Berlin, November 23, 1858

Today was election day; the electors of the second degree, a by no means numerous body, assembled in perfect quiet to act as the deputies of the unruly crowd. Liberalism in its most moderate form, bourgeois liberalism in bureaucratic garb, self-denying liberalism, emerged from the urn, which for a moment it had been feared might prove a Pandora’s box. The very titles of the candidates in our city prove that they can have no mischief in mind. There is a General Tax Director <General Tax Director: in the N.Y.D.T. in German and English>, a Lord Mayor <Lord Mayor: in the N.Y.D.T. in German and English>, a minister, a former minister, a Chief Justice <Chief Justice: in the N.Y.D.T. in German and English>, a Privy Archivist <Archivist: in the N.Y.D.T. in German and English>, and a Privy Councillor <Privy Councillor: in the N.Y.D.T. in German and English>; all these official and secret personages are supported by two bourgeois – the one is Herr Reimer, a Conservative and the publisher of His Majesty, the other Dr. Veit, likewise a publisher and, on account of his Jewish faith, chosen by the money market, which here as everywhere is strongly interspersed with Semitic blood. Now no one can deny the fact that the bourgeois radicals of 1848, the Jacobys, Unruhs, Waldecks, Rodbertuses, Steins, Elsners, etc. – in a word, the men of whom I wrote to you a month ago that they would probably be elected by the larger towns – actually played a leading role in the assemblies of the primary electors, drafted many election programmes, and were offered seats in the Landtag at Breslau, Königsberg, Magdeburg, and Elbing. Whence this sudden changement de décoration <change of scenery>? They modestly declined the honour held out to them. A few did not act entirely of their own free will, but resolved on this self-denial only after an unpleasant and by no means voluntary conversation with the Police Director <Police Director: in the N.Y.D.T. in German>. The others yielded to the pressure of the timorous section of the bourgeoisie, who for the moment set the tone. All, however—Police Directors, candidates, and electors—acted under the strong impetus of suddenly changed circumstances, or, I should rather say, not the circumstances had changed, but the mist of illusion by which they had been shrouded was swept away by a thunderstorm. La situation s’était dessinée <The situation had defined itself>, as the French say. The government went over to the attack. The Minister of the Interior, Flottwell, published a furious circular, such as has never yet appeared in any language, bristling with grammatical blunders, confused in expression, and nonsensical in argument, yet brimful of malevolent intent. You know what in France is meant by an official warning to a newspaper. Well, Flottwell’s circular was a general warning to the electors, backed up by secret instructions to the police. It was directed bluntly against the election speeches, the election programmes, and the election propaganda of the former radical members of the National Assembly of 1848. Since the big bourgeoisie is disposed to take the fortress by moderation, and since the more democratic majority of the people knows that the political initiative for the moment belongs to the big bourgeoisie, the ministerial hint was immediately acted upon; they dropped the grands airs <the grand airs> of a rebirth and trimmed the elections to the government pattern. Nevertheless, it is by no means a pleasant sensation to be thus roughly shaken out of a delightful dream. The men, the speeches, and the programmes against which proceedings were taken had, in their boldest dreams, kept so strictly “within the bounds of practical reason” that even the timorous section of the bourgeoisie felt hurt by the timorousness of the government. The government’s method of introducing the new regime of liberty appeared rather unceremonious; and consequently a low murmur of disappointment arose in public, while the organs of the old Camarilla overflowed with ironical congratulations on the “Selbstbesinnung” <“Selbstbesinnung”: in the N.Y.D.T. in German> of the new cabinet. Thereupon poor Flottwell caused another circular to be published, which he had addressed confidentially to the Landräte <Landräte: in the N.Y.D.T. in German> some weeks before, warning them against supporting candidates of extreme views on either side. To lend some weight to this anachronism, the antiquated edict was made the pretext for the following comment in the Preußische Zeitung, the government organ:

“The present elections are characterised by the extremely favourable fact that all parties are ready to come together on a monarchist-constitutional basis, and thereby to a certain degree to lessen the differences of opinion that separate their diverse convictions. The progressive but firm and moderate political course pursued by the government will be especially aimed at promoting this unification. The government will not be diverted from these liberal but moderate principles by extravagant hopes or demands. On the other hand, the government cannot permit that party to lay claim to the exclusive title of Royalists who, far from unreservedly accepting the basis of the constitution, acknowledge the legality of the charter only to the extent that it suits their own interests. The government denies the assertion that the majority of the landowners belong to this party,” etc.

In fact all the efforts of the ministry were in vain. Neither a reactionary speech delivered in the Staatsrat <Staatsrat: in the N.Y.D.T. in German> on the occasion of his son’s introduction, nor another reactionary speech at the Freemasons’ meeting, nor a reactionary address to the Treubund (a kind of Prussian Orangeist organisation) had strengthened the Prince’s position; but he had frightened the cabinet by violent outbursts of anger at the turn of affairs under its conduct. Flottwell’s first circular was a well-meant warning to the bourgeoisie not to put the Regent’s brand-new constitutionalism to the test. When, as a result of this step, the ministers became aware of their own precarious position, they telegraphed to the Princess of Prussia, who instantly hastened from Koblenz to Berlin and performed a coup de baguette <a wave of the magic wand> in the opposite direction. During the past year the Princess had alternately stayed in Weimar, Karlsruhe, and Koblenz. Only at the moment of the solution of the regency question had she betaken herself to Berlin. After all the doctors consulted had refused to give an opinion on whether the King could be cured or not, the Queen selected, through Herr von Kleist-Retzow, a military doctor, a certain Böger, who signed a certificate according to which the King’s health might be restored. The Princess of Prussia fell ill. She called the same doctor to her sickbed, had herself treated by him, charmed him by flattery and gracious affability, and, when he seemed ripe for her purpose, asked him straight out whether he, so learned and conscientious a man, really believed his own declaration concerning the King’s state of health. The foolish Böger confessed that only the Queen’s tears had determined his conduct. Thereupon the Princess rang; two chamberlains rushed in, and the military doctor, who had to obey his natural superiors, had to repeat the confession just extorted from him not only orally but in his own handwriting. Having thus gained her object, the Princess was banished from Berlin. After her husband had been installed as Regent, she voluntarily prolonged her stay at Koblenz. Like other mediocre men, Prince William suffers from the intellectual superiority of his better half, and, while being led by the apron-strings, he would yet rather not see the hands that hold them. His wife’s influence must reach him by a roundabout way. Moreover, the relations between these two personages are icy-cold and ceremonious. In his youth Prince William was passionately in love with Fräulein von Brockhaus and wished to marry her. His father intervened, and the young lady died in Paris of a broken heart. The marriage with the Princess of Weimar was forced upon the refractory scion of the Hohenzollerns; and to avenge himself he displayed an unbridled passion for Fräulein V...k during the first years of his wedlock. Thus the relations between the Prince and his wife are anything but cosy; and the Princess’s best method of setting up her ministry in Berlin consisted in keeping herself concealed in Koblenz. Meanwhile the Queen played one of those pranks with which readers of the Œil-de-Bœuf chronicles are familiar. You may have read in the newspapers that after the departure of the King and Queen from Berlin the latter’s portefeuille was stolen at Leipzig, and that, despite all the exertions of the Argus-eyed and Briareus-handed German police, the thief could not be caught. By some chance or other the portefeuille found its way into the Regent’s writing-desk, and in the portefeuille was discovered an extensive correspondence of his wife, the Princess, with all sorts of politicians. There were letters to Chief Justice <Chief Justice: in the N.Y.D.T. in German> Wenzel in Ratibor, one of the deputies just elected in Berlin and a member of the opposition in the Manteuffel Chamber, letters to Reichensperger, the head of the Catholic opposition in Prussia, and other letters – all brimming with hypocritical liberalism and full of longing for a united Germany. Thus the Prince, who is known to be persecuted by the bugbear of the red republic, was still more frightened by the illusory discovery that his own wife had entered into intimate relations with the revolutionaries. Still other intrigues were spun. I relate this chronique scandaleuse <scandalous chronicle>, for whose truth I can vouch, because revolutions, before they assume the form of popular movements, first announce themselves in monarchical states by the decay of the Crown’s authority.