Those who have only seen Bismarck in pictures or heard him speak in the Diet, or even met him in his walks, only know him from his official side, and as the great statesman and dignitary. But here, inside his own four walls, with ample leisure, and surrounded by celebrated and patriotic men, who all, more or less, have helped to advise, combat, or further his work, one learns to know and recognise in the Prince the real man and intelligent companion whose mighty intellect wields the affairs of nations. We have often heard visitors who were present at the sittings of the Diet declare that nothing surprised them so much as the intonation and pathos of Bismarck’s voice when speaking. His height, his brows, his forehead, his chest, his speeches, were all far greater and more powerful than they had imagined; but his voice, either when giving utterance to the driest details, or when startling his audience by some passionate appeal, had something marvellously soft and winning in it. And they are not far wrong. One can always tell from the Prince’s words, by the sound of his voice, what his feelings are at the time, no matter how moderate his speech may be; and never was this more distinct and vivid than on these Saturday evenings.
Now he approaches our circle. ‘I wished much to see you here, gentlemen. It is so much easier to talk and understand one another here, than in the Diet House!’—and he shook hands all round. ‘Besides, now, if you want to interpellate me, or one of the deputies or privy-councillors, you can do so quietly and at your ease in a corner, and settle the whole affair in a few minutes.’
The Prince was right. Never before had the necessity of familiar and friendly intercourse been more apparent than during this session. From various untoward causes, the most crying discords had arisen between the deputies and the Diet, chiefly owing to neither party thoroughly understanding the other.
From amid the rows of deputies and councillors, emerged the portly form of the brave ‘Red Becker,’ red in hair as well as in opinion, a living proof that even an inborn democrat and agitator can attain a very comfortable rotundity. Becker had surpassed himself that morning in the Diet. He, as the permanent reporter of the Chamber of Deputies and the Diet, on all postal, telegraphic, and railway matters, had drastically described the frightful misuse, on the part of the princely houses of Germany, of their right to free carriage and telegraph. He had shown how the whole of the royal bill of fare had been telegraphed free of charge; how endless telegraphic milliners’ and dressmakers’ orders had been sent free between the German courts and Paris; while the citizen’s despatch, on which probably hangs both life and property, must wait till the royal cook has ordered a dollar’s worth of parsley by telegraph; how, after that, all these huge parcels have to be sent carriage free to their destination; and finally, he had proved, to the great amusement of the House, by the genealogical almanac, that in Lippe alone, no fewer than sixty princes and princesses had this inborn right to postal freedom.
He now placed himself directly in front of the Chancellor, in his favourite attitude, with his hands behind his back, and looked up at him with an expression which seemed to say: ‘Now, had you any idea that this royal prerogative of free post and telegraph had been so shamefully abused?’
But Bismarck only laughed heartily, saying: ‘My dear Becker, believe me, I know of far worse things.’
‘Indeed! Pray, then, tell us some, Your Excellency!’ said ‘Red Becker’ with great animation.
‘Nay; that I cannot do,’ replied Bismarck. ‘My information comes from the Postmaster-general at Phillipsborn; and he knows far worse things than I do.’
A group of people had now come in between us and the speakers.
A servant handed round tea; but, strange to say, there was no rum, so little has Bismarck imbibed of Russian habits and tastes, in spite of his long sojourn at St Petersburg.