He was undoubtedly at his literary best in conversation and in his letters.  We have several volumes of Bismarck anecdotes, Bismarck table-talk, etc.  The best known are those of Busch, which have been translated into English—­and in spite of the fact that his sayings come to us at second hand and colored by the personality of the transmitter, we recognize the qualities which, by the universal testimony of those who knew him, made him one of the most fascinating of talkers.  These qualities, however, come out most clearly in a little volume of letters (’Bismarck briefe’), chiefly addressed to his wife. (These letters have been excellently translated into English by F. Maxse.) They are characterized throughout by vivid and graphic descriptions, a subtle sense of humor, and real wit; and they have in the highest degree—­far more than his State papers or speeches—­the literary quality, and that indescribable something which we call style.

Bismarck furnishes, once for all, the answer to the old French question, whether a German can possibly have esprit—­witness his response to the German prince who desired his advice regarding the offer of the crown of one of the Balkan States:—­“Accept, by all means:  it will be a charming recollection for you.”  He possessed also to a high degree the power of summing up a situation or characterizing a movement in a single phrase; and his sayings have enriched the German language with more quotations than the spoken words of any German since Luther.

Of the numerous German biographies, Harm’s gives the greatest amount of documentary material; Hesekiel’s (which has been translated into English) is the most popular.  The best French biography is by Simon; the only important English work is that by Lowe.  For bibliography, see Schulze and Roller, (Bismarck-Literatur) (1895), which contains about 600 titles.  The Frankfort dispatches and the speeches have been translated into French, but not into English.

[Illustration:  signature of Munroe Smith]

TO FRAU VON ARNIM

SCHOeNHAUSEN, August 7th, 1850.

The fact is, this journey, and I see it more clearly the nearer it approaches, gives me a right of reversion on the new lunatic asylum, or at least a seat for life in the Second Chamber.  I can already see myself on the platform of the Genthiner station; then both of us packed in the carriage, surrounded with all sorts of child’s necessaries—­an embarrassing company; Johanna ashamed to suckle the baby, which accordingly roars itself blue; then the passports, the inn; then at Stettin railway station with both bellowing monkeys; then waiting an hour at Angermuende for the horses; and how are we to get from Kroechlendorf to Kuelz?  It would be perfectly awful if we had to remain for the night at Stettin.  I did that last year with Marie and her squallings.  I was in such a state of despair yesterday over all