On the morning of Monday, the 27th of November, 1882, I called upon Bucher to hand him a packet with two articles and a letter to be forwarded to the Prince at Varzin, which he promised to do. The latter ran as follows:—

At 11.30 A.M. on the 1st of December, Bucher called upon me to return the two articles that had been sent to Varzin, namely, “Bismarck as a Junker” and “Bismarck and Religion.” He at the same time communicated to me the contents of a letter from Count Herbert, to the effect that the Prince had read the articles through, and had said with regard to the second that he could communicate nothing on a matter of so personal a character; and that he could not remember having made the statement on page 2 that he had “brought about three great wars.” It might be possible to insert the word “perhaps” in that sentence. His (Herbert’s) personal opinion was that nothing more ought to be written about his father, and if he had any influence with me he would use it in this direction. I explained to Bucher that if the Prince himself had asked me not to publish anything more about him, I should most probably forbear to do so, but that Herbert had no claim to any influence upon me. “What is Hecuba to me?” I concluded.

December 19th.—Received the following letter from Bucher:—

December 20th.—The day before yesterday I wrote to the Imperial Chancellor begging for an interview, and in case there were anything to mention in the press to supply me with the necessary information. At 1.30 P.M. to-day a Chancery attendant brought me a letter from Hofrath Sachse, marked “Urgent,” in which Bismarck “requested me to be good enough to visit him this afternoon at 4 o’clock.” I went to the palace at the time appointed. Theiss showed me in to the Prince, with whom I remained for three-quarters of an hour. He had a white beard, and was sitting at his writing-table. After reaching me his hand he said: “You have doubtless come with great expectations, and think I shall have something to say to you about the article in the Kölnische Zeitung—the one on Russian armaments.” I asked: “Did that come from here?”

He: “No, not from me; but from the military authorities.”

I: “And the statements are correct?”

He: “Certainly. They are constructing many more railways than they require for trade and traffic, and the garrisons in the western towns and fortresses have been placed almost upon a war footing. I should not be surprised if there were a war with them next year. The Bourse has also shown itself much concerned, but I believe that the fall in quotations arises rather from anxiety respecting France. But (he continued) you have been indiscreet in the Grenzboten in your reference to the alliance with Austria. It has been very awkward for them (in Austria), for the Hungarian Diet can now come and demand information on the subject.”

I replied: “I thought that the matter had gradually leaked out. Three or four months ago some one, I forget now who it was, said to me that everybody now knew that a formal alliance existed, and not a mere memorandum. Perhaps my informant had it from Vienna. I was therefore of opinion that it could do no harm, and might possibly be of use if I mentioned it incidentally, as I did in the Grenzboten article, and I was quite astounded when all the newspapers wrote leading articles upon it. I must be very much mistaken if I have not seen something similar elsewhere.”

“Yes,” he said; “but it was a State secret, and if you had only remembered from whom you had it, an inquiry might well be instituted. It is quite possible that something of the kind had already been said elsewhere; and if what you wrote had appeared in another paper, perhaps no one would have taken any notice of it. But you have given the Grenzboten such a nimbus that it is placed on a level with the Official Gazette. That is not good for you as a writer. You are regarded as, in the highest degree, inspired.”

I: “That is a matter of indifference to me. It only excites hatred and envy; and I have never associated with the local journalists.”

“Well,” he said, smiling, “you can destroy this nimbus if you will only write something thoroughly silly.”

I: “And if you then have a vigorous démenti inflicted upon me.”

He: “But, seriously, you can to a certain extent correct the statement which you blurted out inadvertently, by saying that in doing so you believed you were only repeating what was already known; and you might go on to add a number of useful observations, as, for instance, that, if the alliance did not actually exist, it ought to be brought about, as it would be of great advantage and would fulfil the requirements of two peace-loving Powers—and, further, that we should very much regret the truth of the assertion made by the Kölnische Zeitung that it had only been concluded for five years; in that case it should be extended over a longer period. Finally, it would be in accordance with the interests of both Empires to strengthen and consolidate the good political relations existing between them by closer commercial relations on a treaty basis.”

He then returned to the question of the Russian armaments, and said, inter alia: “Now I am to assist! But they can settle the matter themselves. Three years ago I made proposals to them which they would not accept. Now let them settle it!”

He reflected for a while, and then suddenly exclaimed: “Can you find us money, and rid us of the bailiff?... Parliament will not agree to the licensing tax, not even the Conservatives, each one of whom is cleverer than the other, while they are all of them wiser than the Government. Here there is nothing but discord, and the majority are blockheads. What is the use of their Conservatism when they will not support us? A progressive income tax is unjust, and would not be of much assistance, but an equitable income tax would be good and useful. That can be obtained by self-assessment, and it would in a short time cover the deficit in the four classes. The higher classes—14,000—pay about seven million marks, and to double that amount would be oppressive, it would mean a tax of 26 per cent. The capitalist is either a mortgagee, and if his taxes are raised, he turns upon his debtor and raises his interest to 5 or 5½ per cent. interest, instead of 4; or a loan and debenture company, and then its securities would lose as much in value as the tax amounts to; or a holder of industrial shares, and then the tax might reduce or indeed destroy the export trade in the manufactured article. The State cannot tax its own securities, and therefore there only remain foreign securities and railway shares. People are not afraid of the capitalist, but only of the tobacconist, the wine merchant, and the brewer. Of the capitalist one may say:—

“If the Conservatives were at one with the Government all would be well. As it is, however, we shall doubtless be obliged to dissolve again in February, and then there will not be so many Conservatives returned. The King has so far committed himself that he can no longer govern with the bailiff. His position is most painful, and he will ultimately ask the country again and again whether the bailiff is to be retained.”

He then spoke about Wedell-Malchoff’s motion for taxing time bargains on the Bourse. In his opinion it was not a bad idea, but the phrase “time bargains” should be defined, and in such a way as not to include genuine transactions in rye and spirits or cash transactions. Furthermore, it should start, not with two per mille, but, as the Government had proposed, with one per mille. The latter would be feasible, and of course once a beginning had been made it could be raised. The mistake here was that they were trying to get at dishonest transactions, and thus to introduce a moral tax, whilst such transactions could not possibly be defined or reached. The Chancellor’s statements were somewhat to the foregoing effect. More I cannot say, as I did not understand all these financial explanations, in which he doubtless credited me with more technical knowledge and capacity than I possess to supplement their purport.

In the course of his remarks he mentioned Bleichröder’s name, and I asked whether he had noticed certain hints that Bleichröder’s schemes with regard to the Turkish tobacco monopoly and railways were being promoted by German diplomacy. He denied the fact. It was true, indeed, that in the Rumanian affair Bleichröder had been supported, because, in that instance, in addition to some distinguished gentlemen, a great number of small investors were concerned. Of the former he mentioned Ujest, and, if I am not mistaken, Lehndorff. There Bleichröder had really done good service, “gallantly risking his money, and it was for that reason that he had been ennobled by the King.” Primker, on the other hand, he described as “clever but unscrupulous.” As to the Austrian Government, he observed that they had committed themselves too far with Hirsch.

We finally came to speak about his neuralgia, which caused him a great deal of pain. I suggested that it probably came from a bad tooth.

He: “Others have thought the same, but the doctor has hammered at all my teeth, and says they are sound. No, it is a nervous affection, muscular pain, particularly when I am worried and excited. That is why I do not attend the Parliamentary sittings; for what a delight it would be to certain people if, in the middle of a speech, I suddenly made a wry face, and were unable to proceed!” He dismissed me with the words: “Adieu, Büschlein, auf Wiedersehen! But take care to avoid further indiscretions.”

January 14th, 1883.—Called this morning on Bucher to give him my new address.

Bucher then expressed a hope that the Bleichröder swindle, which was becoming more and more widely known, would ultimately be mentioned in the Reichstag. I told him that, in speaking to the Chief recently, I had referred to certain newspaper articles on the subjects, and that he declared he knew nothing of diplomatic influence having been exercised in that way at Constantinople, and had, moreover, praised Bleichröder’s action in the Rumanian affair. Bucher exclaimed angrily: “Well then, he lied to you in that matter.... It is true, indeed, that Bleichröder and the Disconto Bank plunged into the affair gallantly, but it was not for the sake of the poor tailors, cobblers and cooks that had blundered into it, but because the Prince of Hohenzollern was also involved.”

Bucher also denounced as “a lie” the Prince’s statement that the article in the Kölnische Zeitung which followed the paragraph in Grenzboten on the Austro-German Alliance, and emphasised, first its five years’ duration, and then the warlike preparations of the Russians, did not come from the Foreign Office, but from the military authorities. (Perhaps this assertion was intended to lead me into some “blunder” which would have deprived the Grenzboten of its “nimbus.”)... “The article is by Kruse, who as you are aware is here. I know also who corrected it.” (Probably Bismarck, or possibly Bucher himself under his instructions.) The fact that the Chief told me to advocate the renewal or prolongation of the treaty, with additional commercial provisions, (this was done subsequently in the Grenzboten and was noted and emphasised by the Post) tallies according to Bucher with a proposal which the Chancellor made in Vienna. He was, however, informed in reply that that would not do, as Austria-Hungary consisted of an industrial and an agricultural country, with different interests. Bucher condemned the proposal, saying: “He is in too great a hurry, because he thinks he has only a few more years to live.” I shall now take care to get away from Berlin as soon as I can, and thus avoid further risk of hearing and circulating untruths from the Chief’s mouth.

January 28th.—Wrote to the Chief yesterday, informing him that the editor of Harper’s Monthly (published in London) had asked me to write an article upon him, and if possible, also to send a photograph of the Prince with his new full beard. At the same time I added a request for an interview. On the same evening I received an answer from the Imperial Chancellerie that the Prince begged me to do him the honour of calling upon him to-morrow, Sunday, at two o’clock. I went accordingly to-day, and had to wait for a while, as the Minister of Justice was with the Chancellor, and Hatzfeldt was already waiting in the antechamber with Möller, the Under-Secretary of State. When Hatzfeldt was called in Möller dropped into conversation with me, and asked me whether I was the author of Count Bismarck and his People. He then turned out to be an admirer of my former books also. He had read, among others, the Pilgrimage to Jerusalem and even the Wanderings between the Hudson and the Mississippi. When Hatzfeldt came out, the attendant immediately called me in. The Chief, who gave me a very friendly reception, had a particularly bright colour in the face. He asked: “Now then, what is it you want me to tell you for the article? All the principal facts are known.” I replied that I had come less on that account than for the photograph. They had written to me that thousands of Germans in America would be much interested in seeing his portrait with the new beard. “Yes,” he observed, “they now show their interest in the old country by overloading me with contributions for those who have suffered by the inundations on the Rhine. I have not the least idea what I am to do with them. I have talked over the matter with the people in the Reichstag, they must distribute the money. As to the photograph, however, the man suggested in your letter (Brasch, in the Wilhelmstrasse) cannot do it, as I have promised Löscher and Petsch, with whom I have always been satisfied. But I cannot go to them at present as I should catch cold in this weather, and also because I do not go to the Emperor, and he would be surprised if I were to be seen going to the photographer. But I should myself like to see a portrait with the beard, as I do not know how long I shall keep it.” I suggested that he should let Brasch take two photographs only, as he lived close by and would bring his camera here, one of them being for Harper and one for me. He could be forbidden to sell any copies. But the Chief considered that that would be a breach of his word, and showed a disposition to lose his temper, so I let the matter drop.

He spoke of the way in which they “hated him in Parliament,” although “he had done them no harm.” “I cannot understand it,” he continued. “It is not so with other Ministers, even with those who have done nothing but commit blunder after blunder, while I, at least, have maintained peace for them. Surely the present Ministry in France is a wretched concern, English policy has been an unbroken series of blunders for the last three years, and Gortschakoff, with his vanity, also makes all sorts of mistakes; yet no one in their own countries worries and hampers them in every direction. Nor in other respects have I ever given them ground for dissatisfaction. Other Ministers speculate on the Stock Exchange, and take advantage of their office and information to make money. It is asserted that several French Ministers do so, and such cases also occur in Austria, and particularly in Hungary, where the Zichys have made millions in railway shares. Manteuffel and Schleinitz took advantage of their position in the same way. No one can say anything of the kind against me. The Diest-Daber statements were slanders. I have never held speculative securities, but only regular dividend-bearing stock. It is only the national grants that have given me my competency. I have made nothing, but was, on the contrary, much better off formerly than I am now, in consequence of the low prices of corn and timber and unwise purchases of land.... Nor have I led a loose life, but have, on the contrary, been always a respectable father of a family. And nothing of the kind can be said of my sons either. (Really?) No charge can be brought against me, and nevertheless I am hated. But I am tired. I have lost my old passion for shooting and riding, and I fear I shall soon lose my liking for politics. I am sacrificing my health. I ought to live in the country, and the doctors say that if I were free from business, and could spend three or four hours a day in the open air, I should be well again. But I do not like to desert the Emperor, who will soon be eighty-seven, when he begs me with tears in his eyes to remain. Nor can I expect him to accustom himself to others.”

I inquired how he now stood with the Crown Prince, and he replied, “Latterly he has been very amiable to me, particularly at the various festivities.” Then returning, without any transition, to the subject of Parliament and its opposition to himself, he said: “I have maintained peace for them with a great deal of trouble. After 1870 everybody expected war in a couple of years; but so far it has not come, and perhaps, indeed, it may never come again. We are now on a better footing with Russia than we have ever been before, and with Austria we have concluded an alliance.” I asked him if he was still negotiating for an improvement of the treaty in a commercial direction. He rejoined: “I will not tell you that, as you have been indiscreet enough to let it be known that it was only concluded for a period of five years. The Kölnische Zeitung has reproduced that from the Grenzboten.”

I: “I beg your pardon, Serene Highness, but the converse was the case. I could not have said it before the Kölnische Zeitung, because I was not aware of the fact until I read it in that paper.” He maintained his opinion until I offered to prove to him that he was in error, by sending him the Grenzboten article. He then went on to relate: “They (the Austrians) thought they might satisfy their greed in that way. I imagine that I am doing them a good turn and making them a present, and then they come with their conditions. I have rejected them. A commercial treaty is possible in which we might grant them more favourable terms than to the others, and in which the tariff would not be raised, indeed perhaps reduced. The high duties which we have imposed upon Russia and America need not be applied to Austrian maize and barley. The importation of cattle may also be allowed, although that is scarcely feasible in view of the certificates given in Galicia and Hungary, where everything can be bought and everybody can be bribed. But commercial union and a common customs frontier are out of the question, for Germany takes plenty of imported goods, and superior foreign wines are consumed here in Germany, while even a groschen would be too much for a Slovak or a Raizen (i.e., a Servian of Slavonia or Lower Hungary), who uses nothing of the kind. Even here there is a great difference between the Elbe Duchies or the Rhenish provinces and East Prussia or Upper Silesia.”

He then came once more to speak of the peaceful times in which we are now living, and said: “You have only to look at the newspapers and see how empty they are, and how they fish out the ancient sea-serpent in order to have something to fill their columns. The feuilleton is spreading more and more, and if anything sensational occurs they rush at it furiously and write it to death for whole weeks. This low water in political affairs, this distress in the journalistic world, is the highest testimonial for a Minister of Foreign Affairs.”

After a moment’s silence he went on: “Then you propose to return to Leipzig?”

“Yes,” I replied, “since the death of my son, my wife requires amusement and society, which are not to be had here, but which she may find in her own native town.”

He: “Well, but surely any one who writes on politics ought to live in Berlin, where politics are now made.”

I: “But Leipzig is only three hours from here, and during the months when you are in town I can easily reside here.”

He: “That is not necessary, but you might come every fortnight, or when anything occurs, and ask me.”

He again complained of the neuralgic pains, at the same time dipping his finger, as he had already done frequently, in a wine glass containing some strong-smelling yellow liquid, with which he rubbed his right cheek bone. “That relieves me for a short time,” he said. He then continued: “But I am very tired. I have now been engaged in politics practically since 1847, nearly forty years, and that is exhausting. At first in Parliament, then at Frankfurt, where I was very busy, having work thrown upon me from Berlin also.”

I: “That can be seen from Poschinger’s book, which I am now reading and making extracts from.”

He: “Yes, but he does not say that I also wrote numerous letters to the King from Frankfurt,[9] and that I came no less than thirteen times in one year to Berlin to see him.”

I: “It looks almost as if already at Frankfurt you had been his Minister for Foreign Affairs—at least Manteuffel drew his inspiration from you in the principal questions.”

He: “Yes, the late King discussed all great questions with me, and Manteuffel put up with it.”

I mentioned that the extracts which I was making from the documents contained in Poschinger’s book were intended in the main for the chapter on “Bismarck and Austria,” in which I proposed to embody what I had personally gathered in 1870, as, for instance, Prince Luitpold’s abortive letter to the Emperor Francis Joseph.

He: “Certainly! But as long ago as 1866 I made an attempt to come to an understanding with them. I suppose I have already told you the Gablentz story?”

I: “No, but you have told me others from that period, as, for instance, how the King wanted to annex portions of Saxony, Bavaria and Bohemia, and how you persuaded him not to do so.”

He: “Well, it occurred in this way. Just after the first shot had been fired (in reality it must have been about a fortnight before) I sent Gablentz, the brother of the general, to the Emperor at Vienna with proposals for peace on a dualistic basis. I instructed him to point out that we had seven or eight hundred thousand men under arms, while they also had a great number. It would therefore be better for us both to come to an agreement, and making a change of front towards the West, unite our forces in attacking France, recapture Alsace, and turn Strassburg into a federal fortress. The French were weak as compared with us. There might be no just cause for war, but we could plead with the other Powers that France had also acted unjustly in taking Alsace and Strassburg, whence she had continually menaced South Germany ever since. If we were to bring these as a gift to the Germans they would accept our dualism. They, the Austrians, should rule in the South and have command of the seventh and eighth army corps, while we should have command of the ninth and tenth and the federal command in chief in the North.... Dualism is a very ancient institution, as old as the Ingævones and Istævones, Guelphs and Ghibellines.”

I observed: “Already under the Othos, indeed as long ago as Charlemagne with his Franks, and the Saxons.” “High German and Low German,” I said. “With a Celtic fringe below and a Slavonic fringe above.”

“Well,” he continued, “Gablentz submitted his proposal to the Emperor, who seemed not disinclined to entertain it, but declared he must first hear the views of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, Mensdorff, you know. He, however, was a weak-minded mediocrity, unequal to ideas of that calibre, and he said he must first take counsel with the Ministers. They were in favour of war with us. The Minister of Finance said he believed they would beat us—and he must first of all get a war indemnity of five hundred millions out of us, or a good opportunity for declaring the insolvency of the State. The Minister of War was not displeased with my suggestion, but in his opinion we ought to have our own fight out first, and then we could come to an understanding and fall upon the French together. So Gablentz returned without having effected his purpose, and a day or two afterwards the King and myself started for the seat of war.”

I thanked him warmly for this important and startling communication, and asked him if I might use it in my book. He replied: “Yes, it is for that purpose that I have related it to you. But not in detail, merely the main features. Proposal for peace on the dualistic basis, united attack upon France, and the reconquest of Alsace.”

I then asked once more whether he wished to read the book before it went to press, and he said: “Yes, in order that you may not include anything false in my epitaph.”

I: “That would certainly not be done intentionally. You know that I worship you, and would let myself be cut into a thousand pieces for you.”

He: “Ah, no; not into so many! It is not necessary.”

I: “Well then, only into two pieces, so that one might see half a Büschlein (little Busch) fall to the right and half to the left!”

On my then begging him as soon as his health permitted to let Löscher and Petsch come to take his portrait, he promised to do so, adding: “If they do not care to come, then the other man can—what’s his name?”

I: “Brasch, here in the Wilhelmstrasse, at the corner of the Leipzigerstrasse.”

He: “But I must first keep my word.”

I: “I did not ask you to do anything contrary to it. I only thought of Brasch because he took a very good photograph of my late son.”

He: “How did the thing happen?” I then related shortly the circumstances of my son’s death.

He: “That is a sad case, and there are many to share your misfortune, all who had relatives on board the Cimbria.”

I: “But my son was engaged in his profession, in the fulfilment of his duty, and died bravely and conscientiously for his ship like a soldier for his flag.”

He reached me his hand, and said, “Auf Wiedersehen!” I had been with him fully three-quarters of an hour, and all this time good old Möller had to wait in the antechamber.

On returning home on the evening of the 3rd of February, I found lying on my table a letter from Count Bill, in which, at his father’s request, he enclosed a new photograph of the latter with a full white beard.

On the 24th of February I wrote to the Chancellor begging to be allowed to take leave of him personally, as I proposed to start for Leipzig on the following Thursday. I handed the letter to the porter at the palace at 11 A.M., and in about an hour and a half I received an invitation through Sachse to call upon the Prince at 3 o’clock. He was in the room behind his study, which opens on the garden. He was in an armchair, half sitting, half lying, and had beside him a small table covered with documents. After he had asked me how I was, he complained that he still felt very poorly. When one trouble left him another set in. The neuralgic faceache often prevented him from sleeping. If he could only go to the country, away from business, things might improve; but the King would not grant him leave, and “pestered him with all sorts of unimportant orders,” &c., as, for instance, with the question as to who should go to St. Petersburg to attend the coronation. “He thinks,” he continued, “that if I can manage to keep on my legs I shall live to be old,—and if not, why then I must die in the fulfilment of my duty.... And here in the Foreign Office I have no proper assistance. Look at that pile of documents which I must read through myself!” I said: “Of course there is not much to be done with Hatzfeldt. He has little ability, and still less inclination, to work. He only wants to amuse himself, and to draw a big salary for doing so.” “Yes,” he replied, “Hatzfeldt does little for his money, and has neither a good memory nor a taste for business.” He then continued: “The Crown Prince is also inconsiderate, and torments me with matters of no importance; and, in addition to that, the people in the Diet are committing all sorts of blunders. How abusive they have been during the past few days! But it is the same everywhere with Parliaments and Ministers.” I remarked: “Quite so, for instance in France.” “It is no better in England,” he rejoined. “The European is no longer making progress. There is nothing more to be done with him.” He repeated that he was sick of politics, and wanted quiet. He then spoke of the Kulturkampf, observing: “The Pope is really well disposed, but he is not so powerful and independent as one may think; he is dependent upon people who will have no peace. For some time it appeared as if a modus vivendi could be arrived at, but now that is at an end. On the signs of approaching fine weather Windthorst threatened to strike and resign the leadership of the Centre party. He wants a stormy sky for other purposes, for stirring up discontent and strife, and they on the other hand need him, or think they do. They accordingly became frightened in Rome, and now they are once more making themselves unpleasant.” I said: “Catholicism has always been a secondary consideration for Windthorst. He is, above everything else, the well-paid advocate of the Guelphs.”

He rejoined: “Ah, he believes in nothing whatever. He has absolutely no religion.”

He caught sight of an envelope which I had brought with me and laid on the table beside us containing an enlargement by Brasch of his photograph by Löscher. He asked: “What have you there?” I answered: “It usually happens that granting one request brings on another, and that is the case now. I have had your last portrait enlarged and mounted, and I would now beg your Serene Highness to write your name under it as a souvenir. Of course it can be done in pencil.” “No,” he said, “in ink.” He rang for the attendant and asked for “a pen to write my signature,” and then wrote under the photograph: “v. Bismarck, Berlin, 24 February, 1883.”

I thanked him and said: “It is then arranged, Serene Highness, that I may come here and address myself to you occasionally when anything of importance arises, particularly when there would seem to be anything on foot in which you might wish to have some one near you in whom you could repose special confidence? And as to the book, I may send you the proofs in a few months? We shall probably not begin printing before August.” He agreed to all this, and then said: “Well, good-bye, Busch. Auf Wiedersehen! Enjoy yourself in Leipzig ‘an der Pleisse.’” He pronounced these words with a true Saxon accent.

On the 13th of May I came from Leipzig to Berlin, and reported myself to the Chancellor by letter.... On the 15th Sachse sent me word that the Chancellor expected me at 3 o’clock. I presented myself punctually at the time appointed, and had to wait while the Chancellor had a short interview with Rottenburg.... The latter referred to Colonel Vogt’s Grenzboten article on Thibaudin, and mentioned that the Imperial Chancellor had remarked that it was no business of ours to point out to the French that their army was in bad hands. Count Rantzau also came across to shake hands with me. The Chief’s youngest grandchild, Heinrich, some five months old, was also in the antechamber, and he also gave me his little hand to shake.

I was then with the Prince from 3.5 to 4 P.M. He was in plain clothes, and sat at his ordinary double writing-table. He did not look ill, but complained as usual of his neuralgia. He said: “It now extends over the whole body, the chest and abdomen, and I can no longer exert myself to think or work for any length of time—two hours at the outside; then I must give up, or drink champagne or something of that kind to keep myself going for a while longer. I ought to get out of harness altogether, but the Emperor will not consent to this, and even when I go to the country, business and worry now follow at my heels.” I asked: “Worry with the gentlemen in Parliament?” “Ah, no,” he replied; “I no longer read their speeches and brawling. It is the Ministers. Scholz is all right, as also Bötticher and Maybach, although the latter is somewhat blunt,—but the others, and particularly those in the Foreign Office!” I said: “But surely Bucher and Busch are able and diligent.” “That is so,” he rejoined; “but Bucher is cross-tempered and soured, and Busch is sinking under his load of work. I was mistaken in Hatzfeldt. He is very good for negotiating with the King and the Crown Prince, but he thinks only of his own interest, and would like to be my successor; but he has no sense of duty and no love of work.” I added: “One or at most two hours’ work in the day, as formerly—and then to play a game of croquet or lawn tennis with Mrs. or Madame So-and-so.” “Yes,” he said, “that’s his way. Like Lucca. Unser Paulchen ist sehr faulchen (Our little Paul is very lazy). His Excellency Herr von Keudell also wanted to become Imperial Chancellor one day, and absurd as the notion was, he worked it through his friends in the press, who had to praise him up to the skies and represent him as your intimate adviser. But I always regarded him as quite insignificant in politics, and in addition to that he could never do any work. He found a difficulty in managing the most ordinary affairs. I was often obliged to do things for him, and once at Versailles Taglioni, the deciphering clerk, finished off no less than thirty documents for him with which he was in arrears. It is true that he was very clever in looking after his own interests.”

He: “Yes, and he also knew how to get himself a rich wife, and to take advantage of the position which he acquired through the friendship of my wife and his own musical talent. Moreover, he knew how to impress people with his importance—through his silence. But there was nothing behind it. He is stupid, empty and incapable. He was unable even to manage the Pay Department properly.”

I: “On going to Constantinople it is said that he left a deficit of 80,000 thalers.”

The Chief then spoke of Hohenlohe, and appeared to think more highly of him than he did of Hatzfeldt. He also referred to Radowitz and afterwards to Radowitz’s father, alleging that the “Jesuitic attitude of the latter was responsible for Olmütz.” “You know what sort of a man the late King was,” he continued. “For years, during which something might have been done, Radowitz kept him occupied with all sorts of tailoring and ornamental matters, with mediæval questions of costumes, uniforms and coats of arms. He acted as Keeper of the Wardrobe to his fancies: whether such and such counts were or were not received, and the Knights of St. John, and the Wetterau bench of Counts, and the absurd question whether Saxony and Hanover should retain the right to appoint envoys,—as if a barber could not have intrigued successfully against our policy so long as they had the power. He amused the King with such trifles as these until it was too late.”

He then came to speak of Lady Bloomfield’s Memoirs, the Tauchnitz edition of which he brought in from the next room, and asked me to review it in the Grenzboten. He said I should find “the genuine English arrogance in the lady,” who was “much pleased at the opposition of the Crown Princess (the present Empress Augusta); and full of the profoundest aversion to everything Prussian and German.” In 1866 she “had been anti-Prussian to the backbone,” and had “libelled our officers as the French did in 1870 with their story of the clock.” In this connection he referred to the merino goats which the Prussians were alleged to have driven away with them from Bohemia. This led him to speak of the Crown Princess and her “English self-conceit,” whereupon I reminded him of the story of the silver plate of the English shopkeepers and of the Prussian nobility which he then repeated to me as before. On my remarking that the Queen, her mother, was also unfriendly to us Germans, and had always sided with the Belgian-Coburg clique, &c., he denied that this was the case, and said that, on the contrary, she had “on the whole been favourable to us.”

He then continued: “I wish you would some time or other refute the charge that I have acted inconsistently in the struggle with the Curia, and that I have changed my opinions and aims in the ecclesiastical question, and in others. That is the sort of criticism which can only proceed from some one who has never occupied the position of a leading Minister. Whoever has held such a post for any considerable time can never absolutely unalterably maintain and carry out his original opinions. He finds himself in presence of situations that are not always the same—of life and growth—in connection with which he must take one course one day, and then perhaps on the next another. I could not always run straight ahead like a cannon ball. (Doubtless a reminiscence of Schiller, ‘Piccolomini,’ I., 4.) Had I done so I should have knocked my head against a wall. When the situation changed I was obliged to alter my plans. Such changes in the situation were, moreover, chiefly due to the fickleness of parties, and, therefore, if any one is to blame they are. Their action, on the other hand, was in great part influenced by their envy. That is the national vice of the Germans. They cannot bear to see any one hold a high and leading position for any length of time. One of the most important changes was produced by the formation of the Catholic party, the founders of which might at the beginning have been expected to support the Government. Savigny, you know. It, however, weakened my position. The entire struggle with the Centre party would have taken another form, and have had a different issue, if I could have fought it out at the head of the Conservatives. I had risen from their ranks, but if I was to do justice to the requirements of the time it was impossible for me to continue in agreement with them on all points. This, and the long-suppressed hatred and envy of old comrades of my own class and faith, which very soon broke out, drove me over to the Liberal side. An understanding had to be come to with the latter if the Empire was to strike firm root, and so I was obliged to come to an agreement with the strongest party, a thing which I had tried in vain to do in 1866, when it was also desirable. It was particularly necessary in those years when Germany was threatened with a Triple Alliance like that of the Kaunitz period. The latest achievement of German diplomacy is to have prevented the formation of such a coalition against us for thirteen years. The Government was forced to appear at the head of the Liberals, at the head of the majority, in order to avert this coalition. The Conservatives fell away from me on that account. I would remind you of the Inspection of Schools Bill, and of the attitude of the Kreuzzeitung, and of the libels published in the Reichsglocke. And just as the situation was thus altered at that time, so it was again changed in 1878, through the defection of the Liberals. Here, too, it was envy and self-importance, and the desire to rule. I was no longer supported, or only in a lukewarm fashion. They were not sorry to see me weakened by the opposition of the Centre party, so that I should be forced to negotiate with them. The Progressists combined with the Centre against me. The Secessionists acted in very much the same way. From this time forward the National Liberals were silent in the struggle with Rome. They were pleased at the embarrassments to which it gave rise, and wished to have a weaker Government in order that they might appear stronger. When the Government had to strike the Liberals out of its reckoning, it naturally followed that I had to slacken my opposition to Rome. I cannot speak any longer now, or the faceache will return.”

He then rose, but continued to speak of his illness for a while as he walked up and down, describing it as very painful, “like shingles.” I further asked if I might in a few months send him the proofs of my book. “What book?” he said. I answered: “That which your Serene Highness has already twice promised me to read through.” He then thought for a moment, and promised once more to do so, whereupon I took my leave, with wishes for his speedy recovery. He said he had no longer any hope, and only expected to grow worse. (...)

On the 11th of July, after the Chancellor had left Berlin for Friedrichsruh, Grunow sent him the first sheets of my book, Unser Reichskanzler, to read through before they were sent to press. On the 16th of July, Count Bill returned me these proofs, with the following lines:—