeply pressed over his forehead, astride of his tall horse, riding along in so stately a manner, and occasionally saluting a friend, here and there, in a courteous way. Scarcely one of the multitude whose acclamations met his ear even suspected that the mighty man, in intolerable pain, could scarcely keep himself upright in the saddle.
Nor could Bismarck altogether withdraw himself from the patriotic festivals which accompanied and followed the triumphant entry of the army. Too much was wanting where he was absent. We then saw him at the monster dinner which was given in honor of him, and to Generals Von Roon and Von Moltke, by an enthusiastic assembly, formed of men of all parties. Zealous democrats then applauded the great statesman, and whoever was present on that occasion would have believed that Bismarck was also popular, in the ordinary sense of the word. When the Minister-President, in the pithy speech in which he acknowledged the toast pledged in his honor, said that the Berlin people, as this war had shown, had their hearts, words, and hands in the right place, the enthusiasm knew no bounds, and the guests rushed from all quarters to pledge him again. When the storm had become somewhat allayed, the Director, Dr. Bonnell, of the Friedrich’s Werder Gymnasium, was seen to step forward.