¶ Lenbach, the renowned artist, came to paint Bismarck’s picture; and noted the curious fact that although Mecklenburgers have the largest German skulls, “Bismarck’s is larger still.”
¶ Bad nights, neuralgia, insomnia became his companions; but still ambition, the one supreme infirmity of his majestic mind, gives him no peace.
What would future generations say of Bismarck’s work? And of the immediate present, has Caprivi helped it any? Was the repeal of my Iron Laws against Socialism wise? Why did not Caprivi follow my plan of making the Government the arbiter of German conscience? Why did not Caprivi carry the Army Bill? I fought for four years, once, to get army money for King William—and won over all obstacles!
¶ Schaffer came to make the Bismarck bust; it shows the Chancellor with high-cut nostrils, heavy jaws, scowling brows.
The old man likes it, because it presents him as a soldier; he is proud that he is a Field Marshal, prouder still of the Bismarcks in the old wars, proud also that he is a Prussian General of Cavalry.
¶ Then he scolds again about Caprivi’s treaty with Austria, says it will cost fifty million marks a year and nothing gained.
¶ Often in deep fits of melancholy, Bismarck thinks that Germany is ungrateful. For one thing, the Government ought to recognize my son Herbert; why, England saw in Pitt the son of his father, a chip of the old block; and why not one Bismarck after another, eh?
¶ Maybe Dr. Schweninger could do me some good, what do you think? This doctor is from South Germany—and a very determined fellow with a jet black, piratical beard; he gives orders like a military man, is a believer in diet, and all that sort of thing.
Twenty years before, when Bismarck’s weight was 247, this South German Dr. Schweninger put Bismarck through a course of “banting,” and the Chancellor rewarded the doctor with a chair in Berlin, against the united protests of the faculty! Why, yes, bring up Dr. Schweninger; he can make me well, I am sure.