THE EMPEROR FREDERICK’S DIARY—THE CHIEF ON THE DIARY AND ITS AUTHOR—THE GERMAN QUESTION DURING THE WAR OF 1870—THE EMPEROR FREDERICK AND HIS LEANING TOWARDS ENGLAND—THE CHIEF PRAISES THE YOUNG EMPEROR—“BETTER TOO MUCH THAN TOO LITTLE FIRE!”—I AM TO ARRANGE THE CHIEF’S PAPERS, AND DO SO—LETTERS FROM FREDERICK WILLIAM IV. AND FROM WILLIAM I.—CORRESPONDENCE WITH AND CONCERNING THE CROWN PRINCE (FREDERICK)—LETTERS TO AND FROM ANDRASSY DURING THE NEGOTIATIONS FOR THE AUSTRO-GERMAN ALLIANCE—LETTERS FROM THE EMPEROR ON THE SAME SUBJECT—WILLIAM I.’S RELUCTANCE TO DESERT RUSSIA—CONVERSATION BETWEEN THE EMPEROR AND THE TSAR AT ALEXANDROWO—WILLIAM I.’S FINAL INSTRUCTIONS—BISMARCK’S ACCOUNT OF HIS RELATIONS WITH THE EMPEROR FREDERICK.
July 16th.—After it had been whispered in the press for some time that the Emperor Frederick had left a diary which did not throw a very favourable light upon Bismarck, and that this was at present in the hands of the Queen of England, a second version of the story (Berliner Boersenzeitung, evening edition of the 13th) is now reproduced from the Matin and other French papers. This is to the following effect. During the lifetime of the Emperor William I. Prince Bismarck prepared a frank statement respecting the European situation and his own political views, which he handed to the Emperor, believing that the latter would survive his son, and that the document would thus pass direct, without any intermediary, from the grandfather to the grandson. Frederick ascended the throne, and found the Bismarck memorandum. All the efforts made by the Chancellor to recover possession of it were in vain, and on Frederick’s death it was found that the document, which contained the most secret ideas and schemes of the Chancellor, had come into the possession of Queen Victoria, who declined to give it up. In this form the story is doubtless akin to that of the sea-serpent, and yet it is perhaps not entirely without foundation. Anyhow, it is possible that a diary by the late Emperor may be in existence, and may have been put into a place of safety by his consort or her mother.
On the 20th of September I received from Grunow the October number of the Deutsche Rundschau, containing the diary of the Emperor Frederick during the war. I reviewed it in No. 40 of the Grenzboten without having any doubt as to its being in the main genuine. On the 24th Hedwig announced the arrival of one of the Chancery attendants who had been sent by Rottenburg to request me to call upon him at 2.30 P.M. I went, and he showed me a letter from the Imperial Chancellor (written by an amanuensis) desiring him to request me to come to Friedrichsruh, and to bring with me my notes taken during the war, as the diary of the Emperor Frederick appeared to contain inaccuracies. I promised to start next morning, whereupon Rottenburg arranged to telegraph to Rantzau to stop the 8.30 A.M. train at Friedrichsruh where it does not usually stop. Nothing was to be said in the newspapers about my visit. I replied that that went without saying so far as it depended upon me. I had always felt disgusted at the merest mention of my name by that pack. On the same evening Rottenburg sent me a letter requesting me not to leave Berlin, but to come to the Imperial Chancellerie at 10 A.M. on the following morning, as other arrangements had been made.
I appeared punctually at 10 A.M. in the Chancellor’s antechamber, where I met the Secretary of State, Von Schelling (medium height, red face, white hair and small white moustache) who was shown in to the Prince before me. As Rottenburg informed me while I was waiting, the Chancellor had arrived and wished to see me. He added, however, that he might not be able to see me now, in which case I should return at 2.30 P.M. Rottenburg also inquired if I had already found any inaccuracies in the diary published in the Rundschau. I replied that so far I had only noticed some trifling errors, and that on the whole I considered it to be genuine, but not complete. Schelling remained for half an hour. On his leaving, Rantzau came out and spoke to Rottenburg, whereupon the latter again requested me to return at 2.30 P.M., as the Chief was too much occupied to be able to speak to me now. On my return at the hour named he said that the Chancellor had still no time to receive me and was going back to Friedrichsruh that evening. There was, therefore, no alternative but for me to go there likewise. It would be well if I were to start next morning and telegraph to him shortly before my departure in order that he might arrange for the train to stop at Friedrichsruh. I promised to leave by the 8.30 train from the Lehrter station, which arrives at Friedrichsruh about 1 P.M., and also to take with me my notes, of which he again reminded me.
September 26th.—About one o’clock I arrived at Friedrichsruh station, where Rottenburg was waiting with a carriage for Count Solms, our Ambassador in Rome—who travelled by the same train—and myself. On our way to the house, the Privy Councillor told us that the Prince had gone out for a walk in order to freshen himself up, as he had done a great deal of work last night. At 2.15 P.M. I met him at lunch, at which the Princess, Rantzau and his wife, his Excellency von Solms, and a Prioress, whose name I have forgotten, were also present. The Chief, as was his custom formerly at Varzin and here, read through, signed and otherwise disposed of various documents. After lunch Rottenburg, on his instructions, handed me a memorandum on the diary published in the Rundschau. This was directed to the Emperor and was to appear next day in the Reichsanzeiger. While I was reading this through in his study, the Chief came in, asked me to give it to him, and made a few corrections and additions in it. I then read it through in my own room upstairs, after which the Chancery attendant, Kleist, took it away. I then chatted with the three little Rantzaus, who were trying their skill at archery at an improvised target near the coach-house; advised them in the matter, and in that way, apparently, won the good will of the still very childlike and unaffected boys. Then a short walk with Solms in the park on the banks of the Aue. On my return, I found a carriage standing before the door of the house; and the Chief sent word to say that he was going out for a drive, and would I like to come with him. Of course I would. We then drove for about two hours, first to Silt, afterwards to Schönau and finally to the Billenbrück, and then home through the beech wood on the right bank of the Aue. On the way, the Prince spoke to two gamekeepers about the scarcity of partridges and the fish poachers; while he discussed the state of the crops, and the condition of the cattle with a cowherd whose charges were feeding in a field of vetches. Further on, he entered into conversation with overseers who were looking after the potato digging and with labourers who were ploughing with oxen. In the intervals he had a long conversation with me on the manner in which the Crown Prince’s diary should be dealt with. He introduced the subject by the remark (in English): “I am afraid you have forgotten your English.” On my answering, “No, sir, by no means,” he continued the conversation in that language on account of the coachman. He began: “As you will have seen from what you read, we must first treat it as a forgery, a point of view from which a great deal may be said. Then, when it is proved to be genuine by the production of the original it can be dealt with further in another way.” I said that on the whole it appeared to me to be genuine, but incomplete, on the one hand, while, on the other, there were interpolations, probably by Victoria No. 2, in support of which opinion I quoted examples. I also told him that, in ignorance of his plans, I had already dealt with the matter in the Grenzboten a week before, according to my own views, and in certain flagrant instances condemned it cautiously. Another course was, however, still open to me. I then repeated to him, from memory, the commencement of the article in question. He rejoined: “You were quite right. I myself consider the diary even more genuine than you do. It is quite insignificant, superficial stuff, without any true conception of the situation, a medley of sentimental politics, self-conceit and phrase-mongering. He was far from being as clever as his father, and the latter was certainly not a first-rate politician. It is just that which proves its genuineness to me. But at first we must treat it as doubtful.” The conversation then turned on the details of the diary. I asked if he had spoken to the Emperor on the subject, and he replied in the affirmative, saying: “He was quite in a rage and wishes to have strong measures taken against the publication.” He then came to speak of the demand for Imperial Ministers. We have them, of course, only without the title and name. The Imperial Chancellor is their permanent President,—permanent, because with us the power of the Emperor is greater under the Constitution than in other countries which are ruled by alternating Parliamentary majorities. I suggested that Gustav Freytag might perhaps at the instance of the Empress Victoria have edited the diary and arranged for its publication. I tried to show the probability of this suggestion by a reference to his political views, to the confidential position which he occupied towards the two Victorias, and in particular to an instruction to Brater’s paper in Frankfurt in the summer of 1863, during the conflict between the King and the Crown Prince respecting the “Press Ordinances.” He considered, however, that the trick would prove to have been done by Hengst, a writer who serves the Court, and particularly its ladies, in the press. He then repeated the main points of the memorandum which I had previously read. I now ascertained for certain that this was a report on the diary in the Deutsche Rundschau which the Chancellor, by the Emperor’s command, had submitted to the sovereign a few days ago. He added various details: “In 1870 the Crown Prince was only partially initiated into the negotiations, as the King feared that he would write about them either to his consort, or direct to Queen Victoria and her Court, whose sympathies were with the French. In the second place, he might also have done harm, as his views with regard to the demands upon our German allies went too far, and he was thinking of coercive measures which were urged upon him by his good friends at Baden and Coburg—as, for instance, Roggenbach, who always was a fool. He had therefore only a superficial knowledge of the course of affairs. It is, nevertheless, surprising that these notes, which are supposed to have been written down day by day, contain so many misconceptions, confusions and chronological errors. A great deal of it cannot possibly have been written by the Crown Prince, and must have come from his entourage or the publisher. Here it is said that, in the middle of July, I wanted to return to Varzin because peace was no longer in danger, while he, of course, knew that I considered war to be inevitable, and had declared my intention to retire when the King showed a disposition to yield. It is also inconceivable that the Crown Prince endeavoured at an early date to secure the Iron Cross for non-Prussians, in view of the fact that at Versailles he was opposed to it, and it was I who first suggested it. He represents this as the beginning of the struggle between him and me as to the future of Germany, although he must surely have remembered former differences of opinion between us, that led to some very lively discussions which one would not be likely to forget. It was before or immediately after Sedan, at Beaumont or Donchery, and the conversation took place in a long avenue through which we rode side by side. We came to high words over our respective views as to what was expedient and morally permissible, and when he spoke of force and of coercive measures against the Bavarians I reminded him of the Margrave Gero and the thirty Wendish Princes, and also of the Sendling massacre. When he held to his opinion, however, and suggested that I should carry it into execution, I said to him (scarcely in so blunt and plain a fashion) that there were things which a Prince, perhaps, might do, but no gentleman would attempt. Such conduct would be an act of perfidy, and an outrage upon allies who had fulfilled their obligations, quite apart from the folly of such an attempt at a time when we had further use for them. The statements in the alleged diary as to my position in the Emperor question in 1866, on my intentions in connection with the dogma of infallibility, my idea of an Upper House and the Imperial Ministries, can hardly have been written by the Crown Prince either. In 1870 he could no longer doubt that the Empire, in the form which he had in his mind in 1866, would have been neither useful nor feasible—in fact it would not have been an Empire at all. What he desired in 1866 was not an Emperor but a King of Germany—the other Kings and Grand Dukes being reduced to their former rank, merely Dukes—as if that were an easy matter to bring about. We had already put an end to the Upper House at Beaumont or Donchery, and had dealt with the Imperial Ministers in like fashion. He, too, must have finally recognised that the dogma of infallibility was of slight importance for us, and that I regarded it as a blunder on the part of the Pope and advised the King to let it rest during the continuance of the war. Even a hasty thinker like the Crown Prince could scarcely have concluded from that that I intended to oppose it after the war, and therefore this passage was doubtless not written by him. At least for the present we must continue to doubt the genuineness of this and other statements.” He then spoke of Bray, who, as an Austrian sympathiser, delayed the mobilisation of the Bavarian troops in 1870; and of King Lewis, who—at that time of sound German principles—was “our sole influential friend in Bavaria.” Returning to the Crown Prince’s idea of 1866 and to his Upper Chamber, the Chancellor observed: “An Emperor or King of North Germany would have created a division between North and South Germany such as did not exist under the Customs Union; and an Upper House with Princes and elected members was impossible.” I then reminded him of the importunity of Baden and Coburg, who at Versailles worried him with memorials and verbal counsels, questions, &c., to that effect, and of his indignation at the unexpected visit of the Grand Duke Frederick during dinner. I then mentioned to him what Bucher had told me about the sensible attitude adopted by the Queen of England at Charlottenburg, which he confirmed, adding that at the interview which he had had with her he had in part prompted the admonitions which she addressed to her daughter. In this connection I asked whether the statement in Bleichröder’s Boersenzeitung as to his strong condemnation of my article, “Foreign Influences in the Empire,” were true. I added that, rebus mutatis, I should have considered it quite conceivable, and had indeed said as much. He replied, smiling: “Nonsense! quite the contrary. I have several times expressed my high appreciation of it. The article was really quite first rate, and the Coburg pamphlet was also very aptly applied.” Driving along in the dusk on the right bank of the Aue, we passed a boarding school, and were greeted with cheers three times repeated by a crowd of children (doubtless the pupils and their teacher). “They will,” he said, “have taken the grey-bearded gentleman seated by me for a Rumanian or Bulgarian Minister on a visit.” “Then I too have had a share in the ovation,” I rejoined, “and shall take it with me to Berlin as a souvenir.” He afterwards requested me to look through my diary to-morrow, to see if there were any further chronological or other mistakes in the publication of the Deutsche Rundschau and to report to him on the subject.
After dinner, which began at 7 o’clock and lasted for about an hour, coffee and cognac were served in the next room, while the Prince seated himself on a sofa in the corner, behind a table with a lamp. There he read the newspapers and smoked a long pipe. We followed suit with cigars. I had some conversation with Rantzau, who is now about to leave for his post at Munich, concerning “Friedrich der Sachte,” and my intercourse with him and his “Ministers,” as well as on the old Schleswig-Holstein agitation. The Princess then brought me a book kept by her, in which I had to write my name and the date. I was preceded in this by various distinguished and eminent people, celebrities of the day, Ministers, Ambassadors, Envoys, &c. It will one day be an interesting collection. Afterwards met Solms upstairs in the corridor leading to his and my room, and hastily gave him a little (well deserved) praise for his sharp diplomatic scent in the months preceding the French war. This moved him to invite me to his room, where he gave me detailed particulars of his experiences and achievements at that time, but unfortunately in French, whereby some points were lost to me. (...)
On the morning of the 27th I again spoke to the Ambassador as he was on the point of starting for Berlin and Rome. “Adieu, old friend, and if you ever come to the Eternal City be sure to visit me. But what I said to you last night about the Paris affairs must not appear in your memoirs.” “No, Excellency, a mere reference to the conversation without any details. I know how to respect your confidence as well as that of other people.” “Yes, I am convinced that you have gathered a great deal about our affairs which does not appear in your books.”
During the forenoon, in accordance with the Chief’s desire, I went through my diary up to our stay at Ferrières. At lunch the Prince observed, after first recommending me to take some herring: “They are wholesome, and I always have some since Schweninger advised me to take fish. Moreover, it is a very fine and good fish, and is only looked down upon because it is so plentiful and cheap. Since I began in 1883 I must have disposed of over a thousand of them.” In the evening, after dinner, the Prince, while looking through the newspapers, suddenly said: “Yes, since 1840 the Princes have begun to degenerate. I will give you an example or two (looking towards me). In 1858, before Prince William, afterwards Emperor, acted as Regent for his brother, there was a reactionary intrigue on foot with which Manteuffel was not unconnected, and in which they also wanted me to join. Its object was to induce the sick King to withdraw his authority, and to let Queen Elizabeth govern through the Ministers. I did not join in that scheme, but on the contrary started for Baden—or was it somewhere else in South Germany?—and told the whole story to him (the Prince of Prussia). He was not at all disconcerted by the plan, however, and declared himself ready to retire immediately. It was therefore a matter of perfect indifference to him. But I argued it out with him. What will be the result of such a move? It is surely your duty to hold on! Send for Manteuffel at once. And Manteuffel actually came, after having hesitated for some little time, excusing himself on the ground of illness, and so the affair went no further. Then at Babelsberg, when I was called thither in order to be made Minister. In his despair he had the act of abdication ready signed, and it was only when I offered to stand by him in spite of Parliament and in spite of the majority that he tore it up. This restored his courage and confidence and his sense of royal duty, which in his unfortunate position had, until then, been a matter of utter indifference to him. He afterwards held to it firmly enough.” The Chancellor added that of late years the deceased monarch through this sense of duty had sometimes caused him considerable difficulties, as his knowledge of affairs was limited and he was slow in comprehending anything new. Of the present Emperor he said: “He has more understanding, more courage and greater independence of Court influences, but in his leaning towards me he goes far. How considerate he was the last time he came here! He was surprised that I had waited for him till 11 o’clock, a thing which his grandfather was incapable of saying. And in the morning he waited for me, and although he is accustomed to rise much earlier he did not get up until 9 o’clock, thinking that I slept till that hour. I was just washing and only half dressed when he put his hand on my shoulder, and I hurriedly pulled on my dressing gown in order to be to some extent in a proper condition to receive him.” I said: “Yes, Serene Highness, you now appear to have everything one could wish for you. A docile and grateful pupil and warm admirer stands by your side as ruler and chief authority in the State, and we, your people, rejoice with all our hearts, and hope that it may long remain so.”
“It is only in trifles and matters of secondary importance that one had occasionally some little reason to find fault with him, as for instance in the form of his pronouncements. After all, that was a little too much of a good thing when he said: ‘Forty-two millions and eighteen army corps on the field.’ ‘If at last the whole nation lies hushed in the silence of death.’ If every German soldier and civilian is dead, what significance can the independence and inviolability of Germany still have? And new-fangled words from the newspapers, such as ‘unentwegt,’ ‘voll und ganz,’ to say nothing of ‘diesbezüglich,’ do not look well in his proclamation.” The Prince rejoined: “In his reference to the battle-field it would certainly have been enough had he said: ‘And if I were to be the last man upon the field of battle nothing that we have conquered shall be lost!’ But that is youthful vivacity, which time will correct. Better too much than too little fire!” I then conversed with Countess Rantzau, and recommended to her a climatic cure, deep breathing in the open air. He looked up from his paper and said: “Pulmonary gymnastics? I too have tried that, and still do occasionally.”
Up to lunch time on the morning of the 28th I read through my diary, and came upon a number of passages that seemed likely to be of use to the Chief. On being called down to lunch I met a gentleman who was paying a private visit. He was introduced to me as Privy Councillor of Embassy Brauer, a portly man of about thirty-six, who has a slight touch of the South-west German accent. The conversation turned on the Crown Prince, and the shallowness and poverty of thought which characterised his diary. From this the Chief again concluded that the publication in the Deutsche Rundschau, or at least a great part of it, might be genuine. He again spoke in English on account of the servants. I took the liberty to remark that according to page 138 of my diary it appeared after all that he had had a conversation on the German question with his Royal Highness at Versailles on the 16th. He rejoined: “Yes, but then he has mixed it up with a former one, and moreover I cannot have advised him to propose to the King that the Bavarians should be disarmed.” I added that that must have been said ironically—a suggestion of such a monstrous description that no one could take it seriously.