In that curious non-moral mode of writing history for which that German “moralist,” Carlyle, was chiefly responsible Bismarck was a “great man.” He changed the map of Europe. He stole Schleswig-Holstein from Denmark; euchred Austria out of her share of the spoils; and taking, as his raw materials, the old free German States, the blood of France, and the imbecile bluff of Napoleon, he produced Modern Germany. Let us observe the light of idealism in which he worked. It is not literature, or imagination, or mere phrase-spinning to say that Bismarck made cruelty his sacrament. I am anxious to make this study as objective and free from prejudice as possible. It is Bismarck who speaks for himself in 1849-- “It is desirable and necessary to improve the social and political condition of Germany; this, however, cannot be brought about by resolutions, and votes of majorities or speeches of individuals, but by _blood and iron_.” If this was Bismarck’s own guiding star, there were others who recognised it as clearly as himself. When the list of a suggested new Cabinet was presented to Frederick William IV in just that year, 1849, he drew a thick line through Bismarck’s name and wrote opposite it in the margin-- “Red-hot reactionary. Likes the smell of blood. May be employed later on.” When employed later on--in France--he did not belie the nostril diagnosis. I quote from Hoche’s _Bismarck Intime_-- “Apropos of the burnt villages and the peasants who were burnt, Bismarck remarked that the smell from the villages was ‘like the smell of roast onions.’ Favre remarked to Bismarck that ladies were to be seen strolling on the boulevards, and pretty, healthy children were playing around. ‘You surprise me,’ said Bismarck; ‘I thought you had already eaten all the children.’ “Favre complained to Bismarck that his soldiers had fired on a hospital, _L’Hospice des Quinze-Vingts_: ‘Why not?’ he replied. ‘The French fired on our soldiers who were vigorous and strong.’” The Prussia, to whose tradition he succeeded, lives in the irony or indignant protest of the great humanists. I cite but two. “War,” said Mirabeau, “is the national industry of Prussia.” And Mr. Frederic Harrison, in a superb essay, published when Germany was hammering at the gates of Paris in 1870–71, drew out a sound digest of title-- “Prussia is the sole European kingdom which has been built up province by province on the battlefield, cemented stone by stone in blood. Its kings have been soldiers; sometimes generals, sometimes drill-sergeants, but ever soldiers; its people are a drilled nation of soldiers on furlough; its sovereign is simply commander-in-chief; its aristocracy are officers of the staff; its capital is a camp.” He went on to characterise in words that bite deeper since Liége, Louvain, and Antwerp--