At noon on Saturday, the 21st of March, the Chief sent Bucher, to whom he had again been dictating in the morning on questions of State rights, to ask if I would go for a walk with him. (...)
I took an opportunity of inquiring how his “Memoirs” were getting on, mentioning that I knew he had begun to dictate his reminiscences and views. “That is so,” he rejoined; “but it is probable that in the end it will come to nothing. I have no documents, and even if I remember the main points—quite clearly—one cannot after all carry in his head every detail of what has happened in the course of thirty years. Then as to the publication during my lifetime. Ever since 1847 I have constantly represented the monarchical principle, and held it aloft like a banner. Now I have seen three Kings in a state of nakedness, and frequently these three exalted gentlemen did not make altogether a very good show. Still it would not do to say that openly before the world—it would be inconsistent—opposed to principle. And yet I can just as little keep silent when once I come to deal with that point, to say nothing of asserting the contrary. And if it (the publication) takes place after my death, then they will say: ‘There you have it! Even from his grave! What a detestable old wretch!’” I could only reply that one has duties towards himself, and his own honour,—duties towards that which one has created; that one ought as a man of experience and judgment to warn the country against wrong courses into which it may be led through the impetuousness or thoughtlessness and excessive self-confidence of new politicians; and furthermore that one has duties towards history, to dispel misunderstandings and chimeras, and the falsehoods of flattering courtiers; and that truth, which stands above all things, must have its rights—truth of which Jesus said that it will make us free. He listened in silence to this eager and audacious outburst; and I then spoke of another subject—namely, Kingston’s report in the Daily Telegraph of an interview with him, and in particular of the very favourable opinion of the Emperor Frederick, therein ascribed to him, which could not be reconciled with the views I had heard him express. He replied: “I know nothing of any Kingston, or of any interview in an English newspaper. The report must be an invention (Schwindel).” He then mentioned the picture (in Punch), “Dropping the Pilot,” and said: “The Emperor was delighted with it. He saw in it a recognition of his right to smash the pot—you know as in the witches’ kitchen: ‘Entzwei, entzwei, da liegt der Brei.’”
At lunch among other things the Prince related the history of some excellent old Jamaica rum, of which a bottle stood on the table. The conversation then led to a few corrections. It was Kayser and not Rudchen Lindau who had warned and threatened the Allgemeine Zeitung in Munich; and Bötticher had not told the lie about the morphiomania of the Chancellor direct to the Emperor, but to the Grand Duke of Baden, who then related it to his Majesty. The statement that the latter questioned Schweninger is true, as also the rough answer given by the doctor. “And as a matter of fact,” said the Chief, “I have only taken morphia when in great pain, and it has never done me any harm; although Bötticher asserted that he found me quite deranged mentally and irresponsible for my actions.”
After dinner while reading the papers the Chief remarked, I now forget in what connection: “One day, long after my death, Büschlein will write the secret history of our times from good sources.” “Yes, Serene Highness,” I replied, “but not a real history—I cannot do that—rather a compilation of good materials, conscientiously collected and placed in a proper light. Nor shall it be long after your death, which of course we pray may be as remote as possible, but immediately, without delay, as in these corrupt times one cannot too soon vindicate the rights of truth.” He then came to speak of the newspaper reports to the effect that more friendly relations were gradually growing up between himself and the Emperor, a statement which he denied as something obviously impossible. He referred to the new communal regulations, which he disapproved of. He said they had offended the farmers, whom they put on a level with the small traders and artisans in communal affairs. He then spoke at some length of Minister Herrfurth, addressing himself for the most part to me, much to the following effect (Bucher afterwards recapitulated his statement to me upstairs): while the Emperor was still Prince and lived at Potsdam, he, Bismarck, desired to prepare him for the government, and to provide him, so to say, with tuition in the various branches of the art of governing. Up to that time he knew little, and indeed did not trouble himself much about it, but preferred to enjoy himself in the society of young officers and suchlike. The plan was to get him to remove to Berlin, somewhere near Bellevue. But the financial authorities at Court were of opinion that that would be too expensive. The Prince was then to hear lectures at Potsdam, and Bismarck proposed Herrfurth, the Under-Secretary of State,—who was reputed to be well informed, particularly in statistics—as his tutor on internal questions. The Prince agreed and invited Herrfurth to lunch with him, and then told the Chancellor he could not stand him, with his bristly beard, his dryness and tediousness, and asked whether the Prince could not suggest some one else. Yes, he would send him Regierungsrath von Brandenstein. The Prince had nothing to say against that, so Brandenstein was written to. But H.R.H., although it is true he lunched with him several times, paid so little attention to his explanations that Herr von Brandenstein lost patience, and begged to be given some other employment. In the meantime, shortly before the death of the Emperor Frederick, Minister Puttkamer was dismissed. When Prince William ascended the throne Bismarck spoke to him on the subject, and he said he would of course make Puttkamer Minister again, but a certain interval must be allowed to elapse—for appearance sake. Bismarck proposed that Herrfurth should hold the post in the interval, and told him that he must carry on the policy which Puttkamer had adopted, and resign his place to the latter after a certain time, receiving in return a post of Chief President. Would he agree to that? Yes, he would; he had always followed the course laid down by his superior, Puttkamer, and would willingly make way for him when the time came. But when Bismarck, after a few weeks or months, observed to his Majesty that the time had come to reinstate Puttkamer, the Emperor replied, no, he did not think of doing so any longer, as he had in the meantime grown accustomed to Herrfurth, and was now quite satisfied with him. The change had come about in this way. Herrfurth had, without previous consultation with the Prime Minister, put himself in direct communication with the Emperor, and taking advantage of the Sovereign’s wishes, recommended a liberal reform of the Communal Regulations, as a measure by which he could gain numerous friends and secure imperishable fame. “After a few days,” concluded the Prince, “my Schönhausen people came to me and asked, ‘What does this mean?’ They had received papers, and were, it would seem, to report whether they desired to have all the old arrangements upset, and every one put on the same level. And this was done throughout the seven old provinces, much to the surprise and dissatisfaction of the peasantry. That too was one of the causes of my retirement.” The Chief afterwards said that when I left he wished to give me some papers to take with me and keep for him. I was to make copies of them, which I could publish at a future day. I promised to remind him, and also offered my services for other purposes in the future; “I had always regarded myself as his little archer, who at his call would even shoot my bolt at the sun himself.” He smiled, and said: “Many thanks, perhaps.”
Sunday, March 22nd.—During the forenoon the Chief dictated to Bucher some notes on the question as to how the German Constitution might be altered in case it should no longer work. He also told him that he wished to give me certain important documents to take with me. (...)
Monday, March 23rd.—(...) I had waited yesterday in vain to see the Chief on his return from lunch to his study, in order to remind him of the documents which I was to take with me. To-day, after lunch, I called upon him in his own room for this purpose. I apologised for disturbing him, but, as I intended to leave to-morrow, I thought it was of importance to him that I should take the papers with me. “So it is,” he rejoined, “and it is well that you have reminded me of it while I am alone. But why are you going away so soon?” “I do not wish to be any longer a burden to you, Serene Highness.” “But you are nothing of the kind. On the contrary, I am glad to see such a faithful old comrade of the war time; and, moreover, you are so quiet that you disturb no one.” We then agreed that I should remain for a few days longer, and remind him of the papers once more later on. (...)
During the day workmen were engaged unpacking large cases of silver plate—a valuable treasure which German manufacturers had presented to the Prince as a token of their esteem. At dinner the old gentleman, who still remains the same lover of nature and of animals, had a great deal to tell about the starlings, for whom he had had a few dozen small wooden shelters put up in the trees behind the house. “They held a public meeting to-day,” he said, “probably in connection with the approach of spring. As I was going for my walk I first saw seven of them sitting together in one place and making music. Shortly after their numbers increased, and finally there were thirty of them sitting together, wing to wing.” He then cast a glance at the grey bull-dog waltzing round the room, and observed, “That reminds me of the funeral honours paid to Windthorst. I should never have thought of getting him (the dog), but the Emperor presented him to me. If it had not been for the Emperor’s intervention at the beginning, they would never have made such a fuss about Windthorst.” After dinner the conversation turned on newspaper tattle, as, for instance, that he had sent twelve cases full of important papers to an English bank to keep for him. “Twelve!” he exclaimed, smiling, “I wish I had even one such case full.” The gossips of the press also reported that he had recently purchased a house in Berlin, such and such a number in the Königgrätzerstrasse—better informed authorities had it that it was two houses—at a very high price. From this he went on to say that they once assessed the rent of his palace (the Palais Radziwill) in the Wilhelmstrasse (for the inhabited house duty) at 50,000 marks. On his remonstrating, they replied that the English Ambassador had assessed his own house, which was not so large, at as high a figure.
In the forenoon of Tuesday, March 24th, the Chief sent upstairs for me and handed me, first, three metallographic copies of documents, with two letters and a memorandum. All these were from the year 1885, and referred to the protection of municipalities against arbitrary school rates. “They are metallographs,” he said, “and as such I dare say I may publish them at some future time. You can take them with you for that purpose, but they should be returned to me afterwards.” “Then I will copy them.” “Yes, but that means a great deal of work, twenty or more pages, in parts closely written.” “That does not matter, it shall be done.” “And then here is my resignation, and this is the statement of my motives. You may read that through—” (and, as I boldly assume, with tacit permission to take a copy away with me, at present merely for my own information). “This is about Herbert—you can read that also, and then bring them all back to me.” I went immediately to my room and began to copy the resignation and the statement of motives, as well as the answer of the Chief to the Imperial acceptance thereof, which he had given me instead of the paper referring to Herbert. The metallographic documents will be dealt with later on.
Resignation.
“B(erlin) 18.3.90.—On the occasion of my respectful report of the 15th instant, your Majesty commanded me to submit the draft of an Order which should revoke the Royal Order of the 8th of September, 1852, by which the relations between the Minister President and his colleagues have hitherto been regulated.