The Life of Bismarck, Private and Political. George Hesekiel
Читать онлайн книгу.
kingdom in the north was a necessity; and considering how well and prudently Prussia has used its great position, no one can regret the result of the events of 1866. Prussia, as a Protestant country, as a land of education and intellectual refinement, has no equal on the face of the globe. But that single position depends on the race-character of the nation evinced in its utilitarian spirit. Bismarck will perpetuate his policy in time to come.
“Great acts,” says the old dramatist, “thrive when reason guides the will.” This application of reason, so continuously, consistently, and quietly exercised, predicates a great national future. That future is bound up with the fame of this great loyal statesman and dutiful subject, who has had insight enough to see how far the prerogative of the crown of Prussia was consistent with the happiness of its people, foresight enough to rationally contend for such prerogative, and faithful courage adequate to the fearless execution of a grand design, comprehending within itself elements of consolidation and enduring strength. What Germany owes to Bismarck can as yet be scarcely calculated, but very few years need elapse ere the sum will become intelligible.
It is, however, necessary to descend from generalities into particulars; to discuss, as briefly as may be, some objections that have been urged, and to expose the fallacy of certain historical parallels, sought to be drawn in reference to Bismarck’s position towards his king and his country.
We have not to contrast Bismarck with any hero or statesman of antiquity. Society, although not human nature, has so changed, that what our modern men do for the common weal changes with the circumstances and the extension of the circle of population. One man could then address a nation—now the nation must rely upon Camarillas. Democracy, in these days, either vaguely advocates desperate political experiments, or, stung to madness by real or fancied wrongs, determines them—as hot-headed non-thinkers usually determine—by violence.
Our modern Cleons use the press, which, truth to be spoken, is not unwilling to be used; and hence any thing not to be twisted before the law-courts into libel, represents the license and not the freedom of the press. But the man of antiquity at least had to exercise the courage of meeting his fellow-citizens, and thus either swayed them or was lost. Assent or dissent was given by acclamation. Bismarck presents rather a contrast than a likeness to Greek or Roman statesmen—they sought the Agora or the Forum; he has no time for claptrap.
But let us turn to the political doctrine, partly known as that of divine right, for which Bismarck has been thought to fight.
The doctrine of a divine right of possession to the Crown of Prussia is one not readily comprehensible to an English subject, under the circumstances of the modern constitution of the United Kingdom, for the reason that modern society has accustomed itself to look upon the results of the revolutions of 1649 and 1688 as final, and settled by events, and the contract entered into between the parliament, or representative body, on the one hand, and the constitutional sovereign on the other. We may recur to an earlier period, when the crown was devisable by will in England, or when at least the succession was settled in accordance with the desires of a dying sovereign, for some kind of parallel. Although this absolute right of leaving the crown by will has not often been exercised, it has found its defenders; for instance, in the case of Queen Jane, a minority held that Edward was justified in devising his crown; therefore, while the theory was not actually substantiated by the right of peaceable possession, it was not regarded as wholly illusory. If Henry VIII. might by his prerogative bar certain members of his family from the succession, the crown advisers of that day must have been justified in supporting such a prerogative, and could not have regarded the sovereign as ultra vires in the matter of a transmission of the crown. It is certainly, from the logic of facts, an impossibility to effect any such change in the order of succession now, and in itself would be as fatal a step as any political theorists could attempt; and if so fatal in a country where feudalism is a mere historical eidolon, how far more unwise in a country such as Prussia, where feudalism has still a practical, though not an avowed, existence? In the very nature of things, the sovereigns of Prussia hold their crown upon a principle of divine right, as proprietors of the fee-simple of the soil, which divine right has ever been construed to impose certain obligations towards their vassals, the holders of the usufruct, and their subjects, agents, and traders—which obligations, to their honor be it spoken, the sovereigns of Prussia have ever attempted to fulfill. This divine right differs in its nature and mode of action from the mere arbitrary will of a tyrant. There, as here—
“Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds,
But Harry, Harry.”
Their divine right to the soil, which they swear to defend, and seek to improve, for the benefit of all, differs essentially from the divine right as understood by a Charles Stuart. Fiscal arrangements are again of a widely different character, and a vassal like Bismarck, who maintains the prerogative of his sovereign liege, is merely carrying the legitimate consequences of an enduring and progressive system, akin to, but not identical with, ancient feudal theories, into action. It is clearly false to seek a parallel in Charles and Strafford; the parallel would be more just if drawn between Henry and Wolsey. But parallels are ever suspicious, as the course of historical sequence is not identical, and presents only delusive points of contact.
Any adequate explanation must be sought in another direction, and that direction is best pointed out by the very essential features of Prussian history itself. From this cause, a prominence, by no means undeserved, has been assigned to the early history of the family whence Bismarck sprang. In the brief sketch given in the first book, it may be plainly seen that impulses of duty guided, and a kind of hierarchy of rank sustained, the active energy in the vassal on behalf of the sovereign, and that in fighting for the supremacy of the Prussian crown, Bismarck was at the same moment upholding the real solidarity and ultimate rights of the subjects of that crown. Surely by maintaining the rights of the father against all comers—those rights held by the father in trust—the interests of the children are best consulted.
For there is a mesne power between absolutism and republicanism, tyranny and democracy; this is not constitutionalism. This is honor, higher than all.
“The divinity that doth hedge a king,” from which a true king’s impulses flow, must be founded on a higher instinct, and derived from a higher plane. True kingship is very rare, often falls short of its standard in the very best of men—for humanity has always its faults; but rightly guided, it is possible, nay, probable, that the office of kingship may be justly and nobly exercised. A constitutional monarch, although irremovable, save by the process of revolution, can only be governed by the impulses of the man himself, while an absolute sovereign may arrest, correct, and mitigate much that is evil in the State. In civil affairs, we require such an ultimate personage, one whose honor and self-respect will be a sufficient safeguard against abuses. Any king not evidencing that honor in his private life as well as public acts, is liable, and justly so, to deposition; every king who faithfully performs the difficult and delicate duties of his position, has a right to expect the true and loving submission of his subjects. The combination of an honest minister with a noble-minded king, however, is rare. In Frederick the Second of Prussia, as to some extent in the first Napoleon, there was a will to be honest; but where the latter failed in his task, the former prevailed in the hearts of his people, and the admiration of the world. Have we not the exquisite book of Mr. Carlyle as evidence of it? Real statesmen know how infinitely difficult the problem of administration must be, and hence it is that so many real wrongs are accidentally committed, when the right is sought through the agency of unscrupulous ministers. The axiom that the king can do no wrong, simply means that if he inadvertently do a wrong, he is bound to repair it so soon as he is possessed of the truth of the wrong. On this fact—and no polity is built up with safety without resting on facts—is based the right of petition, as well in oriental as in occidental countries. Now, here is the political lever, nor is the stand-point far off. The king is bound to do justice, because his position, being founded on divine right, relies upon divine protection. In any country where God, under whatever form, is honored, no king, conscious of his deep obligations for his position, can hesitate to throw himself fearlessly into the midst of his subjects, always regarding such monarch, as is the case in Prussia, as the steward of the Unseen Governor of all. Legally and politically, the king represents the ultimate court of appeal, and honestly fulfilling the duties