TWO EVENINGS WITH BISMARCK.
IN TWO PARTS.—PART I.
The surprises that await the deputies and representatives of the North German League, when, after a hard day’s work and a late supper, they return, wearied in body and mind, to their Berlin penates, are not, as a rule, of a very cheering description. They generally consist of large unwieldy packets of printed matter, which contain the orders for the next day’s imperial Diet, and a mass of amendments on the coming motions, &c. Letters also, especially home ones, form no small portion of the evening’s recreation. One may judge, therefore, of the general surprise, when, amongst the pile of evening correspondence, a short note appears from Prince Bismarck to the effect that he would be ‘greatly obliged if Deputy or Privy-councillor So-and-so will give him the pleasure of his company every Saturday evening at nine o’clock, commencing from the 24th April, as long as the session of the imperial Diet lasts.’
What more natural than that the Chancellor should wish to assemble at his own familiar hearth, all those representatives of the nation who for the most part gladly accompany and support him on the rough and stony paths of German politics that he is treading, and to want to spend a few hours with them in pleasant social intercourse, after the many weary hours of heavy parliamentary work?
This same need was equally felt by most of the deputies and councillors and other members of the imperial Diet, who all equally looked forward to the coming evening.
As everything connected with the Diet is carried out with military precision, so here, also, the hour of nine had hardly finished striking, ere the guests began to arrive at the well-known modest two-storied building in the Wilhelmstrasse, which the Prussian government assigns to its Minister for Foreign Affairs as his official residence, and which Prince Bismarck inhabited in his threefold capacity of Minister for Lauenburg, Prussian President Minister, and Chancellor of the North German League. Here, on the ground-floor of the long unadorned building, are the workrooms of the Prussian ministerial officials. On the first floor are the work and reception rooms of Bismarck, as well as his private family apartments. At the back of the house, where the noise and turmoil of the great busy city never penetrate, lies one of those beautiful shady old timbered parks, such as the royal crown of Prussia possesses, between the Wilhelmstrasse and the Königstrasse, and also between the latter and the Leipzigerstrasse—in all about a hundred acres.
At the entrance are the inevitable constables, saluting the guests as they arrive. Numerous lackeys in black and white livery hand the visitor up the broad flight of stairs into an elegantly furnished anteroom, where those who wait to see the Chancellor on business can, while in the midst of the most harmonious surroundings of rich carpets, silken hangings, and luxurious seats, speculate as to what possible connection the stuffed hare, standing so prominently forward on the sideboard, can have with the family of Bismarck.
A more interesting sight, however, now greeted us. The Chancellor’s wife, a tall aristocratic-looking woman, with decided but pleasing features, and in an elegant though simple toilet, received each guest as he arrived with gracious affability. Standing close beside the open portières, past which the eye glanced into the family living-rooms, she was a true type of the position she holds both in home and public life. A noble wife and mother, she has faithfully stood by her husband’s side from the very commencement of his political career. A Chicago paper declares that Bismarck’s wife is her husband’s private secretary! How far this statement is true, we do not pretend to say; but an old friend of the family has repeatedly told us that during the saddest time that Germany has witnessed for the last fifty years, when Bismarck, disheartened and dispirited, retired to his small property of Schönhausen, there to vegetate as a small Prussian landowner, while brooding moodily over all his grand political schemes, his wife never for a moment lost heart, but was able to inspire her husband with ever fresh courage and hope.
A number of old friends and acquaintances quickly surrounded the noble hostess, while the remainder of the guests streamed on towards the billiard-room to the right, the windows of which look out on the street. In front of one of the sofas lies a handsome bearskin—the animal was slain by Bismarck’s own hand; and on a bracket stands the magnificent vase, with the king’s portrait and a view of his castle, which King William presented to the Prince after the wars of 1866. The crowd and the heat increased every moment. The Prince, we were told, was in the big saloon. Hurrying thither, we saw our noble host, standing just inside the door, in animated converse with some earlier arrivals, yet, notwithstanding, quite ready to greet every new-comer—sometimes even stretching out both hands to right and left with hearty welcome. How well and bright he looked! That was always the first thing that struck one on seeing this man. His face, from his long country sojourn at Varzin, has regained its healthy colouring; the eyes are no longer so deeply shadowed by the overhanging brows or the furrowed forehead of last year; his hair is of that light Saxon hue which defies both Time and impertinent curiosity; and the figure is as firm and upright as the youngest man there present. On this evening he also wore his favourite and most comfortable dress—that is, uniform, but not in strict accordance with Regulation.
Moltke’s fine thin lips are curved with an amused smile, as he observes the Prince’s unmilitary get-up. The short smart tunic is worn open, innocent of either sword or sword-belt, displaying an ordinary black cloth evening waistcoat underneath. Only the most necessary orders are worn; among them, some of those of the smaller states peep coquettishly forth. Are these meant to fascinate the hearts of the minor invited deputies?