Chapter IX: Part 9

He has been laughed at for once attempting musical composition. The "Song to Aegir," which he composed in 1894 at the age of thirty-five (when he should have known better), was, he told the bandmaster of a Hannoverian regiment, suggested to him by the singing of a Hannoverian glee society. It is a song twenty-four lines long, with the inevitable references to the foe, and the sword and shield, and whales and mermaids, and the God of the waves, who is called on to quell the storm. The lady-in-waiting who wrote the "Private Lives of the Emperor and His Consort" tells with much detail how the song was really written, not by the Emperor, but almost wholly by a musical adjutant. It does not greatly matter, but it is likely that the Emperor is responsible for the text if he did not compose the music.

One of the best and most interesting descriptions of his kindly and characteristic way of treating artists is that given by the late Norwegian composer, Eduard Grieg.

"The other day," writes the composer,

I had a chance to meet your Kaiser. He had already expressed
a desire last year to meet me, but I was ill at that time.
Now he has renewed his wish, and therefore I could not
decline the invitation. I am, as you know, little of a
courtier. But I said to myself, 'Remember Aalesund' (for
which the Emperor had sent a large sum after a great fire),
and my sense of duty conquered. Our first meeting was at
breakfast at the German Consul's house. During the meal we
spoke much about music. I like his ways, and--oddly
enough--our opinions also agreed. Afterwards he came to me
and I had the pleasure of talking with him alone for nearly
an hour. We spoke about everything in heaven and
earth--about poetry, painting, religion, Socialism, and the
Lord knows what besides.

"He was fortunately a human being, and not an Emperor. I was
therefore permitted to express my opinions openly, though in
a discreet manner, of course. Then followed some music. He
had brought along an orchestra (!), about forty men. He took
two chairs, placed them in front of all the others, sat down
on one, and said, 'If you please, first parquet'; and then
the music began--Sigurd Jorsalfar, Peer Gynt, and many other
things.

"While the music was being played he continually aided me in
correcting the _tempi_ and the expression, although as a
matter of course I had not wanted to do such a thing. He was
very insistent, however, that I should make my intentions
clear. Then he illustrated the impression made by the music
by movements of his head and body. It was wonderful
_(göttlich)_ to watch his serpentine movements _à la
Orientalin_ while they played Anitra's dance, which quite
electrified him.

"Afterwards I had to play for him on the piano, and my wife,
who sat nearest him, told me that here too he illustrated
the impression made on him, especially at the best places.

"I played the minuet from the pianoforte sonata which he
found 'very Germanic' and powerfully built: and the 'Wedding
Day at Troldhaugen,' which piece he also liked.

"On the following day there was a repetition of these things
on board the _Hohenzollern_, where we were all invited to
dinner at eight o'clock. The orchestra played on deck in the
most wondrously bright summer night while many
hundreds--nay, I believe thousands--of rowboats and small
steamers were grouped about us. The crowd applauded
constantly and cheered enthusiastically whenever the Kaiser
became visible. He treated me like a patient: he gave me his
cloak and sent to fetch a rug, with which he covered me
carefully.

"I must not forget to relate that he grew so enthusiastic
over 'Sigurd Jorsalfar,' the subject of which I explained to
him as minutely as possible, that he said to von Hiilsen,
the intendant of the royal theatres, who sat next to him:
'We must produce this work! (This was not done, however.)

"I then invited von Hiilsen to come to Christiania to
witness a performance of it, and he said he was very eager
to so. All in all this meeting was an event and a surprise
in the best sense. The Kaiser, certainly, is a very uncommon
man, a strange mixture of great energy, great self-reliance,
and great kindness of heart. Of children and animals he
spoke often and with sympathy, which I regard as a
significant thing."

On the New Year's Day following the Emperor sent the composer a telegram reading: "To the northern bard to listen to whose strains has always been a joy to me I send my most sincere wishes for the new year and new creative activity." In 1906, Grieg, having once more been the Emperor's guest, writes to a friend:

"He was greatly pleased with having become once more a
grandfather. He called to me across the table (referring to
'Sigurd'), 'Is it agreeable if I call the child Sigurd?' It
must be something _Urgermanisch_."

The following anecdote may remind the reader of the amusing scene in Offenbach's "Grand Duchesse of Gerolstein," where the Grand Duchess, talking to the guardsman whose athletic proportions she admires, addresses him with a rising scale of "corporal" ... "sergeant" ... "lieutenant" ... "captain" ... "colonel," and so on, as she talks, only, however, later cruelly to re-descend the scale to the very bottom when her courtship is ineffectual. The Emperor is at an organ recital in the Kaiser William Memorial Church; the recital is over and the Court party are about to go when he greets the organist, Herr Fischer: "My cordial thanks for the great pleasure you have given us, Herr Professor." "Pardon, your Majesty," replies the organist, with commendable presence of mind: "May I venture to thank your Majesty for the great mark of favour?" "What mark of favour?" asks the Emperor, a little puzzled. "The fact is your Majesty has more than once addressed me as 'professor,' although--" "Why, that's good," exclaims the Emperor, with a great laugh, "very good indeed;" and striking his forehead in self-reproach with the palm of his hand: "so forgetful of me! Then you are not professor, after all! Well, no matter; what is not, may be--what I said, I said. Adieu, _Herr Professor_" and goes off smiling. The very same evening--need it be added?--Herr Fischer had his patent as Professor in his pocket.

The Emperor is particularly fond of "my Americans" among his operatic artists. A good deal of jealousy has at times been shown by the German employees of the opera towards the American artists entertained there and a deputy has more than once protested in the Reichstag against the number employed; but the jealousy rarely results in harm, and on the whole harmony--as it should--prevails.

Every year brings hundreds of American girl students to Berlin, Munich, or Dresden to learn singing and perhaps carry off the great prize of a "star" engagement at one or the other of the German royal opera houses. The experiences of some of these students are tragedies on a small scale, and in one or two instances have been known to end in death, destitution, or dishonour. The explanation is simple. Such students, filled with the high hopes inspired by artistic ambition and the artist's imagination, fail to ask themselves before going abroad if nature has endowed them with the qualities and powers requisite for one of the most laborious and, for a girl, exposed professions in the world; and do not learn until it is too late that they lack the resolute character, the robust health, and the talent which, not singly but all three combined, are essential to success.

Such a girl often starts on her enterprise poorly supplied with means to pay for her board, lodging, clothes, recreation, and instruction; she changes from the dearer sort of _pension_ to the cheaper, finding her company and surroundings at each remove more doubtful and more dangerous; she grows disappointed and disheartened, perhaps physically ill; comes under bad influences, male or female; until finally the curtain falls on a sufferer rescued at the last moment by relatives or friends, or on a young life blasted. Such tragic cases, it should be said, are far from common, but they occur, and the possibility of their occurrence ought to be taken into account at the outset by the intending music or art student.

Happily there is another and brighter side to the picture, and the intending student with money and friends will enjoy and gain advantage from a few years of continental life, even though exceptional strength and genuine talent be wanting. Perhaps this is the experience of the great majority of art students in Germany. Freedom from the restraints and conventions of life at home compensates for the inconveniences arising from narrow means. Novelty of scenery and surroundings has a charm that is constantly recurring. The kindness and helpfulness of fellow-countrymen and countrywomen make the wheels of daily life roll smoothly. The freemasonry of art, its optimism and hope, and the pleasure and interest of its practice, investigation, and discussion wing the hours and spur to effort.

But to return to the Emperor. As a lad at Cassel he was fond of playing charades, and is reported to have had a knack of quickly sketching the scenario and _dramatis personæ_ of a play which he and his young companions would then and there proceed to act. One of these plays had Charlemagne for its subject, with a Saxon feudatory, whose lovely daughter, Brunhilde, scorns her father for his submission. A banquet, ending in a massacre of Charlemagne's followers, is one of the scenes, and as Brunhilde is in love with Charlemagne's son she helps him to escape from the massacre. The Play ends with the suicide of Brunhilde. As he grew up the Emperor's interest in the theatre increased, and, as has been seen, when he succeeded to the throne he resolved to make use of it for educating and elevating the public mind. As patriotism consists largely in knowing and properly appreciating history he has always encouraged dramatists who could portray historic scenes and events, particularly those with which the Hohenzollerns were connected. Hence his support of Josef Lauff, Ernst von Wildenbruch and Detlev von Liliencron. Not long ago he arranged a series of performances at Kroll's Theatre intended for workmen only. The performances were chiefly of the stirring historical kind--Schiller's "Wilhelm Tell," Goethe's "Götz von Berlichingen," Kleist's "Prince von Hornburg," and others that require huge processions and a crowded stage. The general public were not supposed to attend the performances, but tickets were sent to the factories and workshops for sale at a low price.

In 1898 the Emperor publicly stated his views about the theatre. "When I mounted the throne ten years ago," he said,

"I was, owing to my paternal education, the most fervent of
idealists. Convinced that the first duty of the royal
theatres was to maintain in the nation the cultivation of
the idealism to which, God be thanked, our people are still
faithful, and of which the sources are not yet nearly
exhausted, I determined to myself to make my royal theatres
an instrument comparable to the school or the university
whose mission it is to form the rising generation and to
inculcate in them respect for the highest moral traditions
of our dear German land. For the theatre ought to contribute
to the culture of the soul and of the character, and to the
elevation of morals. Yes, the theatre is also one of my
weapons.... It is the duty of a monarch to occupy himself
with the theatre, because it may become in his hands an
incalculable force."

If the Emperor has any special gift it is an eye for theatrical effect in real life as well as on the stage. He had a good share of the actor's temperament in his younger years, and until recently showed it in the conduct of imperial and royal business of all kinds. He still gives it play occasionally in the royal opera houses and theatres. The Englishman, whose ruler is a civilian, is not much impressed by pageantry and pomp, except as reminding him of superannuated, though still revered, historical traditions and events that are landmarks in a great military and maritime past. He would not care to see his King always, or even frequently, in uniform, as he would be apt to find in the fact an undue preference for one class of citizens to another. His idea is that the monarch ought to treat all classes of his subjects with equal kingly favour. In Germany it is otherwise. The monarchy relies on military force for its dynastic security, as much, one might perhaps say, as for the defence of the country or the keeping of the public peace, and consequently favours the military. Moreover, the peoples that compose the Empire have been harassed throughout the long course of their history by wars; a large percentage of their youth are serving in the standing army or in the reserves, the Landwehr and the Landsturm; finally the Germans, though not, as it appears to the foreigner, an artistic people, save in regard to music, enjoy the spectacular and the theatrical.

Accordingly we find the Emperor artistically arranging everything and succeeding particularly well in anything of an historical and especially of a military nature. The spring and autumn parades of the Berlin garrison on the Tempelhofer Field--an area large enough, it is said, to hold the massed armies of Europe--with their gatherings of from 30,000 to 60,000 troops of all arms, serve at once to excite the Berliner's martial enthusiasm, while at the same time it obscurely reminds him that if he treats the dynasty disrespectfully he will have a formidable repressive force to reckon with. Hence at manoeuvres the Emperor is accompanied by an enormous suite; whenever he motors down Unter den Linden it is at a quick pace, which impresses the crowd while it lessens the chances of the bomb-thrower or the assassin. The scene of the reception of Prince Chun at the New Palace was a great success as an artistic performance, and the pageants at the restoration of the Hohkönigsburg and at the Saalburg festival were of the same artistic order.

The Emperor's theatrical interest and attention when in Berlin are concentrated on the Berlin Royal Opera and the Berlin Royal Theatre (Schauspielhaus), and when in Wiesbaden on the Royal Festspielhaus at that resort. When in his capital he goes very rarely to any other place of theatrical entertainment. His interest in the royal opera and theatre both in Berlin and Wiesbaden is personal and untiring, and he has done almost as much or more for the adequate representation of grand opera in his capital as the now aged Duke of Saxe-Meiningen did, through his famous Meiningen players, for the proper presentation of drama in Germany generally. The revivals of "Aida" and "Les Huguenots" under the Emperor's own supervision are accepted as faultless examples of historical accuracy in every detail and of good taste and harmony in setting.

In a well-informed article in the _Contemporary Review_ Mr. G. Valentine Williams writes:

"Once the rehearsals of a play in which the Emperor is
interested are under way he loses no time in going to the
theatre to see whether the instructions he has appended to
the stage directions in the MS. are being properly carried
out. Some morning, when the vast stage of the opera is
humming with activity, the well-known primrose-coloured
automobile will drive up to the entrance and the Emperor,
accompanied only by a single adjutant, will emerge. In three
minutes William II will be seated at a big, business-like
table placed in the stalls, before him a pile of paper and
an array of pencils. When he is in the house there is no
doubt whatever in anyone's mind as to who is conducting the
rehearsal. His intendant stands at his side in the darkened
auditorium and conveys his Majesty's instructions to the
stage, for the Emperor never interrupts the actors himself.
He makes a sign to the intendant, scribbles a note on a
sheet of paper, while the intendant, who is a pattern of
unruffled serenity, just raises his hand and the performance
abruptly ceases. There is a confabulation, the Emperor, with
the wealth of gesture for which he is known, explaining his
views as to the positions of the principals, the dresses,
the uniforms, using anything, pencil, penholder, or even his
sword to illustrate his meaning. Again and again up to a
dozen times the actors will be put through their paces until
the imperial Regisseur is entirely satisfied that the right
dramatic effect has been obtained.

"All who have witnessed the imperial stage-manager at work
agree that he has a remarkable _flair_ for the dramatic.
Very often one of his suggestions about the entrances or
exits, a piece of 'business' or a pose, will be found on
trial to enhance the effect of the scene. A story is told of
the Emperor's insistence on accuracy and the minute
attention he pays to detail at rehearsal. After his visit to
Ofen-Pest some years ago for the Jubilee celebration, which
had included a number of Hungarian national dances, the
Emperor stopped a rehearsal of the ballet at the Berlin
opera while a Czardas was in progress and pointed out to the
balletteuses certain minor details which were not correct.

"In his attitude to the Court actors and actresses he
displays the charm of manner which bewitches all with whom
he comes in contact. He calls them 'meine Schauspieler,'
which makes one think of 'His Majesty's Servants' of
Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. This practice sometimes has
amusing results. Once when the Theatre Royal comedian, Dr.
Max Pohl, was suddenly taken ill the Emperor said to an
acquaintance, 'Fancy, my Pohl had a seizure yesterday;' and
the acquaintance, thinking he was referring to a pet dog
replied, commiseratingly: 'Ah, poor brute!' After rehearsal
the Emperor often goes on to the stage and talks with the
actors about their parts.

"A Hohenzollern must not be shown on the stage without the
express permission of the Emperor, and in general, if
politics are mixed up in an objectionable way with the
action of the drama, the play will be forbidden. Above all
the Emperor will not tolerate indecency, nor the mere
suggestion of it, in the plays given at the royal theatres.
An anecdote about Herr Josef Lauff's Court drama 'Frederick
of the Iron Tooth,' dealing with an ancestor, an Elector of
Brandenburg, and on which Leoncavallo, at the Emperor's
request, wrote the opera 'Der Roland von Berlin,' shows the
Emperor's strictness in this respect. Frederick of the Iron
Tooth is a burgher of Berlin who leads a revolt against the
Elector. In order to heighten Frederick's hate, Lauff wove
in a love theme into the drama. The wife of Ryke,
burgomaster of Berlin, figured as Frederick's mistress and
egged on her lover against the Elector, because the latter
had hanged her brothers, the Quitzows, notorious outlaws of
the Mark Brandenburg. The Emperor cut out the whole episode
when the play was submitted to him in manuscript. The
marginal note in his big, bold handwriting ran: '_Eine
Courtisane kommt in einem Hohenzollerstück nicht vor_' (A
courtesan has no place in a Hohenzollern drama)."

The Emperor's constant change of uniform is often said to be a sign of his liking for the theatrical, and writers have compared him on this account with lightning-change artists like the great Fregoli. Rather his respect for and reliance on the army, a sense of fitness with the occasion to be celebrated, a feeling of personal courtesy to the person to be received, are the motives for such changes. The Paris _Temps_ published the following incident apropos of the Emperor's visit to England in November, 1902. When, on arriving at Port Victoria, the royal yacht _Hohenzollern_ came in view, the members of the English Court sent to welcome the Emperor saw him through their glasses walking up and down the captain's bridge wearing a long cavalry cloak over a German military uniform. When they stepped on board they found him in the undress uniform of an English admiral. They lunched with him, and in the afternoon, when he left for London, he was wearing the uniform of an English colonel of dragoons. Arrived in London, he left for Sandringham, and must have changed his dress _en route_, for he left the train in a frock-coat and tall hat.

Perhaps the most notable theatrical event of the reign hitherto was the production at the Royal Opera in 1908 of the historic pantomime "Sardanapalus." The Emperor's idea, as he said himself, was to "make the Museums speak," to which a Berlin critic replied, "You can't dramatize a museum." The ballet, for it was that as well as a pantomime, engrossed the Emperor's time and attention for several weeks. He spent hours with the great authority on Assyriology, Professor Friedrich Delitzsch, going over reliefs and plans taken from the Kaiser Friedrich Museum or borrowed from museums in Paris, London, and Vienna, decided on the costumes and designed the war-chariots to be used in the ballet. The notion was to rehabilitate the reputation of Asurbanipal, the second-last King of Assyria, whom the Greeks called "Sardanapalus," who reigned in Nineveh six hundred years before Christ, over Ethiopia, Babylon and Egypt, and whom Lord Byron, accepting the Greek story, represented as the most effeminate and debauched monarch the world had ever known.

Professor Delitzsch, with a wealth of recondite learning, showed, on the contrary, that Sardanapalus was a wise and liberal-minded monarch, who, rather than fall into the hands of the Medes, built himself a pyre in a chamber of his palace and perished on it with his wives, his children, and his treasure. The whole four acts, with the various ballets, gave a perfectly faithful representation of the period as described by Diodorus and Herodotus, and as plastically shown on the reliefs discovered at Nineveh by Sir Henry Layard and subsequently by German excavators. Over £10,000 was spent upon the production, and the public were worked up to a great pitch of curiosity concerning it. But it was a complete failure as far as the public were concerned. "Heavens!" exclaimed one critic, "what a bore!" This, however, was not the fault of the Emperor, but was due to want of interest on the part of a public whose enthusiasm for the events and characters of times so remote could only be kindled by a genius, and a dramatic one. The Emperor is no such genius, nor had he one at command.

XI.

THE NEW CENTURY (_continued_)

1902-1904

King George V has hardly been sufficiently long on the English throne for a contemporary to judge of the personal relations that exist between his Majesty and the Emperor as chief representatives of their respective nations. The King of England was, until June, 1913, hindered by various circumstances from paying a visit to the Court of Berlin, and rumours were current that relations between the two rulers were not as friendly as they might and should be. There is now every indication that though the relations of people to people and Government to Government vary in degrees of coolness or warmth, the two monarchs are on perfectly good terms of cousinship and amity.

A visit paid by King George, when Prince of Wales, to the Emperor in Potsdam at the opening of 1902 testified to the goodwill that then subsisted between them. It was the evening before the Emperor's birthday, when the Emperor, at a dinner given by the officers of King Edward's German regiment, the 1st Dragoon Guards, addressed the English Heir Apparent in words of hearty welcome. The address was not a long one, but in it the Emperor characteristically seized on the motto of the Prince of Wales, "_Ich dien_" (I serve), to make it the text of a laudatory reference to his young guest's conduct and career. In its course the Emperor touched on the Prince's tour of forty thousand miles round the world, and the effect his "winning personality" had had in bringing together loyal British subjects everywhere, and helping to consolidate the _Imperium Britannicum_, "on the territories of which," as the Emperor said, doubtless with an imperial pang of envy, "the sun never sets." The Prince, in his reply, tendered his birthday congratulations, and expressed his "respect" for the Emperor, the appropriate word to use, considering the ages and royal ranks of the Emperor and his younger first cousin.

With 1902 may be said to have begun the Emperor's courtship (as it is often called in Germany) of America. His advances to the Dollar Princess since then have been unremitting and on the whole cordially, if somewhat coyly, received.

The growth of intercourse of all kinds between Germany and the United States is indeed one of the features of the reign. There are several reasons why it is natural that friendly relationship should exist. It has been said on good authority that thirty millions of American citizens have German blood in their veins. Frederick the Great was the first European monarch to recognize the independence of America. German men of learning go to school in America, and American men of learning go to school in Germany. A large proportion of the professors in American universities have studied at German universities. The two countries are thousands of miles apart, and are therefore less exposed to causes of international jealousy and quarrel between contiguous nations. On the other hand, the new place America has taken in the Old World, dating, it may be said roughly, from the time of her war with Spain (1898); the increase of her influence in the world, mainly through the efforts of brave, benevolent, and able statesmen; the expansion of her trade and commerce; the increase of the European tourist traffic;--these factors also to some extent account for the growth of friendly intercourse between the peoples.

Nor should the bond between the two countries created by intermarriage be overlooked. If the well-dowered republican maid is often ambitious of union with a scion of the old European nobility, the usually needy German aristocrat is at least equally desirous of mating with an American heiress notwithstanding the vast differences in race-character, political sentiment, manners, and views of life--and especially of the status and privileges of woman--that must fundamentally separate the parties. Great unhappiness is frequently the result of such marriages, perhaps it may be said of a large proportion of international marriages, but cases of great mutual happiness are also numerous, and help to bring the countries into sympathy and understanding. Prince Bülow, when Chancellor, reminded the Reichstag, which was discussing an objection raised to the late Freiherr Speck von Sternburg, when German Ambassador to America, that he had married an American lady, that though Bismarck had laid down the rule that German diplomatists ought not to marry foreigners, he was quite ready to make exceptions in special cases, and that America was one of them. The Emperor is well known to have no objection to his diplomatic representative at Washington being married to an American, but rather to prefer it, provided, of course, that the lady has plenty of money.

A difficulty between Germany and Venezuela arose in 1902 owing to the ill-treatment suffered by German merchants in Venezuela in the course of the civil war in that country from 1898 to 1900.

The merchants complained that loans had been exacted from them by President Castro and his Government, and that munitions of war and cattle had been taken for the use of the army and left unpaid for. The amount of the claim was 1,700,000 Bolivars (francs), a sum that included the damage suffered by the merchants' creditors in Germany. Similar complaints were made by English and Italian merchants. After several efforts on the part of Germany to obtain redress had failed, negotiations were broken off, the diplomatic representative of Germany was recalled, and finally the combined fleets of England, Germany, and Italy established a blockade of the Venezuelan coast. The difficulty was eventually referred to the Hague Court of Arbitration, which allowed the claims and directed payment of them on the security of the revenues of the customs ports of La Guayra and Puerto Cabella.

For a time the action of the Powers caused discussion of the Monroe doctrine on both sides of the Atlantic. On this side it was pointed out that American susceptibilities had been respected by the conduct of the Powers in not landing troops, while on the other side there were not wanting voices to exclaim that the naval demonstration went too near being a breach of the hallowed creed--"hands off" the Western Hemisphere. The Monroe doctrine, it may be recalled, was contained in a message of President James Monroe, issued on February 2, 1823. It was drawn up by John Quincey Adams, and declared that the United States "regarded not only every effort of the Holy Alliance to extend its system to the Western Hemisphere as dangerous to the peace and freedom of the United States, but also every interference with the object of subverting any independent American Government in the light of unfriendliness towards America"; and it went on to declare that "the Continents of America should no more be regarded as fields for European colonization."

The day, of course, may come when the American claim to the control, if not physical possession, of half the earth will be questioned by the Powers of Europe; but at present, as far as Germany is concerned, and notwithstanding the absurd idea that Germany plans the seizure one day of Brazil, the doctrine is of merely academic interest. For a few days four years later it became the subject of lively discussion in Germany and America owing to the first American Roosevelt professor, Professor Burgess, referring to it in his inaugural lecture before the Emperor and Empress as an "antiquated theory." As soon, however, as it became apparent that Professor Burgess was giving utterance to a purely personal opinion, and was not in any sense the bearer of a message on the subject from the President, the discussion dropped.

Another American episode of the year was the visit of Prince Henry, the Emperor's brother, to the United States. Prince Henry left for America in February. The visit was in reality made in pursuance of the Emperor's world-policy of economic expansion, but there were not a few politicians in England and America to assert that it was part of a deep scheme of the Emperor's to counteract too warm a development of Anglo-American friendship. However that may be, the visit was a striking one, even though it gave no great pleasure to Germans, who could not see any particular reason for it, nor any prospect of it yielding Germany immediate tangible return for trouble and expense. Prince Henry, it is said, though the most genial and democratic of Hohenzollerns, was a little taken back at the American freedom of manners, the wringing of hands, the slapping on the back, and other republican demonstrations of friendship; but he cannot have shown anything of such a feeling, for he was fêted on all sides, and soon developed into a popular hero.

One of the incidents of the visit, previously arranged, was the christening of the Emperor's new American-built yacht, _Meteor III_, by Miss Alice Roosevelt, the President's daughter. On February 25th the Emperor received a cablegram from Prince Henry: "Fine boat, baptized by the hand of Miss Alice Roosevelt, just launched amid brilliant assembly. Hearty congratulations;" and at the same time one from the President's daughter: "To his Majesty the Kaiser, Berlin--_Meteor_ successfully launched. I congratulate you, thank you for the kindness shown me, and send you my best wishes. Alice Roosevelt."

During the visit the Emperor cabled to President Roosevelt his thanks and that of his people for the hospitable reception of his brother by all classes, adding:

"My outstretched hand was grasped by you with a strong,
manly, and friendly grip. May Heaven bless the relations of
the two nations with peace and goodwill! My best compliments
and wishes to Alice Roosevelt."

Reference to this cordial electric correspondence may close with mention of a telegram sent in reply to a message from Mr. Melville Stone, of the American Associated Press:

"Accept my thanks for your message. I estimate the great and
sympathetic reception (it was a banquet) given to my dear
brother by the newspaper proprietors of the United States
very highly."

Prince Henry returned to Germany on March 17th, a Doctor of Law of Harvard University.

There have been moments when people in America were influenced by other sentiments than those of entirely respectful admiration for the Emperor. It was with mixed feelings that the American public heard the news of his telegraphed offer to President Roosevelt in May, 1902, when, as the telegram said, the Emperor was "under the deep impression made by the brilliant and cordial reception" given to his brother, Prince Henry, to present to the American nation a statue of--Frederick the Great, and coupled with the offer a proposal that the statue should be erected--of all places--in Washington! No one doubted the Emperor's sincere desire to pay the highest compliment he could think of to a people to whom he felt grateful for the honour done to Germany in the person of his brother, but nearly every one smiled at the simplicity, or, as some called it, the want of political tact shown by offering the statue of a ruler whose name, to the vast majority of Americans, is synonymous with absolute autocracy, to a republic which prides itself on its civic ways and love of personal freedom. The gift was accepted by the American Government in the spirit in which it was offered, the spirit of goodwill. And why not? To the Emperor his great ancestor's effigy is no symbol of autocracy, but the contrary, for to the Emperor and his subjects Frederick the Great is as much the Father of Prussia, the man who saved it and made it, as Washington was the Father of America. Besides, the spirit in which a gift is offered, not its value or appropriateness, is the thing to be considered.

Irritation in England was still strong against Germany on account of the latter's easily understood race-sympathy with the Boers during the war just over, but the fact did not prevent the Emperor from accepting King Edward's invitation to spend a few days at Sandringham with him in November this year on the occasion of his birthday. The Emperor took the Empress and two of his sons with him. The hostile temper of the time, both in England and Germany, was alluded to in a sermon preached in Sandringham Church by the then Bishop of London. It was notable for its insistence on the necessity of friendlier relations between England, Germany, and America, the three great branches of the Teutonic race. After the service the Emperor is reported to have exclaimed to the Bishop: "What you said was excellent, and is precisely what I try to make my people understand."

As a proof that this was no merely complimentary utterance, but the expression of a thought which is constantly in the Emperor's mind, an incident which happened at Kiel regatta in the month of June previously may be recalled. The American squadron, under the late Admiral Cotton, was paying an official visit to the Emperor during the Kiel "week" as a return honour for the visit of the Emperor's brother, Prince Henry of Prussia, to the United States the year before. There was a constant round of festivities, and among them a lunch to the Emperor on board the Admiral's flagship, the _Kearsarge_. Lunch over, the Emperor was standing in a group talking with his customary vivacity, but, as customary also, with his eyes taking in his surroundings like a well-trained journalist. Suddenly he noticed a set of flags, those of America, Germany, and England, twined together and mingling their colours in friendly harmony. He walked over, gathered the combined flags in his hand, and turning to the Admiral exclaimed in idiomatic American: "See here, Admiral; that is exactly as it should be, and is what I am trying for all the time."

While in England the Emperor, in company with Lord Roberts and Sir Evelyn Wood, inspected his English regiment, the 1st Royal Dragoons. A curious and amusing feature of the visit was a lecture before the Royal Family at Sandringham by a German engineer, for whom the Emperor acted as interpreter, on a novel adaptation of spirit for culinary, lighting, and laundry purposes. The Emperor's practical illustration of the use of the new heating system, as applied to the ordinary household flatiron, is said to have caused great merriment among his audience.

Germany's home atmosphere about this time was for a moment troubled by an exhibition of the Emperor's "personal regiment" in the form of a telegram to the Prince Regent of Bavaria, known in Germany as the "Swinemunde Despatch." The Bavarian Diet, in a fit of economy, had refused its annual grant of £5,000 for art purposes. The Emperor was violently angry, wired to the Prince Regent his indignation with the Diet and offered to pay the £5,000 out of his own pocket. It was not a very tactful offer, to be sure, though well intended; and as his telegram was not an act of State, "covered" by the Chancellor's signature, while the Bavarians in particular felt hurt at what they considered outside interference, Germans generally blamed it as a new demonstration of autocratic rule.

One or two other art incidents of the period may be noted. A domestic one was the gift to the Emperor by the Empress of a model of her hand in Carrara marble, life-sized, by the German sculptor, Rheinhold Begas. The Emperor, it is well known, has no special liking for the companionship of ladies, but he confesses to an admiration for pretty feminine hands. Another incident was the Emperor's order to the painter, Professor Rochling, to paint a picture representing the famous episode in the China campaign, when Admiral Seymour gave the order "Germans to the Front." It is to the present day a popular German engraving. The year was also remarkable for a visit to Berlin of Coquelin _aîné_, the great French actor. The Emperor saw him in "Cyrano de Bergerac," was, like all the rest of the play-going world, delighted with both play and player, and held a long and lively conversation with the artist. Lastly may be mentioned a telegram of the Emperor's to the once-famed tragic actress, Adelaide Ristori, in Rome, congratulating her on her eightieth birthday and expressing his regret that he had never met her. A basket of flowers simultaneously arrived from the German Embassy.

We are now in 1903. During the preceding years the Emperor's thoughts, as has been seen, were occupied with art as a means of educating his folk, purifying their sentiments, and, above all, making them faithful lieges of the House of Hohenzollern. By a natural association of ideas we find him this year thinking much and deeply about religion; for, though artists are not a species remarkable for the depth or orthodoxy of their views on religious matters, art and religion are close allies, and probably the greater the artist the more real religion he will be found to have.

In this year, accordingly, the Emperor made his remarkable confession of religious faith to his friend, Admiral Hollmann. He had just heard a lecture by Professor Delitzsch on "Babel und Bibel," and as he considered the Professor's views to some extent subversive of orthodox Christian belief, he took the opportunity to tell his people his own sentiments on the whole matter. In writing to Admiral Hollmann he instructed him to make the "confession" as public as possible, and it was published in the October number of the _Grenzboten_, a Saxon monthly, sometimes used for official pronouncements. The Emperor's letter to Admiral Hollmann contained what follows:--

"I distinguish between two different sorts of Revelation: a
current, to a certain extent historical, and a purely
religious, which was meant to prepare the way for the
appearance of the Messiah. As to the first, I should say
that I have not the slightest doubt that God eternally
revealed Himself to the race of mankind He created. He
breathed into man His breath, that is a portion of Himself,
a soul. With fatherly love and interest He followed the
development of humanity; in order to lead and encourage it
further He 'revealed' Himself, now in the person of this,
now of that great wise man, priest or king, whether pagan,
Jew or Christian. Hammurabi was one of these, Moses,
Abraham, Homer, Charlemagne, Luther, Shakespeare, Goethe,
Kant, Kaiser William the Great--these He selected and
honoured with His Grace, to achieve for their peoples,
according to His will, things noble and imperishable. How
often has not my grandfather explicitly declared that he was
an instrument in the hand of the Lord! The works of great
souls are the gifts of God to the people, that they may be
able to build further on them as models, that they may be
able to feel further through the confusion of the
undiscovered here below. Doubtless God has 'revealed'
Himself to different peoples in different ways according to
their situation and the degree of their civilization. Then
just as we are overborne most by the greatness and might of
the lovely nature of the Creation when we regard it, and as
we look are astonished at the greatness of God there
displayed, even so can we of a surety thankfully and
admiringly recognize, by whatever truly great or noble thing
a man or a people does, the revelation of God. His influence
acts on us and among us directly.

"The second sort of Revelation, the more religious sort, is
that which led up to the appearance of the Lord. From
Abraham onward it was introduced, slowly but foreseeingly,
all-wisely and all-knowingly, for otherwise humanity were
lost. And now commences the astonishing working of God's
Revelation. The race of Abraham and the peoples that sprang
from it regard, with an iron logic, as their holiest
possession, the belief in a God. They must worship and
cultivate Him. Broken up during the captivity in Egypt, the
separated parts were brought together again for the second
time by Moses, always striving to cling fast to monotheism.
It was the direct intervention of God that caused this
people to come to life again. And so it goes on through the
centuries till the Messiah, announced and foreshadowed by
the prophets and psalmists, at last appears, the greatest
Revelation of God to the world. Then he appeared in the Son
Himself; Christ is God; God in human form. He redeemed us,
He spurs us on, He allures us to follow Him, we feel His
fire burn in us, His sympathy strengthens us, His
displeasure annihilates us, but also His care saves us.
Confident of victory, building only on His word, we pass
through labour, scorn, suffering, misery and death, for in
His Word we have God's revealed Word, and He never lies.

"That is my view of the matter. The Word is especially for
us evangelicals made the essential thing by Luther, and as
good theologian surely Delitzsch must not forget that our
great Luther taught us to sing and believe--'Thou shalt
suffer, let the Word stand.' To me it goes without saying
that the Old Testament contains a large number of fragments
of a purely human historical kind and not 'God's revealed
Word.' They are mere historical descriptions of events of
all sorts which occurred in the political, religious, moral,
and intellectual life of the people of Israel. For example,
the act of legislation on Sinai may be regarded as only
symbolically inspired by God, when Moses had recourse to the
revival of perhaps some old-time law (possibly the codex, an
offshoot of the codex of Hammurabi), to bring together and
to bind together institutions of His people which were
become shaky and incapable of resistance. Here the historian
can, from the spirit or the text, perhaps construct a
connexion with the Law of Hammurabi, the friend of Abraham,
and perhaps logically enough; but that would no way lessen
the importance of the fact that God suggested it to Moses
and in so far revealed Himself to the Israelite people.

"Consequently it is my idea that for the future our good
Professor would do well to avoid treating of religion as
such, on the other hand continue to describe unmolested
everything that connects the religion, manners, and custom
of the Babylonians with the Old Testament. On the whole, I
make the following deductions:--

"1. I believe in One God.

"2. We humans need, in order to teach Him, a Form,
especially for our children.

"3. This Form has been to the present time the Old Testament
in its existing tradition. This Form will certainly
decidedly alter considerably with the discovery of
inscriptions and excavations; there is nothing harmful in
that, it is even no harm if the nimbus of the Chosen People
loses much thereby. The kernel and substance remain always
the same--God, namely, and His work.

"Never was religion a result of science, but a gushing out
of the heart and being of mankind, springing from its
intercourse with God."

It is anticipating by a few months, but part of a speech the Emperor made in Potsdam at the confirmation of his two sons, August Wilhelm and Oscar--two Hohenzollerns as yet not distinguished for anything in particular--may be quoted in this connexion. Naturally he began by comparing his sons' spiritual situation with that of a soldier on the day he takes the oath of allegiance: they were _vorgemerkt_, that is, predestined as "fighters for Christ." "What is demanded of you," the imperial father went on, "is that you shall be personalities. This is the point which, in my opinion, is the most important for the Christian in daily life. For there can be no doubt that we can say of the person of the Lord, that He is the most 'personal personality' who has ever wandered among the sons of men.... You will read of many great men--savants, statesmen, kings and princes, of poets also: but nevertheless no word of man has ever been uttered worthy of comparison with the words of Christ; and I say this to you so that you may be in a position to bear it out when you are in the midst of life's turmoil and hear people discussing religion, especially the personality of Christ. No word of man has ever succeeded in making people of all races and all people enthusiastic for the same cause, namely, to imitate Him, even to sacrifice their lives for Him. The wonder can only be explained by assuming that what He said were the words of the living God, which are the source of life, and continue to live thousands of years after the words of the wise have been forgotten. That is my personal experience and it will be yours.

"The pivot and turning-point," he continued,

"of our mortal life, especially of a life full of
responsibility and labour--that is clearer and clearer to me
every year I live--lies simply and solely in the attitude a
man adopts towards his Lord and Saviour;"

and he concludes by exhorting his sons to disregard what people may say about the cult of Christ being irreconcilable with the tasks and responsibilities of "modern" life, but simply to do their best, whatever their occupation, to become a personality after Christ's example.

This is a sound and just statement of Christian faith, and it is quoted here to justify the view that the Emperor's soldiers and his Dreadnoughts, his mailed fist and shining armour, are built and put on in the spirit of precaution and defence. The attitude, it cannot of course be denied, is based on the un-Christlike assumption that all men (and particularly all peoples and their governments and diplomatists) are liars; but in his favour it may be urged that for that saying the Emperor could cite Biblical authority. And yet there is an inconsistency; for the saying is that of one of those same wise men whose words, the Emperor admits, are transitory and mortal.

It is possible that the Emperor had a presentiment of some kind that his life was now in danger, and that the presentiment may have attuned his thoughts to meditation on Christ's life and teaching; for it is a fact, well worthy of remark, that in the fear of death man's one and only relief and consolation is the knowledge that there was, and is, a mediator for him with his Creator. The address at his sons' confirmation was delivered on October 17th, and on Sunday morning, November 8th all the world, it is hardly too much to say, was astonished and pained to learn, by a publication in the _Official Gazette_, that the Emperor the day before had had to submit to a serious operation on his throat. The announcement spoke of a polypus, or fungoid growth, which had had to be removed; but all over the world the conclusion was come to that the mortal affliction of the father had fallen on the son and that the Emperor was a doomed man. Most providentially and happily it was nothing of the sort. On the 9th the Emperor was out of bed and signing official papers, on the 15th he was allowed to talk in whispers, and on the 17th it was declared by the physicians that all danger was over and that no more bulletins would be issued. On December 14th the Emperor received a congratulatory visit from the President of the Reichstag, who reported to Parliament his impression that "the Emperor had completely recovered his old vigour (great applause) and that his voice was again clear and strong."

The Emperor had passed through what one may suppose to have been the darkest hour of his life. He was naturally in high spirits, and a few days after went to Hannover, where he made a martial speech in which he toasted the German Legion for having "by its unforgettable heroism, in conjunction with Blücher and his Prussians, saved the English army from destruction at Waterloo," a view, of course, which to an Englishman has all the charm of novelty.

One or two further memorable incidents of 1903 may be recorded. Theodore Mommsen, the now aged historian of Rome, the greatest scholar of his time, died in November. He was in his day a Liberal parliamentarian of no mean ability; but for such men there is no career in Germany. However, as it turned out, the German people's loss proved to be all the world's gain. A son of the historian now represents a district of Berlin in the Reichstag. Two years before the historian's death an exchange of telegrams in Latin took place between him and the Emperor. The occasion was the Emperor's laying the foundation-stone of a museum on the plateau where the old Roman castle, known as the Saalburg, stands. The Emperor telegraphed:

"Theodoro Mommseno, antiquitatum romanarum investigatori
incomparabili, praetorii Saalburgensis fundamenta jaciens
salutem dicit et gratias agit Guilelmus Germanorum
Imperator."

To which the historian, with a modesty equal to his courtesy, replied: "Germanorum principi, tam majestate quam humanitate, gratias agit antiquarius Lietzelburgensis."

Mention may also be made of a very characteristic speech of the Emperor's this year at Cüstrin, where he was unveiling a monument to a favourite Hohenzollern, the Great Elector. Cüstrin, it will be remembered, is the town where Frederick the Great, another of the Emperor's favourites, was imprisoned by an angry father, along with his friend Lieutenant Katte, when Frederick was trying to escape the parental cruelty and violence.

Referring to Frederick's declaration that he was the "first servant of the State," the Emperor said:--

"He could only learn to be so by subordination, by
obedience, in a word by what we Prussians describe as
discipline. And this discipline must have its roots in the
King's house as in the house of the citizen, in the army as
among the people. Respect for authority, obedience to the
Crown, and obedience to parental and paternal
influence--that is the lesson the memories of to-day should
teach us. From these attributes spring those which we call
patriotism, namely the subordination of the individual ego,
of the individual subject, to the welfare of all. It is what
is particularly needed at the present time."

The Emperor was, of course, thinking of the Social Democrats. Having finished his speech, he went and for a while stood thoughtfully at the historic window of Cüstrin Castle, from which Frederick watched the execution of his unfortunate companion, Katte.

Only the year 1904 separates us from the Emperor's Morocco adventure. The economic ideas which have been referred to as the basis of German foreign policy were germinating in his mind, and the plans for at least a partial realization of them were working in his head. Addressing the chief burgomaster of Karlsruhe in April, just a year before he started for Tangier, he spoke of Weltpolitik. "You are right," he told the burgomaster,