With honor bedight,
Assembled by night,
Shining so bright:
And what was not flower a plant would be—
Come not for dancing, but just to see.
Interior of Bismarck’s House at Berlin.—Arrival of Guests.—The King.—The Queen.—The Royal Princes.—The Generals.—Committee of Story-tellers in the Refreshment Room.—Supper.—The Ball.—Home.
We have entitled this chapter, “A Ball at Bismarck’s,” for reasons of brevity and alliteration, for in truth, at these great evening assemblies, with supper after midnight, the ball is a secondary object for the majority of the guests. This arrangement, entirely imported from England, pleases us as little as the English expression “rout,” for the principal peculiarity of it is that double the number of guests are invited than can find room in the apartments, and such a system is very much at variance with our old-fashioned notions of German hospitality. The institution of a “rout” is only tolerable when the greater number of the guests only come for a quarter of an hour, and then disappear to attend another “rout.” The continual arrival of fresh individuals, the continual variation in the faces, may then possess a charm of its own. But this does not take place at Bismarck’s, for when the “Minister-President and the Countess of Bismarck-Sch?nhausen” send out their invitations, no house in Berlin has the courage to vie with them and open its door on the same evening. The consequence of this is, that all the guests arrive early and stop as long as ever they can. Now, as we have already said, the apartments[432] at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs are exceedingly small, and thus there is a crush of which it is impossible to form any idea unless one has seen it. Add to this the temperature of the dog-days in the brilliantly lighted saloons, and the impossibility of sitting down; an enjoyment only appreciated to its full extent by the members of the Reichstag and Deputies of the Diet, who here find ample opportunity, after their long plenary and committee sittings, to stand.
The guest reaches the first saloon by the stairs, through a forest of tropical plants and orange-groves, with livery servants sprinkled in, to the place where the Minister-President, in his white uniform, with the star and collar of his Order, aided by his wife, receives the guests, interchanging a few friendly expressions with them, and then they enter. But after this the guest literally founders in the ocean of dazzling light and crowds of people; it is only after a considerable interval that a person, unless accustomed for years to these parties, recovers his self-possession. At first he hears single words in the noise around him; gradually he learns to understand them; and then come long sentences which he is able to comprehend. Next comes the second stage; he observes that he is swimming between rosy red and pale blue, clouds of garments of various textures; he recognizes with absolute ecstasy the golden threads which pass through these clouds; the soft sounds of the yielding substances are varied by the sharp rustling of silk and the brilliant gleam of crackling satin; then he perceives rounded shoulders, shining necks, wavy locks, smiling faces—the happy man sees them all, for he is walking towards a group of ladies. He walks? No, he rather creeps, or pushes himself forward without lifting his feet. Beautiful Mother Nature in her wisdom has instinctively taught him that he must necessarily tread upon some lady’s train if he raise his foot a quarter of a line from the floor. Thus he shoves himself along on the left flank of the battalion, whence beautiful eyes are flashing in competition with gold and jewels. This danger he can encounter, for all this fire is not directed at him, the worn-out man of fifty. He is looking round in astonishment, and then comes a sudden block, for it is impossible to break through the new group standing right in front. Court gala uniforms, black coats with broad bands of various orders,[433] civil uniforms with golden embroidery, and officers with silver—every place is taken up, and the wearers are standing shoulder to shoulder in humming conversation. Nothing but strange faces! Suddenly a very large hand, but of course in a delicate glove, certainly specially made for this great, good hand, is laid upon the arm of the anxious undecided one, a well-known face greets him in a friendly way, and a well-known voice says, “Good-evening, dear old fellow!” But he scarcely recognizes his tried patron and friend, for he had never seen him in full uniform with the orange and white sash. When, however, he sees who it is, a great feeling of satisfaction comes over him—he is no longer alone, and he is safe. Other acquaintances appear, remarks are interchanged, there is even recreation, but under difficulties. People push here and there, and are pushed in return; it is impossible to penetrate to the ball-room, but the music of the Cuirassier Guard Regiment can be heard very well, and sometimes a servant with a tray full of ices is captured by the more daring—a real grace in this heat. It is very comical to hear every one complaining of want of room and heat, and yet none of the complainants seem to have any idea of getting rid of these disagreeables in the simplest manner in the world, by going away!
Suddenly all the heads, decked with feathers, flowers, and jewels, bow slowly and then rise again; it is as if the evening breeze passed gently over the meadow, the flowers all bending up and down, hither and thither.
King William is entering, conducted by the Minister-President. The stately royal man bows with chivalrous politeness, now to this lady, now to that; he pronounces kind words, which are really more kind and fewer in number than is usually the case. Here he shakes hands with one general, there he nods to another gentleman—the path by which the King has passed is marked by proud and happy faces. Those who feel disposed to jeer, can not in the least know how a Prussian feels when the King’s hand touches his own, and the King’s eye looks so grandly and mildly into his.
But to enjoy a really heart-warming sight, King William and Bismarck must be seen together. The great hero, Prince Eugene, or Eugenio von Savoye, as he wrote it in Italian, German, and French, once said of the three Emperors whom he had[434] served—“Leopold was my father, Joseph my friend, Carl is my sovereign!” In Bismarck’s conduct towards the King may be seen the reverence for a father, the attachment of a friend, and the fullest respect for a sovereign. An unique spectacle, this!
Now the Queen passes through the brilliant throng, dressed with royal simplicity; she speaks with several of the members of the Reichstag. When the sailing boat passes through the waves of the sea, when the swan glides over the shining mirror, a silver line marks the passage they have taken. Such a line denotes the path which the Queen had followed through the throng.
The whole Royal House is present.
The tall stately man yonder, with the brave handsome countenance, who looks still taller in his light blue dragoon uniform with the yellow collar, in which he is not often seen, is the Crown Prince. He is engaged in animated conversation with a foreign diplomatist, in a golden full dress, and is evidently in the best of tempers. Prince Albrecht, the King’s younger brother, passes swiftly in a frank military manner, shaking one or the other person cordially by the hand. His elder brother, Prince Carl, the[435] Commander-in-Chief, is a singular contrast to him. He stands erect and proudly in the middle of a circle, but without stiffness. A mocking smile plays over his features; there is a remarkable intermixture in his eyes of sharp observation and indifference. How he brings first this person and then that to his side, without raising his hand! This is the reproachless manner of a grand seigneur of days gone by; one can not but feel that Prince Carl still retains whole and undivided the princely consciousness of former times. In his eyes every one—not of princely rank—stands on the same level. Rank, titles, honors, have no distinction in his eyes. He is as gracious to the ministers and high dignitaries, as to the author whom he has just summoned to him. He alone really exercises the métier de prince.
Yonder stalwart form, with the good brave countenance, in the admiral’s uniform, is Prince Adalbert, a cousin of the King; he is talking with Herr von Selchow, the Minister of Agriculture, who at a distance looks like an officer in the cavalry. All the princes of the Royal House, wear the Cross of the Order pour le mérite, and therefore have all been under fire.
Prince Frederick Carl yonder is talking with Count Eulenburg, who has made his way through typhoons and Japan to the[436] Ministry of the Interior. The Prince, with his high forehead, firm bearded countenance, large eyes with their lonely quiet expression, and spare form, in the red jacket of the Ziethen Hussars, is the hero of Düppel and Sadowa, also a member of the North German Reichstag.
All the faces in yonder group are well known, for their portraits hang in every window; they have written their names in the book of history with the sword. At every step here one may greet a hero. Certainly, designed and undesigned mistakes sometimes happen, as, for instance, that pretty young lady can not sufficiently wonder that the valiant old Steinmetz, the famous hero of Nachod and Skalitz, is still so young, and dresses in private clothes. They had pointed her out a Reichstag Deputy from Pomerania as the famous General, and left her in the error.
Through the brilliant throng and excitement, in the dazzling illuminations and heat, children wise in their generation, and lucky dogs who know every thing, have discovered the way to obtain a thorough course of refreshments, which is hidden in a dark thicket yonder, and slyly wins in semi-concealment. In noble silver vases there is cool—deliciously cool—beer. All the thirsty souls who drink at this fount sing the praises of Bismarck, for he has introduced this innovation. Bismarck first made beer fashionable in Berlin salons. And so readily has it been received within a short time, that even tender ladies and high princes no longer hesitate to pay their court openly to King Gambrinus.
There is lively conversation over the beer. A wit has spread a rumor that the delicious drink has come from Schwechat, and[437] is a present from the Austrian Imperial Chancellor to the Chancellor of the North German Confederation. Some give a friendly assent to this, others kindly add, that Bismarck has already, in return, sent some Neunaugen and Flunder from Pomerania, to his colleague in Vienna; and why should it not be believed? Formerly, at any rate, the most friendly and social relations existed between Bismarck and Beust.
An old Colonel D—— mutters something like “timeo Danaos,” but swallows the rest of the words, as he can not immediately find the Latin terminations in the lumber-room of his memory, but instead, enjoys another goblet of the supposed gift. He is almost frightened when his neighbor remarks, that Beust as well as Bismarck is a descendant of an Alt Mark family; Büste, the family seat of the Beust family, is only distant a few miles from Bismarck; certainly, the family had not lived there for a long time. Colonel D—— begins to have a better opinion of the Austrian Chancellor, and drinks up his beer in comfort.
Another is telling how Bismarck laughingly said, that “his colleague, the Minister of Finance, would to-day convince himself that this dwelling was much too small for the Minister-President, and would think of how he could get him out of the difficulty.” Thus the little circle got happily into the downward way of telling anecdotes, whence there is no return.
To a somewhat complaining deputation from the new provinces, Bismarck good-humoredly explained that Prussia was like a woollen jacket, very unpleasant at first, but when people got accustomed to it they found it very comfortable, and at last came to think it a great benefit.
Bismarck allowed another deputation to whine for a long time about universal military service and the weight of taxation; he then said, very seriously and in a tone of the greatest astonishment, “Dear me, these gentlemen probably thought they could become Prussians for nothing!”
A well-known politician promulgated a very paradoxical statement at Bismarck’s dinner-table; some one present started forward to refute it. “Pray don’t trouble yourself,” exclaimed Bismarck; “if you will only have patience for two minutes, the learned Herr Professor will at once contradict himself in the most brilliant manner!”
[438]
In the year 1848 there was a great deal rumored about a falling away of the Rhine Provinces. “Where are they going to fall to?” asked Bismarck.
“And in France they no longer say, ‘travailler pour le roi de Prusse’ to indicate a lost labor of love, but ‘travailler pour le ma?tre de M. de Bismarck!’” whispered a fat diplomatist cautiously to his neighbor.
“How is it,” King William merrily once asked the Minister-President and his cousin Herr von Bismarck-Briest, “that the Bismarcks of Sch?nhausen are all such tall, strapping fellows, and those of Briest the contrary?” Count Bismarck replied, “Because my ancestors all served the King as soldiers in battle, while my cousins were engaged in civil affairs!” Herr von Bismarck-Briest added, with presence of mind, “That is why I have put my seven sons into the army.”
It was true that six Bismarck-Briests fought in the last war under the King’s standard; a pity that the seventh was not there, but as a Landrath he was “exempt.”
“But,” whispered a pale assessor, who has been guilty of innumerable verses, “Bismarck is deficient in ?sthetic culture; I have heard from the best authority, that once at Frankfurt, when Goethe’s pearl, ‘Happy he who closes up his door without hatred of the world!’ was performed on the piano, Bismarck burst out with, ‘What a tailor’s soul this Goethe had!’”
The pale assessor looked as if such barbarism froze him; some laughed, others shrugged their shoulders.
“The ideas of the moment were confused with opinions or meaning!” said a Provincial Government Councillor, who knew how to combine his reverence for Bismarck with his ?sthetic aspirations; for in fact he only knew Bismarck and Goethe.
“I remember you in my boyish days very well,” said Bismarck, in 1864, to the Body-Physician of Prince Albrecht, the Privy-Councillor Dr. von Arnim; “you then enormously struck me with your energy.”
“This is completely altered now,” replied Arnim, quietly; “you now strike me enormously with yours.”
The negroes in America are very fond of assuming fine names of famous men, such as C?sar, Scipio, Hannibal, Aurelius, Washington, King James, Abraham Lincoln, and so forth. One of[439] these black gentlemen got very drunk, and shouted like a madman; he was seized and put into prison, but brought sober before the magistrate the next morning. “What is your name?” The negro answered, with great dignity, “Count Bismarck.” There was Homeric laughter. The magistrate said, “You are discharged; one must overlook a little from any one bearing so great a name; but for the future take care to do your illustrious god-cousin in Berlin more credit!”
There was no end to this. Anecdote succeeded anecdote, one joke the other; each departing story-teller leaving another in his place, until the circle round the altar of Gambrinus was broken up by the news that their Majesties and the Court, after having partaken of supper in the Countess’s salon, had taken their departure. This was the signal for supper for the rest of the guests.
A buffet supper is the saddest conclusion of a “rout”—it is almost somewhat humiliating to stand with one’s hat under one’s arm and the plate in one’s hand, after having had great difficulty to procure knife, fork, and all the other utensils employed in civilized nations for the business of eating! But humanity can even support this, and with a little care and patience it is possible gradually to get a complete supper, from a cup of soup to a fruit-ice. Modest minds content themselves certainly by absorbing a gigantic portion of ham-pie with a spoon—or whatever the fortune of war has favored their plates with—ask for nothing[440] more—but “go in” for the wine, which is foaming in any quantity.
In the mean time the dance music is beginning again, and with it the actual period of enjoyment for dancers, and the terrible hour for chaperonizing mothers and aunts, who sit out the last cotillon with a heroism brave unto death.
The non-dancing guests now really begin to enjoy themselves—the crowd being no longer so thick, there is more room, as the saloons reserved for the Court are now open, and there are plenty of seats. Presently a smoking-room suddenly opens—a smoking-room with noble cigars, iced champagne, and hot coffee. Everywhere one sees the Minister-President busy among his guests, conversing in the most agreeable tone, seeing that there is nothing wanting, inviting every one to drink, and himself rejoicing in the gayety he disperses. And whoever departs at about five in the morning, with a hearty shake of the hand from Bismarck, will certainly carry away with him the impression that the First Minister of Prussia is also the most delightful host in Prussia.