CHAPTER XXX
Bismarck and the Unification of Germany
1
140.
"Blood and Iron"
2
In the beginning of October, 1862, I went as far as Jüterbogk
to meet the king, who had been at Baden-Baden for September
30, his wife’s birthday, and waited for him in the still unfinished
railway station, filled with third-class travelers and workmen.
My object, in taking this opportunity for an interview, was to
set his Majesty at rest about a speech made by me in the Budget
Commission on September 30, which had aroused some excitement,
and which, though not taken down in shorthand, had
still been reproduced with tolerable accuracy in the newspapers.
For people who were less embittered and blinded by ambition,
I had indicated plainly enough the direction in which I
was going. Prussia — such was the point of my speech — as
a glance at the map will show, could no longer wear unaided
on its long narrow figure the panoply which Germany required
for its security; that must be equally distributed over all German
peoples. We should get no nearer the goal by speeches,
associations, decisions of majorities; we should be unable to
avoid a serious contest, a contest which could only be settled by
blood and iron. In order to secure our success in this, the deputies
must place the greatest possible weight of blood and iron in
the hands of the king of Prussia, in order that, according to
his judgment, he might throw it into one scale or the other. . . .
Roon, who was present, expressed his dissatisfaction with
my remarks on our way home, and said, among other things,
that he did not regard these "witty digressions" as advantageous
for our cause. For my part, I was torn between the
desire of winning over members to an energetic national policy,
and the danger of inspiring the king, whose own disposition
was cautious and shrank from violent measures, with mistrust
in me and my intentions. My object in going to meet him at
Jüterbogk was to counteract betimes the probable effect of
press criticisms.
I had some difficulty in discovering from the curt answers
of the officials the section in the ordinary train in which the
king was seated by himself in an ordinary first-class carriage.
The after-effect of his conversation with his wife was an obvious
depression, and when I begged for permission to narrate the
events which had occurred during his absence, he interrupted
me with the words, "I can perfectly well see where all this
will end. Over there, in front of the Opera House, under my
windows, they will cut off your head, and mine a little while
afterward."
I guessed, and it was afterward confirmed by witnesses, that
during his week’s stay at Baden-Baden his mind had been
worked upon with variations on the theme of Polignac,1 Strafford,2
and Louis XVI.3 When he was silent, I answered with
the short remark, "Et a près, Sire?" "A près, indeed; we shall
be dead," answered the king. "Yes," I continued, "then we
shall be dead; but we must all die sooner or later, and can we
perish more honorably? I, fighting for my king’s cause, and
your Majesty sealing with your own blood your rights as king
by the grace of God; whether on the scaffold or the battlefield
makes no difference in the glory of sacrificing life and limb for
the rights assigned to you by the grace of God. Your Majesty
must not think of Louis XVI; he lived and died in a condition
of mental weakness, and does not present a heroic figure in history.
Charles I, on the other hand, will always remain a noble
historical character, for after drawing his sword for his rights
and losing the battle, he did not hesitate to confirm his royal
intent with his blood. Your Majesty is bound to fight, you
cannot capitulate; you must, even at the risk of bodily danger,
go forth to meet any attempt at coercion."
As I continued to speak in this sense, the king grew more
and more animated, and began to assume the part of an officer
fighting for kingdom and fatherland. In presence of external
and personal danger he possessed a rare and absolutely natural
fearlessness, whether on the field of battle or in the face of attempts
on his life; his attitude in any external danger was
elevating and inspiring. The ideal type of the Prussian officer
who goes to meet certain death in the service with the simple
words, "At your orders," but who, if he has to act on his own
responsibility, dreads the criticism of his superior officer or of the
world more than death, even to the extent of allowing his energy
and correct judgment to be impaired by the fear of blame and
reproof — this type was developed in him to the highest degree.
. . . To give up his life for king and fatherland was the duty of
an officer; still more that of a king, as the first officer in the land.
As soon as he regarded his position from the point of view of
military honor, it had no more terror for him than the command
to defend what might prove a desperate position would have
for any ordinary Prussian officer. This raised him above the
anxiety about the criticism which public opinion, history, and
his wife might pass on his political tactics. . . . The correctness
of my judgment was confirmed by the fact that the king,
whom I had found at Jüterbogk weary, depressed, and discouraged,
had, even before we arrived at Berlin, developed
a cheerful, I might almost say joyous and combative disposition,
which was plainly evident to the ministers and officials who
received him on his arrival.
1 , translated by A. J. Butler. 3 vols. Leipzig,
1899 Bernhard Tauchnitz.
2 Bismarck, , vol. i, pp. 74–77.
1 One of the French ministers held responsible for the policy which led to the
deposition of Charles X and the revolution of July, 1830.
2 See page 5.
3 See page 233.