well fitted to astonish bystanders, but of very little use for the acceleration of work. Bismarck has frequently expressed the opinion that a thing is not well done unless it is done as well as possible; and that no thing, not even a small one, can be done as well as possible unless thorough attention is given to it. But while he objects to doing more than one thing at a time, he is able to pass quickly from one to another. Just as his eye, which seems to be fixed on the object upon which it rests, does not on that account dwell long on the same point, so his mind looks fixedly and through and through. so to speak, a special question, leaving it nevertheless suddenly and entirely as soon as attention is required by some other subject. The exhaustiveness of Bismarck's despatches, which seldom leave any part of a question unelucidated, should be attributed to the fact that he has trained himself always to attend thoroughly to the one special matter he has in hand.
Many of Bismarck's peculiarities as a writer are also observable in him as a speaker. He lacks some of the qualities which are considered almost indispensable to an orator. He not only speaks slowly, he actually stops — at the beginning of his speeches, at least — at every third or fourth word; one might suppose he had to overcome some organic difficulty in pronouncing his words. He sways himself gently backwards and forwards, he twirls his thumbs, and from time to time he looks at a scrap of paper upon which he has put down notes before speaking. To one who did not know him well he would certainly appear to be embarrassed, nay, even intimidated. But this is not the case. He takes due account of those who are listening to him, but he is probably less disturbed by their presence than any other public speaker. He is heart and soul at his work, he wants to say all he thinks about the question, and he does not much care whether his way of speaking is pleasant or not. When he comes to a stop, his auditors feel that after all they have heard something worth listening to, and that every word Bismarck has used, and which he has taken so much pains to find, was the right one, bearing directly on the question. Somebody interrupts him; he does not retort quick as lightning, but after a few seconds — the time for weighing what he has just heard — there comes a crushing reply which falls heavily on the interrupter, and not unfrequently raises a laugh at his expense.
After a while he warms to his work, and the conclusion of some of his speeches is very good, even from an exclusively oratorical point of view. The greater part of what he has said in debate reads well; it is full of sound common sense and logic, and is utterly free from high-sounding, empty phrases. If what Bismarck says were not good and forcible, no one would attend to him; but generally what he says appears from the first so weighty, that though he speaks badly, there is no orator more attentively listened to. And this was the case before he became a great man. In 1848, when his adversaries used to sneer freely at the Prussian Junker, and when he possessed but little influence, none of his speeches in the Prussian Parliament failed to attract more or less attention. One may like, or one may hate Bismarck, but every one must acknowledge that he is intellectually what he is physically — a powerful man. He himself knows this well, and relies on his own powers to an extraordinary extent. Hence his daring, which also forms so marked a feature in his character.
Bismarck's life is full of authentic anecdotes recording his singular fearlessness. As a child, he does not seem to know what danger is. His mother is in constant fear about him. If he does not get drowned, he will certainly break his neck. Many accidents happen to him, and he often has very narrow escapes, but somehow he always does escape. As he grows older he becomes more prudent, but still he does not know fear. Nothing daunts him. He likes his masters when they treat him kindly, and in that case they find him docile, studious, quiet even; but he rebels against those who try to subdue him by severity, and they can never get an authority over him.
In Göttingen, whither he went to study law, he got involved in four duels on the very day of his arrival, because, quite regardless of the respect due by a freshman to his seniors, he coolly and deliberately insulted four of these who had taken the liberty to laugh at him.
While in the army he saved his servant from drowning, at the risk of his own life. For this deed he got a medal, which for many years was the only decoration he had. He wears it still; and it is said — and we readily believe — that he is quite as proud of it as of the numberless ribbons, crosses, and stars which now cover his breast. An Austrian Excellency asked him one day in Frankfurt what that poor medal meant. "Oh," replied Bismarck coolly, "I rather like to save people from
