On the 23rd of February I again received a letter from Bucher, also under cover to Frau Hedwig Hämmerling: “23/2/91. He says he would like to see you once more, and requests you to visit him. You may choose the time most convenient to yourself, but give two days’ notice in advance, so as to avoid clashing with an invitation to Hamburg. Be sure to bring your sleeping garments with you, if you are as little in favour with the lady of the house as I am.”

I replied that I should have preferred to go the day after to-morrow, but that as I was at liberty to name my own time, and was now engaged in reading over papers, arranging and packing for my removal on the 16th of March, I would come on the 18th. I further requested him to say by what train I should come, and called attention to the fine cartoon and verses, “Dropping the Pilot,” in Punch, of the 29th of March, 1890, which an acquaintance had sent me the previous day, and which I should bring with me if they had not already seen it.

Bucher replied that they had the “Pilot” from Punch at Friedrichsruh; and that he himself had travelled by the slow train. I arrived at Friedrichsruh at 3 P.M. on the 18th of March. The Prince had gone out for a drive with Buhl, the member of Parliament, who had come on a visit. A servant showed me upstairs to No. 4 as my room, where Grant, Bancroft, and the busts of Washington and Hamilton kept me company. I immediately visited Bucher, whose room was opposite mine. He complained that the work of the “Memoirs” stood exactly where it did before. In dictating, the Prince wandered from one point to another, told many things several times, and almost always differently, &c. A huge pile of dictated notes had already been transcribed, he calculated some sixty printed sheets. It would, however, have to be sifted and worked up, and the Chief had not as yet looked through a line of it. Hardly anything would come of it, and, in any case, he had not as yet decided whether it should be published during his lifetime or after his death. Bucher intends to leave again for a time at the end of the month, and is very dissatisfied with his occupation hitherto. He showed me in the pile on the chair a thick packet, endorsed, “Nikolsburg,” and observed that it dealt less with the important events that took place there than with a variety of other matters. He had seen few of the papers arranged by me in 1888, none at all of those relating to the alliance with Austria, only two or three letters from the Gerlach correspondence, and he had also seen nothing of the correspondence with Manteuffel and Schleinitz. He believes that the Chief has sent all those that are missing to a bank in England for safety. But a few days later he modified this surmise, and said he thought the papers were in the keeping of some trusty friend.

Downstairs before dinner, Buhl, a lean old gentleman with a grey beard, introduced himself to me. I now made the acquaintance also of Dr. Chrysander, a slight young man. The Chief appeared shortly afterwards with the Princess. He greeted me with the customary “Büschlein,” was pleased to see from my appearance that I was well again, and said I must sit next to him at table on his right, while President Buhl sat on his left between himself and his consort. The Prince looked very well, was most good-humoured and talkative during dinner, was surprised that I still had so much hair, told amusing stories and expatiated with knowledge on various fine wines and judges thereof. (...)

Dinner was followed by some more serious conversation in the coffee-room. In reply to a question by Buhl the Prince disapproved of Caprivi’s East African policy: “Zanzibar ought not to have been left to the English. It would have been better to maintain the old arrangement. We could then have had it at some later time when England required our good offices against France or Russia. In the meantime our merchants, who are cleverer, and, like the Jews, are satisfied with smaller profits, would have kept the upper hand in business. To regard Heligoland as an equivalent shows more imagination than sound calculation. In the event of war it would be better for us that it should be in the hands of a neutral Power. It is difficult and most expensive to fortify”—a point which he then explained in detail. “That does not make one an ‘extender of the realm,’ not even to the extent that I was in the old days when I travelled back to Berlin with the cession of a strip of land on the Jahde in my pocket, thinking not a little of my achievement!” The Prince is also opposed to building any more large ships: “rather two small vessels than one big one; the North Sea and Baltic Canal doubles our naval strength.” (...)

On Friday, March 20th, after lunch, at which the Chief was again very bright and communicative, Bucher at my request allowed me to read the chapter on Nikolsburg from the material dictated for the “Memoirs,” in the first place that I should note the numerous digressions from the real subject. These excursions included, among other things, references to the anti-German Queen of Holland, intended annexations, Frederick the Great, an intrigue during the Regency, the indemnity, the impression made in Russia by the events of the summer of 1866, the Danzig Pronunciamento, the German question in 1848, dynastic sentiments, a lost opportunity in 1848, factions, the Wochenblatt party, Augusta, the removal to St. Petersburg and the Italian war. In doing this I ran through the greater part of the manuscript, and found some new and interesting matter respecting the King’s desire for annexation, Bismarck’s reasons for moderation, and a speedy conclusion of peace; Moltke’s strategic plans; a visit of the Crown Prince, who comes to Bismarck and promises to support him at a time when he was almost despairing of carrying through his scheme; and the final consent of the King, who complains, however, that it is an “ignominious peace.” Further matters of interest are: Augusta’s influence on the Regent, Bismarck’s audience before his transfer to St. Petersburg, his condemnation of the Ministers of the new era, as for instance of Schwerin, and afterwards of Usedom and his English wife; the remarkable allegation that Frederick the Great was also vain, supported by references to the King’s own judgment of a poem written by himself immediately after the battle (“n’est pas trop mal après une bataille”), and to his flute playing. In conclusion, the views expressed as to our relations with Austria and Russia, and the policy which they impose upon us, well deserve to be taken to heart. Irritation against the Russians has arisen (this doubtless refers to the Emperor William) out of personal impressions (due to inadequate appreciation); yet we cannot be quite certain of Austria, as the possibility of a breach with her depends upon one person. Bucher says that the Chief would doubtless speak to me about Windthorst, as to whom there were still many things to be said, and suggested that I should start the subject when opportunity offered. This was done indirectly over our coffee after dinner, but the Prince did not take it up. Later on, however, it was suggested that such excessive honours would never have been paid to the old Guelph advocate at his death if the Emperor had not set the example. To-day the Chief dictated to Bucher on “questions of State rights,” but was unable to get properly under way and could not verify or complete what he had to say, as he had not got his books, “his tools.” (...)

At noon on Saturday, the 21st of March, the Chief sent Bucher, to whom he had again been dictating in the morning on questions of State rights, to ask if I would go for a walk with him. (...)

I took an opportunity of inquiring how his “Memoirs” were getting on, mentioning that I knew he had begun to dictate his reminiscences and views. “That is so,” he rejoined; “but it is probable that in the end it will come to nothing. I have no documents, and even if I remember the main points—quite clearly—one cannot after all carry in his head every detail of what has happened in the course of thirty years. Then as to the publication during my lifetime. Ever since 1847 I have constantly represented the monarchical principle, and held it aloft like a banner. Now I have seen three Kings in a state of nakedness, and frequently these three exalted gentlemen did not make altogether a very good show. Still it would not do to say that openly before the world—it would be inconsistent—opposed to principle. And yet I can just as little keep silent when once I come to deal with that point, to say nothing of asserting the contrary. And if it (the publication) takes place after my death, then they will say: ‘There you have it! Even from his grave! What a detestable old wretch!’” I could only reply that one has duties towards himself, and his own honour,—duties towards that which one has created; that one ought as a man of experience and judgment to warn the country against wrong courses into which it may be led through the impetuousness or thoughtlessness and excessive self-confidence of new politicians; and furthermore that one has duties towards history, to dispel misunderstandings and chimeras, and the falsehoods of flattering courtiers; and that truth, which stands above all things, must have its rights—truth of which Jesus said that it will make us free. He listened in silence to this eager and audacious outburst; and I then spoke of another subject—namely, Kingston’s report in the Daily Telegraph of an interview with him, and in particular of the very favourable opinion of the Emperor Frederick, therein ascribed to him, which could not be reconciled with the views I had heard him express. He replied: “I know nothing of any Kingston, or of any interview in an English newspaper. The report must be an invention (Schwindel).” He then mentioned the picture (in Punch), “Dropping the Pilot,” and said: “The Emperor was delighted with it. He saw in it a recognition of his right to smash the pot—you know as in the witches’ kitchen: ‘Entzwei, entzwei, da liegt der Brei.’”

At lunch among other things the Prince related the history of some excellent old Jamaica rum, of which a bottle stood on the table. The conversation then led to a few corrections. It was Kayser and not Rudchen Lindau who had warned and threatened the Allgemeine Zeitung in Munich; and Bötticher had not told the lie about the morphiomania of the Chancellor direct to the Emperor, but to the Grand Duke of Baden, who then related it to his Majesty. The statement that the latter questioned Schweninger is true, as also the rough answer given by the doctor. “And as a matter of fact,” said the Chief, “I have only taken morphia when in great pain, and it has never done me any harm; although Bötticher asserted that he found me quite deranged mentally and irresponsible for my actions.”

After dinner while reading the papers the Chief remarked, I now forget in what connection: “One day, long after my death, Büschlein will write the secret history of our times from good sources.” “Yes, Serene Highness,” I replied, “but not a real history—I cannot do that—rather a compilation of good materials, conscientiously collected and placed in a proper light. Nor shall it be long after your death, which of course we pray may be as remote as possible, but immediately, without delay, as in these corrupt times one cannot too soon vindicate the rights of truth.” He then came to speak of the newspaper reports to the effect that more friendly relations were gradually growing up between himself and the Emperor, a statement which he denied as something obviously impossible. He referred to the new communal regulations, which he disapproved of. He said they had offended the farmers, whom they put on a level with the small traders and artisans in communal affairs. He then spoke at some length of Minister Herrfurth, addressing himself for the most part to me, much to the following effect (Bucher afterwards recapitulated his statement to me upstairs): while the Emperor was still Prince and lived at Potsdam, he, Bismarck, desired to prepare him for the government, and to provide him, so to say, with tuition in the various branches of the art of governing. Up to that time he knew little, and indeed did not trouble himself much about it, but preferred to enjoy himself in the society of young officers and suchlike. The plan was to get him to remove to Berlin, somewhere near Bellevue. But the financial authorities at Court were of opinion that that would be too expensive. The Prince was then to hear lectures at Potsdam, and Bismarck proposed Herrfurth, the Under-Secretary of State,—who was reputed to be well informed, particularly in statistics—as his tutor on internal questions. The Prince agreed and invited Herrfurth to lunch with him, and then told the Chancellor he could not stand him, with his bristly beard, his dryness and tediousness, and asked whether the Prince could not suggest some one else. Yes, he would send him Regierungsrath von Brandenstein. The Prince had nothing to say against that, so Brandenstein was written to. But H.R.H., although it is true he lunched with him several times, paid so little attention to his explanations that Herr von Brandenstein lost patience, and begged to be given some other employment. In the meantime, shortly before the death of the Emperor Frederick, Minister Puttkamer was dismissed. When Prince William ascended the throne Bismarck spoke to him on the subject, and he said he would of course make Puttkamer Minister again, but a certain interval must be allowed to elapse—for appearance sake. Bismarck proposed that Herrfurth should hold the post in the interval, and told him that he must carry on the policy which Puttkamer had adopted, and resign his place to the latter after a certain time, receiving in return a post of Chief President. Would he agree to that? Yes, he would; he had always followed the course laid down by his superior, Puttkamer, and would willingly make way for him when the time came. But when Bismarck, after a few weeks or months, observed to his Majesty that the time had come to reinstate Puttkamer, the Emperor replied, no, he did not think of doing so any longer, as he had in the meantime grown accustomed to Herrfurth, and was now quite satisfied with him. The change had come about in this way. Herrfurth had, without previous consultation with the Prime Minister, put himself in direct communication with the Emperor, and taking advantage of the Sovereign’s wishes, recommended a liberal reform of the Communal Regulations, as a measure by which he could gain numerous friends and secure imperishable fame. “After a few days,” concluded the Prince, “my Schönhausen people came to me and asked, ‘What does this mean?’ They had received papers, and were, it would seem, to report whether they desired to have all the old arrangements upset, and every one put on the same level. And this was done throughout the seven old provinces, much to the surprise and dissatisfaction of the peasantry. That too was one of the causes of my retirement.” The Chief afterwards said that when I left he wished to give me some papers to take with me and keep for him. I was to make copies of them, which I could publish at a future day. I promised to remind him, and also offered my services for other purposes in the future; “I had always regarded myself as his little archer, who at his call would even shoot my bolt at the sun himself.” He smiled, and said: “Many thanks, perhaps.”

Sunday, March 22nd.—During the forenoon the Chief dictated to Bucher some notes on the question as to how the German Constitution might be altered in case it should no longer work. He also told him that he wished to give me certain important documents to take with me. (...)

Monday, March 23rd.—(...) I had waited yesterday in vain to see the Chief on his return from lunch to his study, in order to remind him of the documents which I was to take with me. To-day, after lunch, I called upon him in his own room for this purpose. I apologised for disturbing him, but, as I intended to leave to-morrow, I thought it was of importance to him that I should take the papers with me. “So it is,” he rejoined, “and it is well that you have reminded me of it while I am alone. But why are you going away so soon?” “I do not wish to be any longer a burden to you, Serene Highness.” “But you are nothing of the kind. On the contrary, I am glad to see such a faithful old comrade of the war time; and, moreover, you are so quiet that you disturb no one.” We then agreed that I should remain for a few days longer, and remind him of the papers once more later on. (...)

During the day workmen were engaged unpacking large cases of silver plate—a valuable treasure which German manufacturers had presented to the Prince as a token of their esteem. At dinner the old gentleman, who still remains the same lover of nature and of animals, had a great deal to tell about the starlings, for whom he had had a few dozen small wooden shelters put up in the trees behind the house. “They held a public meeting to-day,” he said, “probably in connection with the approach of spring. As I was going for my walk I first saw seven of them sitting together in one place and making music. Shortly after their numbers increased, and finally there were thirty of them sitting together, wing to wing.” He then cast a glance at the grey bull-dog waltzing round the room, and observed, “That reminds me of the funeral honours paid to Windthorst. I should never have thought of getting him (the dog), but the Emperor presented him to me. If it had not been for the Emperor’s intervention at the beginning, they would never have made such a fuss about Windthorst.” After dinner the conversation turned on newspaper tattle, as, for instance, that he had sent twelve cases full of important papers to an English bank to keep for him. “Twelve!” he exclaimed, smiling, “I wish I had even one such case full.” The gossips of the press also reported that he had recently purchased a house in Berlin, such and such a number in the Königgrätzerstrasse—better informed authorities had it that it was two houses—at a very high price. From this he went on to say that they once assessed the rent of his palace (the Palais Radziwill) in the Wilhelmstrasse (for the inhabited house duty) at 50,000 marks. On his remonstrating, they replied that the English Ambassador had assessed his own house, which was not so large, at as high a figure.

In the forenoon of Tuesday, March 24th, the Chief sent upstairs for me and handed me, first, three metallographic copies of documents, with two letters and a memorandum. All these were from the year 1885, and referred to the protection of municipalities against arbitrary school rates. “They are metallographs,” he said, “and as such I dare say I may publish them at some future time. You can take them with you for that purpose, but they should be returned to me afterwards.” “Then I will copy them.” “Yes, but that means a great deal of work, twenty or more pages, in parts closely written.” “That does not matter, it shall be done.” “And then here is my resignation, and this is the statement of my motives. You may read that through—” (and, as I boldly assume, with tacit permission to take a copy away with me, at present merely for my own information). “This is about Herbert—you can read that also, and then bring them all back to me.” I went immediately to my room and began to copy the resignation and the statement of motives, as well as the answer of the Chief to the Imperial acceptance thereof, which he had given me instead of the paper referring to Herbert. The metallographic documents will be dealt with later on.

Resignation.

At the present stage of international affairs I consider it hazardous to publish the “Draft of confidential statement as to the motives of my retirement from office.” The interest of Germany in keeping it secret for the immediate future seems to me to be greater than the interest of history in its publication now.

“Notes on my Retirement.

“The Vice-President of the Ministry of State (von Bötticher) declared that he and his colleagues were deeply grieved at my retirement. He had hitherto hoped that the only differences of opinion between his Majesty and myself were connected with home domestic policy, and therefore that the arrangement indicated by me, namely, that I should confine myself to the control of foreign affairs, would prove a satisfactory solution. My withdrawal from all my offices involved incalculable difficulties; and although he could understand my displeasure, he could only beg me urgently to come to a compromise.

“I replied: The expedient of withdrawing from the Prussian service and confining myself to the position of Imperial Chancellor had met with objections from the Federal Governments and the Imperial Diet. It is felt to be desirable that the Chancellor should have an official position in which he can control the casting of the Prussian vote; and I, too, could not accept a position in which I should be obliged to take from the Prussian Ministers instructions in the preparation of which I had had no part. Therefore this expedient also would not be free from difficulties.

“The Minister of Finance declared that the Order of the 8th of September, 1852, by no means went beyond what was necessary, and could not form an insurmountable difficulty. And also so far as the difficulties in the matter of foreign affairs were concerned, he could only agree with the Minister of State, von Bötticher, that a compromise ought to be sought. Besides, if the retirement took place not for reasons of health, but on political grounds, and from all offices, then the Ministry of State itself would have to consider whether it should not take part in this step. Perhaps that would contribute to avert the fatal event.

“The Ministers of Public Worship and of Justice considered that the differences referred to were due solely to a misunderstanding, which it might be possible to clear up for his Majesty. The Minister of War added, that for a long time past his Majesty had not let fall a single word that had any reference to warlike complications with Russia.

“The Minister of Public Works (Maybach) described my retirement as a misfortune for the security of the country and the peace of Europe. Every possible effort should be made to avert it. In these circumstances he considered that the Ministers should place their offices at the disposal of his Majesty, and he at least was determined to do so.

“The Minister for Agriculture declared that if I were convinced that my retirement was desired in the highest quarter I could not be dissuaded from this step. But in any case the Ministry would then have to consider what course it should adopt.”

Answer to the Acceptance of the Resignation.

(From Bismarck’s autograph pencil draft.)

Wednesday, March 25th.—The Chief started for Hamburg to-day, first to pay a return visit to Waldersee at Altona, and afterwards to make a few calls in Hamburg. He had not left, however, before lunch, at which he joined us, in undress uniform and wearing an order. He was back again in time for dinner. He had not found Waldersee at home, and at the other houses also had only met the ladies. At table there was a great deal of talk about the torchlight procession with which the Prince’s Hamburg admirers wished to celebrate his birthday here on the 1st of April. It was anticipated that 3,000 to 4,000 persons would come to Friedrichsruh by special trains to take part in the procession. They could marshal their torches and go through their evolutions with tolerable ease in the meadows on the right bank of the Aue.

At lunch the Chief said that after all it was not necessary that I should copy the metallographic documents here. I could do that at my leisure in Leipzig—a blessing, as it would, otherwise, take me three days to do it, and the Princess expects some visitors on the 28th, for whom she wants my room. Therefore off and away at noon to-morrow! Baron Merck and his wife, whom I have known since 1888, were with us at dinner to-day. Among other things the Prince spoke of his new silver-plate. It was very rich and beautiful, but his household was not at all prepared for it, and silver-plate and dishes had never been used at his table. He would, perhaps, have the chandeliers hung up, but the other things would doubtless be sent to the bank for safe keeping.

Friday, March 27th.—Took lunch alone, and somewhat earlier than usual on account of my departure. After a while the Princess, who was on this occasion particularly good-humoured and communicative, came. Among other things she related that Schweninger’s predecessor, a celebrated doctor recommended by Bleichröder, had once treated the Prince for cancer of the stomach; and that it is Versen and the “detestable Hinzpeter” who have most influence with the Emperor and who stimulate the high opinion he has of his own capacity and encourage his arbitrary tendencies. Finally the Prince also came in to say good-bye, and invited me to report myself again shortly at Friedrichsruh. Then back to Berlin, and a few days later, on the 2nd of April, to Leipzig, my new home. (...)

I had hoped that at length I might rest, but it was not to be. The mill must still grind on! Indeed, there is no alternative, as people would not otherwise know how I came to the extraordinary notion of writing yet another book on Bismarck, and how that scheme fared. On the 23rd of June Kommerzienrath Kröner, of Stuttgart, previously only known to me by name, called upon me and proposed that I should write for him a biography of the Prince. I agreed to do so in case the latter approved. With this object I next wrote the following letter to Bucher, who was again at Friedrichsruh with the old gentleman:—

The following answer came from Bucher:—

On receipt of this information I finally agreed with Kröner to write the book, and entered into a contract with him. A few weeks later, however, in thinking over the prospect, I was half sorry that I had done so, and wrote to Bucher (pointing out certain objections in the event of the Prince’s “Memoirs” being published, and competing with the book: and suggesting that in case they were not to appear until after Bismarck’s death, judicious extracts from them might be included in the biography, &c.)

Bucher’s reply:

I wrote in reply from Leipzig, on September 2nd, 1891, inter alia: that if the “Memoirs” were never to be completed but remain mere materials, there was all the more reason for rescuing at least a portion from destruction.... I would do nothing in the matter before consulting him, but I was not without hope that the Chief would allow himself to be persuaded by my arguments, and would assist me with the dictated matter in my otherwise desperate undertaking. (...)

After some consideration, however, I addressed my request to the Prince direct, ... and in the course of a week, on the 17th of September, the following answer came by post:—

(Probably written by Chrysander, but signed by the Prince in his own hand. Not the most favourable answer, still the “as yet” and “for the present” leaves room for hope.) (...)

On the 5th of October I paid Bucher a visit in Berlin in connection with this matter. I showed him the draft of a reply I had sent within the course of a week to the Chief, and he told me he had already been informed by Schweninger. He said I ought first to have arranged with him before writing to the Prince, and mentioning his name. As it was, Bismarck would believe that he had suggested my plan respecting the “Memoirs.” I was mistaken in thinking that Kröner had come to me about the biography with the knowledge and at the instance of the Prince. Kröner (who hoped to secure the publication of the “Memoirs”) probably thought I would enter into competition with him, and therefore decided to come to me, and thus become his own competitor. Not very clear! As publisher of the “Memoirs” that will never be completed, and which according to Bismarck’s verbal and written assurances are never to be published? It did not tally either with Bucher’s present statement that the Prince was thinking of leaving two copies of the “Memoirs,” one for the Emperor and one for his own sons. Moreover, the text of these two could not be the same. One of them would have to be first trimmed and Bowdlerised, in usum Delphini, as—according to Bucher’s own assertion—it contained a variety of things calculated to give offence. Referring to the differences between the Prince and the Emperor, Bucher stated that their origin was to be sought in the following incident, as well as in the demand with regard to the Order of 1852, and the steps which—according to Bismarck’s statement—had been taken in connection with Windthorst’s visit. (The Prince’s account of the Windthorst incident appeared to him, Bucher, not to be credible, at least so far as the date was concerned.) On the 15th of March, as the Emperor was returning home from a drive with Bismarck, he told the latter that he wished to inform the Tsar that he intended paying him a visit of some days’ duration at his estate—(I have forgotten the name of it). Bismarck dissuaded him on the ground that the Tsar liked to be alone there, and because the Emperor had not made a very favourable impression in St. Petersburg. His Majesty asked how he came to know that. B. replied through a private letter; whereupon the Emperor desired to see it. B. at first did not wish to show it; but finally, yielding to further pressure, drew it out of his pocket. The Emperor, after he had read it, ordered the carriage to stop, and set down the Chancellor at his residence.

It was evident from the foregoing that in my affair the Prince wanted to know—and in certain circumstances to alter, and probably to a great extent—whether I was in a position, and what I might perhaps be inclined to say about himself, and indeed generally. Hence Kröner’s proposition. In that case, however, I could not, as I had hoped, do a service to the truth and to history, and therefore could only write an empty book. I therefore informed Bucher I would tell Kröner that an alteration in my health would prevent me from carrying out our contract, and beg him to cancel it. This was done in a letter from Leipzig on the 11th of October; and I was relieved from that burden and anxiety.

On the morning of the 5th of January, 1892, I again spent an hour with Bucher at his place in Berlin, and found him the same dear old friend. His hopeless feeling with regard to the “Memoirs” had only grown deeper since I saw him last. In the interval he had paid a further long visit to Friedrichsruh, where he remained till shortly before Christmas. He was to return again soon on the Prince’s invitation, although the gout in his hands had begun again on the previous Sunday to give him great trouble, and the outlook and condition of affairs in the Sachsenwald pleased him less than ever. “Thank your stars that you are not in my place with these ‘Memoirs,’” he said. “One’s work is in every respect void of profit and pleasure. One exhausts himself on an utterly hopeless task, which will yield nothing for history. It is not alone that his memory is defective, and he has little interest in what we have done—up to the present he has looked through very few of my packets—but he begins also intentionally to misrepresent even plain and well-established matters of fact and occurrences. He will not admit his own share in anything that has failed, and he will acknowledge no one to be of any consequence compared to himself, except perhaps the old Emperor (to whom he now, as a foil to the young Emperor, gives a much higher place than he is fairly entitled to) and General Alvensleben—I cannot say why—who concluded the treaty with Russia and commanded at Vionville. Falk also is now praised, perhaps because he fears he might otherwise retort with disclosures. (But of course these ‘Memoirs’ are not to be published at all.) He insists that he is in no way responsible for the Kulturkampf, that he did nothing to oppose Pio Nono’s views respecting the Infallibility, and just as little against Arnim’s mischievous ambition—although everybody knows the contrary to be the fact. As if he and his work did not shed enough light to enable men to overlook such shadows! Even in cases where his policy was brilliantly successful he will not hear of acknowledging anything, as for instance the trap which he set for Napoleon in the Spanish affair. He denied the letter to Prim until I reminded him that I myself handed it to the general in Madrid, and that the world is now well aware of it through Rothan.” (So I understood the name, but perhaps he meant Grammont.) On this occasion Bucher also referred once more to his zigzag journey with Salazar and his audience with King Wilhelm at Ems. “The whole candidature of the Prince of Hohenzollern,” said Bucher, “is now represented by Bismarck as having been a purely private affair of the Court, a mere family matter, although he was obliged to confess that it was discussed at a sitting of the entire Ministry.”—I also added some reminiscences, but observed in conclusion that in spite of all that, the Chief remained the great political genius and saviour of the Germans. But he was not qualified to be a historian. He was to such a large extent the author of the history of the past decades that it might be called his history, but he did not understand how to relate it. Bucher, of course, agreed with me, and then continued his account of the last few weeks. Bismarck wanted to attend the Reichstag at all costs, in order to speak against the Commercial Treaties. It was in vain to point out to him the danger of malicious and coarse attacks from the Richter and Bebel corners of the House, and to warn him that the President would now be at liberty to call him also to order. “In that case I would answer him ironically” was the laughing reply. It was only Schweninger who succeeded in dissuading him on medical grounds.—“Hoffmann, of the Hamburger Nachrichten, comes every week, and prints whatever the Prince says to him, quite indifferent to the fact whether it is a well-considered statement, or the contrary.” “An old copying clerk has now been set to work on the ‘Memoirs,’ as Chrysander, to whom I dictate my notes, is overburdened with other things, and can no longer manage all the copying.” “They are to be left as a bequest to the sons, but will hardly be published by them,”—because they know that they contain too many misrepresentations of a kind which people could detect and easily disprove, and because they are full of unjust judgments on prominent personages, as, for instance, on most of the Prince’s former colleagues. At the very most, a last chapter might ultimately be published on the preliminary stages of his disgrace, and ultimate retirement. Herbert has made copious and reliable notes on this subject, in which, however, the old gentleman has made all sorts of inaccurate and false corrections. The Princess is still the same.... On my asking after the daughter, Bucher fetched a bottle of old Hungarian wine from behind the green curtain of a bookcase. Countess Rantzau had brought it with her from Hamburg for him, and we drank a glass of it to the health of the honest and excellent lady who had always been a friend to him. “And not forgetting our old master,” I added. “How is he getting on?” “Our old lion is well,” he replied, “and is always in good humour at table; eats and drinks heartily, cracks a joke, and is equal to the youngest of them in paying court to the fair ones.”

In the course of his remarks Bucher mentioned as “not inconceivable” that the Prince might return one day to his old place in Berlin.—He did not give his reasons for thinking so. In the absence of such reasons, and they would have to be very good ones, I cannot believe in such a possibility, so far as he personally is concerned. It is not impossible, after the ill-success of the present régime, that the spirit of his policy may return to the palace in the Wilhelmstrasse.

We were not destined to meet again. Bucher died on the 12th of October, 1892, after he had lived away from the Prince for a few months. I gave a sketch of his life and character in the Illustrirte Zeitung of the 29th of October, which was accompanied by a good portrait.

Next spring I could find no rest until I greeted the Prince once more; and I was permitted to do so. I arrived at Friedrichsruh at 1.30 P.M. on the 1st of May. Chrysander and a servant waited for me at the station, and conducted me to the house where I was lodged in room No. 4. After a snack, which took the place of lunch, I went for a walk with Chrysander, who then showed me in one of the ground floor rooms a number of presents and beautiful addresses from Costa Rica and California, which had come to the Prince on his birthday a month previously. Before dinner I met the old gentleman in the coffee-room, where hung the portraits of his ancestors. He has changed very little. I must sit down with him on the sofa, and am “Büschlein” as before. Had I written anything lately, and what about? Complained of faceache, “which, however, comes no doubt from the sharp atmosphere out of doors during my walk this morning.”—At dinner, at which we were joined by the Princess, Countess Rantzau, Dr. Schweninger, Count Herbert and von Kardorff, member of the Reichstag, my place is again next the Prince on his right. As is almost invariably the case on such occasions, he is amiable, lively and good-humoured. (...)

May 2nd, at 11 a.m.—Schweninger called at my room as he was going away. We spoke once more about Bucher, whom he praised highly. Long before the 15th of March the doctor had known, “through his connections at Court” of the Emperor’s intention to get rid of Bismarck, and had informed the latter. At 12 o’clock Chrysander summoned me to the Prince, whom I met alone in the dining-room, where he was waiting for me. I first handed him back the three metallographic copies, which I should get published in some weekly paper as they were still of interest. After I had turned the conversation on Bucher I mentioned his mission to Madrid and the letter to Prim, giving him clearly to understand that I had been fully informed by my deceased friend of every detail of his Spanish journey, and also knew that at one time he wished to deny the letter to Prim and the trap set for Napoleon, which he had baited afresh by condensing the Ems despatch. But to repudiate that would be to remove the finest leaf from his wreath of laurels, and so on. These details recalled to him the whole circumstances, and he no longer denied anything. He brought the conversation to a close with the words: “We will talk it over some other time. Of course you will remain for a while yet, and I must now speak to Kardorff.” No opportunity however occurred of returning to the subject. (...)

After dinner in the evening, Kommerzienrath Kröner, over our coffee, recommended the Prince to pay an early visit to Leipzig. The Chief Burgomaster Georgi had told him that they longed to see the Prince there, and that he would be received with universal enthusiasm. I considered it right to tone down the effect of this statement by pointing out that, in addition to sincere but silent veneration for the Prince, there was also a great deal of loud and obtrusive fustian and party self-seeking, whose sole object was its own advancement; that, together with a certain understanding for Bismarck’s methods and aims, there was also a great deal of unreason; and that the great lights of the National Liberal persuasion, who held the upper hand at Leipzig, would think less of manifesting their gratitude to him than of once more giving prominence to themselves and their party, and gaining popularity for future elections to the Municipal Council or the Reichstag. Our Geheimer Kommerzienrath was obviously unable to appreciate such an unbusinesslike argument. What I said was, however, perfectly true.

May 3rd.—Took a walk in the morning. In the garden, near the road leading to the station, was a block of sandstone with the inscription: “From Grotenburg, near the site of the monument to Arminius in the Teutoburger Wald,” which was recently presented to Bismarck “by a German,” a bookbinder of Detmold. He doubtless knows no more than the learned themselves where the Teutoburger Wald was really situated, but he certainly knows better than many of the learned that Bismarck is the founder of the German Empire. In addition to the Chief and his wife and daughter, only Chrysander and myself were present at lunch. Conversation: On the newspaper report that Rottenburg was about to pay the Prince a visit, of which, however, the latter knew nothing, and which is all the more improbable, as Rottenburg is just engaged to Miss Phelps, the daughter of the American Minister. The Chief mentioned that Mr. Phelps wrote to him recently, and asked for an expression of opinion on the World’s Fair at Chicago—of course a favourable one. The Prince, however, does not seem inclined to do this. He said: “If I were to give an honest expression of my view it would not be what he requires. These exhibitions are of little value for industry and art, and are more for the benefit of hotel keepers and such people. They are good for those who feel bored, who want a new sensation, new amusements, and who have money enough to gratify their inclinations and afford themselves such pleasures.” The most gracious and his intimates were then discussed—a General von Versen is one of the favourites. The conversation then turned on the diplomatic world, and first on Marschall, who has little capacity, but has been recommended by his Grand Duke and a relative (or an official); on von Schweinitz, who has nine children, and also on “Sardanapaul” Hatzfeldt. The Chief afterwards referred to Maximilian Harden (Witkowski), whom he praised as “a quiet unpretentious man of great tact; not at all like a Jew—and also not like my intimate friend Blum,” he added, laughingly, as he looked towards the Princess. On the mention of the Grand Duke of Baden I reminded him of his letter with the words, “You cannot govern without Bismarck,” and of the letter written by the Crown Prince Frederick from Portofino in which he described his son. The Chief said that he no longer had the original, and asked me to send him a copy of it. “But not direct through the post, and also not to Dr. Chrysander,” suggested Countess Rantzau. “No, he will also be watched. Send it to Baron Merck, Sachsenwald bei Reinbeck; I shall then get it safely.” I further referred to the King of Saxony and his regard for Bismarck, and I mentioned that a doctor, who at the time acted as Physician in Ordinary to the King at Pillnitz, told me how, immediately after the Prince’s dismissal, the King travelled alone by night from Pillnitz to Berlin, probably for the purpose of a conference with the Emperor or Caprivi.

On Bötticher’s name coming up after the diplomatists, the Prince placed him even below Caprivi, and concluded as follows: “Moreover, he is under petticoat government.” Of Marschall he said: “He writes bad French, even in official documents, speaking for instance in a recent communication to Italy of ‘l’empereur et l’empereuse.’”

May 4th.—At lunch we were joined by Baroness Merck and a professor from Giessen, who plied the Prince with all sorts of questions, and whom we shall here entitle Herr Y. In the course of this inquisition we ascertained, among other things, that “Dutken Sommer” (in Hesekiel’s book), whom I had hitherto taken to be a countrywoman, is in reality of the masculine gender, and the son of the Pastor at Reinfeld. The Prince said he was blind, and somewhat of a simpleton, while the Princess described him as musical. Y. hastily jotted that and other facts down in his pocket book while discussing his cutlet and omelette. Phelps, Chicago, and the Prince’s opinion of these “World Fairs” once more. The Chief then spoke of Prince and Princess Reuss at Vienna, and of the position she took up towards the notorious rescript. (“The Uriah Letters.”) She said: “My husband is a (public) servant. I am not.” Somebody brought up Ahlwardt’s name, and the Prince said: “He too has one merit. He brings a change into the commonplace tediousness of the Reichstag.” He observed with regard to the good reception accorded to the Emperor by the Swiss: “They do nothing gratis. We shall be made to pay for it with a higher customs duty.” The professor informed us that he was a vegetarian, and that it was an illness which had converted him. I mentioned the approaching advent of the editor of the Kladderadatsch and his friend Jacobsen, praising both of them highly. After a glance at his pocket book, Y. inquired about the attitude of France in 1866, mentioning Moustier. The Prince corrected his pronunciation of the name, and then went on to say: “Once in the course of conversation he reminded me in a threatening way of Jena. I said to him, ‘If you talk to me of Jena I will talk to you of Leipzig.’ I might also have mentioned Waterloo. Moustier then complained to Manteuffel, and he reported the matter to the King, who, however, said that I had acted rightly.” Coming in the further course of the conversation to speak of the policy which was at that time pursued by the Italians, he said: “La Marmora was a scoundrel, and was paid by France, but Govone was a respectable man.” He gave his reasons for both opinions in detail. The Prince then added, having perhaps noticed the eavesdropping publicist: “I would not have said that to Sybel if I had had any idea that he would publish it—a remark which applies to other matters mentioned to other good people, such as my worthy friend Blum, whose statements are very indiscreet and mostly false.”

At 4 P.M. the professor came to my room, “in order to become better acquainted with his neighbour”; that is, thought I to myself, to pump me too for his own purposes, de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis, according to all the rules of the art. And so it proved. He suggested a walk, and I proposed that we should go to the mill on the Aue. We had not gone a hundred yards before he set to work as I had anticipated, with a hardihood which was only equalled by its many-sidedness. Truly a thirst for knowledge of the most naïve kind, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, although it was only two hours since he set eyes on me for the first time. As at lunch, the result was in each instance immediately committed to his pocket book. What a lingual pumping apparatus that was! Now here, now there, sounding and boring, screwing and sucking! First about myself, then as to Bucher, his character as an official and in social life, &c. The Prince’s turn came next, and after him the Princess, the sons, the daughter and the grandchildren. What did I think of Schweninger? How did I like Lange, who, by the way, also took lunch with us; in short, his inquiries, conducted with a peculiar thoroughness and charm, extended to everything upstairs and downstairs, chick and child, ad infinitum. I was even expected to give information respecting Baroness Merck. Had I observed at table that her eyes looked as if she had been crying, and that she sobbed a couple of times? And whether I knew or suspected why? In return he spontaneously revealed his own inner man unasked, and as a reward for my patience I ascertained a variety of things about himself, and also obtained some information which appeared to me to be of importance. He is to write an obituary of the Prince for the Kölnische Zeitung—now? He will publish an account of his visit to him—where? He had been to see him last year, if I rightly understood, at Varzin, and had been for a walk with him for nearly two hours. He is an intimate friend of Aegidi, whom, doubtless as a congenial soul, he praises to the skies, and who, he says, once gave him a document from the archives of the Foreign Office for perusal. He is a vocalist, and intends to sing something to the Princess, &c. I answered his questions, for the most part with an expression of regret at my ignorance, and where this was not possible with that description of truth which is alone expedient in the presence of embarrassing or dangerous curiosity: Sanheden ved modification, truth with modifications, as the Danes jestingly define lies. I took an opportunity before dinner to speak to Chrysander about this odd fish. He was, however, just on the point of fetching him to see the Prince. I thought to myself that Bucher ought to have postponed his death for a while. At dinner Y., who again diligently pumped the Prince for the benefit of his note-book, strongly urged him soon to pay a visit to South Germany and the Rhine, and held out a very tempting prospect there. The Chief, however, replied that, like Parson Primrose, he now preferred the journey from the brown bed into the blue to all others. “Were I to go, however,” he continued, “I should prepare a speech once for all and learn it by heart.” He added an experience of his at the time of the Erfurt Parliament: “There was one of them there who spoke often and well, and who, on one occasion, delivered a speech which I heard and liked. On my mentioning it to an acquaintance, however, he said: ‘Yes, but you should have heard it last year; it was much finer then!’”

May 5th.—In the morning a letter from my little Gretchen, with greetings to the dear Prince and the whole princely family. Y. called for me again and we took a walk through the wood along the road leading to Möhnsen. The octopus again applies a new sucker: he wants to know about the “Memoirs.” Had formerly on one occasion (I believe he said in 1891) seen the Prince over a pile of folio sheets. Could these have been the “Memoirs?” I did not know, but doubted it. “I did not wish to ask him,” observed the good creature. At lunch he cheerfully proceeded with the work of extracting information from the Chief. He had evidently turned a deaf ear to the indirect warning as to “indiscreet friends,” or considered that full-blown professors formed an exception.

I delivered Gretchen’s greetings, and was instructed to thank her very kindly. In the afternoon Chrysander came to my room and begged me to send him from Leipzig my opinion of the professor and the “intimate friend.” “It is my duty,” he said, “to protect his Serene Highness against tactlessness.”

After dinner, when the Mercks, who had also been present, had withdrawn, there was a scene in the coffee room. The indefatigable Y. once more addressed a series of questions to the Prince, whose newspaper hour had arrived, but who nevertheless listened to him politely, until suddenly—I did not notice to what special point the sucker had been applied, but it must have been an exceptionally tender spot—he exclaimed angrily: “You should not put such questions, professor. I cannot imagine how any one can put such idiotic questions.” Tableau! A thunderbolt! Silence for a moment, and then the conversation is resumed with the ladies on matters of no importance, while the Chief studies his paper. On Y. rising to leave, the Countess makes a sign to me to remain, and I talk for some time to her and the Princess. On taking leave I kiss the Chief’s hand for the first time, and doubtless also for the last. He says: “Good-bye, dear old friend, but come back again soon.”

In the meantime may God protect our dear old master from his new friends—his business friends! Amen!