FOR SCEPTRE AND CROWN.

NEW NOVELS AT THE LIBRARIES.

MALCOLM: a Scottish Story. By George Macdonald, Author of "Robert Falconer," "Phantastes," &c. 3 vols. cr. 8vo.

THE NEGLECTED QUESTION. By B. Markewitch. Translated from the Russian, by the Princesses Ouroussoff. 2 vols. crown 8vo. 14s. Dedicated by express permission to Her Imperial and Royal Highness Marie Alexandrovna Duchess of Edinburgh.

RUSSIAN ROMANCE. By Alexander Serguevitch Poushein. Translated from the Tales of Belkin. By Mrs. J. Buchan Telfer (née Mouravief). 1 vol. crown 8vo.

CIVIL SERVICE. By J. T. Listado, Author of "Maurice Rhynhart." 2 vols. crown 8vo.

"A very charming and amusing story.... The characters are all well drawn and life-like.... It is with no ordinary skill that Mr. Listado has drawn the character of Hugh Haughton, full as he is of scheming and subtleties ... The plot is worked out with great skill and is of no ordinary kind."—Civil Service Gazette.

"A story of Irish life, free from burlesque and partizanship, yet amusingly national.... There is plenty of 'go' in the story."—Athenæum.

"A short and pleasant story, told in a bright, fresh, readable style.... The story is a good one from first to last.... Both of the Irish heroines are very charming."—Standard.

"A brisk and lively novel."—John Bull.

WAITING FOR TIDINGS. By the Author of "White and Black." 3 vols.

"An interesting novel."—Vanity Fair.

"A very lively tale, abounding with amusing incidents."—John Bull.

"We like 'Waiting for Tidings' so much, and in so many respects.... It is well written, the characters are original and natural, and the story so skilfully managed, that the accomplished novel reader cannot suspect the dénouement, and will be fairly taken by surprise at the end."—Examiner.

Second Edition.

JUDITH GWYNNE. By Lisle Carr. 3 vols. crown 8vo.

"Mr. Carr's novel is certainly amusing.... There is much variety, and the dialogue and incident never flag to the finish."—Athenæum.

"Displays much dramatic skill.... It is in the skilful manipulation of much varied detail, the extensive play of a great number of differing actors, tending naturally to the conclusion reached, that the chief charm of this novel lies."—Edinburgh Courant.

HENRY S. KING and CO. LONDON.

A ROMANCE OF THE PRESENT TIME.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF

GREGOR SAMAROW.

IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I.

HENRY S. KING AND CO. 65, Cornhill, and 12, Paternoster Row, London. 1875.

(All rights reserved.)

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

The success which "Um Szepter und Kronen" has met with on the Continent justifies an English translation. The author, who writes under the nom de plume of Gregor Samarow, is, if report speak truly, himself one of the characters described in his work as the friend and confidant of the chivalrous and unfortunate sovereign who is its principal hero. This explains the ease and familiarity with which the various courts and cabinets are described, the author's personal acquaintance with the statesmen and diplomatists he has pourtrayed, and it accounts for the value of the work as a clever and interesting political sketch. It is as a political sketch, and not as an ordinary novel, that it is offered to this country.

Although the great events of 1870 and 1871 have almost swept from memory the history of preceding years, yet the struggle of 1866—the Seven Weeks' War—must ever be memorable; it was the prelude to the great Franco-German War, and its immediate result was that immense increase in the power of Prussia which placed her in her present position of supreme leader in Germany.

CHAPTER I.

BISMARCK AND MANTEUFFEL.

About nine o'clock on a dark April evening in the year 1866, a Berlin cab drove up the Wilhelmsstrasse with the trot peculiar to those vehicles, and stopped between the two lamps illuminating the door of No. 76, the house of the Minister for Foreign Affairs. The ground floor of this long two-storeyed house was well lighted up, and any one who peeped through the green blinds could see into many office-like rooms, well-filled with industrious writers, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour. The windows of the upper storey were only faintly lighted here and there.

From the cab which drew up before this house stepped a middle-sized man, dressed in a dark paletot and black hat; he came close to the gas-lamp to look in his purse for the right coins with which to pay the fare, and as soon as he had settled with the numbered Automedon he rang loudly at the door-bell.

The door opened almost immediately, and the person demanding admittance entered a spacious porte-cochère, at the end of which, between two large sleeping stone lions, ascended the flight of steps leading to the interior of the house. On one side of the doorway a window opened into the porter's lodge, and at the window appeared the porter's face, wearing that peculiarly stolid expression common to the door-keepers of all great houses.

The porter looked at the new-comer inquisitively through the half-open window, but he only gave him a hasty glance as he walked on with quiet, measured tread to the flight of steps.

As he moved forwards, the light fell brightly on his face, and showed the features of a man of about sixty years of age, of a rather dark and healthy complexion. The quick, animated dark eyes looked piercing and bright, even through gold-rimmed spectacles, though they also expressed calmness and benevolence. His well-chiselled, regular nose was slightly bowed over the small, firm, beardless mouth, and an energetic up-turned chin completed a countenance so characteristic, that when once beheld it was seldom forgotten.

No sooner did the look darted through these gold spectacles reach the window of the porter's lodge, than the porter's face changed as if by magic.

The expression of indifference and easy condescension vanished instantly, the countenance assumed the look befitting a zealous servant, and its possessor hastened from the door of his lodge leading to the steps, and at last stood in a precise attitude, proving him to be an old soldier, before the visitor, who in the meantime had gained the entrance hall on the ground floor, to which the large stone steps led.

"Is the minister at home?" he inquired, with simple politeness, which, equally unlike the over-strained courtesy of the petitioner and the haughty nonchalance of the parvenu, proved him to be a man accustomed to move with ease in the highest society.

"At your command, your Excellency," replied the porter in his official manner. "The French Ambassador has just gone, and no one is here. The minister is now alone."

"And how do you get on? still sound and fit for service?" asked the visitor, kindly.

"Most humble thanks for your Excellency's gracious inquiries. I still get about, although somewhat weaker. Everyone does not wear so well as your Excellency."

"Well, well, we all get older, and draw nearer to the end. Keep a brave heart, and God be with you!" With these kind words, heartily spoken, the grave-looking man walked up the broad staircase towards the first storey, while the old door-keeper watched him with respectful pleasure, and then returned to his lodge.

In the ante-room on the upper floor "his Excellency" found Herr von Bismarck's valet-de-chambre, Schönhausen, and was at once conducted through a large, dimly-lighted apartment to the cabinet of the minister. The door was thrown open by the servant, who announced for his master's benefit, "His Excellency von Manteuffel!"

Herr von Bismarck sat at a large writing-table, piled with acts and papers. It was placed in the middle of the room, and lighted by a tall lamp with a dark shade. An arm-chair stood on the other side of the table, in which the minister usually seated his visitors. Herr von Bismarck rose at his servant's announcement and walked towards his visitor, whilst Manteuffel took in the whole room with one glance from his quick eyes; then, with a slight half-melancholy smile, he seized the president-minister's outstretched hand.

It was a picture of the deepest interest. In the half-second during which these two men stood opposite each other, the present touched the past and the future—the old, the new Prussia.

Both the men were sensible of this impression. They stood opposite one another for a moment in silence.

Herr von Manteuffel we have already described whilst he was entering the Foreign Office. It is only needful to add that the removal of his hat showed hair which was grey and thin, and cut very short. He stood quite still, his right hand clasped in Bismarck's, whilst the slender white fingers of his left held his hat. His features maintained perfect calmness; his mouth was firmly closed, and a guarded reserve appeared to stamp its seal upon the whole being of the man.

Herr von Bismarck, almost a head taller, stood towering above him. The bearing of his powerful form showed he was accustomed to wear uniform; his massive, strongly-marked countenance spoke in its decided features of a vehement, passionate soul; the clear, penetrating grey eyes turned boldly, with a cold gaze, upon the object they wished to watch; and the broad, high brow, which from being somewhat bald appeared even higher than it was, showed immense power of forcing, by an iron will, thoughts and ideas to logical arrangement.

"I thank you for your kind visit," said Bismarck, after a few moments.

"You preferred coming to me here, instead of receiving me as I requested."

"It is better so," replied Manteuffel. "Your visit to me would have excited curiosity. Here, too, we are safe from eavesdroppers; and, I suppose, an important subject is to be discussed."

"Yes, unhappily, only a grave and extraordinary occasion can procure me the happiness of hearing the experienced counsels of my old chief. You know how often I long for your advice, and yet you always avoid every expression of opinion," said Herr von Bismarck, with a slight accent of reproach.

"What good would it do?" returned Herr von Manteuffel, politely but coldly. "To act for myself, to answer for myself, was my rule when I occupied the position you now fill. If once a leading statesman begins to ask advice right and left, he loses the power of advancing resolutely on the path which his reason and his conscience point out to him as the right one."

"Now, truly, it is not my way to listen to every one, and no want of resolution prevents my choosing my own path," cried Bismarck, warmly; "and," he added, with a slight smile, "my friends the members of the Diet cast it daily in my teeth that I do not sufficiently heed their good advice; yet you will own that there are moments when the strongest brain may long to hear the views and the advice of a master mind, who can look back, my honoured friend, upon such actions as yours."

"And such a moment has now come?" asked Manteuffel, quietly, whilst his piercing eyes rested on Bismarck's animated face, his own features not in the least responding to the compliment just paid him. "If ever there was a time in which the strongest mind must be assailed by doubt, it is the present moment. You know the position of Germany and of Europe, and you know that the mighty crisis must come, upon which the fate of centuries depends," said Herr von Bismarck.

"I believe it will come, whether it must come or not; but," added Herr von Manteuffel, after a short pause, "our conference will touch upon subjects of the highest importance, and you know my profound dislike of officious meddling in things which do not concern me. May I then ask, does the king know of this conversation, and of its subject?"

"His Majesty knows, and desires I should ask your advice," answered Bismarck.

"Then it is my duty to express my humble opinion so far as it is formed in my own mind," said Manteuffel, quietly, as he seated himself in the arm-chair near the writing-table, while Bismarck took his usual place.

"Before, however, I can speak on the present situation, I must know what your intentions are, what is the aim of your policy, and by what means you intend to attain that end. Permit me," he continued, as with a slight movement of the hand he politely repressed a remark from Herr von Bismarck—"permit me to state, from my private and remote observations, what I believe your intentions to be. You must then honestly tell me if I am right or mistaken."

Herr von Bismarck bowed in silence, and fixed his candid eyes with a look of the greatest attention upon Herr von Manteuffel.

"Your aim is," continued the latter, quietly, "according to the conviction I feel from the progress of events, to solve, or rather to end, the great German question; your aim is to place Prussia at the head of the political and military power of Germany, and to turn the edge of the sword against any who shall oppose you. In a word, you wish to bring that long, chronic sickness, called 'the German Question,' to an acute crisis, and to cure it for ever by the arcanum of blood and iron."

"I do," replied Bismarck, without moving or raising his voice; but it vibrated so strangely that these two words rang through the room like the clash of arms, and his eyes, which were still fixed on Herr von Manteuffel, seemed to emit an electric stream. Thus, when Laocoon's lance touched the horse of Troy, there rang from within, the low, faint clang of the Grecian arms, the first note of that terrible harmony, before which the walls of Pergamus were destroyed, and which, echoing back from the strings of Homer's lyre, for two thousand years has thrilled the hearts of men.

"You do not deceive yourself as to the strong opposition you will encounter," continued Herr von Manteuffel; "the crisis is come, and the struggle will take place, and before long, for unless I am quite deceived, the other side is equally anxious to bring matters to an issue."

"I know it," replied Herr von Bismarck.

"Well," added Manteuffel, "we must then consider the means we can employ in this struggle. There is, to begin with, the Prussian army—a thing of great preponderance, which will weigh heavily in the balance, and the importance of which I do not undervalue for a moment. This army possesses advantages which I do not understand, but which are very important in a military point of view: the needle-gun, the artillery, and the general staff. But in this struggle other powers must be taken into consideration; our allies, and public opinion. Our allies seem to me doubtful—France? You must know better than I, your position with the Man of Silence; England will wait for the success of one side or the other; Russia is safe. As to public opinion—"

"Is there such a thing?" interrupted Bismarck.

Herr von Manteuffel smiled slightly, and continued, "Under ordinary circumstances, public opinion is the result of an effective bit of decoration, which makes a lively impression on the crowd, now lighting up Fiesco's restless sea, now throwing a flood of heavenly glory into Egmont's dungeon. To those behind the scenes, it is the result of machinery, and is produced by pulling the right string at the right moment. I believe we understand both scenes and machinery. But there is another kind of public opinion that rises like the wind, incomprehensible, unmanageable, and terrible as the wind when it rouses itself to a storm. The strife that lies nearest in the lap of Fate is a strife of German against German, a civil war, and in such a war Public Opinion claims her right: she is a powerful ally and a terrible foe, terrible above all to the vanquished, against whom she calls up relentlessly the væ victis. Public opinion, however, is against war, less perhaps in Germany than in Prussia itself, and honestly considering the composition of the Prussian army, that is no subject

for indifference."

Herr von Bismarck exclaimed warmly, "Do you believe it possible that—"

"The Prussian army should forget its duty, and refuse to march?" concluded Herr von Manteuffel. "No, never; certainly not! Single instances of irregularity might occur in the Landwehr; they would be unusual, most unusual. The army will do its duty, it is the incarnation of a perfect sense of duty, but you will not deny there is an immense difference between duty performed with heartiness and enthusiasm, or with ill-will and aversion?"

"Heartiness and enthusiasm will come with success," said Bismarck.

"But until then?"

"Until then the spirit of duty must be kept firm, and the management must be good."

"Well," said Manteuffel, "I do not doubt it will be so. I only wished to point out, that in this strife a mighty and important power will be not for, but against you."

"You are right as to the present moment," replied Herr von Bismarck, after a short pause; "to-day public opinion, which you so aptly compared to the wind, is against me; but it changes as easily as the wind itself. And yet I cannot allow you are altogether right. It is true the superficial world, composed of the shallow liberalism of the tea-gardens and the ale-houses, prating of a Germany which exists only in its own brain, speaks of a civil and fratricidal war against Austria, but believe me, this does not go down with the Prussian people. The heart of Prussia goes at the head of her army, and through the army rings the 'Hohenfriedberg March,'—the Prussian people regards the country of Maria Theresa as the foe of that Prussian spirit which old Fritz breathed into the nation. And these orators and speechifiers? Oh, I fear them not, with their public opinion, which will change like a weather-cock in the wind, at the first breath of success."

"I, too, will own that you are partly right, but not quite," said Herr von Manteuffel; "but success—is it certain? Is it prepared beforehand? We have touched upon two powers, let us come to the third, perhaps the most important—allies. What is your position with France and Napoleon III.?"

At this direct and sharply-uttered question, which was accompanied by a look quite as cutting as the tone of voice in which it was asked, Herr von Bismarck's lips trembled slightly for a moment, and something of uncertainty, doubt, and mistrust, perhaps a mixture of all three, appeared in his eyes; but all this quickly vanished, and he answered calmly, in the same clear, ringing voice as before,

"Good—at least as good as it can be with this mysterious sphinx."

"Have you agreements, treaties,—or, far better than these, have you a personal promise from Napoleon?" inquired Manteuffel.

"You catechise closely," replied Bismarck, "but I stand before my master; hear then what has happened in that quarter, and how the question now stands.

"More than two years ago, in November, 1864, I spoke to the emperor on the Danish question. He was eager for the restitution of North Schleswig to Denmark. I spoke on the sad and critical situation of Prussia, split into two distinct halves; I stated how great an error it would be to erect a new small state in the north, and how much more advantageous it would be to Denmark to have a great and powerful neighbour, than to have on her borders the little court of a prince who sets up claims to the Danish crown. The emperor listened to everything, and from the few words he said seemed to agree with me on the need of better boundaries for Prussia, though as usual it was impossible to make him say anything clear and decided; but he was evidently much displeased with Austria, and complained of the great insincerity of the Court of Vienna."

"And did you promise him North Schleswig if he supported your views?" asked Manteuffel.

"He may think I did," replied Bismarck, smiling a little; "as he confined himself to listening and nodding his head, I thought it only necessary to make vague remarks."

Herr von Manteuffel bowed his head in silence, and Herr von Bismarck continued.