ally driven into the courtyard in a closed carriage, but it is no easy matter to penetrate the serried mass of hero-worshippers which invests the vehicle that comes from the palace in the adjacent Wilhelmstrasse. A thousand hurrahs rend the air, hats are waved, and sometimes, so great is the confusion of the demonstrators, heads are bruised, if not broken. The object of the ovation raises his cuirassier's cap, bows, and smiles; possibly he thinks, too, of what Cromwell said when the London populace apotheosized him.

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Meanwhile, the assembly hall has filled up to an unwonted extent. The diplomatic gallery is crowded with distinguished personages; the strangers' tribunes are as full as they can be made, ladies' toilettes and officers' uniforms pleasantly varying the monotony of long rows of black coats and craned necks; and the reporters' galleries are so densely occupied that it appears as if the high priests of Mercury are piled one above another. Occasionally, the Imperial boxes are tenanted, for Prince William is known to be a devoted admirer and scholar of Germany's greatest man of "Rath und That.'' When Prince Bismarck's well-known portfolio is brought into the House, it is concluded that the Chancellor himself-the great Bow-wow" (der grosse BauBau), as he is irreverently and surreptitiously called in Parliamentary circles -is not far away. This receptacle of diplomatic papers and material for speech-making is placed upon the front Ministerial bench to the right of the president, and alongside it is deposited the owner's great lead pencil, which like the widow's barrel of meal and cruse of oil is proof against diminution. On entering the hall by a door behind the president's chair, Prince Bismarck goes at once to his place, merely answering the obeisance of by-standing Ministers, deputies, and Parliamentary officials by a series of bows. He takes from the portfolio the sheets of notes and the invariable bundle of newspapers and cuttings which he intends to use during his speech, and having arranged these with care he takes stock of the House and then leaves his chair, if time still remains, for the purpose of chatting with colleagues and friends. Count von

Moltke's seat is just below that of the Chancellor. If Moltke does not ascend the steps that lead to Bismarck's place, Bismarck descends to Moltke's: never do these old comrades in war and peace fail to come together on occasions like this, and the meeting and the greeting are of the heartiest.

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At last the president announces that "Der Herr Reichskanzler hat das Wort." Prince Bismarck is on his feet in an instant, and before the spectators in the galleries have had time to adjust their opera-glasses, or hard-hearing deputies to press forward to the Ministerial bench, he has begun his speech. of the latest and best of Professor Anton von Werner's portraits represents Bismarck in the act of addressing the Reichstag, and those who have been privileged to hear the Chancellor will agree that this gifted painter has succeeded in producing an exceedingly realistic picture. Werner has, indeed, done his work with such fidelity that the orator is shown with open mouth, a degree of exactitude to which some critics have taken exception, but which could not have been sacrificed, in view of the fact that Bismarck, with all his brilliant capacities, has not yet succeeded in making a speech with closed lips. The Chancellor always appears wearing the undress uniform of a cavalry general, and his cuirassier's coat, with its yellow collar and breast flaps, becomes him admirably. Probably the first thought that would occur to the mind of a person who saw Bismarck for the first time, would be, "That is not a statesman, but a soldier ;" and if Count von Moltke were simultaneously pointed out to him, he would be inclined to conclude that there was some confusion as to the identity of the two men. Judged by outward appearance as well as by disposition, Moltke the Silent might well be set down as a typical statesman and diplomatist-the long, gaunt figure, the thoughtful head, and the reserved manner would all warrant the assumption-while Bismarck looks from head to foot like a soldier, and he has many of the characteristics of one. He is tall and massive, with the shoulders of a giant; with all his fulness of form he is as straight as an arrow; and his ponderous head, with the glossy pate, shaggy eye

addressing the Reichstag, such a style as might be employed at a Cabinet Council meeting. Of declamation there is no trace: he begins slowly and monotonously, and making exception of casual breaks in the even tenor of his delivery—as when he replies to an interruption, reminds the Reichstag and Europe that the last French war was "child's play in comparison with the next, or declares that The Germans fear God but nothing else in the world"

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Is the German Chancellor an orator? He says himself that he is not. I am no orator," he once told a Parliamentary audience; "I cannot work on your feelings or obscure facts by word-playing. My speech is plain and simple.' It is related of King Frederick William I. that when he heard two advocates pleading, he would at the end of the first speech break in with, That man is right." When, however, the other side of the question at dispute had been advanced with equal force, he would reverse his judgment, and end by rating both orators soundly for confusing him by their sophistry. No man more heartily despises the eloquence that makes black look white, than does Prince Bismarck. "The gift of eloquence," he has said, "has done much mischief in Parliamentary life." And again: "Oratory is a waste of time: let us restrict ourselves to statements of facts." Once he happily likened rhetoricians to "ladies with small feet who always wear shoes too small for them, and put out their feet so that they may be looked at." Tried by his own canons, Bismarck is certainly no orator. There is no artificial embellishment about his speech; not a word is said that can be avoided, but from beginning to end, every sentence is to the point. Sophistry, flattery, equivocation will be looked for in vain: the Chancellor says what he means, and it is pretty generally allowed that he means what he says. His voice is not by any means musical, and it is at times very weak, so that the official reporters, favored though they are in location, complain that he is hard to follow. Prince Bismarck, indeed, adopts a semi-conversational style when

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A great fault of his diction is its occasional incoherency. Bismarck's tongue cannot keep pace with his mind, and the consequence is that he now and then breaks off in the middle of a sentence, and takes up a new thought, leaving his hearers to develop the old one for themselves at leisure. Mr. Gladstone likewise labors under the burden of a profusion of thoughts, but his refuge is interminable parenthesis. Prince Bismarck, however, is less considerate to his hearers: he gives them half-finished sentences and they have to make the best they can of them.

So far is he from being embarrassed during the delivery of a speech that he replies to every interruption, and at times his retorts are happy and overpowering. Yet he intensely dislikes being interrupted, and he sometimes turns to the quarter whence ejaculations have come with the blunt remark, "You speak later." Upon one occasion murmurs were heard in the Centre while he was on his feet. He at once begged the Clerical party to refute his contentions if they could, but not to smother his words by "inarticulate expressions of irritation." At times the hissing or taunt of an opponent has caused him to leave his seat, and, advancing several paces forward in the direction of the president's chair, to demand, with threatening looks and gestures, to know who had interrupted. Long ago an insignificant deputy so far forgot good manners as to charge the Chancellor with unveracity. Prince Bismarck's face flushed in an instant, as, throwing his hand upon his sword, he exclaimed wrathfully, "Say that again!'' But there was no response. There are nowadays but two men in the Reichstag who are more than a match for the Chancellor.

They are Dr. Windthorst, the Clerical leader, and Herr Eugen Richter, the leader of the Freisinnige Partei, and a Parliamentary debater von Gottes Gnaden; and from the nature of the case, both these deputies are found in perpetual antagonism to him. But Prince Bismarck long ago discovered a way of rendering impotent the spleen of Herr Richter. While members are eagerly flocking into the House to hear the polished eloquence of this talented publicist, the leader of the Government gathers up his papers and beats a hasty retreat; and he has registered the solemn resolution that he will never again listen to the rare oratory of his persecutor. On Bismarck's side there is a deep feeling of disgust at the political tactics which his opponent has for years pursued, as well as a conviction that Herr Richter is actuated by personal malice, and is never happier than when inflicting pain. The Liberal leader, on the other hand, cannot tolerate Ministers imbued with the spirit of outlived absolutism, and honestly believes that the Chancellor is no longer the man for the age. He has no patience with a statesman who does not hesitate to say, in a country which has adopted constitutional government and universal suffrage, So long as I am Chancellor and Foreign Minister, policy will be determined by my judgment;" and he strikes at the one man' system of government by making the author and impersonation of it feel uncomfortable. Upon one noteworthy occasion, long ago, Prince Bismarck and Deputy Richter found themselves in agreement during a debate on finance, and the former was so impressed by the unlooked-for incident that he rose and repeatedly expressed the surprise which it had caused him. Since then the two antagonists have occupied their old positions at opposite poles of thought, and it is probable that they will continue irreconcilable Parliamentary forces to the end, like millstones grinding one another. The late Dr. Lasker was always able to rouse the Chancellor's temper, and Herr Richter has learned the knack of doing the same thing. But if the Prince is very jealous of his own dignity, he is a hundred times more so when the dignity of his country and king is at stake. Woe

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betide the man who, in his hearing, whether in Parliament or out of it, says a word which may be interpreted as displaying want of respect for the Prussian royal house. He will receive scant courtesy at the hands of the burning monarchist who, as a youth, broke his beer-glass over the head of a foultongued public-house demagogue, and who, as Prussian Minister, has declared, It is the same to me whether I die for my king on the street pavement or the battle-field.” A few years ago the Chancellor's devotion to his sovereign led to an exciting incident in the Reichstag, and one which, however regrettable, showed his warm loyalty in a very clear light. It was during a debate on the then expiring Socialist Law. Deputy Bebel had declared that if the despotism characteristic of Russian government were introduced into Germany, Nihilism would be introduced with it. Considering this assertion in the light of the assassination of the Emperor Alexander, Prince Bismarck jumped to the conclusion that the Socialists contemplated regicide, and, amid great excitement, he attacked Bebel furiously for proclaiming the justifiableness of political murder, and charged him with plotting against the house of Hohenzollern. If, however, Prince Bismarck's oratory has many faults, it has also many excellences. No matter what be the theme under discussion, the Chancellor is sure to adorn it. Apart from the weightiness of his utterances, all of which tell, his speeches are relieved by apt quotations, forcible similes, and witty allusions, and opponent and friend admire and praise, even if they do not both agree with what they hear. He has at command no fewer than five modern and one dead language, but when he borrows from poetry, it is generally Goethe or Shakespeare who is laid under tribute. Shakespeare, indeed, he knows better than most Englishmen, though Germans would say that this is not a fact to be wondered at. What must most astonish those who hear or read Prince Bismarck's speeches is the extent of learning to which they bear witness. One who has lived long in the immediate presence of the Chancellor has put it on record that he has "a predilection for history, geography, and political econ

omy," and again and again proofs have been given of his wide acquaintance with historical and economical subjects. The writer once asked a famous German political economist for his candid opinion of Prince Bismarck's familiarity with his favorite science. The answer was as follows: Theoretically Prince Bismarck is not to be called a political economist, but in practice he shows great knowledge of the sound principles of political economy. His fault is that he generalizes too much-like a German professor," and the speaker smiled here, for he was then filling a chair at one of the leading German universities. Here we have the truth beyond question; Prince Bismarck leaves theory to the schools, and only concerns himself with the practical phases of questions, yet he brings to his task knowledge which may be said to be intuitive, and thus he seldom errs for want of studying text-books. That he pays little heed to mere theory we know from his own lips, for when assailed once for breaking loose from traditional beliefs, he retorted, "it is not my business to carry on dogmatism, but politics," and so silenced his opponents. Yet the world has of late years been astonished as it has seen a statesman whose life had hitherto been exclusively devoted to the solution of diplomatic and constitutional problems, disputing successfully, like a Saul among prophets, with political economists and social reformers upon intricate questions like those of taxation, the land laws, protection, factory legislation, laborers' insurance, State railways, tobacco and spirit monopolies, and the double standard. More singular than this breadth of knowledge is the fact that the man who has exhibited so versatile a genius is the one of whom Napoleon III. said, in 1862, "Ce n'est pas un homme sérieux. Strange to say, Prince Bismarck, though a German of the Germans, admits foreign words into his speeches without apparent attempt at restriction. The good patriot who refuses to accept German works which are printed in Roman characters mixes German and French with cosmopolitan indifference. Thus a few lines taken at random from one of his speeches contain words like conflagration, permanent, eventualität, na

tion, finanz, revanche, tableau, unmotivirt, coalition, militair, etc. But the reason for this flagrant disregard of the old quatrain, according to which ein echter Deutscher (a genuine German) must speak his mother-tongue in all its purity, is that Prince Bismarck is too practical to stickle for linguistic trivialities. It is not that he loves Germany or her language less, but that he counts utility higher than sentiment. That is why he will one day consent to read Latin print with patience.

In no respect does Bismarck set theory and precept more at defiance than in speech-making. He has related how he once read the Bundesrath a lecture on the uselessness of verbosity, but he seldom addresses the Reichstag for a shorter time than an hour, and he has even exceeded two hours, not, however, that the occasion would have admitted of a curtailment. He speaks extempore, though the heads of his oration and newspaper quotations which he intends to use are carefully noted on sheets of paper lying before him. Although the Chancellor professes to regard the Press with utter indifference, not to say contempt, no one follows the newspapers with greater care than he. Not infrequently he makes a journalistic criticism the text of a speech, as on the occasion of the two hours' oration which pacified the European nations in February. Sometimes he brings out of the capacious portfolio a great heap of leading articles cut from Opposition prints, and now and then he will brandish a handful of them in the faces of his antagonists, with the dry observation that he does not purpose reading them to the House that day. But foolscap sheets of memoranda and newspaper cuttings are not Prince Bismarck's sole help in the making of a speech. Equally important is the copious libation by the aid of which he keeps hoarseness down and his spirits up. The stimulant which the Chancellor drinks is a weak concoction of cognac and seltzer water. Formerly this preparation was brought into the House ready mixed, the supply being kept undiminished by a relay of waiters running between the Ministerial bench and the more material apartments of the building. Now, however, the mixing of the Chancellor's glasses has

been advanced to a high art, which Ministers, Secretaries of State, and Privy Councillors are alone fit and able to practice.

On the occasion of Prince Bismarck's last speech in the Reichstag, Count Herbert, his eldest son, now Secretary of State in the Foreign Office, kept the cognac bottle in his own hands, while a group of high functionaries divided the rest of the work between them. Nothing could exceed for downright comicality the busy scene that was enacted behind the Chancellor's back during the whole of the speech. The difficulty with which the glass-mixers had continually to contend was that of securing the requisite degree of dilution. First one would taste and find the compound too weak, so that more cognac had to be added. Then another would pronounce it too strong, and the addition of seltzer water was the consequence. More than once the Chancellor, hard to please, refused to drink the draught so carefully prepared, and one of the solemn group had to drain the glass, so that the blending operation might begin again. Probably a dozen and a half small glasses were handed to Prince Bismarck full and removed from his bench empty, before all had been said that was in the great statesman's mind. That was a high record to reach, but then the occasion was a momentous one, and the Chancellor's throat was unusually troublesome.

Such are some of the peculiarities of Prince Bismarck's speech-making. He dislikes the title of orator, yet tried by other and more generally recognized canons than his own-which make the orator a mere windbag and word-juggler -he is an orator of undoubted power. Not a few of the men who have earned high rhetorical reputations in the British House of Commons during the last half century would have been glad to have possessed the voice of Germany's Chancellor, defective as it unquestionably is, and it may be doubted whether any of them have delivered greater speeches, speeches fuller of weighty words (inhaltsvoller, as the Germans say), more polished, more telling, more hearable and readable, and indicating a greater

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scope of political knowledge, keener insight, and wider culture in the speaker. Will Prince Bismarck's speeches live after him? Not, perhaps, as models of rhetoric; yet his orations contain a vast amount of wit and wisdom, for which posterity will long be grateful. That Bismarck is a master of phrases, is proved by a multitude of expressions given by him to political life, and now become international property, such as the famous "blood and iron," "Catilinarian existences,' honest broker," "policy of free hand," "Do ut des," "Beati possidentes," and the unlucky invocation of Canossa memories. Take, however, a few of his political aphorisms. Compromise is everywhere the basis of constitutional life.' "If a man can make promises he is sure to be elected." A great State is not to be ruled according to party views." is with Governments and their Liberalism as with ladies: the youngest always pleases best." "He who has his hand on the money-bag has the power." "Freedom is a luxury which every man cannot allow himself. Every State must recognize that its peace and security rest on its own sword." "In a year and a half much evil may be done, but not much good.' "One is willing enough to be protected, but not to pay for the protection.' A peace never fulfils all wishes, and is never just to all rights.' Let us learn to respect fidelity to conviction in opponents." "In European disputes, when no competent court of appeal exists, right is only to be enforced by the bayonet." "There are plenty of candidates for the Chancellorship, because it is such an easy post to fill."

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These are only samples of the proverbial philosophy of which Prince Bismarck's Parliamentary speeches are full. What especially distinguishes his sententious utterances is their palpable spontaneity. Some of his wisest, wittiest, and weightiest sayings have owed their origin to sudden inspiration prompted by the irresponsible ejaculations of dissentient hearers or the dialectic slips of opponents in debate.— Temple Bar.