Whoever is familiar with the style in which the Prince was accustomed to express his thoughts when in the company of his intimate associates will be at once impressed with the genuineness of the instructions, conversations and anecdotes communicated in the following pages. He will find them almost without exception literally reproduced. In the anecdotes and stories, in particular, he will nearly always observe the characteristic ellipses, the unexpressed pre-suppositions, and the manner in which the Prince was apt to jump from point to point in his narratives, reminding one of the style of the old ballads. He will also at times note a humorous vein running through the Prince’s remarks and frequently become conscious of a thread of semi-naïve self irony. All these features were characteristic of the Chancellor’s manner of speaking. It is therefore hardly necessary for me to add that my reports, with all their roughness and sturdy ruggedness, are photographs that have not been retouched. In other words, I believe that I have not only been quick to observe, but I also feel that I have not intentionally omitted anything that was worth reproducing. I have neither blurred any features nor brought others into too sharp relief. I have put in no high lights, and above all I have added nothing of my own, nor tried to secure a place in history for my own wisdom by palming it off as Bismarck’s. Any omissions that now remain (there can hardly be more than a dozen in all of any importance) are indicated by dots or dashes. In cases where I have not quite understood a speaker, attention is called to the fact. Should any contradiction be discovered between earlier and later statements _my_ memory must not be held responsible for them. If I am blamed for the fragmentary character of my recital then all memoirs must be rejected. If I am reproached with not having produced a work of art, I believe I have already made it sufficiently clear that I never intended anything of the kind. I desired, on the contrary, so far as it was in my power, to serve the truth, and that alone. Nevertheless, my work may not only be utilised by historians, but may also possibly inspire a dramatist or a poet. Such a writer must, however, be no sentimentalist, and no idealist. It would be wise for him and for others to let themselves be guided by some counsels of experience which will be useful as a warning against certain misunderstandings both as to the sources of my information and the degree of my credulity. These counsels have always been present to my mind, although, perhaps, through a sense of politeness towards the public, or even, it may be, a real confidence in their common sense, I have rarely thought it necessary to call attention to the fact. This advice I propose to repeat here in a general form and without any special application. In the first place, then, there are people who sometimes really believe that they have