Later on, diplomatic reports were again discussed, and the Chief, who seems in general to have a poor opinion of them said: “For the most part, they are just paper smeared with ink. The worst of it is that they are so lengthy. In Bernstorff’s case, for instance, when he sends a ream of paper filled with stale newspaper extracts—why, one gets accustomed to it! But when some one else writes at interminable length, and as a rule there is nothing in it, one becomes exasperated. As for using them some day as material for history, nothing of any value will be found in them. I believe the archives are open to the public at the end of thirty years—but it might be done much sooner. Even the despatches which do contain information are scarcely intelligible to those who do not know the people and their relations to each other. In thirty years time who will know what sort of a man the writer himself was, how he looked at things, and how his individuality affected the manner in which he presented them? And who has really an intimate knowledge of the people mentioned in his reports? One must know what Gortschakoff, or Gladstone, or Granville had in his own mind when making the statements reported in the despatch. It is easier to find out something from the newspapers, of which indeed governments also make use, and in which they frequently say much more clearly what they want. But that also requires a knowledge of the circumstances. The most important points, however, are always dealt with in private letters and confidential communications, also verbal ones, and these are not included in the archives.
“The Emperor of Russia, for instance, is on the whole very friendly to us—from tradition, for family reasons, and so on—and also the Grand Duchesse Hélène, who influences him and watches him on our behalf. The Empress, on the other hand, is not our friend. But that is only to be ascertained through confidential channels and not officially.”
Thursday, February 23rd.—We retain Metz, but not Belfort. It has been practically decided that a portion of our army shall enter Paris.
And I write the following intimation for the Moniteur:—
“The arrogance with which the Parisian press insults and abuses the victorious German army that stands outside the gates of the capital has been frequently stigmatised by us as it deserves. We have likewise pointed out that the occupation of Paris by our troops would be the most effectual means of putting an end to this sort of insolence. At the present moment these lies and calumnies and provocations know no bounds. For instance, the Figaro of the 21st of February, in a feuilleton entitled ‘Les Prussiens en France,’ and signed Alfred d’Aunay, charges German officers and the Germans in general with the most disgraceful conduct such as theft and pillage. We learn that these proceedings, which we forbear to characterise, have entirely frustrated the efforts made by the Parisian negotiators to prevent the German army entering into Paris. We are positively assured that the entry of the German forces into the French capital will take place immediately after the expiration of the armistice.”
Friday, February 24th.—Thiers and Favre were here from 1 to 5.30 P.M. After they left, the Duc de Mouchy and the Comte de Gobineau were announced. The object of their visit was to complain of the oppressive action of the German Prefect at Beauvais, who is apparently rather harsh, or at least not very conciliatory or indulgent. The Chief came to dinner in plain clothes for the first time during the war. Is this a sign that peace has been concluded? He again complained that when he went to see the King, the Grand Dukes, “with their feminine curiosity, pestered him with questions.” With regard to the deputation from Beauvais, Hatzfeldt said that Mouchy and Gobineau were both sensible men and Conservatives, and that our Prefect, Schwarzkoppen, bullied them and the other notables of the town and neighbourhood in an unpardonable way. Amongst other things, two days before the expiration of the term on which a contribution of two millions was to be paid, they brought him a million and a half and said that the balance would follow shortly, whereupon he told them brutally that he was there for the purpose of ruining them and meant to do so, and he threatened to have them locked up in order to “coerce” them, which was not in the least necessary. The Chief was very angry and called Schwarzkoppen a “blockhead.”
Saturday, February 25th.—Unpleasant news has again been received from Bavaria. Werther (who, it is true, is described by Bucher as unreliable and a visionary) writes that Count Holnstein regards the condition of King Lewis with very great anxiety. Prince Adalbert, who combines “the Wittelsbach haughtiness with Jesuitry,” is inciting him against us. He asserts that he signed the treaties under pressure. Before every Court dinner and even before every audience he drinks large quantities of the strongest wines, and then says the most extraordinary things to every one without distinction of persons. He wants to abdicate and leave the crown to his brother Otto, who, however, has no wish for it, and he is always inquiring about deadly poisons, &c. The Ultramontanes are aware of all this, and their candidate for the Reichstag, Prince Luitpold, is also their candidate for the throne, and they mean to get him chosen in spite of Prince Otto’s claims.
Wednesday, March 1st.—In the morning I crossed the bridge of boats at Suresnes to the Bois de Boulogne where, from the half-ruined stand on the racecourse, I saw the Emperor review the troops before they marched into Paris.
We were joined at dinner by Mittnacht, and the Würtemberg Minister, von Wächter, who was formerly attached to the Embassy in Paris, and while there did his utmost against Prussia. The Chief said he had ridden in to Paris, and was recognised by the populace, but there was no demonstration against him. He rode up to one man who looked particularly vicious, and asked him for a light, which he willingly gave.
The Chancellor afterwards took occasion once more to speak his mind out on the obtrusiveness of certain princely personages. “They are like flies,” he said, “there is no getting rid of them. But Weimar is the worst of the lot. He said to me to-day, ‘Please tell me where did you disappear to so quickly yesterday? I should have been glad to put some further questions to you.’ I replied, ‘That was exactly it, your Royal Highness. I had business to do, and could not enter into a lengthy conversation.’ He fancies that the whole world has been created merely for his sake, for his amusement, the improvement of his education, and the satisfaction of his curiosity, which is insatiable, and he has absolutely no tact.” Somebody observed that as a rule when he talks he does not think of what he says, but rather repeats phrases that he has learnt by rote. Mittnacht told another story about this august personage. “Some one was introduced to him: ‘Ah, very pleased indeed, I have heard so much to your credit. Let me see, what was it I heard?’”