There was a man in France to whom these overturnings were especially
distasteful. Napoleon III., sitting in brand-new splendor upon his
newly created throne, was industriously engaged in building up an
empire and a reputation upon Napoleonic lines. These lines of course
were despotic. So the triumph of liberalism in Germany, the creation
of a new political power with Austria and despotism cast out, was a
severe blow to his policy and to his prestige. It weakened him in
Europe, where he aspired to headship, and at home, where he should be
considered invincible, not alone in arms, but in statecraft.
The Crimea, Magenta, and Solferino had been splendid decorations to his
reign; but they looked tame and insignificant since this transforming
_Seven Weeks' War_. Then, too, his magnificent scheme of an empire in
Mexico, with a Hapsburg ruling under a French protectorate--that had
miserably failed. And now there had suddenly arisen, as if out of the
ground, a new political Germany, which rivaled France in strength.
Frenchmen began to ask whether this man was, after all, such a great
leader, and destined to wear the mantle of his uncle!
Obviously the thing to do was to recover his waning prestige by a
splendid victory over this new power of which Prussia was the head.
If the Emperor had any misgivings they were swept away by the beautiful
Empress Eugenie, who, intensely Catholic, saw in the ascendency of
Protestant Prussia, and the humiliation of Catholic Austria, an impious
blow at the Catholic faith in Europe.
So the war was determined upon. Only one obstacle existed. There was
nothing to fight about! But that could be overcome, and in 1870 a
pretext was found.
Queen Isabella had been expelled from Spain, and there existed that
perennial source of disturbance in Europe, a vacant Spanish throne.
From among the several candidates, Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, a
relative of William I. of Prussia, was chosen.
The French ambassador Benedetti received instant orders to demand of
King William that he should prohibit Prince Leopold from accepting the
offer.
The King made answer that "not having advised it, he could not forbid
it." However, to the disappointment of the Emperor, the Hohenzollern
prince voluntarily declined, and the way to a war seemed closed again.
But the Empress Eugenie was intent upon her object, and the war-fever
had taken deep hold upon the people of France. So the fateful dispatch
was sent to Benedetti--"Be rough to the King."
The kindly old King William was peacefully sunning himself at Ems, when
the ambassador discourteously approached him and made an abrupt demand
for a guarantee that no Hohenzollern should _ever_ occupy the throne of
Spain. The words and the manner were offensive--as they were intended
to be.
The King, recognizing an intended impertinence, without replying turned
away and left Benedetti standing. Here was the opportunity. The
telegraph swiftly bore the news that the French ambassador had been
publicly insulted by the King of Prussia. France was in a blaze of
indignation. These Prussians should be taught that the great French
Empire was not to be insulted with impunity.
Not a shadow of doubt existed as to the result. The French army was
invincible, and the southern German states would be glad at the
deliverance. They would welcome an invading army, and perhaps Hesse
and Hanover also would revolt and the new Prussian confederation would
fall to pieces in their hands. The birthday of Napoleon I., the 15th
of August, must be celebrated in Berlin!
Such were the wild expectations when the French army moved, bearing
away with it the boy Prince Imperial, that he might witness for himself
his father's triumphs, and receive an object lesson, as it were, in
avenging insult to the imperial dignity, which would one day be in his
keeping!
This was the way it looked in France. How was it in Germany? There
was no north and no south German. Men and states sprang together as a
unit, showing how vital was the bond which had existed only for four
years. It was no longer a German race combining with a common purpose,
but a German nation instinct with one life, and solemnly resolved to
defend it or to perish. In only eleven days an army of four hundred
and fifty thousand soldiers was under the command of Moltke, with the
Crown Prince Frederick William leading one of the three great divisions.
In less than three weeks, instead of waging an aggressive war in
Germany, the French were fighting for their existence on their own soil.
In less than a month the French Emperor was a prisoner, and in seven
months his empire was swept out of existence; the Germans were in
Paris--and King William, Unser Fritz, Bismarck, and Von Moltke were
quartered at Versailles.
France had given up Alsace and Lorraine, had agreed to pay an indemnity
of _five thousand millions_ of francs, and was glad to have peace even
at that price!
The surrenders of Metz (August 4), and of Sedan (September 2), were
monumental disasters, and history would be searched in vain for such a
crushing defeat of a proud and strong nation as was consummated by the
Treaty of Peace signed at Paris on the 10th of May, 1871.
Even the three southern states, Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Baden, had
participated in this Franco-Prussian war. So the last barrier to a
completed union was removed, and a dramatic climax occurred in the Hall
of Mirrors at Versailles on the 18th of January, 1871.
In that very hall where Richelieu, and Louis XIV., and Louis XV. had
schemed to entangle and cripple and rob Germany, and where Napoleon I.
had plotted the destruction of the German Empire, Ludwig II., King of
Bavaria, in the name of the rest of the German states, laid their
united allegiance at the feet of King William of Prussia, begging him
to assume the crown and with it the title of "Hereditary Emperor of the
German Empire."
It is a curious fact that Bavaria, which had always been a thorn in the
side of the Empire, which from the time of the first Duke Welf had
stood for all that was conservative and despotic and reactionary,
should have taken the initiative in the final act which set a seal upon
the triumph of liberalism in Germany. It was recompense full and ample
for the trouble she had given in the past!
The return to Germany was a march of triumph. The popular enthusiasm
knew no bounds. It was less than ten years since those days of gloom
and depression. What a change had been wrought! Was it all done by
blood and iron? They had been mighty factors certainly, but they had
been used by a masterful intelligence, which had also recognized the
power of _patriotism_. The empire which was immediately organized was
simply a renewal of the _North German Union_.
The dream of Hermann had at last been realized. There was a United
Germany.
When in 1888 Emperor William I. sank under the weight of years and the
crown rested upon the head of his son Frederick, that adored prince was
no longer in the full tide of victorious youth, but being borne by a
swiftly ebbing tide beyond the reach of earthly honors. He was a
stricken and indeed a dying man when the opportunity came to carry out
the policy he had intended for Germany.
What that policy was we shall never know, nor whether it would have
been a safe and a wise one. We are sure it would have been beneficent,
for no gentler, kindlier prince ever had power and opportunity.
The distrust of him manifested by the conservative party, and notably
by Bismarck, and one still nearer to him, leads us to believe that he
leaned too strongly toward the ideal of the patriots of 1860. But we
shall never know. We can only conjecture whether in Frederick's death
Germany escaped a danger or missed an opportunity.
The unseemly dissensions, the heartbreaking complications, which
tormented this dying man make one of the saddest chapters in history;
and his reign of five months can scarcely be matched in suffering. At
last it was ended. The untarnished soul and tortured body parted
company, and William II. reigned in his stead.
It is not the province of history to pass judgment upon the living.
When the young Emperor William II. dismissed his great chancellor, he
assumed the full responsibility of his empire. Whether he has the
intelligence and the wisdom required to control, unaided, the forces at
home, or to guide his bark amid the whirl of European currents, later
histories will tell.
But one thing is very certain. Time spent to-day in riveting
antiquated chains upon Germany is time thrown away; and the ruler who
desires his work to be permanent must turn his back upon medievalism
and must realize that the true source of abiding power in his country
is that sentiment which emancipated her from Napoleon in 1814, and
which in 1871 made of her a UNITED GERMANY.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's A Short History of Germany, by Mary Platt Parmele