Chapter III: Part 3

England and Germany are both constitutional monarchies, but both the monarch and the Constitution in Germany are different from the monarch and the Constitution in England. The British Constitution is a growth of centuries, not, like the German Constitution, the creation of a day. The British Constitution is unwritten, if it is stamped, as Mary said the word "Calais" would be found stamped on her heart after death, on the heart and brain of every Englishman. The German Constitution is a written document in seventy-eight chapters, not fifty years old, and on which, compared with the British Constitution, the ink is not yet dry. In England to the people the Constitution is the real monarch: in Germany the monarchy is to the people what the British Constitution is to the Englishman; and while in England the monarch is the first counsellor to the Constitution, in Germany the Constitution is the first counsellor to the monarch.

The consequence in England is representative government, with a political career for every ordinary citizen; the consequence in Germany is constitutional monarchy, properly so-called, with a political career for no common citizen. Neither system is perfect, but both, apparently, give admirable national results. And yet, of course, an Englishman cannot help thinking that if Herr Bebel were made Minister to-morrow, Social Democracy would cease to exist.

The people acquiesce in the Hohenzollern view, not indeed with perfect and entire unanimity, for the small Progressive party demand a parliamentary form of government, if not on the exact model of that established in England. The Social Democrats, evidently, would have no government at all. Many English people suppose that Germans generally must desire parliamentary rule and would help them to get it, for multitudes of English people are firmly persuaded that it is England's mission to extend to other peoples the institutions which have suited her so well, without sufficiently considering how different are their circumstances, geographical position, history, traditions, and national character. A very similar mistake is made in Germany by multitudes of Germans, who believe it is Germany's mission to impose her culture, her views of man and life, on the rest of the world.

The Prussian view of monarchy, expressed in the words "von Gottes Gnaden" ("By the Grace of God"), is a political conception, which, under its customary English translation, "by Divine Right," has often been ridiculed by English writers. Lord Macaulay, it will be remembered, in his "History of England," asserts that the doctrine first emerged into notice when James the Sixth of Scotland ascended the English throne. "It was gravely maintained," writes Macaulay,

"that the Supreme Being regarded hereditary monarchy, as
opposed to other systems of government, with peculiar
favour; that the rule of succession in order of
primogeniture was a divine institution anterior to the
Christian, and even to the Mosaic, dispensation; that no
human power, not even that of the whole legislature, no
length of adverse possession, though it extended to ten
centuries, could deprive the legitimate prince of his
rights; that his authority was necessarily always despotic;
that the laws by which, in England and other countries, the
prerogative was limited, were to be regarded merely as
concessions which the sovereign had freely made and might at
his pleasure resume; and that any treaty into which a king
might enter with his people was merely a declaration of his
present intention, and not a contract of which the
performance could be demanded."

The statement exactly expresses the ideas on the subject attributed abroad to the Emperor.

The distinguished German historian, Heinrich von Treitschke, writes of King Frederick William IV, the predecessor of Emperor William I, as follows:--

"He believed in a mysterious enlightenment which is granted
'von Gottes Gnaden' to kings rather than other mortals. All
the blessings of peace, which his People could expect under
a Christian monarch, should Proceed from the wisdom of the
Crown alone; he regarded his high office like a patriarch of
the Old Testament and held the kingship as a fatherly power
established by God Himself for the education of the people.
Whatever happened in the State he connected with the person
of the monarch. If only his age and its royal awakener had
understood each other better! He had, however, in his
strangely complicated process of development, constructed
such extraordinary ideals that though he might sometimes
agree in words with his contemporaries he never did as to
the things, and spoke a different language from his people.
Even General Gerlach, his good friend and servant, used to
say: 'The ways of the King are wonderful;' and the not less
loyal Bunsen wrote about a complaint of the monarch that 'no
one understands me, no one agrees with me,' the
commentary--'When one understood him, how could one agree
with him?'"

It was this king, be it parenthetically remarked, who said, when his people were clamouring for a Constitution, in 1847: "Now and never will I admit that a written paper, like a second Providence, force itself between our God in Heaven and this land"--and a few months later had to sign the document his people demanded.

Von Treitschke, writing on the last birthday of Emperor William I, thus spoke of the doctrine:

"A generation ago an attempt was made by a theologizing
State theory to inculcate the doctrine of a power of the
throne, divine, released from all earthly obligations. This
mystery of the Jacobins never found entrance into the clear
common sense of our people."

Prince Bismarck's view of the doctrine was explained in a speech he made to the Prussian Diet in 1847. He was speaking on "Prussia as a Christian State." "For me," he said,

"the words 'von Gottes Gnaden,' which Christian rulers join
to their names, are no empty phrase, but I see in them the
recognition that the princes desire to wield the sceptre
which God has assigned them according to the will of God on
earth. As God's will I can, however, only recognize what is
revealed in the Christian gospels, and I believe I am in my
right when I call that State a Christian one which has taken
as its task the realization, the putting into operation, of
the Christian doctrine.... Assuming generally that the State
has a religious foundation, in my opinion this foundation
can only be Christianity. Take away this religious
foundation from the State and we retain nothing of the State
but a chance aggregation of rights, a kind of bulwark
against the war of all against all, which the old
philosophers spoke of."

On the second occasion, thirty years later, the Chancellor's theme was "Obedience to God and the King."

"I refer," he said,

"to the wrong interpretation of a sentence which in itself
is right--namely, that one must obey God rather than man.
The previous speaker must know me long enough to be aware
that I subscribe to the entire correctness of this sentence,
and that I believe I obey God when I serve the King under
the device 'With God for King and Country.' Now he (the
previous speaker) has separated the component parts of the
device, for he sees God separated from King and Fatherland.
I cannot follow him on this road. I believe I serve my God
when I serve my King in the protection of the commonwealth
whose monarch 'von Gottes Gnaden' he is, and on whom the
emancipation from alien spiritual influence and the
independence of his people from Romish pressure have been
laid by God as a duty in which I serve the King. The
previous speaker would certainly admit in private that we do
not believe in the divinity of a State idol, though he seems
to assert here that we believe in it."

In these passages, it may be remarked, Bismarck avoids an unconditional endorsement of the Hohenzollern doctrine of divine "right" or even divine appointment. Indeed all he does is to express his belief in the sincerity of rulers who declare their desire to rule in accordance with the will of God as it appears in Holy Scripture. In addition to his dislike of a "Christianity above the State," the fact that he did not subscribe to the doctrine of divine right, as these words are interpreted in England, is shown by another speech in which he said, "The essence of the constitutional monarchy under which we live is the co-operation of the monarchical will and the convictions of the people." But what, one is tempted to ask, if will and convictions differ?

In recent times, Dr. Paul Liman, in an excellent character sketch of the Emperor, devotes his first chapter to the subject, thus recognizing the important place it occupies in the Emperor's mentality. Dr. Liman, like all German writers who have dealt with the topic, animadverts on the Hohenzollern obsession by the theory and attributes it chiefly to the romantic side of the Emperor's nature which was strongly influenced in youth by the "wonderful events" of 1870, by the national outburst of thanks to God at the time, and by the return from victorious war of his father, his grandfather, and other heroes, as they must have appeared to him, like Bismarck, Moltke, and Roon.

It is worth noting that Prince von Bülow, during the ten years of his Chancellorship, made no parliamentary or other specific and public allusion to the doctrine.

Before, however, attempting to offer a somewhat different explanation of the Emperor's attitude in the matter from those just cited, let us see what statements he has himself made publicly about it and how the doctrine has been interpreted by his contemporaries. He made no reference to it in his declarations to the army, the navy, and the people when he ascended the throne. His first allusion to it was in March, 1890, at the annual meeting of the Brandenburg provincial Diet at the Kaiserhof Hotel in Berlin, and then the allusion was not explicit. "I see," said the Emperor,

"in the folk and land which have descended to me a talent
entrusted to me by God, which it is my task to increase, and
I intend with all my power so to administer this talent that
I hope to be able to add much to it. Those who are willing
to help me I heartily welcome whoever they may be: those who
oppose me in this task I will crush."

His next allusion, at Bremen in April of the same year, when he was laying the foundation-stone of a statue to his grandfather, King William, a few months subsequent to Bismarck's retirement, was more explicit, yet not completely so.

"It is a tradition of our House," so ran his speech,

"that we, the Hohenzollerns, regard ourselves as appointed
by God to govern and to lead the people, whom it is given us
to rule, for their well-being and the advancement of their
material and intellectual interests."

The next reference, and the only one in which a divine "right" to rule in Prussia is formally claimed, occurs four years later at Koenigsberg, the ancient crowning-place of Prussian kings. Here he said:--

"The successor (namely himself) of him who _of his own
right_ was sovereign prince in Prussia will follow the same
path as his great ancestor; as formerly the first King (of
Prussia, Frederick I.) said, 'My crown is born with me,' and
as his greater son (the Great Elector) gave his authority
the stability of a rock of bronze, so I too, like my
imperial grandfather, represent the kingship 'von Gottes
Gnaden.'"

At Coblenz in 1897, in reference to the first Emperor William's labours for the army and people:--

"He (Emperor William) left Coblenz to ascend the throne as
the selected instrument of the Lord he always regarded
himself to be. For us all, and above all for us princes, he
raised once more aloft and lent lustrous beams to a jewel
which we should hold high and holy--that is the kingship von
Gottes Gnaden, the kingship with its onerous duties, its
never-ending, ever-continuing trouble and labour, with its
fearful responsibility to the Creator alone, from which no
human being, no minister, no parliament, no people can
release the prince."

Here, too, if the words "responsibility to the Creator alone" be taken in their ordinary English sense, the allusion to a divine right may be construed, though it is observable that the word "right" is not actually employed.

In Berlin, when unveiling a monument to the Great Elector, the Emperor was filled with the same idea of the God-given mission of the Hohenzollerns. After briefly sketching the deeds of the Elector--how he came young to the throne to find crops down-trodden, villages burnt to the ground, a starved and fallen people, persecuted on every side, his country the arena for barbarous robber-bands who had spread war and devastation throughout Germany for thirty years; how, with "invincible reliance on God" and an iron will, he swept the pieces of the land together, raised trade and commerce, agriculture and industry, in for that period an incredibly short time; how he brought into existence a new army entirely devoted to him; how, in fine, guided by the hope of founding a great northern Empire, which would bring the German peoples together, he became an authority in Europe and laid the corner-stone of the present Empire--after sketching all this, the Emperor continues:

"How is this wonderful success of the house of Hohenzollern
to be explained? Solely in this way, that every prince of
the House is conscious from the beginning that he is only an
earthly vicegerent, who must give an account of his labour
to a higher King and Master, and show that he has been a
faithful executor of the high commands laid upon him."

One finds exactly the same idea expressed three months later when talking to his "Men of Brandenburg." "You know well," he reminded them,

"that I regard my whole position and my task as laid on me
by Heaven, and that I am appointed by a Higher Power to whom
I must later render an account. Accordingly I can assure you
that not a morning or evening passes without a prayer for my
people and a special thought for my Mark Brandenburg."

To the Anglo-Saxon understanding, of course, the theory of divine right has long appeared untenable, obsolete, and, as Macaulay says, absurd. Many people to-day would go farther and argue that there is no such thing as a divine right at all, since "rights" are a purely human idea, possibly a purely legal one. But it is at least doubtful that the Emperor uses the expression "von Gottes Gnaden" in a sense exactly coterminous with that of "divine right" as used by Lord Macaulay and later Anglo-Saxon writers and speakers. The latter, when dealing with things German, not unfrequently fall into the error of mistranslation and are thus at times responsible for national misunderstandings. The Italian saying, "_traduttore, tradittore_," is the expression of a fact too seldom recognized, especially by those whose business it is to interpret, so to speak, one people to another. Language is as mysterious and elusive a thing as aught connected with humanity, as love, for example, or music; and it may be asserted with some degree of confidence that among every people there are ideas current, and in all departments--in law, society, art--which it is impossible exactly to translate into the speech of other nations. The words used may be the same, but the connotation, all the words imply and suggest, is, perhaps in very important respects, different, and requires a paraphrase, longer or shorter, to explain them. Take the word "false" in English and "falsch" in German. They look alike, yet while the English "false" carries with it a moral reproach, the German word, where the context does not explicitly prove otherwise, means simply "incorrect," "erroneous," without the moral reproach added. Accordingly, when a German Chancellor asserts that the statement of an English Minister is "falsch" he does not necessarily mean anything offensive, but only that the English Minister is mistaken.

From this point of view one may regard the statements of the Emperor concerning his kingly office. He has recently begun to use the expression "German Emperor von Gottes Gnaden," a thing done by none of his imperial predecessors, and certainly a very curious extension of a doctrine which traditionally only applies to wearers of the crown of Prussia. But if he does, it may, it is here suggested, be considered further evidence that he employs the terms "von Gottes Gnaden" in a sense other than that of "divine right" as conceived by the Anglo-Saxon. The German "Gnade" means "favour," "grace," "mercy," "pity," or "blessing," and is at times used in direct contrast with the word "Recht," which means "justice" as well as "right." The point, indeed, need hardly be elaborated, and the Emperor's own explanation of the revelation of God to mankind, with its special reference to his grandfather which we shall find later in the confession of faith to Admiral Hollmann, is highly significant of the sense in which he regards himself and every ruling Hohenzollern as selected for the duties of Prussian kingship. It is the work of the kingship he is divinely appointed to do of which he is always thinking, not the legal right to the kingship _vis à vis_ his people he is mistakenly supposed to claim. He regards himself as a trustee, not as the owner of the property. And is not such a spirit a proper and praiseworthy one? In a sense we Christians, if in a position of responsibility, believe that we are all divinely appointed to the work each of us has to do: instruments of God, who shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we may. The Emperor finely says of the Almighty: "He breathed into man His breath, that is a portion of Himself, a soul." Reason is what chiefly distinguishes man from the brute, though there are those who hold that reason is but a higher form of brutish instinct, which again has its degree among the brutes; but, assuming that reason is of divine origin, enabling us to receive, by one means or another, the dictates of the Almighty, it seems clear that there must be channels through which these dictates become known to us.

This conveyance, this making plain is, as many people, and the Emperor among them, believe, performed by God through the agency of those whom mankind agree to call "great." For the last nineteen centuries a large part of civilized mankind is at one in the belief that Christ was such an agency, while millions again agree to call the agency Buddha, Mahomet, Confucius, or Zoroaster. In the creed of Islam Christ, as a prophet, comes fifth from Adam. In America there are thousands who believe, or did believe, in the agency of a Mrs. Eddy or a Dr. Dowie. And if this is so in matters of religion, itself only a form of the reasoning soul, why should it not be the same in morals or philosophy, art or science, government or administration: why should we not all accept, as many still do, the sayings and writings of the Hebrew prophets (as does the Emperor), of Plato and Aristotle, of Bacon and Hobbes, of Milton and Shakespeare and Goethe, of Kepler and Galileo, or Charlemagne and Napoleon, as divinely intended to convey and make plain to us the dictates of Heaven until such time as yet greater souls shall instruct us afresh and still more fully?

It may be that the Emperor thinks in some such way; his speeches and edicts at least suggest it. Certainly, as already mentioned, he did on one occasion, when speaking of his kingship, employ the word "right" as descriptive of the nature of his appointment by God. But that was early in his reign, and at no time since has he insisted on a Heaven-granted right to rule. It was, no doubt, different with some of his absolute predecessors, but it was not the view of Frederick the Great, who declared himself "the first servant of the State." Moreover, it is hardly conceivable that the Emperor, who is acquainted with the facts of history and is a man of practical common sense besides, does not know that the doctrine of "divine right" has long been rejected by people of intelligence in every civilized country, including his own.

If he really believes in divine right in the Stuart sense he must think that the conditions of Germany are so different from those of the rest of civilized mankind, and his own people so little advanced in knowledge and political science, that a doctrine absurd and dangerous to the peace of enlightened commonwealths is applicable as a basis of rule in his own. It seems a more plausible view, that the Emperor considers the expression "von Gottes Gnaden" an academic formula of government, or what is still more likely, as a moral and religious, not a legal, dogma, which yet expresses one of the leading and most admirable features of his policy as a ruler. If it is not so, he is inconsistent with himself, since he has repeatedly declared himself bound by the Constitution in accordance with which his grandfather and father and he himself have hitherto ruled. At present the doctrine of divine "right" is regarded by Germans no less than by Englishmen as dead and buried, and mention of it in Germany is usually greeted with a smile. Even the notion of appointment by divine "grace," while considered a harmless and praiseworthy article of faith with the Emperor, is no longer regarded as a living principle of government.

V.

THE ACCESSION

1888-1890

With his accession began for the Emperor a period of extraordinary activity which has continued practically undiminished to the present day. During that time he has been the most prominent man and monarch of his generation. From the domestic point of view his life perhaps has not been marked by many notable events, but from the point of view of politics and international relations it has been the history of his reign and to no small extent the history of the world.

When a German Emperor ascends the throne there is no great outburst of national rejoicing, no great series of popular ceremonials. There is no brilliant procession as in England, no impressive coronation like that of an English monarch in Westminster Abbey, no State visit of the monarch to the Houses of Parliament. In Germany Parliament goes to the King, not the King to Parliament.

On the same day that the Emperor began his reign he addressed proclamations to the army and navy. The addresses to the people and the Parliament were to come a few days later. In the proclamation to the army he said:

"I and the army were born for each other. Let us remain
indissolubly so connected, come peace or storm, as God may
will. You will now take the oath of fidelity and obedience
to me, and I swear always to remember that the eyes of my
ancestors are bent on me from the other world, and that one
day I shall have to give an account touching the fame and
the honour of the army."

His address to the navy was in the same vein.

"We have only just put off mourning for my unforgettable
grandfather, Kaiser William I, and already we have had to
lower the flag for my beloved father, who took such an
interest in the growth and progress of the navy. A time of
earnest and sincere sorrow, however, strengthens the mind
and heart of man, and so let us, keeping at heart the
example of my grandfather and father, look with confidence
to the future. I have learned to appreciate the high sense
of honour and of duty which lives in the navy, and know that
every man is ready faithfully to stake his life for the
honour of the German flag, be it where it may. Accordingly I
can, in this serious hour, feel fully assured that we shall
stand strongly and steadily together in good or bad days, in
storm or sunshine, always mindful of the Fatherland and
always ready to shed our heart's blood for the honour of the
flag."

To his people he promised that he would be a

"just and mild prince, observant of piety and religion, a
protector of peace, a promoter of the country's prosperity,
a helper to the poor and needy, a faithful guardian of the
right."

To the Parliament a week later he announced that he meant to walk in the footsteps of his grandfather, particularly in regard to the working classes, to acquire the confidence of the federated princes, the affection of the people, and the friendly recognition of foreign countries. He said that in his opinion the

"most important duties of the German Emperor lay in the
domain of the military and political security of the nation
externally, and internally in the supervision of the
carrying out of imperial laws."

The highest of these laws, he explained, was the Imperial Constitution and "to preserve and protect the Constitution, and in especial the rights it gives to the legislative bodies, to every German, but also to the Emperor and the federated states," he considered "among the most honourable duties of the Emperor."

While the order of these addresses is different to what it would be in England, it entirely accords with the spirit of the Prussian monarchy and the political system of the German people. Settled in the heart of Europe, the nation rests on the army, and it is hardly too much to say that, from the Emperor's point of view, possibly also from the popular German point of view, the interests of the army must be considered before the interests of the rest of the population. An English monarch, who issued his first address to the British navy, would be as justified in doing so by the real necessities of Great Britain as a German Emperor who first addresses the German army is justified by the real necessities of Germany; for the British navy is as vital to the British as the German army is to the German nation. In England, however, the monarch's respect for the people and Parliament takes precedence of his respect for the army, not _vice versa_ as in Germany.

In a speech from the throne to the Prussian Diet the Emperor took the Constitutional Oath: "I swear to hold firmly and unbrokenly to the Constitution of the Kingdom and to rule in agreement with it and the laws ... so help me God!" and went on to proclaim the continuance in Prussia and the Empire of his grandfather's and father's policy and work. He said at the same time, while undertaking not to make the People uneasy by trying to extend Crown rights, that he would take care that the constitutional rights of the Crown were respected and used, and that he meant to hand them over unimpaired to his successor. He concluded by saying that he would always bear in mind the words of Frederick the Great, who described himself as the "first servant of the State."

At Frankfurt-on-the-Oder, a few months later, he declared, when unveiling a monument to his uncle, Prince Frederick Karl, a hero of the Franco-Prussian War, that he meant never to surrender a stone of the acquisitions made in the war and

"believed he voiced the feeling of the entire army in saying
that Germany, rather than do so, would suffer its eighteen
army corps and its whole population of 42 millions to perish
on the field of battle."

At this period of his career the Emperor was, first and foremost, a thoroughgoing Hohenzollern. Doubtless he is so still, if he talks less about the dynasty. He admired Frederick the Great, then as now, and in the first place as military commander, but the ancestor with whom he even more sympathized, and sympathizes, was the Great Elector. "The ancestor," he said himself,

"for whom I have the most liking (_Schwärmen_, a hardly
translatable German verb, is the word he used) and who
always shone before me as an example in my youth, was the
Great Elector, the man who loved his country with all his
heart and strength, and unrestingly devoted himself to
rescuing the Mark Brandenburg out of its deep distress and
made it a strong and united whole."

What particularly attracted the Emperor in the history of the Elector was the fact that he was the first Hohenzollern who saw the importance of promoting trade and industry, building a navy, and acquiring colonies. As yet, however, the Emperor had only clear and fairly definite ideas about the need for a navy. The world-policy may have been in embryo in his mind, but it was not born.

The imaginative side of the Emperor's character at this period is well illustrated in a speech he made in 1890 to his favourite "Men of the Mark." He was talking of his travels, to which allusion had been made by a previous speaker.

"My travels," said the Emperor,

"have not only had the object of making myself acquainted
with foreign countries and institutions, or to create
friendly relations with neighbouring monarchs, but these
journeys, which have been the subject of much
misunderstanding, had for me the great value that, withdrawn
from the heat of party faction, I could review our domestic
conditions from a distance and submit them to calm
consideration. Any one who, standing on a ship's bridge far
out at sea, with only God's starry heaven above him,
communes with himself, will not fail to appreciate the worth
of such a journey. For many of my fellow-countrymen I would
wish that they might live through such an hour, in which one
can make up an account as to what he has attempted and what
achieved. Then would he be cured of exaggerated
self-estimation, and that we all need."

Having discharged the duty of addressing his own subjects, the Emperor's next care, after a stay at Kiel where a German Emperor and King now for the first time in history appeared in the uniform of an admiral, was personally to announce his accession at the courts of his fellow-European sovereigns. We find him, accordingly, paying visits to Alexander II in St. Petersburg, to King Oscar II in Stockholm (where he received a telegram announcing the birth of his fifth son), to Christian IX in Copenhagen, to Kaiser Franz Joseph in Vienna and to King Humbert in Rome. To both the last-mentioned he presented himself in the additional capacity of Triplice ally.

In August of the year following his accession he paid his first visit as Emperor to England. It was a very different thing, one may imagine, from the earliest recorded visit of a German Emperor to the English Court. That was in 1416, when the Emperor Sigismund (1411-1437) arrived there and was received by Henry V. Henry postponed the opening of Parliament specially on his account, made him a Knight of the Garter, and signed with him at Canterbury an offensive and defensive alliance against France. How poor the German Empire and the German Emperor were at that epoch may be judged from the fact that on his way home Sigismund had to pawn the costly gifts he had received in England.

On the present occasion a grand naval review of over a hundred warships, with crews totalling 25,000 men, was held in honour of the Emperor at Osborne. This was followed, a few days afterwards, by a parade of the troops at Aldershot under the command of General Sir Evelyn Wood. On this occasion, after expressing his admiration for the British troops, the Emperor concluded: "At Malplaquet and Waterloo, Prussian and British blood flowed in the prosecution of a common enterprise." In a little speech after the review the Emperor spoke of the English navy as "the finest in the world." The impression made by the Emperor on Sir Evelyn has been recorded by that general. "The Emperor is extremely wide-awake," he writes to a friend, "with a decided, straightforward manner. He is a good rider. His quick and very intelligent spirit seizes every detail at a glance, and he possesses a wonderful memory." The Emperor was now nominated an honorary Admiral of the British navy and as a return compliment made Queen Victoria honorary "Chef" of his own First Dragoon Guards. At the naval review a journalist asked an English naval officer what would happen if the Emperor, in command of a German fleet, should meet a British fleet in time of war between England and Germany?--"Would the British fleet have to salute the Emperor?" "Certainly," replied the naval officer; "it would fire 100 guns at him."

Next year the Emperor was again in England, this time to be present at the Cowes regatta, which he took part in regularly during the four succeeding years, noting, doubtless, all that might prove useful for the development of the Kiel yachting "week," the success of which he had then, as always since, particularly at heart. He was received by Queen Victoria with the simple and homely words, "Welcome, William!"

A State visit to the City of London followed, when he was accompanied by the Empress, and was entertained to a luncheon given by the City Fathers in the Guildhall. The entertainment, which took place on July 10, 1891, was remarkable for a speech delivered by the Emperor in English, in which, besides declaring his intention of maintaining the "historical friendship" between England and Germany, he proclaimed that his great object "above all" was the preservation of peace, "since peace alone can inspire that confidence which is requisite for a healthy development of science, art, and commerce." On the same occasion he expressed his feeling of "being at home" in England--"this delightful country"--and spoke of the "same blood which flows alike in the veins of Germans and English." Shortly afterwards he attended a review of volunteers at Wimbledon, and, as he said, was "agreeably astonished at the spectacle of so many citizen-soldiers in a country that had no conscription."

The Emperor returned from England to receive the visit of his chief Triplice ally, the Emperor Franz Joseph, and to discuss with him doubtless the European situation. Bismarck has been pictured as sitting at the European chessboard pondering the moves necessary tor Germany to win the game of which the great prize was the hegemony of Europe. The chief opposing Pieces, whose aid or neutrality was desirable, were for long France, Russia, Austria, and Italy; but in 1883, with the conclusion of the Triple Alliance, Austria and Italy needed less to be considered, and the only two really important opposing pieces left were France and Russia. Still, Germany, through her allies of the Triplice, might be dragged into war, and consequently the doings of Austria and Italy, both in relation to one another and to France and Russia were, as they now are, of great importance to her.

At the time of the accession, the chessboard of our metaphor was mainly occupied with Franco-German relations and with Russian designs on Constantinople, the Dardanelles, and the Black Sea. The danger to Germany of war with France, which had arisen out of the Boulanger and Schnaebele incidents, had died down, but not altogether ceased. Hohenlohe tells us how at this time, in conversation with the Emperor, the latter ventured the forecast: "Boulanger is sure to succeed. I prophesy that as Kaiser Ernest he will pay a visit to Berlin." He was wrong, we know, as so many prophets are.

Russian designs on Turkey had had to reckon with the opposition of England and Austria. As regards these designs, Bismarck says:

"Germany's policy should be one of reserve. Germany would
act very foolishly if in Oriental questions, without having
special interests, she took a side before the other Powers,
who were more nearly interested: she would therefore do well
to refrain from making her move as long as possible, and
thus, besides, gain the benefit of longer peace."

The Chancellor, however, admitted that against the advantages of a policy of reserve had to be set the disadvantage of Germany's position in the centre of Europe with its frontiers exposed to the attacks of a coalition. "From this situation," said the Chancellor, "it results that Germany is perhaps the only Great Power in Europe which is not tempted to attain its ends by victorious war."

"Our interest," he goes on,

"is to maintain peace, whereas our continental neighbours
without exception have wishes, either secret or officially
admitted, which can only be fulfilled through war.
Consequently, German policy must be to prevent war or
confine it as much as possible: to keep in the background
while the European game of cards is going on: and not by
loss of patience or concession at the cost of the country,
or vanity, or provocation from friends, allow ourselves to
be driven from the waiting attitude: otherwise--_plectuntur
Achivi!_--third parties will rejoice."

That was the Bismarckian policy twenty-five years ago, and though new economic conditions have had great influence in modifying it since, particularly as it regards the East, it is practically Germany's policy now.

In his first speech from the throne to the Reichstag the Emperor thus referred to the Triple Alliance:

"Our Alliance with Austria-Hungary is publicly known. I hold
to the same with German fidelity, not merely because it has
been concluded, but because I see in this defensive union a
foundation for the balance of power in Europe and a legacy
of German history, the importance of which is recognized by
the whole of the German people, while it accords with
European international law as undeniably in force up to
1866. Similar historical relations and similar national
exigences of the time bind us to Italy. Both Germany and
Italy desire to prolong the blessings of peace that they may
pursue in tranquillity the consolidation of their newly
acquired unity, the betterment of their national
institutions, and the increase of their prosperity."

In a speech a few months later he declared that the Alliance had no other purpose than to strengthen the peaceful relations of Germany to other foreign Powers. His next public reference to it was in May, 1900, when Kaiser Franz Joseph visited Berlin on the occasion of the coming of age of the German Crown Prince. "Truly," exclaimed the Emperor, in a vein of some exaggeration,

"this Alliance is not alone an agreement in the eyes of the
monarchs, but the longer it has existed, the deeper has it
taken root in the convictions of the peoples, and the moment
that the hearts of the peoples beat in unison nothing can
tear them asunder. Common interests, common feelings, joy
and sorrow shared together, unite our three nations for now
twenty years, and although often enough misunderstandings
and sarcasm and criticisms have been poured out on them, the
three peoples have succeeded in maintaining peace hitherto,
and are regarded by the whole world as its champions."

The history of the Triplice may be shortly related here as, along with his navy, it is regarded by the Emperor as the chief factor in the preservation of the world's peace, and is, in fact, as has been said, the foundation of his foreign policy. It arose from Bismarck's desire to be independent of Russia and from his dread of a European coalition--for example, that of France, Austria, and Russia--against the German Empire. "We had," Bismarck writes,

"carried on successful war against two of the European Great
Powers (Austria and France), and it became advisable to
withdraw at least one of them from the temptation to revenge
which lay in the prospect an alliance with others offered.
It could not be France, as any one who knew the history and
temperament of the two peoples could see, nor England owing
to her dislike of permanent alliances, nor Italy as her
support alone was insufficient against an anti-German
coalition; so that the choice lay between Austria-Hungary
and Russia."

For many reasons Bismarck would have preferred the Russian alliance, among others the traditional dynastic friendship between the two countries and the fact that no natural political or religious causes of conflict existed between them; while a union with Austria was less reliable, owing to the changeable nature of her public opinion, the heterogeneousness of her Magyar, Slav, and Catholic populations, and the loss of influence by the German element with the governing body. On the other hand, however, an alliance with Austria would be nothing new, internationally, as such a connection theoretically arose from the former connection of Germany and Austria in the Holy Roman Empire. While weighing the matter, a threatening letter from Czar Alexander II to William I, in which he called on Germany to support his Balkan policy, and said that if he refused peace could not last between their two countries, decided Bismarck in favour of Austria. The chief opponent of the new Alliance was William I, who was moved by personal chivalric feelings towards his nephew, Czar Alexander; but, disregarding this, because confident of eventually persuading his imperial master, Bismarck went to Gastein and there settled with the Austrian Minister, Count Andrassy, the principles of the Alliance. Italy came into the Alliance in 1883 as the immediate result of France obtaining a protectorate in Tunis, in return, partly, for her acquiescence in the English acquisition of Cyprus. The protectorate aroused general indignation and fear in Italy, and though it meant a large expenditure on naval and military armament, on May 20, 1882, she joined the Dual Alliance for five years, and thus turned it into the Triplice.

The Triple Alliance rests on three treaties: one between Germany and Austria-Hungary, one between Germany and Italy, and one between Austria-Hungary and Italy. While by the first Germany and Austria-Hungary bind themselves to combine in case of an attack on either by Russia, whether as original foe or as ally, and to observe "at least" benevolent neutrality in case of attack from any other quarter, by the second Germany and Italy bind themselves to mutual support in case of an attack on either by France. The third, between Austria-Hungary and Italy, binds the signatories to benevolent neutrality in case Austria-Hungary is attacked by Russia, or Italy by France.

That there are weak points in the Triple Alliance is obvious. If Austria-Hungary were a purely homogeneous country like France or Russia, Germany and Austria-Hungary, even without Italy, could face with confidence an attack from either or both their powerful neighbours. But Austria-Hungary is not homogeneous. A large proportion of her population is anti-German, or at least non-German, and Italy is always subject to be tempted by an opportunity of obtaining some of Austria-Hungary's Adriatic possessions. Moreover, a large party is even now to be found in Austria-Hungary which desires revenge for the humiliation of her defeat by Germany in 1866.

The relations of Germany to Russia have always been rather those of friendship between the monarchs of the two countries than of friendship between the two peoples; and it is easy to understand that the fear of revolution, Socialism, or "government of the people, by the people, for the people," to use Lincoln's celebrated phrase, at all times forms a strong and active bond of sympathy between the monarchs. In the case of Russia there is also always to be considered the obstinate, or as the Emperor would call it knightly, spirit in which his grandfather, King William I, regarded his obligation to maintain friendship with the Czar, and which for a long time made him hostile to the idea of alliance with Austria instead of alliance with Russia. The feeling, it is highly probable, is strong, if not equally strong, in the mind of the Emperor to-day, if only out of respect for the memory of his ancestor. There is not, to use a popular expression, much love lost between the two peoples, not only because of racial differences between Teuton and Slav, but because of the differences in religion and in degree of civilization. There are not a few Germans who assert that Germany's next war will be with Russia, and that from the dominions of the Czar will be obtained the fresh territory Germany needs for her constantly expanding population.

The Czar returned the Emperor's accession visit in Berlin in October, 1889, and it was on this occasion that the first sign of trouble between the Emperor and the old Chancellor showed itself. When the Emperor first proposed to make his round of visits of accession to foreign sovereigns, Bismarck agreed except as regarded Russia and England, objecting that visits to these countries would have an alternatively bad effect in each. The Emperor, however, as has been noted, went to Russia. During the return visit in Berlin, Bismarck had an interview with the Czar which resulted in the final adjustment of Russo-German relations, but at its close the Czar said, "Yes, I believe you and have confidence in you, but are you sure you will remain in office?" Bismarck looked surprised, and said, "Certainly, Majesty; I am quite certain I shall remain in office all my life"--an odd thing, one may remark, for a man to say, who must have been familiar with the saying, "Put not your trust in princes."

When the Czar was going away, both the Emperor and Bismarck accompanied him to the station, and on their return the Emperor gave the old Chancellor a seat in his carriage. The talk concerned the visit just over, and the Emperor again announced his intention of spending some time in Russia the following year. Bismarck now advised against the project on the ground that it would arouse hostility in Austria, and because "it was not suitable considering the Czar's disposition towards the Emperor."

"What disposition? What do you mean? How do you know?" questioned the Emperor quickly.

"From confidential letters I am in the habit of receiving from St. Petersburg, in addition to official reports," replied the Chancellor.

The Emperor expressed a wish to see the letters, but Bismarck gave an evasive answer. The result was a temporary coolness between Emperor and Chancellor.

From a memorandum of Prince Hohenlohe's we get a glimpse of one of the political currents and anti-currents just now running high. Prince Hohenlohe writes under date, June 27, 1888, when the Emperor was hardly a fortnight on the throne:--

"Last evening at 8 left Berlin with Thaden after supping
with Victor and Franz (son and nephew) in the Kaiserhof
Hotel. Paid several visits during the day. I found Friedberg
somewhat depressed. He is no longer the big man he was in
the Emperor Frederick's time, when everybody courted him. He
knows that the Emperor does not favour Jews. Then I visited
the new chief of the Cabinet (civil), Lucanus, a courtly,
polished, obliging man, who looks more like an elegant
Austrian privy councillor. Wilmoski inspires me with more
confidence. At 5 to Bleichroeder's (Bleichroeder was the
great Jew banker). We spoke, or rather he spoke first, about
the political situation. He is satisfied, and says Bismarck
is too. Only the Emperor must take care to keep out of the
hands of the Orthodox. People in the country wouldn't stand
that. (He is right there, comments Hohenlohe.) Waldersee and
his followers, he said, was another danger. Waldersee was a
foe of Bismarck's and thought himself fit for anything and
everything. Who knows but that these gentlemen wouldn't
begin the old game and say to the Emperor, 'You are simply
nothing but a doll. Bismarck is the real ruler.' On the old
Emperor this would have made no impression, but the young
one would be more sensitive. Bismarck, therefore, wanted
Waldersee's banishment, and would, if he could, send him to
Strasburg (where Hohenlohe was Statthalter) as commanding
general. Perhaps he was only aiming at making me (Hohenlohe)
sick of my post and so get rid of Waldersee, his enemy, when
I cleared out. Bleichroeder said Bismarck only introduced
the compulsory pass system to show the Emperor that he too
could act sharply against the French, and so as to take the
wind out of the sails of the military party. Bismarck was
thinking above all about seating his son Herbert firmly in
the saddle (Herbert was Secretary of State for Foreign
Affairs). That is the sole motive of his action and thought.
There was therefore no prospect of matters in the Rhineland
improving. As to Russia, Bleichroeder expected some
occurrence, something out of the way (_exotisches_) by which
Russia might be won, either the withdrawal of troops from
the frontier or a meeting of Emperors. The Emperor, Bismarck
said, would not begin a war. If it came, however, it would
not be unwelcome to him."

Prince Hohenlohe also tells of a visit he paid in the month of the accession to the widowed Empress Frederick. "She is much bowed down," he said,

"very harassed-looking, and I feel sure that all this recent
time, all the last year in fact, she has been displaying an
artificial good-humour, for now I find her in deep distress.
At first she could not speak for weeping. We spoke of the
Emperor Frederick's last days, then she recovered herself a
little and complained of the wickedness and meanness of men,
by which she meant to allude to certain people.... Herbert
Bismarck had had the impudence to tell the Prince of Wales
(later Edward VII) that an Emperor who could not talk and
discuss things should not be allowed to reign, and so on.
The Prince of Wales, the Empress said, told Herbert that if
it were not that he valued good relations between England
and Germany, he would have thrown him out of the door....
Waldersee was a false, unprincipled wretch, who would think
nothing of ruining his country if he could only satisfy his
own personal ambition."

Prince Hohenlohe finally called on the Prince of Wales, who "spoke prudently, but showed his disgust at the roughness of the Bismarcks, and could not understand their policy of irritating France."

The particular question concerning France that was agitating Germany at the time of the accession was the state of affairs in Alsace-Lorraine, and particularly Bismarck's measure requiring French citizens entering the provinces to provide themselves with a pass from the German Ambassador in Paris. The amiable and conciliatory Statthalter, Prince Hohenlohe, had to make a reluctant journey to Berlin in connexion with this question. There was another question also weighing on his mind--the question whether or not he should have a sentry guard before his official residence in Strasburg. The military authorities, whose rivalry with the civil authorities everywhere in Germany for influence and power still continues, wanted to have the sentries abolished, but the Prince eventually had his way. He showed Bismarck that they were necessary for his reputation with the population, which had already begun to think less of his influence as Statthalter owing to his one day at a review having incautiously and gallantly taken a back seat in his carriage in favour of some lady guests.

In normal times the composers of speeches from the throne are accustomed to describe the relations between their own and foreign countries as "friendly." When the relations are not friendly, yet not the opposite, they are usually registered on the political barometer as "correct." The attitude on both sides is formal, rigorously polite, reserved; such as would become a pair of people who had once been at feud and after their quarrel had been fought out agreed, if only for the sake of appearances, to show no outward animosity, but on the other hand not give an inch of way. The position of France and Germany is "correct"; it has never been friendly since 1870; and it must be many a long year before it can be friendly again. Apart from the difference between the Latin and Teutonic temperaments, apart from the legacy of hate left in Germany against France by the sufferings and humiliations the great Napoleon caused her, apart from the fact that one people is republican and the other monarchical, there is always one thing that will prevent reconciliation--the loss by France of the fair provinces Alsace and Lorraine. It is of no use for Germany to remind France that up to the Peace of Westphalia in 1648 this territory belonged to Germany, or rather to what then was known by that name. It was useless as well as ungracious for Bismarck to tell France to seek compensation in Africa for what she had lost in Europe. Like Rachel mourning for her children, France will not be comforted; and now, as from the heavy hour in which she lost the provinces, she grieves over the memory of them and nurses the hope, still mingled with hate, of one glorious day regaining them. There are sanguine spirits who assert that the old feeling is dying out, and the German Government studiously encourages that view. It may be so; time is having its obliterating effects; and in externals at least the Germanization of the provinces is slowly making progress. Still the wound is deep, and there seems no prospect of its healing.