“Bucher is also away,” I observed, “on a long leave of absence, for the present.”
He: “Yes, because he has begged me, I should say ten times, to allow him to retire on account of his health. I have at length given him leave for six months on full pay. He was an excellent book of reference for all occasions, as his good memory had enabled him to read and collect a great deal of information. In addition to that he is a good and worthy man”—a statement in which I heartily concurred.
By this time it was nearly 4 o’clock, and on his pausing for a moment I rose to go. Before leaving I begged him to let me know when he thought I could be of any active use in the press, and he promised to do this. The servant then showed me upstairs through the large salon (in which a Christmas tree was still standing, as well as a table covered with presents), and from this into a room opening on the garden. Here were large full length portraits in oils of the Emperor William, in ermine robes, and the Emperors of Austria and Russia, an oil painting of the proclamation of the German Empire at Versailles (at that time only the frame, the picture having been removed to be varnished), and on the black chimney piece the Chinese elephant tusk, almost two metres in length. In another room I saw an excellent new portrait of the Chancellor (painted by Angeli, according to the servant), and, leaning against a sofa, a half length portrait of Pope Leo XIII., by Lenbach. (...)
May 29th.—I called on Bucher ... who told me he had received the Emperor’s order placing him on the retired list, together with the instructions of the Imperial Chancellor, by which it was accompanied. In conclusion the Chancellor thanked him for his long service, and added “hearty” good wishes for his future....
We remained good friends, and Bucher frequently joined Hehn and myself at our Wednesday evening meetings at Trarbach’s. I visited him repeatedly in the autumn and winter of 1886 and in January, 1887, on his return from the visit to Stirum. On the 13th of January I took him the payment for an article which he had written for the Grenzboten and which was published in No. 41 of that paper, on “Two Diminishers of the Realm.” (These were Gladstone and Windthorst, the comparison having been drawn at the suggestion of Bismarck.) On this occasion Bucher told me that he prepared the draft of the Constitution of the North German Confederation. At that time (after the return from Nikolsburg in the autumn of 1866) Bismarck lay seriously ill at Putbus. Savigny, who as Secretary of State should have attended to the matter, took Keudell into his counsels and they thought the thing could be done by introducing a few alterations into the old Constitution of the German Bund. Bucher had to draft the preamble for it. On his return he was summoned to the Chief, who declared Savigny’s performance to be worthless, and dictated to him, Bucher, with the assistance of “a little book,” probably Pölitz’s work on the various Constitutions, the main lines of a Constitution for the new Federal State, which he then wrote out with the help of a clerk, and—when the latter was unable to write any longer—in his own hand. He began work in the afternoon and went on with it all night through and until next morning. After the Chief had made a few alterations he immediately had twelve copies of the Constitution written out in the Foreign Office. Bucher also gave me some particulars of Keudell’s stupidity. When he was going to Rome the Chief, for his personal information, explained to him his views about Italy, saying that we should not tolerate a move towards France. Keudell thought he should mention this to Visconti-Venosta, and did so. The Chief disapproved, and instructed him to take the first opportunity of stating to the Italian Minister that what he had said was merely the expression of his personal views. He has, however, omitted to report whether he had carried out these instructions.
On the 15th I wrote to the Prince asking for an appointment, and in accordance with the reply, called at the palace in the Wilhelmstrasse on the 27th of January, 1887. While I was waiting, first Rottenburg and then three little Rantzaus with their nurserymaid passed through the antechamber. (...) At 2.15 P.M. Theiss called me in to the Prince. He came towards me, reached out his hand and asked how I was. I replied: “Well, and as one sees from the newspapers it is the same with yourself.”
He: “Not during the last few days. I have an oppression and pains here (he passed his hand over his chest), I fancy something like inflammation of the lungs”—a statement which was open to grave doubt, as he looked quite healthy and rosy.
When Tiras had been driven away and I had taken a seat opposite him at the writing-table, he asked: “Now then, what have you been doing in the press recently?”
I replied: “A variety of things in the Grenzboten on the situation. But you yourself have said the last word on the subject in the Reichstag, fully and convincingly—for sensible people. But I fear it will not last long. The stupid people will not die out in the land, and no sooner have you enlightened them, than somebody will take pains to put the light out again. The clerical press continues to pile up misrepresentations and lies, and the large and small sheets of the Progressist party do the same to the best of their ability; while the judicial luminaries of the provinces help to stir up discontent.”
He: “Yes, and all the pettifogging attorneys. I fancy, too, from the credulity of the public there is little improvement to be hoped for from the new elections.”