Answer to the Acceptance of the Resignation.
(From Bismarck’s autograph pencil draft.)
“Most august Emperor, King and Master,
“I thank your Majesty respectfully for the gracious words with which your Majesty has accompanied my discharge; and I am highly gratified at the bestowal of the likeness, which —— (illegible) will remain an honourable souvenir of the time during which your Majesty permitted me to devote my strength to your Majesty’s service.
“Your Majesty has at the same time graciously invested me with the dignity of Duke of Lauenburg. I have respectfully taken the liberty to explain verbally to Geheimer Kabinetsrath von Lucanus the reasons which render it difficult for me to use such a title, and at the same time requested him not to make public this second act of grace. The fulfilment of this request was not possible, as at the time when I expressed my scruples on the subject the publication had already taken place—on the 17th of March. I venture, however, most humbly to beg your Majesty graciously to allow me in future to bear the name and title which I have hitherto borne. I beg to be allowed to lay at your Majesty’s feet my most respectful thanks for the high honour bestowed upon me by my military promotion as soon as I am able to report myself, which at the present moment I am prevented from doing through indisposition.
“With the most profound respect, &c.”
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:—
“Dear Friend,
“I yesterday had a visit from a Stuttgart gentleman, hitherto unknown to me, who asked if I would write a biography of the Prince, three or four volumes; I could speak out exactly as I liked, and also lay down such other conditions as were convenient to me. As he came direct from Friedrichsruh, and had there spoken to the Prince and also to you, his intention in putting this question to me was possibly known and approved of at Friedrichsruh. If that be the case, and if the Prince gives his permission, I am disposed to make the attempt, particularly as I may then hope also to be assisted with contributions on doubtful points. I would take time and provide for complete freedom from interference on the part of the publisher and would serve the truth so far as it is known to me.
“Please, therefore, inquire to-day or to-morrow whether he gives his blessing to the affair or not, and let me know the result.” (...)
The following answer came from Bucher:—
“Fr. 26/7/91.
“Dr. Fr,—Your letter of the 24th, which curiously enough bears the Leipzig postmark of the 26th, reached me last evening, and I have this morning communicated its contents. The reply ran literally: ‘I have nothing whatever against it. I have sometimes a feeling that the end will come suddenly for me one day. I should like to have the opportunity of correcting many errors viva voce, as Busch has a great deal of material. Things are going badly with me. I have pains in my hand, and other pains which I cannot write about. When I have pushed the stone a little way uphill it rolls back again to the bottom. I wish you better luck.’”
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:
“Laubbach bei Coblenz, September 1, 1891.
“Dear Friend,—Nothing will ever come of the ‘Memoirs,’ even if He[21] and I were to live for ten years to come. The chief hindrance is laziness, as He himself expresses it. My work can only consist in dividing up the chaos of dictated material, and uniting the pieces into mosaics, as also in correcting his chronology, which is quite untrustworthy, and of course falsifies the casual relations of things. What He has to do is to read over the chapters which I have put together, and at the same time the letters referring to the subject, which I put with them. He cannot, however, be brought to do that. Of the fourteen chapters which I have submitted to him since last September he had on my departure from Kissingen read one through, and a portion of another! In correcting his chronology in four important instances I have forced him to acknowledge that the affair cannot really have happened in the way in which he had dictated it; but it was impossible for me to squeeze out of him any statement as to what actually had occurred. I am well-nigh desperate, and should be very pleased if my work were stopped and the whole thing handed over to you. I do not know what he will think, but in any case make the attempt.
“Schweninger, who is very anxious to get him to take up some serious, continuous occupation, persuaded me to go to Kissingen, assuring me that he would keep the two disturbing elements, the Princess and Herbert, at a distance; we two should have him to ourselves, and he would therefore begin a new life. Nothing of the kind has occurred. It was the old lazy life in the Castle of Indolence (Schlaraffenleben)—guests and drinking every day. And, as I had suspected, the baths did me no good whatever. My right hand is greatly swollen, and it is only since I repeated my former cure here that a slight improvement is perceptible. In any case I shall be back in Berlin at the beginning of October, although He has expressed a wish that I should go direct from here to Varzin. For months together last year there was a temperature of 12 degrees in my room there, and that has ruined me.
“Ever yours (in English),
“B.”
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:—
“Varzin, September 14, 1891.
“I have received your letter, and will willingly accede to your wish that I should—before its publication—look through the work which you have arranged to write. I cannot, however, as yet place what I have myself written and dictated at your disposal. It is not possible for the present to publish any part of it either directly or indirectly. Even if made public in an indirect way its accuracy would be questioned, and I should be challenged to produce my proofs.
“I should be glad to receive a short provisional communication, either written or verbal, as to the plan and contents of the work.
“v. Bismarck.”
(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!