The Secret Memoirs of the Courts of Europe: William II, Germany; Francis Joseph, Austria-Hungary, Volume I. (of 2)
Date: 2004-06-02T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: William II; German Emperor; 1859-1941; Franz Joseph I; Emperor of Austria; 1830-1916

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Title: The Secret Memoirs of the Courts of Europe: William II, Germany; Francis Joseph, Austria-Hungary, Volume I. (of 2)

Author: marquise de Fontenoy

Release date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #12548]
Most recently updated: December 15, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced from images provided by the Million Book Project

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET MEMOIRS OF THE COURTS OF EUROPE: WILLIAM II, GERMANY; FRANCIS JOSEPH, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY, VOLUME I. (OF 2) ***

Produced by Bill Hershey and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced
from images provided by the Million Book Project.

SECRET MEMOIRS

William II and Francis Joseph

VOLUME I

[Illustration: WILLIAM II EMPEROR OF GERMANY From Life]

SECRET MEMOIRS OF THE COURTS OF EUROPE

William II Germany

Francis Joseph Austria Hungary

BY

MME. LA MARQUISE DE FONTENOY

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. I

ILLUSTRATED

1900

PUBLISHERS' NOTE

The essential qualifications for an author of such a work as the present are an actual acquaintance with the persons mentioned, an intimate knowledge of their daily lives, and a personal familiarity with the scenes described.

The author of William II. and Francis-Joseph, sheltered under the nom de plume of Marquise de Fontenoy, is a lady of distinguished birth and title. Her work consists largely of personal reminiscences, and descriptions of events with which she is perfectly familiar; a sort of panoramic view of the characteristic happenings and striking features of court life, such as will best give a true picture of persons and their conduct.

There has been no attempt to trammel the subject,—which embraces religious, official, social and domestic life,—by following a strictly sequential form in the narrative, but the writer's aim has been to present her facts in a familiar way, impressing them with characteristic naturalness and lifelike reality.

To this task the author has brought the habits of a watchful observer, the candor of a conscientious narrator, and the refinement of a writer who respects her subject. Hence she presents a true, vivid and interesting picture of court life in Germany and Austria. If such merely sensational, and too often fictitious, unsavory tales as crowd the so-called court narratives expressly concocted for the "society" columns of the periodical press are not the most prominent features of the present work, it is because they receive only a truthful recognition and place in its pages.

WILLIAM II

AND

FRANCIS-JOSEPH

CHAPTER I

"If only Emperor William would be true to himself—be natural, in fact!" exclaimed Count S——, a Prussian nobleman, high in the diplomatic service of his country, with whom I was discussing the German Emperor a year or so ago. Then my friend, who had, a short time previously, been brought into frequent personal contact with his sovereign, in connection with his official duties, went on to say:

"There are really two distinct characters, one might almost say two personalities, in the kaiser. When he is himself he is the most charming companion that it is possible to conceive. His manners are as genial and as winning as those of his father and grandfather, both of whom he surpasses in brilliancy of intellect, and in quickness of repartee, as well as in a keen sense of humor. He gives one the impression of possessing a heart full of the most generous impulses,—aye, of a generosity carried even to excess, and this, together with a species of indescribable magnetism which appears to radiate from him in these moments, contributes to render him a most sympathetic man."

"But," interposed an Englishman who was present, "that is not how he is portrayed to the outer world. Nor is that the impression which he made upon me and upon others when he was at Cowes."

"That is precisely why I deplore so much that the emperor should fail to appear in his true colors," continued Count S——. "All the qualities which I have just now ascribed to him are too often concealed beneath a mantle of reserve, self-consciousness, nay, even pose. During my recent interviews with his majesty, whenever we happened to be alone, he would show himself in the light which I have just described to you. But let a third person appear upon the scene—be it even a mere servant—at once his entire manner would change. The magnetic current so pleasantly established between us would be cut through, his eyes would lose their kindly, friendly light, and become hard, his attitude self-conscious and constrained, the very tone of his speech sharp, abrupt, commanding, I would almost say arrogant. In fact he would give one the impression that he was playing a rôle—the rôle of emperor—that he was, in one word, posing, even if it were only for the benefit of the menial who had interrupted us. But when the intruder had vanished, William would, like a flash, become his own charming self again. That is what made me exclaim just now, 'if only the kaiser would be true to himself!—be natural, in fact.'"

"I fully agree with you, my dear S——," I remarked, after a short pause. "If the emperor has remained anything like what he was prior to his ascension to the throne, your estimate of his character is correct." And I went on to relate a little incident which occurred on the occasion of my first meeting with the emperor many years ago.

This meeting took place on that particular spot where the empires of Germany, Austria, and Russia may be said to meet, the frontier guards of each of those three nations being within hail of one another. The great autumnal military manoeuvres were in progress, and a merry party, including a number of ladies, were riding home from the mimic battlefield. We passed through a narrow lane, bordered on each side by groups of stunted willows and birch trees, under the sparse shadow of which nestled a few cottages painted in blue, pink, or yellow, in true Polish fashion. Suddenly our progress was arrested by terrifying screams proceeding from one of these hovels. Several of us were out of our saddles in an instant and rushed in at the low door.

Before the hearth, where a huge peat-fire was burning, stood a young peasant woman, her face distorted with agonized grief, and holding in her arms a bundle of blackened rags. We found that her baby had fallen into the glowing embers, while she herself was occupied out of doors, and the poor mite was so badly burned that there seemed but little hope of its ever reviving from its state of almost complete coma. We were all busying ourselves eagerly about the child and its distraught mother, when raising my eyes from the palpitating form of the child, I caught sight of "Prince William," as the kaiser was then called, standing near the door, apparently quite undisturbed and unmoved by this tragedy in lowly life. It even seemed to me in the dim light as if he were smiling derisively at our efforts to relieve the sufferings of the little one, and to soothe the grief of its mother. But my indignation vanished quickly when a slanting ray of the setting sun, piercing through the grime of the little window, revealed the presence on his cheek of two very large and bona-fide tears, which had welled up in his eyes, to which the lad was endeavoring to impart an expression of callous indifference; and when at last we left the hut to seek a doctor for the tiny sufferer it was Prince William's own military coat, none too new, and even, to say the truth, much worn, that remained as an additional coverlet upon the roughly-hewn wooden cot, over which the sobbing mother was bending.

"Nobody," I added, "will, therefore, make me believe that Emperor William has not got a very soft spot in his heart, and that beneath the mannerisms which he considers it necessary to affect in order to maintain the dignity of his position as emperor,—those mannerisms which have given rise to so much misapprehension about his character,—there is not concealed a very kindly spirit, literally brimming over with generous impulses, which, if more widely known, would serve to render the kaiser the most popular, as he is the most interesting figure of Old World royalty."

It is because Emperor Francis-Joseph and the veteran King of Saxony are so thoroughly acquainted with his real nature, that they are truly and honestly fond of him. Both of them old men, with no sons in whom to seek support for the eventide of lives that have been saddened by many a public and private sorrow, they entertain a fatherly affection for William, who as emperor treats them in public as brother sovereigns, and as equals, but accords to them in private the most touching filial deference and regard, remembering full well the kindness which both of them showed to him when he was still the much-snubbed, and not altogether justly-treated "Prince William." They on their side are led by his behavior towards them to regard him in the light of a son. Of course they cannot be blind to his faults, but they are disposed to treat them with an indulgence that is even more than paternal, and to see in them relatively trivial defects, due to the manner in which he was brought up, and which are certain to disappear with advancing years and experience.

During his early manhood, Prince William was by no means a favorite either at his grandfather's court or at that of any other foreign sovereign which he was occasionally allowed to visit. Pale-faced and delicate-looking, very severely treated by his mother, who is what one is bound to call une maîtresse femme, the boy at seventeen was by no manner of means prepossessing, and his efforts to assert himself, and to crush down a good deal of natural awkwardness and timidity added to his singularly unlikeable appearance.

In those days it could clearly be seen that everything that he did or said was meant to create an impression of dignity and of grandeur, to which his physique did not lend itself very easily, and the contrast between him and his bosom friend the courteous, graceful and dashing Crown Prince of Austria, was very marked.

Good-hearted and endowed with a great many truly generous instincts the young fellow was, however, sorely handicapped by his education, the abnormal strictness displayed towards him at the Court of Berlin, and also by a continually and most distressingly empty purse. It is a hard and almost pitiful thing for the heir apparent of a great empire to find himself often without the necessary amount with which to cut the figure which his social rank forces him to adopt, and it must have been especially galling to the overbearing and proud nature of this boy to be continually obliged to borrow from his friends, nay even from his aides de camp, small sums wherewith to pay his way wherever he went. Nevertheless his father and mother, then Crown Prince and Crown Princess of Germany, believed it to be a thoroughly wholesome thing for the young man to have to humble his pride, should he not be content with the very small allowance made to him, this unfortunate idea being, however, the cause of a great deal of bitterness, which to this day has not completely faded from the heart of the now omnipotent ruler of the German Empire.

It is undeniable that many eccentricities and false moves on the part of William II. have been grossly exaggerated and placed before the public in a false light, showing him up as a conceited, bumptious and silly person, whereas not only his state of health, but his entourage should have been blamed for whatever he did that was out of place. During a great many years the young prince suffered from what is called technically otitis media, namely, a disease of the middle ear, very painful, exasperating and even somewhat humiliating to endure, and which he must have inherited in some extraordinary way from his great-uncle, King William IV. of Prussia, who died insane. There are certainly some traits of resemblance between this hapless monarch and the present occupant of the German throne, for in both there exists and has existed the same exaggerated and narrow-minded religious beliefs, bordering on mysticism, and also an all-embracing faith in their absolute and unquestionable infallibility.

It has long since become a well-anchored creed that William II. has occasional fits of insanity. This is by no means the case, but it must be admitted that the peculiar malady to which I referred above, and which is as yet not eradicated from his system, causes him, at times, days of the most excruciating pains all over the back and side of his head, and it is scarcely surprising that at such moments the emperor should act in a way which astonishes the uninitiated. Indeed, William II. displays extraordinary force of character in suppressing physical agony, when the duties he owes to the state force him to come forward when unfit for anything else but the sick room.

The truth of the matter is that there are but few who can boast of knowing him well, and the masses as well as the classes both at home and abroad seem to take a peculiarly keen delight in accepting for gospel truth any sweeping statements made about him by the press of all civilized countries.

Although twenty-nine years of age when he ascended the throne on June 15, 1888, he may be said to have been at that time still but a raw youth, continually kept in the background, and treated more or less like a child, without any consequence or weight. It is, therefore, not remarkable that the first years of his reign should have been signalized by many errors of judgment; for it is not with impunity that one suddenly releases a person, locked up for years in a dark room and drives him into dazzlingly-lighted spaces without a guide, a philosopher, or a friend by his side to lead him on the way. The mental, as well as the physical optic has to gradually become accustomed to so complete a change, and this fact was not sufficiently taken into consideration by all the detractors of the young monarch, when he, to speak very familiarly, leaped over the saddle in his anxiety to secure for himself a firm seat on the throne of his forefathers.

It is well to mention also that Emperor Frederick III., who reigned alas! but for a few weeks, was positively worshipped by the German people, and not without cause, for he was undoubtedly one of the finest personalities of this century. His appearance, his demeanor, his unaffected dignity, kindness of heart, and loftiness of purpose were difficult to surpass, and it was a bitter disappointment to his subjects when death snatched him away before he had had time to carry out the grand plans and ideas which he had long cherished and reserved for the time when he would have the reins of government in his own hands.

Speaking with all kindness and good-will, one cannot but after a fashion understand the disappointment of the Germans when this towering military figure, this magnificent specimen of perfect physical and mental manhood, vanished from their ken, to be replaced by the slender, pale-faced, somewhat arrogant and despotic young man, who resembled this father so little.

Emperor William II. is an extremely intelligent personage, in spite of all that may have been said to the contrary. He thinks for himself when he has a mind to do so, and, what is more, thinks logically, and is quite capable of following a thus logically-attained conclusion to its furthermost point. He feels keenly his enormous responsibilities, and the tremendous international importance of his position as the ruler of over 50,000,000 people, for he well knows that any man wearing on his head the double crown of King of Prussia, and of German Emperor, is a being endowed with powers which are bound to compel attention from every point of the European Continent. Being given, as I have just remarked, that his health and his physique are neither of them of a kind to aid him in the tremendous task which belongs to him by right of birth, it is easily explainable that his self-assertive ways and imperious manners should often be mistaken for posing and posturing. Moreover, his imperfect left arm—a misfortune which has been a source of great distress to him ever since his birth—is but another one of those physical troubles which his pride makes him anxious to conceal, this only adding to his stilted and repellent attitude. In spite of all these drawbacks, the emperor fences exceedingly well, rides with pluck, and even skill, managing to hold his reins with his poor withered left hand when in uniform, in order to keep his sword-arm free, and during his visit to Austrian Poland, which I referred to at the beginning of this chapter, I more than once saw him with my own eyes, whilst we were riding across country, take obstacles which would have made a far older and more experienced hunter pause and reflect on.

Nobody, even the best-intentioned, can deny that Emperor William has many faults; those are, however, either ignored altogether, or else exaggerated to an extent that eclipses all his good qualities, by his various biographers. Very few pen-portraits of royal personages that pass through the hands of the publishers can be said to present a true picture of their subject. Either the writer holds up the object of his literary effort as a person so blameless as to suggest the idea that he is an impossible prig, or else every piece of malevolent gossip is construed into a positive fact, his shortcomings magnified until they lose all touch of resemblance, while every word and action capable of misrepresentation is construed in the manner most detrimental to his reputation. In one word, he is either glorified as a preposterous saint, or else held up to public execration as an equally impossible villain. Now, in pictorial art, a portrait, in order to present a satisfactory and successful resemblance to its subject, must contain lights and shadows. You cannot have all light, or all shadow, but it is necessary to have a judicious mixture of both. So it is with the art of biography. If one wishes to give in print a true, and above all, a human picture of one's subject, it is necessary to mingle the shadows with the lights. In fact, the former may be said to set off the latter, and there are many shortcomings, especially those which the French, so graphically describe as petits vices,—small vices—which, resulting from a generous and impulsive temperament, serve, like the Rembrandt shadow of a portrait, to render the subject more attractive to the eye.

It is my object, not to give a definitive biography of either of the two kaisers, or even a mere record of their vie intime, but rather to present to my readers a series of incidents, full of lights and full of shadows, showing their surroundings, describing as far as possible the atmosphere in which they move, the conditions of life which they are obliged to consider, the temptations to which they are exposed—and to which they sometimes succumb—and when I have completed my task I venture to believe that the readers of these volumes, while they may find the two emperors neither quite so blameless, nor yet quite so bad as they expected, may nevertheless experience a greater degree of sympathy and regard for them as being after all so extremely human.

CHAPTER II

While Emperor Francis-Joseph is justly reputed to have played sad havoc with the hearts of the fair sex in his dominions, especially in his younger days, having inherited that frivolity with regard to women which is a traditional characteristic of the illustrious House of Hapsburg, he has never at any moment during his long reign permitted his susceptibility to feminine charms to go to the length of influencing his political conduct, or the action of his government.

Emperor William, on the other hand, whose married life has been, from a domestic point of view, singularly blameless, and who has been an exceptionally faithful husband, has, in at least two instances, permitted himself to be swayed in his rôle of sovereign by ladies, who for a time figured as his "Egerias." One of them was a woman of extraordinary cleverness, and an American by birth, who while she has long since ceased to exercise any influence upon him, has retained the affection and the regard of both his consort and himself. She is the Countess Waldersee, daughter of the late David Lee, a wholesale grocer of New York, and who at the time that she became the wife of Field-marshal Count Waldersee, was the widow of the present German empress's uncle, Prince Frederick of Schleswig-Holstein. The latter abandoned his royal rank and titles, and assumed the merely nobiliary status of a Prince of Noer, in order to make her his consort.

The countess is treated as an aunt by both William and the kaiserin, and she may be said to have swayed her imperial nephew by her cleverness and intellectual brilliancy, rather than by her looks, for she is a woman already well-advanced in years.

Different in this respect was the influence of the emperor's other Egeria, namely, the Polish baroness, Jenny Koscielska, a woman of rare elegance and beauty, whose political importance during the time she reigned supreme at the Court of Berlin, was attributable to her personal fascination rather than to her sagacity or statecraft. She is the wife of that Baron Kosciol-Koscielski, who was one of the most celebrated leaders of the Polish party in the Russian House of Lords, and perhaps, also, the most popular of all modern Polish poets and playwrights.

It would be going too far to assert that William was infatuated by her loveliness. Yet there Is no doubt that as long as she figured at the Court of Berlin, he not only paid her the most marked attention, but likewise allowed himself to be advised by her in political matters. It was during the so-called "reign of the baroness" that the kaiser showed such an extraordinary degree of favor to his Polish subjects as to excite the jealousy and ill-will of the people in many other parts of his dominions. He reestablished the Polish language in the schools and churches of Posen, that is of Prussian-Poland, nominated a Polish ecclesiastic to the archbishopric of that province, and conferred so many court dignities, government offices, and decorations upon the compatriots of the fair Jenny, as to give rise to the remark that the best road to imperial preferment at Berlin was to add the Polish and feminine termination of "ska" to one's name. Old Prince Bismarck, who was at the time at daggers-drawn with his young sovereign, at length gave public utterance to the popular ill-will, excited by the rôle of Egeria, which the baroness was accused of playing to the "Numa Pompilius" of Emperor William. For, in the course of an address delivered by the old ex-chancellor at Friedrichsrüh, and reproduced in extenso in the press, he declared among other things that: "The Polish influence in political affairs increases always in the measure that some Polish family obtains of more or less influence at Court. I need not allude here to the rôle formerly played by the princely house of Radziwill. To-day we have exactly the same state of affairs, which is to be deplored!" Bismarck's allusion to the Radziwills was an ungenerous reference to the romantic attachment of old Emperor William for that Princess Elize Radziwill, whom he was so determined to marry that he offered his father to abandon his rights of succession to the throne on her account. This King Frederick-William would not permit, and William was compelled to wed Goethe's pupil, Princess Augusta of Saxe-Weimar. A loveless match in every sense of the word, for he remained until the day of Princess Elize's death her most devoted friend and admirer, seeking her advice in many a difficulty, to the great annoyance of Prince Bismarck, who detested her, and after her death the old emperor continued to show the utmost favor and good-will to the members of her family in honor of her memory. Of course this speech of Prince Bismarck created no end of a sensation throughout the empire, as well as abroad, the press being encouraged thereby to print in cold type what had until that time been merely whispered in official and court circles. It is possible that the young emperor might have remained indifferent to popular clamor about the matter, had not two other incidents occurred about the same time to cool his liking for the fair Jenny.

In the first place, she felt herself so much encouraged by the influence which she believed that she exercised over the emperor, that when during the annual army manoeuvres Field Marshal Prince George of Saxony, and other Prussian and foreign royalties were quartered under her roof, she absolutely declined to hoist either the German flag, or the Royal Saxon standard, but insisted upon flying the national colors of Poland from the flag staff that surmounted the turret of her château. Naturally, Prince George and his fellow royal guests complained of this breach of etiquette to the kaiser, and protested strongly against it.

Almost at the same time, her husband, the baron, having been invited to attend the opening of a provincial exhibition in the neighboring Empire of Austria, was so carried away by enthusiasm, due to the kindness with which the Poles present were treated by Emperor Francis-Joseph, that forgetting all he owed to Emperor William, he publicly hailed Francis-Joseph as "sole sovereign of all Polish hearts," and as "Poland's future king!" About this time too, the empress paid a couple of rather mysterious visits to her mother-in-law at Friedrichkron. Court gossip ascribed these hurried trips to the fact that the empress had been prompted by her jealousy of the baroness to invoke the intervention of the strong-minded widow of Frederick the Noble. But it is far more likely that the empress visited the Dowager Kaiserin in order that she should call the attention of her son to the harm which the association of the name of the baroness with his own was doing him in a political sense both at home and abroad.

Whatever the cause of these consultations between the two empresses may have been, the fact remains that almost immediately afterwards Baron and Baroness Koscielski received from the Grand-Master-of-the-Court, Count Eulenburg, an official intimation that their presence at court was not desired in highest quarters until further notice, and that under the circumstances they would do well to remain at their country seat. In fact they were virtually banished, and when both husband and wife travelled all the way to Berlin with the object of asking for an explanation from the emperor, he declined to receive either the one or the other. He had apparently come to the conclusion that the game was not worth the candle, and that in view of the fact that his intimacy with the baroness had never gone beyond platonic friendship and mild flirtation, it was ridiculous to incur the ill-will of his subjects and expose himself to slanderous stories concocted by his enemies on her account.

The influence of the American born Countess Waldersee was of a far more lasting character, and may be said to have been inaugurated very shortly after his marriage. Prior to becoming a benedict, Prince William was as gay as his very limited financial means would permit. In fact, he was charged with playing the rôle of Don Juan to at least half a dozen beauties of the Prussian Court, while at Vienna he became involved in a scandal of a feminine character, from which he was only extricated with the utmost difficulty by the then German Ambassador to the Austrian Court, namely, Prince Reuss. The presumption is that he had allowed himself to become the prey of an adventuress, and with the object of avoiding publicity he was practically compelled to provide for the welfare and future of a child which may or may not have been his offspring. But as soon as he married, he turned over a new leaf, and became the very model of husbands.

It has always been my conviction that this was due in part to the influence of the Countess Waldersee, and largely also to the unkindly treatment which his consort received during the early years of her marriage at the hands of his family. Although a nice and gentle-looking girl, Augusta-Victoria was far from shining either by her beauty or her elegance at a court which is one of the most cruelly critical and satirical in all Europe. Moreover, she labored under the disadvantage of being the daughter of the Duchess of Augustenburg, who is not credited with a robust intellect, and, in fact has passed the greater part of her life in retirement, and of the Duke of Augustenburg, who was famed thirty years ago for the dullness of his mind. In fact, after Prussia had undertaken in his behalf the conquest of the Duchy of Schleswig-Holstein, to which he was entitled by right of inheritance, and which had been unlawfully seized by Denmark, Prince Bismarck refused to permit the duke to assume the sovereignty thereof, on the publicly expressed ground that it would be an act of the most outrageous tyranny to subject any state to the rule of so intensely stupid a man as the duke.

This utterance on the part of Bismarck, which may be found in most of the German histories printed prior to the accession of the present Emperor, was naturally recalled to mind at the Court of Berlin, when the daughter of the duke became the bride of Prince William, and the widespread belief in her inherited dullness of intellect was further increased by the mingled impatience and pity which characterized the behavior of her husband's mother and sisters towards her.

There is much that is chivalrous in the nature of the present German emperor, and it was precisely the unkindness and slights to which his bride was subjected that had the effect of drawing him more closely to her. He did not conceal the fact that he strongly resented the attitude of his family towards her, and his friendship with Countess Waldersee owes its origin to the motherly way in which she behaved to his wife, acting as her mentor, as her adviser and guide in the intricate maze of Berlin society, and of court life. Debarred from all intimacy with her sisters-in-law, who were ever ready to scoff at, and to make fun of her, Augusta-Victoria was wont to have recourse to the countess in all her difficulties, and inasmuch as Count Waldersee himself is the most brilliant soldier of the German army, and was designated at the time by the great Moltke as his successor and his principal lieutenant, Prince William and his wife ended by becoming very intimate indeed with the Waldersees, and almost daily visitors at their house.

The countess is of a deeply religious turn of mind, with a strong disposition towards evangelism, and already before the marriage of Prince William, she had become conspicuous as one of the most influential leaders of the anti-Semite party in Prussia. It was in her salons at Berlin that the great Jew-baiter Stoecker was wont to hold his politico-religious meetings, denouncing the Jews, and it was through her influence, too, that he obtained appointment as court chaplain, in spite of the opposition of the father and the mother of Prince William. It was also under the roof of the Countess Waldersee that the present emperor became imbued with that very religious,—one might almost say pietist—disposition, which has since been so marked a feature of his character.

True, the hereditary tendency of the sovereign house of Prussia is distinctly religious, leaning in fact towards fanaticism, and King Frederick-William III., his son Frederick-William IV., and likewise old Emperor William, entertained the most extraordinary ideas on the subject of Providence, with which they believed themselves to be in constant communion, as well as its principal agent here on earth. In fact, there is hardly a public utterance of any of these three sovereigns, which is not marked throughout by a deep religious tone, and by a degree of familiarity with the Almighty which would be blasphemous were it not so manifestly sincere. This hereditary tendency towards religion was, to a certain extent, obliterated by the education which William received, and which was of a nature to dispose him to be both a materialist and a free-thinker. He may be said in fact to have been brought up in an atmosphere of Renan-ism and Strauss-ism, for which his extraordinary and mercilessly clever mother, Empress Frederick, was largely responsible, and at the moment of his marriage it looked as if he were destined to figure in history as quite as much of a philosopher, and even atheist, as Frederick the Great, for whom he professed the most profound veneration.

It was Countess Waldersee who revived all the inherited and latent religious tendencies of his character.

Up to the time when he ascended the throne, Prince William and his consort were constant and devout attendants at the prayer-meetings held in the salons of the countess, and if he remains to this day a remarkably religious man, with a sufficient regard for scriptural commands to have shown himself a more faithful husband than any other prince of his house, either living or dead—if, to-day, piety is fashionable at the court of Berlin instead of being bad form, if the building or endowment of a church, or of a charitable institution, is regarded as the surest road to imperial favor, it is due to the influence of William's American aunt, the daughter of that New York grocer, the first Princess Noer, and who is to-day Countess of Waldersee.

It is natural that the influence exercised over William and his wife by the countess should have given rise to the utmost jealousy, especially on the part of his mother, Empress Frederick, and during the hundred days' reign of her lamented husband, she availed herself of her brief spell of power to secure the virtual banishment of the count and the countess from Berlin, by causing the field marshal to be transferred from the chieftaincy of the headquarter staff to the command of the army stationed in Altona. Moreover, she did not hesitate to denounce the influence of the Waldersees as disastrous, as illiberal, and in every sense of the word reactionary, and if her husband, Emperor Frederick, was led to share her views concerning them, it was because of his disapproval of the movement against the Jews in which the countess had figured so conspicuously. It is a peculiar fact that although Emperor William has always remained on the most affectionate terms with the Waldersees, and never loses any opportunity of manifesting the warmth of his affection for them, he has never repealed the decree of banishment to which they were virtually subjected during his father's reign. He has transferred the field marshal from one post to another, but he has never appointed him to one which would admit of his coming back to live in Berlin. I cannot help thinking that the emperor resented the imputation that he was subject to the sway of his wife's aunt, and was offended by the articles which appeared at one moment both in the German and foreign press intimating that she was the power behind the throne. He is sufficiently jealous of his dignity to object to be considered as subject to the influence of anyone, be it man or woman, and one of the chief causes of the dismissal of old Prince Bismarck was precisely because so long as he remained in office there was a disposition to regard the kaiser as a mere puppet in the hands of the old statesman.

It is this aversion to being considered as swayed by any other influence than his own that has led the emperor on so many occasions to adopt a course diametrically opposed to that urged upon him by his clever and masterful mother, a woman with the most powerful intellect and the least tact to be found in all Old World royalties. It was this, too, that led the emperor to banish, just a trifle unjustly, the pretty and dashing Countess Hohenau from his court. She had been guilty of no indiscretion with regard to him. She had done nothing wrong, and she was not only a brilliant ornament of the imperial entourage, but likewise a relative of the family. But he banished both her husband and herself almost at a moment's notice, owing to the fact that in the anonymous letters circulated at the time of the so-called Kotze scandal, he was mentioned as altogether infatuated and subjugated by her beauty.

Count Hohenau is the half-brother of that Prince Albert of Prussia, who is now Regent of the Grand Duchy of Brunswick. Old Prince Albert of Prussia, his father, was married to the eccentric and half-crazy Princess Marianne of the Netherlands. Not long after the birth of the present Prince Albert, she lost her heart to such an extent to a chamberlain in her household that her husband was compelled to divorce her, whereupon she contracted a morganatic marriage with the gentleman in question, and lived and died at an advanced age only about twelve years ago.

Prince Albert, the elder, thereupon married morganatically a young girl of noble birth of the name of Baroness Rauch, whose family had for more than one hundred and fifty years occupied leading positions at the Court of Berlin. On the occasion of her marriage to the prince, she received from the Prussian Crown the title of Countess of Hohenau, and the children whom she bore to Prince Albert the elder are now known as Counts and Countesses of Hohenau. The elder of these Counts Hohenau bears the name of Fritz, and his wife, before their banishment from the capital, was one of the most dashing and brilliant figures in the ultra-aristocratic society of Berlin. No entertainment was regarded as complete without her presence, and in every social enterprise, no matter whether it was a flower corso, a charity fair, a hunt, a picnic, or amateur theatricals, she was always to the fore, besides being the leader in every new fashion, and in every new extravagance. Although eccentric—she was the first member of her sex to show herself astride on horseback in the Thiergarten—and in spite of her being famed as a thorough-paced coquette, and as a flirt, yet no one ventured to impugn her good name, until the disgraceful anonymous letter scandal; and both her husband and herself naturally resent most keenly that without any hearing or explanation they should have been banished from the court, and sent to live, first at Hanover, then at Dresden, but always away from Berlin and Potsdam, solely on account of an anonymous letter.

The sympathy of society in the affair was all with the Hohenaus, who although absent from Berlin, may be said to have taken the leading part in that great controversy which is known to this day as "the anonymous letter scandal," and which not only divided all Berlin society into separate hostile camps, but led to innumerable duels, some of them with fatal results; to the imprisonment of some great personages; to the ruin of others, and in one word to one of the most talked of court scandals of the present century. In fact, the anonymous letter affair, many of the features of which remain shrouded in mystery to this day, played so important a part in the history of the Court of Berlin during the first decade of the present emperor's reign, that it deserves a chapter to itself.

What, however, I wish specially to impress upon my readers is that in spite of the many scurrilous stories that have been circulated on both sides of the ocean concerning the alleged intrigues of Emperor William with the fair sex, since his marriage, nearly eighteen years ago, his wedded life has been singularly free from storms, and exceptionally happy. In fact, there are few more thoroughly-devoted couples than William and Augusta-Victoria, who is to-day far more comely as a woman than she was as a young girl. So domestic, indeed, are the tastes of the kaiser, so excellent is he both as a husband and a father, that his home life may be said to atone for many of his political errors and shortcomings as a monarch. His loyalty towards his consort is all the more to his credit, as the Anointed of the Lord in the Old World are exposed to feminine temptations in a degree of which no conception can be formed in this country. In most of the capitals of Europe it is in the power of the sovereign to make or mar the social position of any man, and of any woman. Social ambitions coupled with an exaggerated degree of loyalty will lead many a beautiful woman to cross that border line which separates mere indiscretion from something worse, all the more that the reputation of being the fair favorite of a monarch, and able to influence his conduct, is regarded as a title to prestige, and has the effect of converting the fair one into one of the acknowledged powers of the land.

For an ambitious woman it is something to be treated by statesmen and the representatives of foreign governments, as the power behind the throne, and provided this power is wisely exercised, the intimacy of the lady with the monarch is regarded by high and low with something more than mere indulgence.

History has given so lofty a pedestal to Madame de Maintenon, that there are many women who are eager to emulate her rôle in present times, and to likewise figure in history. That is why royal personages, and especially kings and emperors, are exposed to such extraordinary temptations.

Most women put forth all their charms and powers of fascination to captivate the attention, and, if possible, the heart of their sovereign, who is, after all, but human. That is why Emperor William deserves so much credit for having remained true to his wife, and why Emperor Francis-Joseph of Austria merits so much indulgence in connection with the indiscretions which had the effect of keeping him for so many years parted and estranged from his lovely consort, the late Empress Elizabeth.

While on this subject, it should be stated that for many years past, probably for the last decade, the life of Francis-Joseph has been free from affairs of this kind, for it is hardly possible to treat in the light of a scandal his association with that now elderly actress, Mlle. Schratt, since it is virtually tolerated, accepted and, so to speak, recognized both by the imperial family and by the Austrian people. Indeed the only persons who have ever taken exception to this intimacy have been Herr Schoenerer, and some of his anti-Semite colleagues who, to the indignation of every one, gave vent three years ago to their spite against their kindly old sovereign by calling attention in the Reichsrath to the alleged questionable relations between the sovereign and the popular and veteran star-actress of the Burg Theatre.

Herr Schoenerer, who was formerly a baron, but who was deprived of his title by the emperor at the time when he was sentenced to a year's imprisonment for a violent and unprovoked assault upon a Jewish newspaper proprietor, declared in the legislature, to which he had been elected on emerging from jail, that public opinion was becoming outraged by the impropriety of the conduct of the emperor. The scene which ensued defied description. Schoenerer was suspended, and had not steps been taken to assure his protection, would have been subjected to very violent treatment by the vast majority of the house, which is intensely loyal to the emperor, and the members of which resented criticism of his majesty's twenty years' friendship with old Frau Schratt Even the late empress herself did not regard as serious or dangerous her husband's association with the actress. This is shown by the fact that on two separate occasions she honored Frau Schratt with a visit at the actress's villa near Ischl. At the Austrian Court it is generally understood that whatever may have been the nature of the intimacy of the monarch and the actress in the past, it is now nothing more than a platonic affection between two old friends, the emperor being accustomed to spend half an hour or so with this witty and amiable lady nearly every day. The actress is a great favorite with the people at large, on account of her devotion to the emperor, and for her tact in declining to take any undue advantage of the favor which he accords to her. Indeed, the degree of indulgence with which Austrian society, as well as the masses, look upon this intimacy maybe gathered from the fact that one of the most—popular photographs on exhibition in the windows of the leading picture-shops at Vienna, and at Pesth, is a snapshot, showing the kindly-faced old emperor and the sunny-tempered old actress seated in the most domestic fashion opposite one another at a breakfast table with the actress's pet dog on a chair midway between stage and throne.

CHAPTER III

It was on the evening of June 7th, 1894, that a carriage, the servants of which wore court liveries, drew up at the entrance of that old building on the avenue known as "Unter Den Linden," which serves as a military prison of the Berlin garrison. From this equipage alighted two men, each of them a well-known figure in the great world of the Prussian metropolis. The one in uniform was General Count von Hahnke, chief of the military household of the emperor, while the other, who was in civilian attire, was Baron von Kotze, master of ceremonies at the court of Berlin, one of the most well-to-do and jovial of bons vivants, and who up to that time had stood so high in the favor of the reigning family that his sovereign was accustomed to address him by his Christian name, and by the so familiar equivalent pronoun in German of "thou."

Shortly afterwards General von Hahnke reappeared alone, entered the carriage hurriedly, and drove back to the palace. On the following morning it became known that Baron von Kotze had been suddenly arrested, and lodged in the military prison by personal order of the kaiser, and without the warrant of any tribunal or magistrate, either military or civil.

While the general public was speculating as to the cause of this mysterious and startling disciplinary measure against a nobleman so well known and so prominent in every way as Baron von Kotze, the court gossips were rubbing their hands, chuckling with satisfaction, and congratulating themselves on the fact that success had at length crowned the efforts made to bring to book the author of the hundreds of anonymous letters that had been circulated in the great world of Berlin during the two preceding years.

Gradually the circumstances which had led to the arrest of Baron Kotze became public property, and people both at home and abroad were made aware for the first time of the existence of a scandal which for over four-and-twenty months had set court and society by the ears, and which had caused every man and woman to regard with suspicion not merely their acquaintances, but even their most intimate friends and nearest relatives. No one, with the exception of the emperor, the empress, and the widow of Emperor Frederick, can be said to have been altogether exempt from this reflection on their honor. For among those who were at one time most strongly suspected of being the author of these letters were the eldest sister of the kaiser, Princess Charlotte, and the only brother of the empress, Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein.

Color was given to these suspicions by the fact that many of the anonymous letters contained remarks and information that manifestly emanated from the imperial family, while some of the views expressed in the letters were known not merely to have been shared, but even to have been uttered in conversation by the prince and princess in question. What gave still further weight to these suppositions was the extraordinary fact that incidents which had occurred within what may be described as the most intimate circle of the court,—incidents, indeed, of which no one could be aware, save royal personages themselves and those few chosen friends and associates who were with them at the time when the incidents in question occurred,—were revealed a few days later in the anonymous letters, twisted and distorted in such a manner as to admit only of the most shameful interpretation.

Added to this was the knowledge that there are few women at the Court of Berlin more cruelly satirical or have a keener sense of ridicule than Princess Charlotte, or any more inveterate gossip than Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein.

The anonymous letters had literally spared no one, not even that most blameless and excellent of women, the Empress Augusta-Victoria; nor was there anybody of mark who had not received at least several of them. But for some reason or other which was not understood at the time, they seemed to be imbued with an especially relentless and savage animosity against the charming Countess "Fritz" von Hohenau, who must not be confounded with her less attractive sister-in-law, Countess "Willy" von Hohenau; for whereas the latter is by birth a princess of Hohenlohe and a niece of the imperial chancellor of that ilk, Countess Fritz is by birth a Countess von der Decken, and rejoices in the Christian name of Charlotte.

If Countess Fritz has one weakness which in any degree lends itself to unfriendly criticism and ridicule it is the pride which she manifests in her relationship through marriage to the reigning house of Prussia, and in her being the sister-in-law of that Prince Albert of Prussia, who is regent of the Duchy of Brunswick, her husband, Count Fritz von Hohenau, being a half-brother to Prince Albert. It is owing to this very innocent weakness of the countess that she was nicknamed "Lottchen von Preussen," or "Die Preussiche Lotte" that is to say "Lotte of Prussia" and at least a third of the hundreds of anonymous letters confided to the mails during the period extending between 1892 and 1896 were filled with the most scurrilous remarks concerning the unfortunate "Lottchen von Preussen."

The letters imputed to the countess almost every crime under the sun. Inasmuch as her husband's principal friend was Baron Schrader, who was of course frequently seen in her company at the races and at the opera, it naturally followed that she was charged with an altogether questionable intimacy with him. In fact, she was accused of sharing her favors between him and the emperor, and in the letters that reached both the kaiser and his consort, it was asserted that she was, moreover, in the habit of constantly boasting among her friends about the influence which as "Sultana" she was able to exercise over the ruler of the German Empire.

It was on the receipt of one of these letters that the emperor without a moment's warning abruptly ordered Count and Countess Fritz Hohenau to leave Berlin and to transfer their residence to Hanover. The count and countess were not long in discovering the cause of their disgrace, and bitterly incensed, at once resolved to leave no stone unturned in their efforts to discover the culprit.

In this determination they were supported by the "Willy" von Hohenaus, by the various members of the Hohenlohe family, by Baron Schrader, Baron Hugo Reischach, chamberlain to the Empress Frederick, Prince and Princess Aribert of Anhalt, the latter being a granddaughter of Queen Victoria, Prince and Princess Albert of Saxe-Altenburg, and last, but not least, Baron von Tausch, the chief of the secret police attached to the particular service of the emperor.

I have already mentioned that suspicions had at first been directed against the empress's only brother, Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein. Somehow or other, probably through reading the detective novels of Gaboriau, Baron Schrader became imbued with the idea that the most successful manner of discovering the identity of the suspected writer of the anonymous letters would be to carefully examine the blotting-pads which either he or she were in the habit of using. Accordingly, Countess Fritz von Hohenau took advantage of the admiration and devotion entertained for her by Count Augustus Bismarck to induce him to bring to her the blotting-pad habitually used by the duke, to whose household he belonged, as chief aid-de-camp. The count, very reluctantly, it is true, brought to Madame von Hohenau, the said blotting-pad, and it was immediately submitted to a most careful and even microscopical examination by her husband, herself, and their friends. But in spite of every effort it was impossible to discover the slightest analogy between the writing of the anonymous letters and the impressions left on the blotting-pad of the duke. The countess and her assistants in this queer task, therefore, came to the conclusion that they would have to search in a different direction.

It is impossible to say with any degree of certainty how suspicion was then directed towards Baron Kotze. But I am under the impression that his name was first mentioned in connection with the affair by Baron Schrader, who like himself was a Master of Ceremonies of the Court of Berlin. The vast wealth enjoyed by the Kotzes, as well as the extraordinary favor manifested towards them by the emperor and the members of the reigning family, had not unnaturally rendered them objects of no little jealousy on the part of other personages belonging to the court circle. The exceedingly sarcastic and malevolent tongue of the Baroness Kotze, and the somewhat coarse flavor of the ever-ready jest and quip of her jovial, loud-voiced, hail-fellow-well-met mannered husband did not tend to render the couple very popular.

Baron Kotze's mother had been an heiress in her own right as the daughter of the court banker, Krause, while the baron's wife is the daughter of that extraordinary old General von Treskow, who for so long commanded the division of Guards, and whose reputation as one of the bravest and most dashing officers of the war of 1870, alone saved him from the ridicule which his corseted waist, his painted cheeks, his dyed moustache, and his youthful wig, would otherwise have excited. While he himself has no drop of Jewish blood in his veins, both his daughter, Madame Kotze, and her brother possess the facial features of the Semitic race in a most marked degree, and despite their protestations to the contrary, have undoubtedly Hebrew ancestors, if not on the father's side, at any rate on that of the mother. Old General Treskow was very rich indeed, his country seat at Friedrichsfeld being one of the most magnificent country seats in the neighborhood of Berlin.

During the early years of the reign of Emperor William, his eldest sister, Princess Charlotte, and her husband, Prince Bernhardt of Saxe-Meiningen, occupied a lovely little palace, or rather, I should say large and roomy villa on the outskirts of the Thiergarten, at Berlin. Among their near neighbors were Baron and Baroness Kotze. Little Ursula Kotze, the daughter of the baroness, was precisely of the same age as Princess Fedora of Saxe-Meiningen, the only child of Princess Charlotte, and the two young girls soon became inseparable friends. The relations thus established soon extended to the parents, and while Princess Charlotte,—herself disposed to satirizing and ridiculing everybody, and like many royal personages, passionately fond of gossip, especially when spiced with scandal,—found never-ceasing entertainment in the witty comments of the baroness about the social events of the day, and in her reports of the latest stories current concerning mutual acquaintances and friends, Prince Bernhardt, in spite of his seriousness, and his fond predilection for Hellenic research, could not help laughing and enjoying the merry sallies of Baron Kotze. In fact, the Kotzes ended by becoming the most intimate friends of the princely Saxe-Meiningen couple, whose taste for their society was eventually shared by the Empress Frederick to a degree that excited the utmost jealousy and ill-will of her chamberlain, Baron Reischach. The latter was, therefore, only too ready to accept the view expressed by his friend. Baron Schrader, to the effect that Baron Kotze was the author of the anonymous letters.

I think that it was in the latter part of 1892 that the Prince and Princess of Saxe-Meiningen, having made up their minds to visit Greece and the Holy Land, invited Baron and Baroness Kotze to accompany them. Some quarrel, however, took place between the princess and the baroness during this trip, which they did not complete together, and when they took up their residence once more at Berlin the formerly so intimate relations between the two families ceased absolutely. It was about this time that it became known that Princess Charlotte either during her trip to the Orient, or just before she started, had in some unexplainable manner lost the diary in which she had, like so many members of the fair sex, been accustomed to describe her daily impressions, and to the pages of which she was wont to impart sentiments and opinions that she did not venture to confide to anybody else.

For a considerable time after the return of the princess from the Orient the anonymous letters contained phrases and peculiarities of expression that clearly indicated Princess Charlotte, and to such an extent was this the case that those in pursuit of the sender of the missives would have ascribed their authorship to the princess, had it not been that she herself was referred to in many of the letters in a particularly savage and scurrilous manner. Baron Schrader, the Hohenaus and their friends, being aware of the existence of the quarrel between the Kotzes and the Saxe-Meiningens, naturally became more convinced than ever that it was either Baron Kotze, or his "viper-tongued" wife, as they described her, who were the culprits, and insisted that it was the baroness who had taken advantage of her intimacy with the princess to get possession of her royal highness's diary, the contents of which were now being used in so many of the letters.

What has now become of the diary it is impossible to say, but judging by the excerpts used in the anonymous letters, it must have constituted a particularly piquant volume or series of volumes! Thus there was one remark about the emperor which ridiculed "his intolerable swagger." There were also some comical references to Princess Victoria of Prussia, who was jilted by the late Prince Alexander of Battenberg, on the very eve of the day appointed for the wedding, and that for the sake of a little actress. This princess has since then married Prince Adolph of Schaumburg, who was recently ousted from the regency of the tiny principality of Lippe. "Poor Vicky" was described as being "many-sided" owing to the number of her affaires de coeur, notably those with Baron Hugo von Reischach, at that time a very handsome lieutenant of the "Garde-du-Corps," but who afterward became gentleman-in-waiting to the widowed Empress Frederick, and married one of the princesses of Hohenlohe. This flirtation between Baron Reischach and Princess Victoria formed the theme of quite a number of the anonymous letters, in which the princess was charged with every kind of indelicacy, while the unfortunate baron was ridiculed in connection with the modernity of his nobility. Other love affairs of "poor Vicky" were likewise discussed in no friendly manner, and she was represented as being to such a degree infatuated for Count Andrassy, the eldest son of the famous Austro-Hungarian statesman, that the young fellow, it is declared, was forced to resign his secretaryship to the Austro-Hungarian Embassy, at Berlin, and to flee from the Prussian Court, in order to escape from the demonstrative attentions of the princess: "If it is like this now," said one of the letters, "what in Heaven's name will it be when 'Vicky' marries!"

There were, moreover, all sorts of matters relating to the vie intime of the imperial family discussed in these anonymous communications, such as bickerings between the emperor and his mother, quarrels with his English relatives, flirtations of the younger princesses, etc., which no one could possibly have known about, save members of the imperial family, and which were just the sort of thing that Princess Charlotte would have written in her diary, in her witty and sarcastic manner.

In fact there was so much of the phraseology and style habitual to Princess Charlotte in the letters, that they would inevitably have been, as I remarked above, positively ascribed to her had it not been for the grossly improper and even disgusting twist and construction that was invariably added to her well-known manner of writing. Although a terrible flirt as well as a daring coquette, the princess has never been charged with anything more serious than trivial affaires de coeur, excepting by the writer of the anonymous letters.

Then too, as I have also already stated many of these letters assailed the princess herself, in the most unscrupulous fashion; an abominable and impossible story, picked up from the filthiest of Berlin gutters, impugning the legitimacy of the only child of the princess, being thus circulated far and wide. This vile fabrication alleged that Charlotte had been married off in a hurry to Prince Bernhardt of Saxe-Meiningen, in order to avoid a public scandal. It is only necessary to recall the fact that the sole child of Princess Charlotte, Princess Fedora, now married to Prince Henry of Reuss, was born twelve months after her mother's marriage, in order to show how utterly without foundation was this shameful slander. At least a dozen anonymous letters sent to the emperor and to various other personages dealt with an episode said to have taken place during a trip undertaken by the princess in Norway and Sweden. She was attended on that occasion by a Captain von Berger, and his wife, who were her gentleman and lady-in-waiting, and there was also in her suite a diminutive officer holding the rank of lieutenant, and bearing the old Silesian name of Count Schack, who acted as aid-de-camp.

According to the anonymous letters, Princess Charlotte made a kind of toy of the little officer, and behaved in a most volatile manner. There was evidence of such intense malignity in these letters against Princess Charlotte that they were attributed to a jealous woman, and that if not actually written by one, they had at any rate been inspired by a member of the fair sex.

There can be no doubt that Princess Charlotte and her husband ended by sharing the opinion entertained by the Schrader-Hohenau clique, about the letters being inspired by Baroness Kotze, and written by her husband, and it must be confessed that there was a certain amount of ground for their doing so. The blotting pads used by Baron Kotze, both at the Union Club and elsewhere, were subjected to much the same microscopic examination as those of Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein, and when at length a distinct degree of similarity was discovered to exist between the caligraphy of the anonymous letter writer and the impressions which figured on the blotting pads habitually used by Baron Kotze, Baron Schrader drew up a report on the subject, charging Baron Kotze with being the author of the letters, and presented it to the emperor. The latter hesitated a little before taking any action in the matter, and would doubtless have yielded to the advice of the minister of the imperial household, Prince Stolberg-Wernigrode, who urged him to institute a very careful secret investigation of his own before rushing the denouement, cautioning him that Baron Schrader's evidence was inadequate, had it not been for the pressure brought to bear upon his majesty by the Saxe-Meiningens and other members of his family, who were all convinced that Baron Kotze was the guilty party.

It was due entirely to this pressure that the kaiser, incensed beyond measure at the persistency and the malignity of these letters, took the extraordinary step of having Baron von Kotze arrested by the chief of his military household, General von Hahnke merely on the strength of his imperial order, dispensing with any legal warrant. That Count Hahnke should have been selected for this duty, and that a military prison, rather than the ordinary house of detention, should have been chosen for the incarceration of Baron Kotze, must be ascribed to the fact that the latter was at the time a captain of cavalry on the reserve lists, and that in a military prison the authority of the emperor, as head of the army, is supreme and absolute, which cannot be said of the ordinary civil prisons, the officers of which are subject above everything else to the tribunals and to the laws of the land.

Of course, from the very moment when the baron was arrested, the entire scandal, that is to say the existence of a conspiracy for the writing and distribution of anonymous letters, became public, and served to furnish material for articles both in the German and the foreign press on the alleged moral rottenness of the Court of Berlin. At first there is no doubt that society, and even the ordinary public, accepted the guilt of Baron Kotze as assured, and were further led to believe the story about the baroness having been the instigator of many of the letters, by her at once withdrawing to her country-seat at Friedrichsfeld, and refusing to receive anyone.

Doubts as to the baron's guilt, however, commenced to arise when it was found that in spite of his incarceration, the anonymous letters continued to be sent as before, without any interruption, while all efforts to bring home the guilt to the baron completely failed in every sense of the word. Not only did the famous expert in caligraphy, Langenbuch, declare that the handwriting of the letters had nothing whatsoever in common with that of Baron Kotze, but that those written during his incarceration were exactly similar to the others. The emperor himself received anonymous letters, describing him to be a fool for having unjustly imprisoned an altogether innocent man, and recommending him to look after his brother-in-law, Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein.

At the end of a fortnight, therefore, the military governor of Berlin, old Field Marshal Count Pape, declared to his majesty that he would do well to immediately set Baron Kotze at liberty, since there was no adequate ground for keeping him under arrest. The field marshal, however, suggested that in view of the seriousness of the charge that had been made against the baron, the only thing to do would be to hold a court-martial, permitting the baron meanwhile to reside "on parole" at Friedrichsfeld. The whole matter was thereupon turned over to General Prince Frederick of Hohenzollern, brother of the King of Roumania, commanding the metropolitan division of troops, to the reserve force of which Baron Kotze belonged.

Nine months after his arrest. Baron Kotze appeared before a court-martial, composed of a colonel, who acted as president, and eight other officers, and after a lengthy trial, during the course of which Baron Schrader acted not merely as witness against Kotze, but likewise as prosecutor, endeavoring to show analogy between the writing of the anonymous letters, and the caligraphy, not merely of Baron Kotze, but also of the baroness, the court-martial acquitted the prisoner, and the emperor not only signified his approval of the verdict, but a week later took the occasion of the Easter festivities to send to his former favorite Kotze, a huge floral piece in the shape of an Easter egg, bound with ribbons in the national colors.

William, however, refrained from intimating to Kotze his desire that he should resume his service at court as master of ceremonies, and this taken in conjunction with the fact that the procedure of the court-martial remained a secret, left a painful degree of suspicion resting upon the character of the unfortunate Baron Kotze. It is perfectly true that many of those members of the court, and of society, who had been most bitter in their denunciation of him, left cards at his residence, but the Hohenau clique still remained obdurate, and in spite of every possible intervention, persisted in regarding Baron Kotze as having been unable to clear himself completely. His most obdurate detractor remained Baron Schrader.

Kotze learning the part which Schrader had played in the entire affair, after having consulted with his friends, came to the conclusion that the injury done to him by his fellow master of ceremonies, was far too great to admit of its being expiated, or atoned for by a mere exchange of bullets on the duelling field, and he accordingly instituted criminal proceedings against him. The preliminaries to this sort of thing are exceedingly intricate and tedious in Germany, and the legal authorities having received the impression in one way or another that the public trial in connection with the scandal would be viewed with displeasure in high quarters, naturally placed every obstacle in Baron Kotze's way. Of course, having instituted legal proceedings against Schrader, he was debarred by the so-called code of honor from challenging Schrader, a circumstance of which the latter took advantage to insinuate that if Kotze had refrained from calling him to account on the field of honor, it was because he did not feel sufficiently sure of his ground.

This insinuation was taken up by Kotze's cousin, Captain Dietrich Kotze, who challenged Schrader and fought a duel with him, slightly wounding him. Kotze himself meanwhile challenged, and fought a duel with another of his persecutors, Baron Hugo Reischach, the chamberlain of Empress Frederick, and received a rather severe wound, which kept him in bed for several weeks.

As legal proceedings were pending, which were expected to eventually clear up the entire scandal, and show who was the author of the anonymous letters, it was generally assumed that Baron von Kotze could not be regarded as altogether cleared from the suspicion which rested upon him, until the case had come up for trial. Meanwhile poor Kotze remained under a cloud. Nearly nine months elapsed before the criminal authorities declared that there was no ground for a criminal suit against Schrader. Kotze thereupon endeavored to institute a civil suit, this requiring still more time, and when at length the matter came into court, Kotze was non-suited virtually without any hearing, on the ground that the statutes of limitation had disqualified him from any civil redress against Baron Schrader.

Kotze being thus frustrated in his efforts to obtain punishment for his foe and persecutor through the courts of law, came to the conclusion that there was no other means left him to vindicate his honor, but a challenge to fight a duel. His demand for satisfaction, however, was declined by Baron Schrader, on the ground that it was too late for Kotze to resort to arms, and that if he had stood in need of satisfaction of this kind, he should not have allowed so long a period to elapse before demanding it. The matter was referred to a so-called court of honor, which sustained the contention of Baron Schrader, and declared that inasmuch as Baron Kotze had by his dilatoriness placed himself beyond the power of exacting satisfaction from Baron Schrader for the indignities to which he had been subjected, he was no longer worthy to wear the uniform of a Prussian officer. This decision of the court of honor was ratified by Prince Frederick of Hohenzollern, the general commanding the division of Guards, to the reserve force of which Baron Kotze belonged, but it was annulled by the emperor, an action on the part of his majesty which led Prince Frederick to resign his command, and to withdraw for the time from the Court of Berlin.

The emperor thereupon entrusted the affair to another jury of honor at Hanover, which rendered a decision, blaming Baron Kotze for his dilatoriness in demanding satisfaction of Baron Schrader, but authorizing him to continue to wear the uniform, and to remain in the service of the emperor as an officer. This verdict was ratified by the emperor himself and on the strength thereof the long delayed duel took place between the two barons. In June, 1896, Baron Schrader was wounded in the abdomen by Baron Kotze, a wound to which he succumbed on the following day. That seemed to settle, in the minds of all, the innocence of Baron Kotze, for after spending the customary few months in nominal imprisonment for infraction of the civil laws, which prohibit the fighting of those very duels which are prescribed by the military code, he was invited to resume his service as master of the ceremonies at court, was treated once more with the utmost distinction by the emperor, while his wife spent several weeks in the autumn of that year as the guest of Princess Charlotte of Saxe-Meiningen, at the latter's country seat.

But who was the author of the anonymous letters?

That is a question with which I propose to deal in the following chapter, at the same time showing how this most sensational court scandal of the latter half of the nineteenth century led to the exodus from Berlin, and the desertion of its court by numerous royal personages and great nobles.

CHAPTER IV

To this day the identity of the writer of the anonymous letters remains a secret to the general public in Germany, as well as abroad, but it is pretty generally known in court circles at Berlin and at Vienna; and if steps have been taken by the authorities to prevent the true facts from getting into print, and the writer was merely expelled from Germany, instead of being brought to justice and sentenced to a long term of imprisonment, it is only because the culprit could not have been tried and convicted without the name of one of the greatest personages in Germany being dragged into the case.

Needless to add that the anonymous letter writer was a woman—a foreign lady of title—who for a time was one of the most admired beauties at the Court of Berlin, where, thanks to her inimitable chic, elegance and brilliancy of wit, everybody, men and women alike, were charmed. Old Emperor William, who was always very attentive to the fair sex, up to the very last, and easily smitten by a pretty face, had introduced the lady to his court without taking much trouble to investigate her antecedents or character, and of course, with such a sponsor, everyone took it for granted that she was above reproach, socially, as well as morally. She became very intimate with many of the court people, notably with the Hohenaus, the Kotzes, etc., and was even admitted to the intimacy of Princess Charlotte of Saxe-Meiningen, the emperor's eldest sister. She possibly might have, in spite of all, retained her social eminence, had she not allowed herself to be compromised, first, in the eyes of a few, and subsequently, in a more general fashion, by the only brother of the empress, Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein-Augustenburg. The association of their names ultimately became such that the great ladies of the Berlin Court, commenced to cut adrift from the fair foreigner, whose resentment at this treatment naturally became particularly bitter against precisely those with whom she had been most intimate.

Her animosity against Countess Fritz Hohenau was especially intensified by the particularly offensive manner in which she was cut by "Charlotte of Prussia," whose bitter and contemptuous remarks concerning her were naturally communicated to the foreign lady by the men who still frequented her salons. Through these noblemen and princes she was kept au courant of everything that went on at court, and there is no doubt that she was able to extract much information concerning the emperor and his family from the duke, who visited her daily, and who was infatuated by her potent and undeniable charms beyond all reason.

Of course, no one dreams to-day of accusing the duke of having knowingly played any part in the fabrication of the anonymous letters; but there is no doubt that, with his utter absence of discretion, his lack of intellectual brilliancy, and the thoroughly royal predilection for gossip and tittle-tattle, which monopolize to this day his interest, he imparted to her, in the course of his daily visits, a vast amount of news and information which she could not possibly have obtained from any one else. Dissipated, foolish and indiscreet to an incredible extent, the duke is nevertheless an honorable man, and in spite of the suspicions entertained at one time concerning him by the Schraders, the Hohenaus, the Anhalts, and the Reischachs, there is no doubt that he had not the slightest conception of the manner in which the gossip which he retailed day by day to his inamorata was used by her for the fabrication of her anonymous letters.

It was Baron von Kotze's cousin, Captain Dietrich Kotze, mentioned in the preceding chapter as having espoused the cause of his unfortunate relative with particular vigor, to whom belongs the credit of having discovered the culprit. He accomplished this more through a piece of good fortune than by design, for he was put on the right scent by a mere chance remark which he happened to overhear at a dinner party in Paris. The information which he obtained was imparted to the emperor, and the latter without a moment's hesitation gave orders that his palace police should visit the "Grande Dame's" residence during the following night, take possession of all her papers and correspondence, and convey her to a small town, near the Belgian frontier, where she was to be kept by the police under strict surveillance, without being permitted to see any one, until further orders.

It is impossible to say exactly what was discovered among these papers, but it is generally understood that the police recovered possession of the missing diary of Princess Charlotte, and obtained ample proofs of the fact that the fair foreigner was the author of all the anonymous letters.

After a twenty-four hours' detention, she was conducted to the frontier by the police, and warned against returning to Germany. If no severer measures were taken against her, it is because it would have resulted in a more or less public disclosure of the indiscreet rôle played by the duke in the matter, and likewise because she really knew too much! In fact, there is scarcely a secret pertaining to the reigning family, or to the Court of Prussia, with which she is not acquainted, and the fact that she should have refrained from making any attempt to publish them to the world, gives rise to the presumption that means of a financial character, or else some threats of terrorism, have been used to insure her silence.

At the time of the descent of the police upon her house, Duke Ernest-Gunther was staying at Lowther Castle, in Westmoreland, England, as the guest of Lord Lonsdale, and was to have gone on at the end of the week to Sandringham, to stay with the Prince and Princess of Wales. On receiving telegrams, however, from his beautiful friend, notifying him of her expulsion from Germany, he left Lowther Castle, literally at an hour's notice, and without taking leave of his host, proceeded immediately to Paris for the purpose of meeting her, in order to find out to what extent the situation was compromised. There is every reason to believe that it was not until then that he realized that the writer of the long series of anonymous letters was no other than the lady by whose fascinations he had been so completely captivated. A considerable time elapsed before he returned to Berlin. In fact, a very serious estrangement between himself and the emperor ensued, William declining to hold any intercourse with a relative whose susceptibility to feminine charms, and whose extraordinary absence of even the most elementary discretion, had contributed to one of the most painful scandals that have overtaken the Prussian Court since the close of the last century.

Not even the Kaiser's fondness for his wife, nor his anxiety to please her, could soften the anger which he felt against his brother-in-law, and when after a prolonged voyage to India and elsewhere, the duke on landing at Trieste, ran over from there to the neighboring seaside resort of Abbazia, for the purpose of visiting the German imperial couple, who were spending the early spring there with their children, the kaiser declined to receive his brother-in-law and went out shooting, so as to avoid an interview with him, the princely prodigal meeting with no one except his sister, the empress, with whom he had an interview of a couple of hours.

It is generally believed that Princess Charlotte's missing diary is to-day in the possession of the emperor, after having been seized by the police among the correspondence of Duke Ernest-Gunther's fair friend; for the former very warm affection manifested by William for his eldest sister, arising from the belief that she had been subjected to as harsh treatment as he imagined himself to have received at the hands of their mother, the imperious, masterful and immensely clever Empress Frederick, appears since the anonymous letter episode to have given way to feelings of distrust, and even dislike. Princess Charlotte and her husband have been ever since that time virtually banished from the Court of Berlin, at which they are rarely if ever seen. Prince Bernhardt of Saxe-Meiningen, was transferred to the command of the troops at Breslau, although he has but little taste for a military career, and is far more devoted to art, literature, music, and the drama, than to soldiering. At Berlin his duties as a general were more or less titular, and he had all the leisure which he required for the researches into the affairs of modern and ancient Greece, which have won for him celebrity as one of the most erudite Hellenists of the present time. He was surrounded by a congenial circle of friends possessed of the same disposition as himself, and had access to some of the finest libraries and museums in the world, while his still charming wife was the most conspicuous figure in a circle composed of all that was most elegant, witty, brilliant and clever in the so-called "Athens on the Spree" Indeed, her palace in the Thiergarten was the centre of everything that was eclectic and brilliant, and her salons were the rendezvous of all that was best in Berlin society.

Imagine, therefore, a prince and princess with tastes and dispositions such as these compelled to close up their lovely home, to bid adieu to all their friends, and to take up their residence in the dullest, most uninteresting and provincial of cities, situated in the least picturesque portion of the empire; where the only society consists of bureaucrats of the most starchy description, with no ideas beyond their office, or of impoverished landowners, belonging to the district, whose nobiliary pretensions can only be compared with the paucity of their resources, and whose conversation and even intellect is restricted to mangelwurzels, potatoes, and the different grades of fertilizers.

Breslau, to say the whole truth, is a city utterly without any attractions, either social or intellectual; the only other royal personage in the place is an eccentric Wurtemberg princess, a cousin of the now reigning King of Wurtemberg. This lady sacrificed her royal rank and prerogatives in order to marry a physician of the name of Dr. Willim, who had attended her father in his last illness. She could not, however, bring herself to descend to the social level of her husband, who is of plebeian origin, and a mere commoner, but thought that she had done enough in that direction when she contented herself with the name and title of Baroness Kirchbach, which she now bears. Of late years she has become a convert to socialism, much to the dismay and distress of her eminently respectable husband, and at the last Socialist Congress held at Breslau, took a very prominent part in the proceedings, arrayed in a blouse of flaming red.

I am very sorry to have to destroy the romance by which the name of this Princess Wilhelmina of Wurtemberg has until now been surrounded, especially that portion thereof which represents her as a lovely and interesting woman. The truth is that she is fearfully homely, both in face and figure, while her eccentricities are such that in America, for instance, she would be described as a "crank." Thus she distinguishes herself through her inordinate fondness for cats, goats and rabbits; escorted by whole herds of which she is wont to wander through the gloomy streets of Breslau. Her costumes are invariably as queer as the one in which she appeared on the platform of the Socialist Congress. Compare this strange figure so utterly unfeminine in its lack of all elegance, with the dainty, spirituelle Princess Charlotte! Yet Baroness von Kirchbach is the only lady of sufficiently lofty birth either in Breslau or in the vicinity to associate with Princess Charlotte on terms of any thing like equality!

It is probable that Princess Charlotte and her husband will be kept at Breslau, virtually exiled from the Court of Berlin, until the accession of Prince Bernhardt to the throne of Saxe-Meiningen, through the death of his aged father. It is naturally surprising that Prince Bernhardt, as heir to his father's crown, should not take up his residence in the capital of the Duchy of Saxe-Meiningen, instead of being condemned to vegetate at Breslau. The fact of the matter is, however, that the atmosphere of the Saxe-Meiningen capital is even less congenial than that of Breslau to Prince Bernhardt and Princess Charlotte, for the old duke is morganatically married to an actress of the local theatre, upon whom he has conferred the title of Baroness Helburg, and the princess finds it difficult to associate with this person.

How unrelenting William remains with regard to his sister, may be gathered from the fact that when her only daughter, Princess Fedora, was married the other day at Breslau, he himself, and the empress, pointedly avoided being present at the ceremony, although they were within a couple of hours' distance of Breslau at the time, spending the day in shooting. The slight thus placed upon Princess Charlotte and her husband was all the more marked, as not only were all the other members of the reigning house of Prussia present, but even the aged King of Saxony, the King of Wurtemberg and the Grand Duke of Hesse, had all three taken the trouble to come from long distances in order to attend the wedding, at which Queen Victoria was represented by several members of her family, who had travelled from England for the purpose. The sensation created, not only over all Germany, but even throughout Europe by the absence of the emperor and empress from the wedding of the only child of the hereditary Prince and Princess of Saxe-Meiningen, when they were actually in the neighborhood, was so great that it can only be assumed that the emperor intended to give a public manifestation of his continued ill-will towards his sister; and that his so kind-hearted and good-natured consort should have thus joined him in this act of public discourtesy, can be explained by a story current at Berlin to the effect that she, too, feels that she can neither forget nor forgive the mingled ridicule, satire and even downright contempt expressed not only about herself, but about the emperor, her sisters, and her mother in the missing diary of Princess Charlotte.

Another reason why Princess Charlotte and her husband are forced to conform themselves to the command, by means of which the sovereign keeps them almost permanently at Breslau, is that Prince Bernhardt has little or no money at all, as long as his father lives, and that the couple are, therefore, almost entirely dependent upon the allowance which the princess receives as a member of the reigning house of Prussia. Now it is the kaiser who, as chief of the family of Hohenzollern, controls all its vast private possessions, and, if at any time, a member of the House of Prussia declines to yield obedience to his orders, he is empowered by the statutes of the Hohenzollern family to suspend the allowances of those guilty of such insubordination. Thus it is greatly because they are so poor that the prince and princess invariably travel incognito when they go abroad, although it has been asserted that the kaiser carries his irritation against his sister to the extent of declining to permit her to leave Germany, save on the understanding that neither she nor her husband will anywhere exact, or receive the honors due to their royal rank.

At the time of the visit of the Emperor and Empress of Germany to Rome, during the silver-wedding festivities of King Humbert and Queen Marguerite of Italy, Prince Bernhardt and Princess Charlotte were in the Eternal City, entirely ignored by the Italian court, as well as by all the foreign royalties present. Indeed, while the emperor, and even the pettiest foreign princelets invited for the occasion, were driving about the streets and parks in royal equipages, the kaiser's sister and brother-in-law had to content themselves with the dingiest of hack cabs, and also with the rôle of ordinary sight-seers.

Those who imagine that Princess Charlotte prefers an incognito rôle to that of a royal princess are singularly mistaken. No one is fonder than she is of the prerogatives of rank, and like all clever and pretty women, she is ever eager to be the centre of attraction, and the object of much homage. She cannot, therefore, be said to relish the treatment and neglect to which she is subjected through her brother's displeasure.

In the Berlin great world the princess has always been popular, not merely by reason of her devotion to society, but because a certain amount of sympathy was felt for her in connection with the treatment which she had received at the hands of her mother. For some strange reason or other, Princess Charlotte was never appreciated by her mother, who showed her preference for her younger daughters in a very marked manner. Charlotte was always treated with a far greater degree of strictness than any of the other girls, in spite of her being vastly superior to them in intellect and in looks. Princess Charlotte is still a very charming woman, and was in her younger days a singularly attractive girl, one of the fairest indeed of all Queen Victoria's numerous descendants, but her sisters are inclined to be homely, absolutely deficient in feminine elegance or chic, and, while accomplished, are extremely dull, and not a bit sparkling or witty.

Empress Frederick always declared that her daughter Charlotte was frivolous, and as much inclined to be forward and rebellious to discipline and control as her eldest son, the present emperor. Therefore, as I have already stated, Charlotte and William were treated by their mother with exceptional severity, were snubbed on every occasion, often in the most humiliating manner, and were made to feel that Prince Henry and their younger sisters held a higher place in the maternal heart than they.

Sad is it to add that the youth of neither William nor Charlotte was a particularly happy one, and thus it is not astonishing that one as well as the other should have felt inclined to run a bit wild, like young colts, when first emancipated from the school-room. It was during the very few years that intervened between his leaving the university at Bonn and his marriage, that William obtained his reputation for dissipation. His shortcomings, due to the exuberance of youth, were exaggerated until they were transformed from very venial offences into the most mortal of sins, while in the same way the delight manifested by Princess Charlotte at the admiration and homage to which her comeliness gave rise—a very natural feeling when one recalls the snubbings and humiliations to which she had been subjected until then—were construed into frivolity and deep-dyed coquetry, altogether unworthy of a royal princess. She was taxed, too, with an absence of that simpering modesty, more or less affected, which is de mise with so many young girls in Germany and in France, when they make their début in society, and even her most harmless flirtations were condemned by her mother as grave indiscretions.

Empress Frederick became very soon imbued with the idea that it was necessary to marry off Charlotte without delay, in order to avert the danger, as she conceived it, of one or another of these girlish flirtations developing into something calculated to compromise both her dignity and her fair name. Had the princess been less hurried in this matter, it is probable that she would have found a more suitable husband, and above all one calculated to capture the fancy of a young girl, reared at a court which can boast of some of the finest specimens of manhood in the world. But she was married to the first princelet who happened to catch the eye of Empress Frederick, namely Prince Bernhardt of Saxe-Meiningen—aye, and she was hustled into matrimony in such a hurry, too, as to give a sort of foundation for some shameful and base slanders, cruelly unmerited, but which one hears even Germans who profess loyalty to the crown repeating to this day. Prince Bernhardt, though an excellent man in his way, was very far from meeting the requirements of the "Prince Charmant" fit to be mated to a princess so gay and so brilliant as Charlotte of Hohenzollern. His appearance is effeminate, his manner finicky and old-maidish to a degree. He is neither stalwart nor good-looking; he excels neither as a dancer nor as a rider, nor yet as an athlete, and he gives one at first sight the impression of being an artist or a composer, rather than a son of that grand looking old fellow, the reigning Duke of Saxe-Meiningen.

Indeed, there was at the time of the marriage but one voice in Berlin society, condemning it as having been forced upon Princess Charlotte against her inclinations by her mother. And after the marriage the poverty of the prince rendered him to such an extent dependent upon the financial assistance of his mother-in-law, that he, as well as his wife, was compelled to remain subservient in every respect to her wishes. Nor was it until William came to the throne and availed himself of his position as head of the family to grant Princess Charlotte an allowance suitable to her rank, that the princess and her husband were emancipated from the strict control of her mother, Empress Frederick.

Young married folks in America can form no conception of the extent of such tyranny, and when, some time after the wedding, Prince Bernhardt and Princess Charlotte secured permission from Empress Frederick—then only crown princess—to visit Paris, and to make a stay there of three weeks, she only gave her consent on the condition that they should be accompanied by one of her chamberlains, and one of her ladies-in-waiting who had known the princess from childhood, and whose behests the prince and princess were obliged to obey throughout their sojourn in the French capital, just as if they had been a little boy and girl, instead of grown-up and married people. Probably the happiest time of Princess Charlotte's life was the period which elapsed between the death of her lamented father and her exile to Breslau. She amused herself to her heart's content, fluttered about in Berlin like a butterfly, took a leading part in every social movement, was admired, fêted and petted by everyone, but gave her worthy husband no cause whatsoever for uneasiness, and avoided all scandals, save those contained in the anonymous letters, for which she cannot really be held responsible.

To-day she must feel that she has exchanged the unbearable tyranny of Empress Frederick for the yet infinitely more oppressive despotism of her eldest brother, Emperor William,—a despotism so harsh that it has won for her, somewhat late it is true, the kindly sympathy of her own mother,—a severity which may be said to have its source in that most dangerous of all the intimate friends and confidants of the princess, namely, that diary of hers which was stolen from her, and which is believed to be now in the possession of the kaiser.

CHAPTER V

I am thoroughly aware that the point which is likely to excite the attention of my readers to a greater degree than any other in the previous chapter, is the reference contained therein to the tyranny exercised by the monarchs of the Old World upon their relatives. In fact, it is far better in Europe to be a mere subject than a kinsman or kinswoman of the sovereign.

Even the lowliest of the lieges of the anointed of the Lord has certain constitutional rights and prerogatives which may be said to safeguard him from oppression and persecution, but princes and princesses of the blood have no such rights, and are exposed to every caprice and every whim of the head of their family, defiance of whose wishes entails exile, loss of property, even poverty and outlawry, without any redress.

Royal and imperial personages, in addition to being subjected to the ordinary laws of the land, are expected to yield blind and unquestioned obedience to another code, comprising what are officially styled the "Family Statutes" of the dynasty to which they belong. These are administered by the head of the family, who is free to construe them as he sees fit, and while they are binding upon the members of his house, they in no way can be said to constitute any limitation to the exercise of his authority. In fact, the latter is absolutely unrestricted, and extends to every phase of the life of a royal personage. Thus, a prince or princess of the blood is debarred from contracting a marriage without the consent of the sovereign, and if any union has taken place without the sanction of the head of the family, it is regarded, not only at court, but even by the tribunals of the land, as invalid, and children that may be born of the marriage bear the stigma of illegitimacy. If a marriage has received the full authorization of the ruler, and there is any issue, the children cannot be educated without the sovereign's wishes being consulted. The parents, in fact, are regarded much as if they were either minors, outlaws, or demented people, unfitted to be entrusted with the control and bringing up of their offspring, for the sovereign is ex officio the guardian of all children who are under age, belonging to the married members of his family, and his rights over the children are superior to those of the latter's father and mother.

If the boy is to have a tutor, or the girl a governess, the appointment cannot be made by the parents without their previously obtaining the permission of the sovereign, and he has it in his power to reject their nominee, and to assign some candidate of his own, who may possibly be regarded as most objectionable to the unfortunate parents, for the duty of taking charge of the education of the young people in question. The royal or imperial mother, indeed, may esteem herself fortunate if the sovereign does not insist on personally selecting the nurses of her infants: when the present kaiser was born, not merely the late Empress Augusta, but likewise all the other members of the reigning house of Prussia, and of the Court of Berlin, thought it quite right and natural that the old Emperor William should exercise his authority for the purpose of prohibiting the young mother from herself nursing her baby; on the ground that it was contrary to the traditions of the House of Hohenzollern, and a quite undignified proceeding. Fortunately, the late Emperor Frederick, who had spent much of his time at the court of his mother-in-law, Queen Victoria, and who was aware that she had nursed every one of her numerous children herself, without permitting this motherly duty to interfere with the arduous official business of the State, expostulated with his father, and persuaded him to withdraw his prohibition, much to the horror of the courtiers, and greatly to the satisfaction of the royal lady, who is now Empress Frederick.

In Austria one of the principal sources of the domestic unhappiness of the lamented Empress of Austria, was the small voice that she was allowed by the sovereign—her husband—to have in the management and the control of her own children, as long as her mother-in-law, the late Archduchess Sophia, was alive. It was only after the demise of the archduchess that Empress Elizabeth first realized in their full measure the joys of motherhood.

While on the subject of Austria, I may cite the case of the widowed Crown Princess Stephanie as another illustration of the extent to which royal parents are deprived of all authority over their children. Thus when Crown Prince Rudolph died at Mayerling, his little daughter, at that time barely six years of age, was assigned to the guardianship, not of her widowed mother, but of her grandfather. A very general belief prevails that this arrangement about the care of the little Archduchess Elizabeth, was due to a piece of animosity on the part of the ill-fated crown prince against his wife, and I have seen it stated in print that he had left a will confiding his only child to his father, and directing that its mother should be allowed no voice in its education. There is no official authority for any such statement, but no matter whether the crown prince expressed any such testamentary wish or not, the fact remains that at his death his child was bound by the statutes of the House of Hapsburg, to become the ward of the sovereign, who in this case happened to be her grandfather. Gentle and soft-hearted as is Emperor Francis-Joseph, he nevertheless exercised his authority over his grandchild in a way that cannot but have been galling in the extreme to its mother, a way, in fact, which I imagine would be beyond the endurance of any American woman. Thus he insisted upon himself appointing and selecting her governesses and teachers; he nominated her entire household without consulting her mother, and its members, as well as the girl's instructors made their reports not to Crown Princess Stephanie, but to him, from whom, also, they alone took their instructions.

It was the emperor who decided where his grandchild was to stay, where she was to spend this part of the year, and where another season, and finally he strictly prohibited her from leaving his dominions. The position of the Crown Princess of Austria since the death of her husband has been so extremely unpleasant and painful, that she has spent much of her time—indeed, at least nine months of the year—in foreign travel. The imperial family, the court and the people, hold her responsible for that domestic wretchedness which drove her so universally popular husband to his tragic death at Mayerling. Of a jealous disposition and of a temper that even at its best is difficult, she is generally understood to have driven him by her violence and injustice to seek, away from his home, the pleasures that he could not find by his own fireside.

It had been known that she had been strangely lacking in dignity in her complaints concerning his behavior, and after his death she gave cruel offence both to his parents and to the people of her adopted country by her indifference to his terrible fate, and by the frivolity with which she bore her widowhood, not a little of which was spent at the gaming tables of Monte-Carlo in the gayest mourning costumes possible; a circumstance which horrified Queen Victoria, who was at that time at Nice, and naturally cruelly embittered the bereaved and sorrowing mother, Empress Elizabeth, who, robed in deepest black, was at Cap-Martin, endeavoring to recover her health, which had been absolutely shattered by the tragedy.

All these things led to the crown princess being regarded with deep disfavor in Austria. Difficulties were raised with regard to her rank and precedence at court, and the animosity manifested towards her was such at Vienna, and elsewhere in the dual empire, that she found it preferable to spend the greater part of her time abroad. She was not, however, permitted to take her little daughter with her, and thus the young archduchess may be said to have grown up altogether away from her mother, whom she saw for barely two months of the year, and then more as a visitor and a stranger, than as a relative who had any voice in the ordering of her life.

If, then, this control of the minor princes and princesses of his dynasty is insisted upon to such an extent by the aged Emperor of Austria, the kindliest, most warm-hearted and sympathetic of old men, always prone to patient forbearance and indulgence, it will be readily understood that it is exercised to its fullest extent by Emperor William, in whose character the tendency to autocracy, and the spirit of command, is far more developed than in his brother monarch. Indeed, he not only claims the right to act as the chief guardian of the junior members of the reigning house of Prussia, of which he is the head, but likewise of the children of all those sovereign families of Germany which have acknowledged him as their emperor. Thus he insisted upon having entire control of his young cousin, the only son of the reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, declaring that his own authority must be substituted for that of the lad's father, in spite of the latter being himself a reigning sovereign, and an ally rather than a vassal.

The tragic fate of the young prince will be too fresh in the memory of my readers to need more than passing reference here. The boy, removed from parental care, was transferred by Emperor William to Berlin, with the avowed purpose of being under his own imperial eye. Unfortunately, the duties and occupations of William are so multifarious that he was unable to fulfil his very excellent intentions with regard to Prince Alfred. The latter fell into bad hands, squandered large sums of money at cards, became involved in pecuniary difficulties, and in his endeavors to retrieve them, sunk deeper and deeper into the mire, until finally Emperor William, suddenly alive to the results of his wholly-unintentional neglect of the royal lad, sent him back to his heart-broken parents, discredited, implicated in all sorts of unpleasant gambling transactions, and shattered alike in health and mind. In the midst of their silver-wedding festivities, they were forced to send their only boy off to a sanitarium in Austria, where, in spite of the close restraint under which he was kept, he managed to put an end to his life, only a few days after his arrival, prompted thereto by either physical or mental agony, no one knows which.

Small wonder, when it became necessary to find a likely successor to the present reigning Duke of Saxe-Coburg, and his younger brother, Prince Arthur of Great Britain, Duke of Connaught, was proclaimed heir, that the prince decided that it would be preferable to sacrifice his rights to this throne, rather than his rights over his only son. On being given to understand that if he accepted the position of heir apparent, his sixteen-year-old boy would become the ward of Emperor William, and that the authority of the kaiser would be superior to his own over the lad, Prince Arthur declined to have anything to do with the Saxe-Coburg succession, and abandoned both his own claims thereto and those of his son, in favor of his young nephew, the fatherless Duke of Albany. It was precisely on the same ground that the Duke of Cumberland declined to complete the agreement whereby a reconciliation was to be effected between himself and the kaiser. Born crown prince of the now defunct Kingdom of Hanover, he should have succeeded to the throne of the Duchy of Brunswick on the death of his kinsman, the late Duke of Brunswick, in 1884. The German Emperor, however, decided that he could not be permitted to take possession of the sovereignty of the duchy, nor to assume the status of one of the federal rulers of the confederation known as the German Empire, unless he recognized the latter, as now constituted, that is to say with his father's Kingdom of Hanover incorporated with Prussia. For a long time he refused to do this, but was ultimately persuaded by his brother-in-law, the late czar, and the Prince of Wales, to consent to a reconciliation with Prussia, and to accept the present condition of affairs. The arrangements were on the eve of being completed when a conflict arose between the duke and the kaiser, as to the education of the former's eldest son, Prince George. The duke wished to send him to the Vizhum College, at Dresden, where so many members of the sovereign families, and of the great houses of the nobility, have received their instruction, while the kaiser objected to this particular school on the ground that its teachings were calculated to increase instead of to diminish particularist and anti-Prussian sentiments. The duke thereupon declared that he alone was competent to judge and determine how his boy should be educated, whereupon the kaiser put forth his pretension to the guardianship of all the junior members of the sovereign houses comprised in the German Empire. Rather than consent to this, the Duke of Cumberland, who has inherited much of the obstinacy for which his great-grandfather, King George III. of Great Britain, was so celebrated, broke off all negotiations with Emperor William, and refused to have anything more to do with him, for, like his cousin, the Duke of Connaught, he would rather sacrifice his rights to a German throne than his parental rights over a much-loved boy.

But the despotism of the monarchs of the Old World is by no means restricted to this question of the control and custody of the junior members of their respective families. Every prince and princess of the latter, no matter what his or her age, or superiority in point of years to the sovereign may be, is subjected to the will of the head of the house. For instance, no Russian grand duke or grand duchess can leave the Muscovite empire without previously asking and obtaining the permission of the czar, and in the same way, the Austrian archdukes and archduchesses have to crave the sanction of Emperor Francis-Joseph, and the Prussian princes and princesses, that of the kaiser, before they can leave their respective countries for a foreign trip. Even Empress Frederick is compelled to obtain the permission of her son, the emperor, before taking her departure from Germany for England or Italy, and a few years ago when quietly enjoying herself in Paris, she was forced by a peremptory command from her son to suddenly cut short her stay in the French capital, and to betake herself to England.

To such an extent is this despotism carried that when Prince Henry of Prussia was stationed at Kiel, he had to ask his elder brother's permission before he could run up to Berlin, although Kiel is only a few hours' trip from the capital; and, as stated in the previous chapter, Princess Charlotte of Saxe-Meiningen and her husband, are kept at Breslau, except when their brother William graciously condescends to permit them to leave their home. Two years ago the emperor, for reasons which can only be surmised, and which were of a personal rather than of a political character—of which more anon—suddenly ordered his only brother Henry off to China, and a little later, possibly with the object of showing to the world that his authority extended to the ladies of his house, as well as to the men, he directed Princess Henry to join her husband at Hong Kong. As the two little boys of the princess are exceedingly delicate, owing possibly to the fact that their parents are first cousins, the poor mother was very reluctant to undertake the trip, but she was forced by the emperor to go, and had scarcely reached Hong Kong before she learnt by cable that both her little ones were prostrated by a terrible attack of diphtheria. She was not, however, permitted to return, but was kept out in China away from her children until late in the spring, and reached home well on towards autumn, to find her little ones—the youngest was but two years old—more delicate than ever, but fortunately alive.

In the memoirs of Bismarck published by Dr. Busch, there is reproduced one of Emperor William's letters, written prior to his accession to the throne, in the course of which he asks the great chancellor whether he approves of his "commanding" (the German word is "befehlen") his brother Prince Henry to make certain inquiries of the late Prince Alexander of Battenberg. William in this letter does not talk of "requesting" his brother, but of ordering him to do this. If then William, as crown prince, already took upon himself the right of ordering his brother and his sisters to do this and to do that, it may be readily imagined that he is not less peremptory in his dealings with them now that he is their emperor and king.

If they disobey him, he has various means of punishment at his command. He can banish them from court for a long term; he can deprive them temporarily, or for all time, of the prerogatives, the privileges, and the honors due to their rank; he can suspend their allowances from the national treasury, or from the family property, or can stop it altogether; he can take from them the control of any estates which they may have inherited, and confide the administration thereof to curators appointed for the purpose; finally, he can subject them to various forms of arrest, as he once did in the case of his brother-in-law, Prince Frederick-Leopold; while in very extreme cases he can place the offending relative under restraint in an asylum for the insane on the pretext of dementia, as has been done in the case of Princess Louise of Coburg, daughter of King Leopold of Belgium, and mother of Princess "Dolly" of Coburg, who is now the wife of Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein.

"Aux arrêts," or confinement to one's quarters, is the most common form of punishment inflicted by Old World monarchs upon those of their kith and kin who have failed to comply with their behests, and there is scarcely a single sovereign or prince of the blood, who has not been subjected to this species of discipline at one time or another of his career. Thus the late Emperor Frederick, prior to his accession to the throne, but long after his marriage, was sentenced to several weeks' detention in his palace under strict arrest, as a punishment for a little joke which he had played during the course of a military inspection.

He had been protesting for a long time against the tightness of the uniforms, and of the belts of the rank and file of the infantry, declaring that it impeded the movements and play of the muscles of the men, to such an extent as to deprive them of more than fifty per cent, of their usefulness. One day, during an inspection of the division of guards at Potsdam, while the troops happened to be standing at ease, he walked along the front rank of the first regiment, accompanied by a number of officers, with whom he had just been discussing this very question of equipment; suddenly, he stopped short in his walk, and extracting a piece of gold from his pocket, dropped it on the ground, and told the men nearest him to pick it up, adding that whoever got hold of it first, might keep it! Several of them made frantic attempts to bend down in order to get the money, but so tight were their uniforms and belts that they found it absolutely impossible to reach, the coin, which Emperor Frederick ultimately picked up himself, and handed to them.

"And how do you expect to win battles with soldiers hampered to such an extent as that in their movements?" he exclaimed contemptuously to the officers around him. "What greater demonstration than this is needed to prove the justice of my argument?"

The incident was reported to the then Minister of War, who immediately
lodged a complaint with Frederick's father, the result being that
"Unser Fritz," at that time Crown Prince of Prussia, was placed by old
Emperor William for several weeks under arrest in his palace!

Prince Rupert of Bavaria, the heir apparent to the ancient throne of the Wittelsbachs, was sentenced by his grandfather, the prince regent, to no less than three months' close arrest in his quarters at Munich, for having left the kingdom without permission, in order to spend three days at Paris, in fair but frail company; while the widowed Duchess of Aosta on one occasion was placed under arrest in her palace of Turin by her brother-in-law, King Humbert, because she had ventured to appear in public on her wheel wearing a pair of bloomers!

Prince and Princess Frederick-Leopold, the latter a younger sister of the Empress of Germany, have both been condemned on several occasions by the kaiser to close confinement in their palace under the most stringent kind of arrest, for having disobeyed his majesty's commands with regard to the management of their household. Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein, the brother of the empress, has been subjected to more numerous orders of arrest by his imperial kinsman than any prince of the blood now living.

Severe as are European monarchs nowadays in punishing the disobedience of the members of their families, they do not, however, venture any longer to proceed to such extremities as the father of Frederick the Great, who when the latter was still crown prince, cast his son into prison, and ordered him to be shot, merely because he discovered that he was about to leave the kingdom without his permission for the purpose of undertaking a trip to England; and there is no doubt that the crown prince would have been put to death, and thus shared the fate of his two aids-de-camp, who were beheaded before his very eyes, in the fortress prison of Küstrin, had it not been for the intervention of the ambassadors of Austria, Great Britain, Russia and France in behalf of his royal highness.

Yet another phase of this despotism, which the two kaisers,—namely their majesties of Germany and of Austria,—exercise over the members of their respective families, is the right which they claim to select and appoint the officers and ladies-in-waiting of every prince and princess of the blood. In order to appreciate what this means it must be explained that it is not merely contrary to etiquette, but absolutely forbidden by the rules and regulations instituted by Emperor William and his brother sovereigns, that any such princes or princesses should venture to appear anywhere in public without being escorted either by a gentleman or a lady-in-waiting. These attendants, who are, it is needless to state, of noble birth, may be said to constitute the very shadow of the personage to whose household they are attached. In fact a royal or imperial prince or princess cannot even cross the street, far less leave home for a ride, a drive, a walk, or for the purpose of paying a visit, or of doing some shopping without being escorted, if a prince, by a gentleman-in-waiting, and if a princess, by a lady-in-waiting, and possibly by a chamberlain as well.

Nor are the duties of the ladies and gentlemen-in-waiting confined to attendance upon their royal charges in public, for they form part and parcel of the royal or imperial household to which they are attached, and if they do not occupy quarters in the palace, at any rate they take all their meals there, since their duties commence in the early morning, and only cease late at night.

Now, human shadows of this kind are all very well when one is at liberty to choose them one's self; but it is very different when one has no voice whatsoever in the matter, and when one is forced to submit to close and intimate attendance of this kind by ladies and gentlemen whom one neither likes nor trusts. In such cases as these, the gentlemen or ladies-in-waiting are apt to be regarded in the light of spies by their royal charges, and as people appointed by the sovereign to keep watch upon their actions. It is probable that no one has suffered so cruelly in this connection as the widowed Empress Frederick of Germany. Possessed of extremely liberal views in political matters—ideas which she imparted to her consort, she found herself, within a few years after her marriage, in complete opposition to Prince Bismarck. The latter regarded her as a very dangerous opponent, and responded to her openly avowed disapproval of his political methods by using his influence with her father-in-law, old Emperor William, urging him to interfere with her management of her children; and above all, to appoint as members of her household personages with whom she could have no possible sympathy, political or otherwise, and who were, in every sense of the word, devoted to the Iron Chancellor. In fact, Prince Bismarck acknowledges in his reminiscences, as published by his Boswell, Dr. Busch, that he caused the crown princess—as Empress Frederick was then—to shed many a bitter tear, by his interference, through her father-in-law, in her domestic affairs.

Bismarck made no secret of his enmity towards Empress Frederick and her husband before the latter ascended the throne, and it is on record that he even officially insisted that secrets of state should not be confided to "Unser Fritz," for fear that the latter's consort might communicate them to her English relatives. He even went so far as to accuse her of having, during the war of 1870, betrayed to non-German relatives Prussian military secrets, which were used by the French against her adopted country, and served to prolong the conflict. These odious charges, "which have been abundantly disproved" and for which "there was not even the shadow of a foundation," are merely referred to here in order to show the intense bitterness of the personal animosity entertained by the chancellor towards Empress Frederick. Yet it was he, Bismarck, who, through the old emperor, had the right of selecting and nominating, not merely the instructors and attendants of her boys, but her own gentlemen and ladies-in-waiting—nay, even the physicians and surgeons to be called in cases of illness.

CHAPTER VI

It is to the part played by Prince Bismarck in selecting the attendants and tutors of the present emperor that must be ascribed the strained relations that notoriously existed between the kaiser and his mother during the few years immediately preceding and following his accession to the throne; while there is no doubt whatsoever that the last eighteen months of Emperor Frederick's so prematurely-ended life, were saddened and embittered by the feeling that a conspiracy was on foot to prevent his succession to the throne on the ground of the incurable malady from which he was suffering—a conspiracy in which some of the principal participants were members of his household and physicians who had been forced upon him by his father at instigation of Prince Bismarck.

If I mention this, it is not so much with the idea of evoking a very painful chapter of the history of the Court Berlin, as it is for the purpose of explaining, and in a measure of excusing, the charges of unfilial conduct brought against the present emperor, and which contributed so much to his unpopularity both at home and abroad during the early years of his reign.

I have related in a previous chapter how William, while a boy, was snubbed by his parents, and treated with considerable strictness. His father, like so many good-looking giants, utterly free from affectation and pose, believed that he saw in his eldest boy a tendency to posture, a forwardness of manner, and a disposition towards pride of rank, amounting to arrogance, which it was necessary, at all costs, to repress. Prince William, therefore, was constantly receiving setbacks, often of a most humiliating character, from his parents, and I am sorry to say that this practice of regarding him as a presumptuous youth whom it was necessary to check, extended to other European courts, so that poor William can not be said to have had an altogether enjoyable time; and in this connection it is just as well to state that the Prince of Wales and his other English relatives, took their cue from his mother in their treatment of him, a circumstance which he has neither forgiven nor forgotten. Indeed the notorious absence of cordiality between the Prince of Wales and his imperial nephew of Berlin originates with the snubs which the British heir apparent, in his capacity of uncle, felt it necessary to administer to William, when the latter was a lad, and even when he had reached manhood.

Yet it would be unfair to ascribe any undue blame in the matter to the parents of Emperor William. The responsibility must rest rather with those people with whom Prince Bismarck, acting through the old emperor, surrounded the young prince. The mission of these nominees of the chancellor was to counteract the influence of the then crown prince and crown princess over their eldest son, and this was achieved by setting the boy against his parents. Every direction or command given by Frederick or by his consort to their son was made the subject of critical discussion by the personages with whom Bismarck had surrounded him, until the latter became convinced that the judgment of his parents was at fault in almost everything that could be imagined, and that all their views, political as well as social, were thoroughly out of keeping with Prussian traditions and German patriotism.

This in itself was bad enough: but what made matters infinitely worse, was that whenever William was subjected to any reproof or discipline by either his father or mother, those composing his immediate entourage at once impressed upon the royal youth that he was the victim of the most gross and unpardonable injustice, that both his father and mother were inordinately jealous of his striking individuality, that the unmerited severity to which he was subjected was brought about by their consciousness that his intellect was superior to theirs, and that his ideas were too thoroughly Prussian to constitute anything but a serious danger to their English liberalism. The effect of influences such as these upon a high-spirited and impulsive youth, at the time entirely devoid of experience or of knowledge of the world, may readily be conceived. It naturally led to an increase of what his parents regarded as his presumptuousness and forwardness of manner, and consequently to a growth of their severity towards him. He, on the other hand, became more and more embittered by the unduly harsh and rather unjust treatment to which he was being subjected by both his father and his mother.

The persons in attendance on the imperial family, with the conspicuous exceptions of Count Seckendorff and Countess Hedwig Brühl, were careful to fan the embers of bitterness rankling in the bosom of young William whenever any opportunity offered, and thus it happened that when Emperor Frederick, while still crown prince, was discovered to be suffering from that cancer of the larynx which ultimately carried him off, the relations between parents and son were so strained as to give rise to the very widespread belief that William was the ally of his father's enemies, and a participator in the disgraceful conspiracy which ensued for the purpose of barring him from succession to the throne on the ground of his fearful malady.

As soon as the nature of the disease from which Frederick was suffering had been ascertained, his opponents, Prince Bismarck first and foremost, dug out from the most remote recesses of the family archives of the house of Hohenzollern an obsolete and forgotten law barring from the succession to the throne of Prussia any prince of the blood who was afflicted with an incurable malady. Of course, the original object of the statute in question was to enable the elimination from the line of succession of princes afflicted with hopeless insanity, or some such disease as would prevent them from administering the government, thus rendering the institution of a regency necessary. In one word, the purpose of the measure was to prevent such a situation from arising in Prussia as prevails now in Bavaria, where, since 1886 the throne has been occupied by a lunatic prince, who was incurably insane for many years before his accession to the crown, and whose dementia takes that peculiar form, which is described in the Bible as having overtaken Nebuchadnezzar. King Otto of Bavaria imagines himself to be alternately a quadruped or a bird, and when he is not browsing on leaves and grass in the gardens of his prison palace at Fürstenried, under the impression that he is a sheep or goat, he will stand on one leg in the centre of a shallow pond, firmly convinced that he is a stork, occasionally flapping his long coat-tails in lieu of wings, and greedily attempting to devour any frogs or tadpoles that may come within his reach, unless prevented by his attendants from doing so.

There have been, alas! numerous cases of insanity in the reigning house of Prussia. Old Emperor William's elder brother and predecessor, King Frederick-William IV., spent the last few years of his life under restraint, hopelessly insane, his brother and ultimate successor administering the government as regent. The late Princess Frederick of Prussia was afflicted like her brother, the last Duke of Anhalt-Bernburg, with a peculiar kind of lunacy which took the form of an invincible objection to clothing of any kind whatsoever; while one of her two sons, Prince Alexander, who died only a few months ago, suffered from a species of good-natured imbecility, which led him to offer his heart and his hand to every woman or young girl that he encountered, no matter what her age, or looks, or rank, sometimes making as many as thirty or forty offers of marriage in the same day! The above-mentioned law was created for the purpose of preventing a prince thus situated from ascending the throne of Prussia, but the family statutes evoked by Prince Bismarck and his followers certainly never contemplated the deprival of a prince of his hereditary rights of succession to the throne because of some physical ailment or infirmity. This would have been entirely contrary to the spirit and ethics of the monarchical system of the Old World; as will be readily seen when attention is called to the fact that both the late King of Hanover, and the present reigning Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, were absolutely and totally blind at the time they succeeded to their present thrones.

Prince Bismarck took the view, however, that the statute in question was sufficient to bar "Unser Fritz" from succeeding to his father, if it were once medically admitted that his malady was incurable, or if curable, that it was liable to permanently destroy the vocal chords, thus abolishing forever the power of speech.

Prince Bismarck declared that in a matter of such extreme importance, where the succession to the throne, and the life of the heir apparent were at stake, the surgeons and physicians should be selected by the State—that is, by himself—and that their verdict should be final. Chief among the medical experts whom he nominated for the purpose, was the celebrated German surgeon, Professor von Bergmann, who is as famed for his skill in the use of the knife as for his fondness in applying it in cases where it might possibly be dispensed with. Having convinced himself that the malady from which Crown Prince Frederick suffered was a cancer, he decreed that the only manner of saving the life of the illustrious patient was the extremely dangerous and almost certainly fatal operation of removing the entire portion of the larynx that was affected. This, as stated above, would have left the crown prince dumb for the remainder of his days, and according to the views of Prince Bismarck would have barred him from succession to the throne.

It is related in court circles at Berlin, that Professor Bergmann was on the point of operating upon the crown prince unknown to the crown princess, and under the pretext of making a very radical examination, for which anaesthetics were necessary, when, he was prevented at the very last moment by her imperial highness. It is even stated that she tore the instruments from his hands, and turned him out of the room with the most bitter and cutting reproaches. Whatever may be true in this bit of court gossip, it is certain that a fierce quarrel did take place between the crown princess and the great surgeon, and that the cause of this quarrel was the decision taken by the latter to operate upon the crown prince as the only means of saving his life.

[Illustration: THE CROWN PRINCESS AND PROFESSOR VON BERGMANN After a drawing by Oreste Cortazzo]

The crown princess thereupon summoned to her assistance Sir Morel MacKenzie, the greatest throat specialist in England, who throughout his long career was consulted by all the leading singers and orators of his day. MacKenzie came to Berlin, examined the crown prince, and utterly rejected the diagnosis of Professor Bergmann, and of the German physicians. He declared that the affection of the larynx, while cancerous, would not be bettered by using the knife, at any rate at that time, and that he believed the malady to be curable by treatment. Needless to add that his opinion was reviled in Germany as that of a charlatan, and that the Teuton specialists declared that the crown prince was doomed to certain death within six months, unless the operation was performed.

Fearing that some further attempt might be made at Berlin to operate upon her husband without her knowledge, or in spite of her opposition, the crown princess took him off to England, and from thence to the Tyrol, from which place they eventually migrated to San Remo. Meanwhile, the German newspapers, that is to say, those which were believed to be receiving their inspiration from Bismarckian sources, were filled with abuse of the crown princess, who was charged openly with being willing to sacrifice the life of her husband rather than her chances of becoming German Empress.

Meanwhile the crown prince became worse and worse, and while at San Remo had several fits of agonizing suffocation, to which he almost succumbed, and from the worst of which he was virtually saved by the late Dr. Thomas Evans, of Philadelphia, who displayed the utmost devotion and intelligence of treatment in the case of the imperial sufferer.

It was at this juncture that one of the most dramatic scenes which can be imagined took place in the antechamber of the illustrious patient. The crown princess received letters which informed her that Prince Bismarck had submitted to the old emperor, then himself near death, a decree for signature, transferring the succession of the throne from Crown Prince Frederick to the latter's son, Prince William, a decree which, by the by, the old emperor could not bring himself to sign. Furthermore, she learnt through the same sources that one of the principal members of her household at San Remo, in fact, one of the chamberlains in attendance, was sending daily reports of the most venomous character to Berlin, and to Prince Bismarck particularly, about everything that went on around the unhappy crown prince. Not a thing was said, not a thing done, not a change for the worse or the better in the condition of the hapless crown prince, that was not instantly reported to the chancellor, in a sense most detrimental and inimical to the imperial couple at San Remo. This traitor in the camp owed his appointment to the imperial household to Prince Bismarck, but by his charming manners, his professions of loyalty and of devotion, and his denunciations of Prince Bismarck, and of the latter's policy and ways, had completely captured the confidence of both the crown prince and crown princess.

Empress Frederick has inherited from her mother, Queen Victoria, a singularly fiery temper. Her passionate anger when she realized the base treachery to which her sick husband and herself had been subjected in their time of cruel tribulation and trouble can only be imagined by those who have the privilege of knowing her, and the scene that took place between herself and the offending chamberlain was not merely dramatical, but tragical in its fierce intensity.

It was very shortly after this that the old emperor died. If Prince Bismarck entertained any further hopes of preventing the accession of Crown Prince Frederick to the throne, they were frustrated by Prince William, who declined to be a party to any such conspiracy. Indeed, in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, I am firmly convinced that William at no time took any part, either directly or indirectly, in the Bismarckian plot to oust his so sadly afflicted father from his rights to the crown. But, on the other hand, it is certain that he was suspected by his parents and relatives of being privy to the scheme, and that he was treated with still greater hostility and lack of affection by them than previously, which naturally served to embitter him more than ever before.

Emperor Frederick's reign lasted not quite one hundred days, and throughout that period a conflict may be said to have raged around the bedside of the dying man. Both he and his wife, aware how brief his tenure of the throne was destined to be, were bent on inaugurating some of those liberal reforms and popular measures which had been the dream of their entire married life, and which they wished to see put in force, as a lasting memorial of that monarch who figures in German history to-day as "Frederick the Noble."

Prince Bismarck, and all the leading statesmen of Prussia, it must be admitted, ranged themselves against the imperial couple in the matter. They expressed profound pity for the dying emperor, but they denounced the empress with the utmost virulence for taking advantage, as they described it, of his condition to endow Germany with some of the most pernicious features of English political life, which, while all very well for Britons, were destined to prove disastrous in the extreme if applied to Prussia. The fiercer the opposition, the more resolute did both the emperor and empress become in their determination to attain their aim, before death once more rendered the throne vacant; and the position of William, who was now crown prince, became even more difficult than it had hitherto been. His political sympathies were, it is impossible to deny, with Prince Bismarck and his followers, and he could not with his training and with the influences by which he had been surrounded, ever since he had left school, but disapprove of the measures which his father and mother wished to adopt. This very naturally added to their distrust of him, and while they lavished every token of affection upon their other children, he was treated by them more as a political adversary and a personal foe than as a friend or a son.

At length the end came. The pitiful sufferings of "Unser Fritz," uncomplainingly and patiently borne, were brought to a close by a death which in his case must have been a longed-for release; and within an hour afterwards, William, the present emperor, had startled his subjects and the entire civilized world, by taking an extraordinary step, which for a long time afterwards served as a theme for the denunciation of unfilial character hurled against him both in Germany and abroad; this step being the giving of an order to the effect that the guards placed at all the entrances of the Palace of Potsdam, in which his father had breathed his last, should be doubled, that a cordon of troops should be drawn around the park walls, and that no one should be allowed to enter or leave the palace without his permission.

While there is every reason to believe that this measure was suggested to him by Prince Bismarck, yet it must be admitted that it was to a certain extent justified by the circumstances. Emperor Frederick was known to have kept a most exhaustive diary throughout his entire married life, dealing day by day with all the political questions of the hour, the secrets of the Prussian State, the incidents of court life, etc., just as they occurred. From a German point of view it was a matter of the most extreme importance that this collection of diaries should not be permitted to leave Prussia, or to reach a foreign country, for it would practically have meant the placing at the mercy of a foreign land all the state secrets of Prussia during the previous thirty years. Emperor William and Prince Bismarck had both been led to believe that Empress Frederick had made arrangements to have these books conveyed to England by Sir Morel MacKenzie, whom they both disliked as much as they distrusted him. The idea that these volumes should be in the care of MacKenzie, even during the twenty-four hours journey separating Berlin from London, was to them quite intolerable.

Before many hours had elapsed, however, the measures were relaxed. It was discovered that the diaries were no longer in the palace, and that they had been taken over to England either knowingly or unknowingly by Queen Victoria on the occasion of her visit to Potsdam, when she came to bid adieu to her dying son-in-law.

Let me add that some time later, after a considerable amount of explanation and negotiation, Queen Victoria, of her own accord, returned the cases containing Emperor Frederick's diaries to her grandson at Berlin, with the seals unbroken, taking the very sensible ground that inasmuch as there were many Prussian state secrets therein contained, their place was in the archives of the House of Hohenzollern, rather than in England.

Emperor William has never forgotten the course adopted by his grandmother in the matter, and by his manner towards her has repeatedly shown since then that he feels how greatly he can rely upon having his actions appreciated with perfect impartiality and all absence of prejudice at Windsor.

Empress Frederick was naturally deeply offended by the precautionary measures adopted by the emperor on his father's death, and saw therein a new and most insulting indication of his unfilial conduct towards herself. Nor were the relations between the mother and the son improved, but on the contrary rather aggravated by the presence of the Prince of Wales at Berlin. The latter remained in the Prussian capital for a number of weeks after the funeral of Emperor Frederick, and the English newspapers, which had been most outspoken in their criticisms of the young emperor's attitude towards his parents, did not hesitate to declare openly that if the prince was continuing his stay in Berlin, it was for the purpose of championing the interests of his favorite sister, and of protecting her from the insults of her son, and of the latter's mentor and chief counsellor, Prince Bismarck.

There were all sorts of troublesome questions cropping up between the mother and the son during the first few months of her widowhood, many of which were inevitable; for certain courses of policy upon which Emperor Frederick had embarked were disapproved by the young sovereign's constitutional advisers. Then, too, it would appear that Frederick III. had taken advantage of his brief tenure of power to unduly favor his wife and his younger children at the expense of the Hohenzollern family property in a manner that was not in consonance with the traditions of the reigning house. It was also whispered that the late emperor had lent a very large sum of money to his brother-in-law, the Prince of Wales, and it was further asserted that the then minister of the imperial household had preferred resigning his post to countenancing such a use of the money belonging to the Hohenzollern family. There was the question, moreover, of the distribution of the palaces. While William was perfectly ready to permit his mother to keep her residence at Berlin, he felt that he was entitled, as emperor and chief of the family, to the new palace of Potsdam, the finest of the lot, and the only one roomy enough for the abode of a reigning sovereign. It was, therefore, necessary that he should have possession thereof. His mother, on the other hand, took the ground that inasmuch as it had been her principal home throughout her married life, that nearly all her children had been born there, and that it was in many respects a creation of her husband's, she ought to be allowed to retain it. Of course the emperor had his way, and this but served to increase the bitterness, particularly when he issued an order to the effect that its old name of "Neues Palais" should be restored in the place of "Friedrichskron," which had been given to it by the widowed empress during her husband's brief reign.

Of course all these differences of opinion between the mother and the son were carefully intensified by Prince Bismarck, and aggravated by the continued presence of the Prince of Wales, who was regarded, probably unjustly, as largely responsible for the animosity which it was claimed was entertained and manifested by the imperial widow for her son. The newspapers took sides in the matter, and the press being very active, there is every reason to believe, in view of the wide field of German and foreign journalism over which the influences of the chancellor extended at the time, that he had a finger, not alone in the denunciation on the one hand of Empress Frederick as grasping, mercenary, and too much of an Englishwoman to be a patriotic German, but likewise in the abuse of Emperor William for unfilial conduct. Every act of his that could possibly be construed as such, was painted in the blackest of colors, especially in the English press, manifestly with the idea of conveying to the kaiser the impression that the attacks originated with his English relatives, possibly with his mother herself; and I can recall seeing at the time a story to which the London papers devoted columns, and which was made the theme of editorials, the subject of which was that the emperor had sold to a carpenter the pony-carriage and pony used by his father daring the few weeks immediately preceding his death, for his drives in the palace gardens. The story related with much detail about how the pony trap was to be seen during the week in the streets of Potsdam, laden with window-sashes, etc., while on Sunday and holidays the seat where formerly the dying emperor reclined was occupied by the "Herr Tischlermeister" and his frowsy, vulgar-looking "frau." Yet there was not a word of truth in this story. The pony-carriage used by "Unser Fritz" during the closing days of his life is preserved as a species of sacred relic in the imperial coach-house at Potsdam, while the pony leads a life of ease, idleness and equine luxury, out of regard for the fact that it had the honor of drawing the moribund monarch around the grounds of Charlottenburg and Potsdam. Inasmuch as this precious story about Emperor William's selling the pony-carriage in question first made its appearance in a London newspaper, which, as long as Bismarck remained in office, was regarded as his particular organ in the British press, being owned by a gentleman bearing a distinctly German name, there is every reason to believe that the tale in question originated with some of the journalistic myrmidons employed by the chancellor, and that its object was to embitter William against the English, against his British kinsfolk, and, above all, against his mother.

It is not without significance that the mother and the eldest son have understood one another only since the dismissal from office of Prince Bismarck. From that time the relations between the two have been of the most affectionate and cordial character. Perhaps at first there was at times a little difference of opinion, owing to the difficulty experienced by a woman of the imperious character of Empress Frederick in realizing the fact that her eldest son was no longer "her boy Willie," to be ordered about and controlled, but that he had become, not merely emancipated from her control, but her sovereign master, whose commands she is now forced to obey, and whose wishes she is obliged to consult and consider. But every year since the fall of Bismarck has had the effect of bringing the mother and the son nearer to each other.

The empress seems to have come to the conclusion that she has judged her son harshly and unjustly, prejudiced by appearances which were frequently against him; while he, on the other hand, demonstrated to Prince Bismarck that, while he was grateful to him for his services to the empire, he found difficulty in pardoning him for the advantage which he had taken of his—the emperor's—youth and inexperience to estrange him from both his father and his mother.

If I have repeated in this chapter some history that may be regarded as ancient, since it dates back to eleven and twelve years ago, it is for the purpose of relieving Emperor William of much unmerited reproach heaped upon him, as the most unfilial of royal and imperial princes in modern times. William has a warm heart, and an affectionate disposition. He shows this in the happiness of his home life, and by the tenderness of his devotion to his wife and children. If he was for a time estranged from his parents, and in particular from his mother, it was less through any fault of his, or of theirs—I repeat it—than through the intrigues of Bismarck, and of the latter's friends within and without the imperial household, who fondly imagined that they were serving the "vaterland" by keeping the parents and their son estranged from one another.

CHAPTER VII

Everyone, I presume, is acquainted with that old French saying, "Dis moi qui tu hantes et je te dirai qui tu es!" which may be rendered in English: "Tell me with whom you associate and I will tell you who you are!" While this adage is almost invariably true in the case of ordinary people, it would hardly be just to apply it where monarchs and princes of the blood are concerned. Given that every form of pleasure, of entertainment and of amusement is always within their reach, thanks to the loftiness of their station, their wealth, and facilitated furthermore by the anxiety of their courtiers both to please them and to retain their favor, they naturally soon become blasé to such an extent that they become a prey to ennui—a thoroughly royal malady, from which few, if any, of the scions of the reigning houses of Europe are exempt. "Ennui," like "chic," is a French word difficult to translate and subject to much misinterpretation, especially in the United States, where it is practically unknown. The majority of Americans are far too busy, and are environed by too much bustle and activity to experience such a thing as ennui, and even the American leisure class, still in an embryo condition, as a rule are too new to their privileges to have that feeling. To suffer from ennui implies so deep a knowledge of life, and a corresponding satiety of its pleasures, that all the ordinary routine events of existence have no longer any power to interest the mind. Ennui is not weariness nor tediousness, as described in the dictionary; neither is it boredom, for the latter differs therefrom in its not necessarily being the outcome of a high degree of civilization, which ennui certainly is.

An untutored savage of Central Africa, or of the wilds of Australia may be bored; so are many of the ignorant houris of Oriental harems and zenanas. Nay, even an energetic business man may feel temporarily bored by enforced bodily or mental inaction, or by dreary associations; but that can scarcely be described as ennui, a feeling which in the true sense of the word means being thoroughly blasé and oppressed by moral and physical satiety. You must know everything, have tried everything, have had all your personal wishes and desires satisfied, all obstacles removed from your path, and pass your way through life with the firm conviction that there remains nothing to interest or arouse your ambition in order to be a victim of ennui. The greatest sufferers from this disagreeable sensation are, as I have just remarked, the royal and imperial personages of Europe, and although the emperors of Germany and Austria have the greater portion of their time taken up by the business of the State, and the administration of the government of their respective countries, yet neither of them is exempt from ennui. Indeed, there are no princes whose features betray to such an extent unmistakable evidence of ennui, as those of the imperial house of Hapsburg, while Emperor William's choice of many of his friends is guided by the powers which they may possess to entertain him, and to deliver him in his hours of leisure from that dreaded complaint. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, and there are several of Emperor William's cronies who owe the friendship of their sovereign to kindnesses which they rendered, and devotion which they displayed to him, in the days prior to his accession to the throne. But in the majority of instances, the sometimes strange selection of friends made by the emperor is attributable to the fact that the personages to whom he accords his favor succeed in amusing and entertaining him during the time that he is not occupied with the cares of his empire.

Conspicuous among friends of this particular character, is Baron von Kiderlen-Waechter, who holds the rank of minister plenipotentiary in the diplomatic service of Germany, and who was recently, and possibly still remains, Prussian envoy to the Court of Denmark, but who is known in the imperial circle at Berlin by the nickname of "August," that being the "sobriquet" given to the clowns belonging to variety-shows and circuses in England, Austria, and France. In fact, he certainly occupies among William's immediate circle of cronies and associates the position of court jester, and the emperor makes a point of taking the baron along with him whenever he goes on his annual yachting trips along the coast of Sweden and Norway. The latter is the life and soul of these imperial yachting parties, his witticisms, his antics, and, above all, his inimitable talent for mimicry keeping even the sailors of the Hohenzollern in continual roars of laughter. Yet he can be grave and dignified on state occasions, and when one sees him at the Court of Berlin arrayed in full uniform, his breast covered with decorations, it is difficult to realize that this imposing-looking diplomat is the principal partner of the autocrat of Germany in such juvenile games as "Hot Cockles," which is a very favorite game on board the Hohenzollern, and in which the kneeling and blindfolded victim receives a terrific spank or smack, and then has to guess, under the penalty of ridiculous forfeits, who it is that struck him!

No one would ever have dreamt of finding any fault with this intimacy between the emperor and the baron, had it not been for the fact that the latter laid himself open to charges of having taken advantage of the imperial favor won by mimicry and practical joking, to further political and personal intrigues in which he was interested. Indeed, he was repeatedly accused in the German press of being largely responsible for the manifestation of animosity between the Court of Berlin and Friedrichsrüh that characterized the last eight or nine years of the life of Prince Bismarck. The newspapers did not hesitate to assert that the baron, who had formerly been one of the confidential secretaries of the old chancellor, had deliberately fomented the irritation of the kaiser against the veteran statesman, believing that any reconciliation between the monarch and his former chancellor would entail the baron's disgrace. Finally, the abuse of the baron in the Berlin press became so pronounced that he was virtually obliged to challenge the editor of one of the most vituperative of the metropolitan sheets, and very gallantly lodged a bullet through the shoulder of this "knight of the quill!"

For this escapade the baron was condemned to three months' imprisonment by the courts, duelling, as has been intimated already, being forbidden by law in Germany. His incarceration in the military fortress of Ehrenbreitstein on the Rhine was absolutely unprecedented. Ambassadors and envoys have in times gone by been imprisoned by sovereigns to whose courts they were accredited, in defiance of all the laws of international right regulating the intercourse between civilized powers, but this was the first occasion of a government taking the unheard-of step of jailing one of its own envoys.

Fortunately for the baron, the King of Denmark was, before his accession to the throne, an officer of the German army, and as such was disposed to regard with the utmost leniency the offence for which his excellency was condemned to imprisonment. He realized that the baron had no alternative but to fight, his honor having been questioned by the paper whose editor he challenged. Although duelling is forbidden by the criminal law of Germany, under the penalty of imprisonment, yet, had the baron failed to fight, and taken shelter behind the law, he would not only have been compelled to resign his diplomatic office, his position at court, and his rank in the army, but he would have subjected himself to such odium as to have become to all intents and purposes a social outcast, and compelled to leave Germany.

Appreciating this, old King Christian raised no objections to the appointment of a chargé d'affaires, to represent the diplomatic interests of Germany at his court, during the term of imprisonment served by the minister plenipotentiary, and from the moment when the latter completed his term, and was liberated from prison, he resumed his duties as envoy at the Court of Copenhagen, just as if nothing had happened.

Another intimate friend of the kaiser, who possesses much the same talents de société as Baron Kiderlen-Waechter, and whose position in the high favor of the kaiser has been a subject of much unfavorable comment, and even of open abuse in Berlin, is Baron Holstein, popularly known as the "Austern-Freund" or "Oyster-Friend," owing to his altogether phenomenal capacity for the absorption of bivalves, and his strongly developed fondness for good cheer! Baron Holstein, like Baron Kiderlen-Waechter, was formerly one of the confidential secretaries of Prince Bismarck, and a daily guest at his table, and was treated as a member of the old chancellor's family for years, yet he became one of the most relentless foes of the Bismarck family as soon as the prince was dismissed from office.

Prince Bismarck was not the sort of man to submit in silence to the enmity of his former secretary, and a few years after his retirement to Friedrichsrüh he took occasion, during the course of a public discussion of the circumstances which led to the disgrace and ruin of Count Harry Arnim, for a long time German ambassador at Paris, to disclose for the first time in speech, and in print, the part which Baron Holstein had played in the affair. According to the prince, Baron Holstein, while first secretary of the German embassy at Paris, and though treated by Count Arnim as an inmate of his home, living in fact under his roof, and eating at his table, was in the habit throughout an entire year of sending secret reports to Berlin against the chief under whom he was serving—reports which subsequently furnished the basis of the charges upon which Count Arnim was tried, convicted and disgraced.

It is true that some mention was made in the Parisian and English press at the time of the Arnim trial of the questionable rôle which Baron Holstein had played in the affair, and there were a number of Parisian papers that did not hesitate to hold up the baron to, at any rate, French obloquy, as a man guilty of the base betrayal of the kindest and most indulgent of chiefs. The only person on that occasion who had the courage to take up the baron's defence was M. de Blowitz, French correspondent of the London Times, of which he is described on the banks of the Seine, as the "ambassador," and who possesses an immense amount of influence with the Parisian press. Blowitz's championship of the baron's cause was sincerely appreciated by the latter. He called upon the correspondent, thanked him effusively, and declared that it was his intervention alone that had made his stay at Paris possible.

During the conversation that followed, Blowitz opened his heart to his visitor, telling him that his own position as the Paris correspondent of the Times was in danger owing to some changes in the administration of the London office. A fortnight later, Blowitz received from the managing editor of the Times in London a letter sixteen pages long, addressed to Printing-House Square, and entirely written and signed by Baron Holstein. It denounced Blowitz as being one of the creatures of the late Duc Decazes, as wilfully ignoring and concealing for interested purposes of his own, a number of matters that should have found their way into the columns of the Times, and urging the managers of the latter to send to Paris some fitter and more impartial person, who would be better able to keep the great English newspaper au courant of what was going on below as well as above the surface, than so unscrupulous a person as M. de Blowitz. This letter was dated exactly three days after the latter's visit of gratitude to the correspondent, and the incident may be regarded as being in perfect harmony with the behavior of this favorite of the kaiser to both Count Harry Arnim and subsequently to Prince Bismarck.

The third of these cronies of the kaiser, to whom his subjects take objection on the ground that they are in the habit of using the favor shown to them by his majesty to further their own interests, and to injure those who, for one reason or another, have incurred their animosity, is Count Philip Eulenburg, who has been again and again referred to in the Berlin newspapers as "the Troubadour." He is at the present moment German ambassador at Vienna, whence his predecessor, Prince Reuss, was ousted in spite of the eminent services of a personal character which he had rendered to the emperor, in order to make way for the count. The latter's intimacy with his sovereign is largely due to his cleverness as a poet, a dramatist, and a composer, and while he has furnished the words to many of the musical compositions of the kaiser, William has, in turn, had much of his own poetry set to music by the count.

Philip Eulenburg has been clever enough to foster William's very pardonable weakness as to his gifts as a musician and a poet, and being a man of the most charming manners, possessed of an unusual supply of tact, and extremely accomplished in many respects, he has acquired an extraordinary degree of influence over his sovereign. Indeed it may be doubted whether there is any member of the imperial entourage who stands as high in the good graces of the German ruler as does his ambassador to the Court of Vienna.

Each year the emperor makes a point of spending a week at Liebenberg, the country-seat of the count, and it has long been a matter of comment that these visits are invariably signalized by the inauguration of some political or administrative move on the part of the kaiser. It was, indeed, at Liebenberg that the emperor decided upon the dismissal from the chancellorship of General Count Caprivi, who had been unfortunate enough to incur the enmity of the Eulenburgs.

Count Philip, who possesses a fine voice, and who during the annual yachting trip of the emperor on board the Hohenzollern, is accustomed to sing duets with the monarch, and to play the latter's accompaniments, is not, as is generally supposed, the brother, but merely the cousin of Botho, Augustus, and the late Count Wend Eulenburg. His career was almost wrecked at its very outset by an incident which developed into an international question. While stationed as a young sub-lieutenant of cavalry at Bonn, he was one day inadvertently jostled in the street by a gray-haired and rather portly stranger, whom he at once addressed in the most insulting manner. Upon the stranger responding in kind, the count drew his sabre and cut the man down, inflicting upon him such a wound that he expired a short time afterwards at the hospital. There it was discovered that he was one Ott, a Frenchman, and one of the chefs of Queen Victoria, momentarily detached from his duties at Windsor Castle, in order to attend her majesty's second son, the Duke of Edinburgh,—now the reigning sovereign of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,—during his stay on the continent. Both the queen and Prince Alfred were indignant at the outrage, which was made the subject of an acrimonious correspondence between the English, French and Prussian Governments, the result being that Count Philip was sentenced to pay heavy damages to the widow and to the orphaned children of his victim, and to undergo a year's imprisonment in a fortress.

He only joined the diplomatic profession in 1881, when he was appointed as third secretary to the German embassy at Paris, and he occupied very inferior rôles in the diplomatic service of his country until the accession to the throne of his friend and patron, Emperor William, who promoted him a few weeks later, at one bound, from the post of second secretary of the legation at Munich to the rank of Prussian minister-plenipotentiary at Aldenberg, whence he was transferred a year later to Stuttgart, then, to The Hague, and then back to Munich, as chief of the legation, which post he retained until his nomination in 1892 to the German ambassadorship at Vienna, that is to say, to the blue ribbon of the diplomatic service of the kaiser.

He is generally regarded as destined in course of time to become chancellor of the empire, in spite of the human blood with which his hands are stained.

Both the court and the public object far less to the intimacy that exists between Count Augustus Eulenburg and his imperial friend, for Augustus, who is the grand master of the imperial household and the chief executive dignitary of the court, has been the closest associate of William since the latter's earliest boyhood. He was one of those officials whom Prince Bismarck forced upon the then crown prince and crown princess, in order to keep watch over their actions and to counteract their influence on their eldest son. It was he, Count Augustus, who acted as the comforter of William whenever he was subjected to reproof or to disciplinary measures by his father or mother; who invariably espoused the lad's cause, and who contributed more than anyone else to convince William that he was a victim of the most cruel and unmerited form of parental severity and persecution. He constituted himself the mentor and the guide of the prince, initiated him into all the intricacies of the imperial court, as well as into the secrets of its most prominent members. In one word, he rendered himself so indispensable to the prince, that as soon as the latter succeeded to the throne he at once appointed Count Augustus Eulenburg to the grand mastership of the court and household.

To what extent Emperor and Empress Frederick were aware of the spirit characterizing the count's relations with their eldest son, it is difficult to say, but there is no doubt that during the last two or three years of Emperor Frederick's life, the position of Augustus in the household of "Unser Fritz" was vastly improved and facilitated by the sensational quarrels of his elder brother, Count Botho Eulenburg, the celebrated statesman, with Prince Bismarck, for both Frederick and his wife, from, that time forth, ceased to look upon Augustus as a creature and a spy of the chancellor.

How great was the intimacy between William and the count, may be gathered from the fact that Augustus was the invariable and sole companion of the emperor in that species of Haroun-al-Raschid nocturnal expeditions which his majesty was wont to undertake in the slums of his capital, for the purpose of learning what his people were saying about him. At that time, his features were far less familiar to the public than they are to-day, and by giving his moustache a different twist, and his hair another turn, he experienced no difficulty in disguising himself. The adventures which he met with during the course of these nightly prowls in the company of Count Augustus are numerous enough to fill a book. Still, while they furnished plenty of amusement, excitement, and experiences not altogether unpleasant, they involved his majesty, on one or two occasions, in so much personal danger, that the count, realizing the responsibility which would rest upon his shoulders in the eyes not merely of the nation, but of the entire world, if anything untoward happened to the monarch, induced him, though with difficulty, to abandon this species of pastime so dear to crowned heads.

Let me add that it was on the occasion of one of these expeditions that the emperor met with a very severe injury to his hand. There is an old established usage in Berlin, on New Year's eve, which prescribed that any man appearing in the street in a high or stiff hat should be incontinently bonneted, that is to say, have his hat crushed down over his eyes and ears by a blow of the fist. Emperor William, who is somewhat fond of rough horse-play, used to delight in this form of amusement, and on the first New Year's eve after his accession to the throne, he sallied forth with Augustus Eulenburg in search of adventures. Catching sight of a portly citizen of mature years walking along under the shadows of the trees that line the magnificent avenue known as "Unter den Linden," he immediately proceeded to crush the high silk hat which the man wore by a tremendous blow from his imperial fist! He was unable, however, to refrain from a cry of pain, and his companion the count, on seeing that his sovereign's hand was drenched with blood, at once summoned the two detectives who were following discreetly in the rear, and caused them to arrest the citizen. The man on being searched at the palace police station, was found to be a merchant of high standing, who, determined to get even with the practical jokers from whose brutality he himself had suffered on previous New Year's eves, had devised a sort of thick leather hat-lining, armed with long and sharp prongs, pointed outward like the quills of a porcupine. The emperor, on smashing the hat, naturally had his hand dreadfully lacerated. The citizen was kept under arrest for twenty-four hours, during which the question was discussed as to whether he should be prosecuted and punished for inflicting personal injury upon the sovereign, or not. Finally, William himself, with that good sense which so often characterizes him, gave orders for his liberation, on the ground that he could not possibly have dreamt that he would be bonneted by his sovereign, that he was, therefore, quite innocent of any intention to inflict injury upon the person of the emperor, and that he, William, had, after all, got nothing but what he deserved for playing such a prank. Moreover, in order to show the citizen that he bore him no grudge, he sent him, by way of consolation for his arrest and the destruction of his hat, a portrait bearing the autograph signature of the kaiser, as well as the words: "In memory of Sylvester-nacht."—New Year's eve is sacred to Saint Sylvester.

Count Botho Eulenburg, the elder brother of Augustus, has repeatedly held the offices of cabinet minister and Premier of Prussia. He happened to be at the head of the Department of the Interior at the time when the attempts were made by Nobiling to assassinate old Emperor William, and ever since that time has been the sworn foe of socialism, and identified with everything that is reactionary and despotic in Prussian legislation. His influence with the emperor is very great, and there is no doubt that he has contributed in a great measure to the somewhat extravagant views which the kaiser entertains with regard to the Divine Rights of monarchs, and especially concerning their responsibility, not towards their people alone, but also towards the Almighty.

Count Botho's quarrel with Prince Bismarck, originated in the following manner. The count, in accordance with a decision reached at a cabinet meeting, spoke as Minister of the Interior in the Prussian Diet in favor of placing the communal councils under the provincial board, instead of under the central government. He had no sooner sat down than a member arose and said that he was instructed by the Prime Minister, Prince Bismarck, to disavow the view taken by the Minister of the Interior. This extraordinary action of the prince was due to the fact that he had suddenly decided upon coquetting with the Liberals, for the sake of obtaining their support upon the subject of another of his little inaugurations. Count Botho immediately sent in his resignation, and did not resume office until after the disgrace of Prince Bismarck. Previous to this quarrel, however, as I have already stated, the most intimate relations had subsisted between the Eulenburgs and the Bismarcks. Indeed, Countess Marie, only daughter of Prince Bismarck, was at one time betrothed to Wend, the youngest of the three Eulenburg brothers. Three days before the day fixed for the wedding, the young man was suddenly seized with typhus, and forty-eight hours later succumbed to this awful disease. Countess Marie, it may be added, subsequently married Count Rantzau, after having been between times engaged to Baron Eisendecker, once German envoy at Washington, and now the kaiser's adviser in yachting matters, whom she jilted in consequence of differences of religious opinion.

So much for the Eulenburgs, who may be said to constitute the most influential family at the Court of Berlin, and without a description of whom no history of the life and surroundings of Emperor William could possibly be regarded as complete.

Other cronies of the kaiser, who are less influential in a political sense, and, therefore, less obnoxious to the people, are Counts Douglas, Count Dohna, and Count Goertz. Public attention, however, has often been drawn to the friendship of the kaiser for the Dohnas by the frequency of the imperial visit with which Count Richard Dohna is honored at his superb old château of Schlobitten, and likewise by reason of the fact that on two occasions William almost lost his life through carriage accidents which he sustained while out driving with the count.

[Illustration: THE RUNAWAY AT PROECKELWITZ After a drawing by Oreste Cortazzo]

The Dohnas are one of the most ancient houses of the old German nobility, and Schlobitten, with its grand old park, shaded by glorious trees, has been in the possession of the family since the fourteenth century. The castle, as now arranged, is only two hundred years old, having been reconstructed on the site, and with the ruins, of an ancient monastery and dwelling. The name of Dohna is recorded in the most important pages of Prussian history. Statesmen, generals, and in particular, confidants and cronies of their successive rulers have borne that name, and there is not a king who has reigned over Prussia, and previous to that an elector who has ruled over Brandenburg, who has not stayed at the castle of Schlobitten and occupied the antiquated four-poster bed, in which the present emperor sleeps whenever he makes a visit there.

Count Richard Dohna is a great breeder of blooded horses, a magnificent whip, and the accidents which happened to the kaiser, while out driving with him, were merely due to the fact that in each case the horses were too young, and not sufficiently broken in. On one occasion, the drag was upset into a ditch not far from Schlobitten, the kaiser and the count being severely bruised and shaken up; while at another time a splendid team got beyond the control of the count, smashed harnesses and pole, and dashed helter-skelter into the little town of Proeckelwitz, where they were fortunately stopped without further mishap.

The intimacy of the kaiser with the Dohna family serves to recall the fact that there was a daughter of this house, Countess Anna Dohna, who claimed to have become the wife of the late Emperor William. She lived for a time in London, Geneva, and then in New York, and was wont to style herself Countess Dohna-Brandenburg, having added the name of Brandenburg to that of Dohna by reason of this alleged marriage.

While in New York she lived in a large house in Lexington Avenue, which she furnished handsomely, and she never seemed to be in want of money. According to her own story she met the late Emperor William in 1825, during the lifetime of his father, King Frederick-William III., when she was sixteen years of age. After several clandestine meetings, she claimed that they were married late one night at Clegnitz, in Silesia, by a young country parson. The latter did not know the prince, who gave the name of William Count Brandenburg, and his occupation as that of an officer of the Royal Guards. The marriage certificate was duly made out, and then her husband told her that it would be expedient to keep their union secret for a time. To this she reluctantly assented.

When at length, urged by her entreaties, her husband revealed their marriage to his father, King Frederick-William III., he flew into a terrible rage, forced him to sign a renunciation of the countess's hand, and she was conveyed to a small castle near Königsberg, in East-Prussia, where she was kept a close prisoner for years. In 1837, always according to her story, she succeeded in escaping, and crossing the Polish frontier reached Warsaw, where in the following year she was recognized at a state performance of the opera given by Czar Nicholas, in honor of the King of Prussia and Prince William, who were visiting the Russian Court.

She was arrested at the theatre, and on the following morning conveyed to Eastern Russia, where she was kept under strict surveillance until the death of Frederick-William III., in 1840, led to her release. She was then permitted to return to Prussia, and the new king, Frederick-William IV., offered to compromise the matter with her. This she refused to do. Her father's death placed her in possession of a large fortune, and she spent several years in travelling.

In 1848 she intended to appeal to the Prussian National Assembly for justice, but the police got wind of it, and she was interned in her château in Silesia. On William becoming King of Prussia, she was given the alternative of leaving the country or of becoming an inmate of a lunatic asylum, so she transferred her abode to Paris, and after living for awhile in London and Geneva, came to New York in 1876.

The truth of this story having been questioned, it may be mentioned that the Prussian Staats Anzeiger, or official Berlin Gazette, of June 4, 1829, contains the following royal decree:

"By order of his majesty the king, Anna Countess Dohna having claimed to be the wife of Prince William of Prussia, I hereby decree that such a union if it ever took place, be null and void.

"FREDERICK WILLIAM, Rex.

"ANTHONY VON ALTENSTEIN,
"Secretary of State."

I have seen it mentioned both in German and foreign publications that the three Counts of Brandenburg, two of them distinguished generals, and the third for many years Prussian envoy at Brussels, were the issue of the union of Countess Anna Dohna and old Emperor William of Germany. But this is not true; for their father, a famous premier and soldier, of whom a fine statue exists at Berlin, was the son of King Frederick-William II. of Prussia, and his morganatic wife, the Countess of Dohenhoff.

With regard to Count Douglas, I may state that the kaiser's intimacy with him dates back to many years prior to his accession to the throne. Like his twin brother, Count Louis Douglas, the Swedish statesman, who until a few weeks ago occupied the post of minister of foreign affairs at Stockholm, Count Willie Douglas may be said to have royal blood in his veins, for his father, old Count Douglas, now dead, married the morganatic daughter of a royal princess of the reigning house of Baden. On the old count's death, William, the elder of the twins, inherited his mother's vast property, while Louis, the younger, took possession of his father's estates in Sweden.

William was educated in Germany, is an officer of the Prussian army, as well as a member of the Prussian House of Lords: Louis was brought up in Sweden, entered the Swedish army, became chamberlain to the Crown Prince of Sweden, married the daughter of Count Ehrensward, late minister of foreign affairs at Stockholm, and eventually succeeded to his father-in-law's post at the head of Sweden's foreign office. Like his twin brother in Prussia, he is exceedingly conservative, imbued with the necessity of retaining the old feudal prerogatives, and of placing every obstacle in the way of the rising tide of democracy. Indeed, whatever influence he exercises over the King and Crown Prince of Sweden, is as reactionary as any influence which his German brother may be said to enjoy over the kaiser.

The Douglas twins are descended from the great Scotch family of Douglas, and are therefore allied to the Duke of Hamilton and the Marquis of Queensberry. Their ancestors emigrated to Prussia from Scotland at the time of the Thirty Years' War, fought under Gustavus-Adolphus, and afterwards returned with him to Sweden, where they became members of the Swedish nobility. Count Willie, like his brother, displays all the hereditary traits of the Scotch house that bears his name, having the peculiar jaw, falling underlip, and dark complexion of the celebrated "Black Douglas." Yet neither of the twins speaks a word of English, nor has ever visited the land of his sire, though they bear the Douglas motto of "Do or Die." Count Willie has few British sympathies, but some British tastes, being famous as a four-in-hand whip, and as a magnificent shot. He is also very hospitable, and entertains at Berlin in a right royal fashion, his wealth, derived from the mines which he owns in the Hartz Mountains, enabling him to do so without hesitation on the score of expense.

It is no secret that Emperor William has, on two or three occasions, offered a cabinet office to his friend William Douglas, who has, however, invariably declined it, much to the relief of those who are convinced that the same peculiar moral and psychological affinity exists between the Douglas twins as that attributed to the Corsican brothers. It would have been, they declare, a dangerous experiment to have had one of them directing the foreign policy of Germany, and the other that of the kingdoms of Sweden and Norway.

It may interest my American readers to add that a few years ago Count Willie Douglas was the defendant in an extraordinary lawsuit at Berlin which had an American end to it. It seems that some thirty years ago a man of the name of Brandt died in the United States, leaving a fortune of several millions of dollars. Having no near relatives in America, the lawyers advertised for any heirs that he might have left behind him in Germany. The father of Count Douglas was at the time burgomaster of the little town of Aschersleben, and one day some of the inhabitants of the place bearing the name of Brandt placed a lot of papers in his hands, asking him to glance over them, and to see whether there was any truth in the statement that they were heirs to an immense fortune in America. The old count, in his capacity of burgomaster, declared that the affair looked to him very questionable, that he believed it was a mere swindle, and that there was surely nothing in it for them. Whether he returned to them the papers or not, is unknown, but he declared to the day of his death that he had restored them, whereas the Brandts of Aschersleben swear that he did not. Eventually, they brought suit against his son, not merely for the recovery of the documents, but likewise for the fortune, actually alleging that the latter had been appropriated by old Count Douglas, with the connivance of the late Prince Bismarck, who had received a large share of the plunder. It is scarcely necessary to state that they were non-suited.

Emperor William's intimacy with Count and Countess Goertz may be said to be a sort of inherited friendship, the count's father, president of the Hessian House of Lords, and his consort, a princess of Sayn-Wittgenstein, having been the most intimate friends of Emperor and Empress Frederick, whose acquaintance they made through the late Grand Duke and Grand Duchess of Hesse. In order to show the affectionate relations existing between the parents of the kaiser and those of the present head of the ancient and illustrious house of Goertz, it is merely necessary to state that Professor Hintzpeter, who for a number of years directed the education of Emperor William and his brother Henry, and who, as their old tutor, retains much influence over both the imperial brothers, was selected by Emperor and Empress Frederick for the purpose, on the personal recommendation of the late Count and Countess Goertz, in whose family he had resided for a number of years as tutor to their son.

In fact, the present Count Goertz, who is some eight or nine years the senior of the emperor, can boast, like the latter, of having been a pupil of old Hintzpeter, who in some respects is the German counterpart of the late Czar Alexander's tutor, M. Pobietnotzoff. That William shares the confidence placed by his parents in the Goertz family is shown by the fact that when he found it necessary, at one time, to obtain the services of a tutor for one of his young relatives, in a case, it must be added, of particular delicacy, he at once nominated to the post Professor Krenge, who at the time was tutoring the sons of the present Count Goertz. Countess Goertz is a woman of great beauty, which she may be said to have inherited from her mother, the so-celebrated Countess of Villeneuve, wife to the Brazilian envoy to the Court of Brussels, and renowned throughout Europe on account of her loveliness.

Although the admiration which the kaiser displays for the fascinating countess is of the most undisguised character, it fails to excite the jealousy either of his consort or the count, and the relations between the empress and the countess are so close that the former has been known to lend to her friend articles of jewelry, and even of dress, for use at fancy dress balls and elsewhere. The emperor and the count are also as united and unrestrained with each other as two men can be who have the same tastes, who have been intimately acquainted since childhood, and whose parents have been close friends before them. It is doubtful whether William ever enjoys himself so much, or feels so thoroughly at home, as when visiting the Goertzes at Schlitz. There his days are spent in shooting and hunting with the count, and the evenings in composing new melodies, and setting songs to music with the countess. The emperor's children and the young Goertzes are bound by equal ties of affection, and are old-time playmates, so that there seems every likelihood of this friendship between the Hohenzollerns and the former reigning sovereign house of Goertz being continued in the third generation.

No account of the emperor's private life can be properly written without including a brief sketch of General Count von Hahnke, and of Baron von Lucanus. The former is the chief of the military cabinet of the emperor, and the other is at the head of his civil cabinet, that is to say, he occupies the post of principal private secretary. Both of them accompany the emperor wherever he goes, and in fact constitute his very shadow, enjoying by reason of their proximity to the sovereign, and by their close association with him, a far greater degree of power and influence than any cabinet minister.

Baron Lucanus is an extremely good-looking man, whose popular nickname at Berlin, namely, "the emperor's Blackie Man," is in nowise due to any swarthiness of complexion, but to the fact that among the great dignitaries in attendance on the emperor, he is the only one in civilian attire, while moreover he is invariably selected by the sovereign to convey to any cabinet minister, whose resignation is required, the imperial intimation "that he has ceased to please."

It was Baron von Lucanus who communicated to Prince Bismarck the emperor's request and subsequent peremptory command for the surrender of the chancellorship of the empire, and it was he, too, who was sent to ask Bismarck's successor, General Count Caprivi, for his resignation; in fact, there has not been a single ministerial head to fall during the last ten years—and they have been very numerous during the present reign—where Herr von Lucanus has not been the imperial emissary of these evil tidings. This is so well known in Berlin that the moment the baron is seen to be calling at the residence of any distinguished statesman who happens to be in office, it is at once taken for granted that the axe has once more fallen, and that it is another case of a ministerial downfall.

The Berliners declare that Emperor William pitches upon Lucanus for these particular jobs in consequence of his being the son of a Halberstadt druggist, and as such, more likely to be proficient in the art of sugar-coating the bitter pills than any mere military officer! He owes his patent of nobility to the late Emperor Frederick, who entertained a very high opinion of his intelligence, and it is worthy of note that he first came to the fore in the entourage of the emperor when Prince Bismarck's power as chancellor commenced to wane. He is a man of about fifty, and served for a quarter of a century in the Department of Public Worship. It was, however, as an expert in art matters, and as an intelligent assistant in the organization of the Imperial Museum of Science and Art at Berlin, that he first attracted the notice and good-will of the late emperor, and particularly of the Empress Frederick.

His military colleague, General Count von Hahnke, although a charming man, is, nevertheless, one of the most bitterly-hated officers of the German army; this is due to the fact that he has virtually usurped the prerogatives and the power of the minister of war, who has been reduced to a mere instrument of his wishes. This is not altogether the fault of the general, for the emperor insists on retaining absolute control of the army in his own hands, and of exercising its command in every particular, no appointment being made without his initiative and sanction, while everything is done through Count Hahnke as supreme head of the military cabinet of his majesty.

A few years ago the general lost his son under singularly tragical and somewhat mysterious circumstances. The misfortune occurred during one of the annual yachting trips of the kaiser, young Hahnke being a lieutenant on board the yacht. According to the official version, the young officer met with his death while coasting down a mountain road at one of the Norwegian ports at which the yacht had touched, his bicycle getting beyond his control, and precipitating itself with its rider over a low stone parapet into a fierce torrent hundreds of feet below. The emperor happened at the time to have a bruise on the face, caused by a block and tackle swinging against him during a squall, while on deck, and on the strength of this temporary disfigurement, a story most painful to the emperor was circulated to the effect that his black eye was due to a blow from young Hahnke, who resented some indignity in connection with the practical jokes and rough horse-play so frequent on board the Hohenzollern during the emperor's annual holiday. It was added that the young officer had been given by military and naval etiquette the alternative of blowing out his brains, or of taking his life in some other way, as the only means of saving his name from disgrace and his honor from loss; and a certain degree of color was given to the tale by the fact that it was published at full length in a London society newspaper, at the very time when its proprietor and editor was sojourning at Marienbad with the Prince of Wales, and in daily intercourse with the British heir apparent, who was naturally supposed to know the truth about young Hahnke's death. Perhaps the most striking and convincing evidence of the absurd fabrication of this story, which has given much sorrow, both to the emperor and empress, is to be found in the fact that the young officer's father remained at the head of the emperor's military cabinet, and has never abandoned, even temporarily, his service near the kaiser; this the general would certainly not have done had William been in any sense of the word responsible for the death of his boy. In fact it was the kindly and tactful sympathy of both the emperor and the empress that enabled the bereaved father to bear his loss with fortitude, and his gratitude for the kindness shown to him by his sovereign is of a deep and undying quality.

CHAPTER VIII

Great is the contrast between the Court of Berlin to-day and the aspect which it presented during the closing years of the reign of old Emperor William, and were any of the latter's familiars to return to the place where so much of their existence had been spent, they would indeed find themselves amidst strange surroundings and strange faces. In those days, grey and white hair were the rule rather than the exception. To-day the contrary is the case, and not merely do the dignitaries of the court and of the army belong to a younger generation, but also the members of the imperial circle, that is to say, the princes and princesses of the blood, with whom the emperor and empress associate as kinsfolk and near relatives.

The few older members of the reigning house of Prussia who survive—the contemporaries of the grandfather and father of William II.—find the atmosphere of the court so different from what they have been accustomed to in the past, so out of keeping with their ideas—in one word, feel themselves so little at home there, that they prefer to stay away as much as they can. Thus Prince Albert of Prussia, one of the grandest looking soldiers of the imperial army, and certainly one of the most gigantic in stature, divides his time between Brunswick, where he holds a court of his own as regent, and England, where he is accustomed to spend his holidays. The widowed Princess Frederick-Charles lives nearly all the year round in Italy with her chamberlain, Baron Wangenheim, whom she is understood to have morganatically married, and in whose company she occasionally visits the pope, a circumstance which has led to the rumor that she has joined the Church of Rome. The widowed Empress Frederick is either at her lovely castle of Kronberg, near Homburg, which is stocked from garret to cellar with those art treasures of which she is one of the finest connaisseuses in Europe, or else is traveling about in Italy, Austria or England. Indeed the only contemporary of the old Emperor who still remains at Berlin, and who is occasionally to be seen at court, giving one the impression of a spectre of the past, is Prince George, who bears a startling resemblance to the old kaiser particularly when arrayed in uniform.

While slightly eccentric, he is remarkably accomplished, and has not only written a number of German plays over the pen-name of "George Conrad," which have been successfully staged in Germany, but is even the author of a drama written in the purest and most exquisitely correct French, sparkling with Parisian wit and brilliancy, which has had long runs in many theatres without either the actors or the public being aware that it was from the pen of a prince of Prussia.

Until the war of 1870, Prince George was on terms of the utmost intimacy with the de Goncourts, the Dumases, de Girardin, and all the principal literary lights of France, with whom he was wont to foregather on a footing of artistic equality each year at Ems, a German watering-place much frequented by the French prior to the great struggle of 1870; of course, since that time his intercourse with French people has been much more restricted, and through a feeling of delicacy and tact, with which he is not usually credited, he has refrained from visiting Paris, or even from setting his foot on French territory since the war. This, however, has not prevented him from keeping himself au courant of every literary and dramatic event that takes place on the banks of the Seine, and a French academician of my acquaintance who was presented to him last summer at Ems, and who spent several days there in his company, could not sufficiently express his amazement, not merely at the extraordinary purity of the prince's French, but likewise at the amazing manner in which he seems to have kept track of everything that has happened at Paris in the world of letters and art, as well as of the French idioms, figures of speech, and even witticisms of the present day.

The delicacy which Prince George manifests with regard to the French people, and his fear lest his admiration for them should be misinterpreted, is largely due to the treatment that he received at the hands of Empress Eugénie at Carlsbad, in 1874 or 1875. Having been a frequent and welcome guest at the Tuileries during the reign of Napoleon III., the prince, when he found that the widowed empress had arrived at Carlsbad, and had taken up her residence at the very hotel at which he was staying, naturally considered that he could not do otherwise than take some notice of her presence; if he affected to ignore her, he would have exposed himself to the reproach of gross discourtesy; at the same time he felt that any public form of attention might prove unwelcome to her, and might possibly serve to impair her son's prospects of recovering his father's throne; so he contented himself with sending her every day magnificent baskets of flowers, and with bowing to her with the utmost deference, but without attempting to accost her when he met her in the gardens or park. He likewise caused it to be intimated to her secretary, M. Pietri, that if at any moment she felt disposed to accord him an audience, he would be only too glad of the opportunity to "lay his homage at the feet of her majesty." That was all. Yet such as it was, the empress managed to turn it to political account, for she suddenly left Carlsbad, making it known throughout France, by means of the press, that she had been compelled to quit the baths, and to interrupt the cure, in consequence of the undesirable attentions which Prince George of Prussia persisted in forcing upon her. Naturally, the newspapers made the most of her story, and were filled with denunciations and abuse of the prince, some of the sheets asserting, by way of explanation of his conduct, that he was mentally unbalanced, his mother having been an acknowledged lunatic, and his brother. Prince Alexander, an imbecile. Nothing can be further from the truth. It cannot be denied that he has a few harmless and kindly eccentricities which would attract no attention whatever in an ordinary septuagenarian, but which excite comment merely by reason of his rank as a prince of the blood. He is a gentle, brilliantly accomplished, chivalrous old fellow, without an enemy in the world, and is a great favorite with the emperor's children, who will deeply miss him when he passes over to the majority, and is laid to rest in the family vault of the house of Hohenzollern.

With this exception, the princes and princesses of the blood of the Court of Berlin are all of much the same age as the emperor. They comprise Prince Henry, his only brother, who is due home from China in the spring of 1900, and his consort, Princess Irene of Hesse, sister of the young czarina. Then there is Prince Frederick-Leopold, the extremely wealthy son of Prussia's celebrated cavalry general, Prince Frederick-Charles, to whom belonged the credit of taking the French stronghold of Metz, in the war of 1870. He is married to a younger sister of the empress, and is, therefore, not only the cousin, but likewise the brother-in-law of the kaiser.

Prince Adolph, of Schaumburg-Lippe, although nominally stationed at Bonn, is also accustomed to spend the entire season at Berlin, with his wife, Princess Victoria of Prussia, a sister of the kaiser. The latter is credited with the intention of investing Prince Adolph with the regency of Brunswick, should it be vacated by Prince Albert, or else of appointing him Viceroy of Alsace-Lorraine. Princess Aribert of Anhalt and her husband, too, are very conspicuous figures in the imperial circle, the princess being a special favorite of the kaiser. She is his first cousin, being the offspring of Queen Victoria's daughter Helena, who married Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, the guardian of the present empress, who spent much of her girlhood in England with Prince and Princess Christian, so that her friendship with Princess Aribert may be said to date from childhood. Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein, the only brother of the empress, has quieted down to a great extent since his marriage a year ago to Princess Dorothy of Coburg, and inasmuch as his eighteen-year-old wife appears to be supremely happy, there is every reason to believe that he has demonstrated the truth of the good old adage, according to which "reformed rakes make the best husbands!" The only daughter of the King of Wurtemberg has made her home at Potsdam and at Berlin since her marriage to the Prince of Wied, and as she is not only the cousin, but likewise the most intimate friend of the young Queen of Holland, the kaiser finds considerable political advantage in lavishing tokens of his affection and regard upon both her and her husband.

Another young couple belonging to the Court of Berlin are Prince and Princess William of Hohenzollern. The princess is a daughter of the Sicilian branch of the house of Bourbon, while her husband is the eldest son of that Leopold of Hohenzollern, on account of whose election to the throne of Spain in 1870, France embarked upon her disastrous war with Germany. Young Prince William of Hohenzollern, it may be added, figured for a time as Crown Prince of Roumania, and as heir to the throne of his uncle, King Charles; but after living for some time at Bucharest, he came to the conclusion that life in Roumania as crown prince was infinitely less agreeable than that of a scion of the house of Hohenzollern at Berlin, so he renounced his rights to the Roumanian throne, and came back to Berlin to live.

His younger brother, Charles of Hohenzollern, divides his time between Berlin and Potsdam; he is married to Princess Josephine of Belgium, daughter of that Count of Flanders, who is brother and next heir to King Leopold. Besides these, there are Prince and Princess Albert of Saxe-Altenburg, and several other young couples belonging to the junior sovereign houses of the German empire, who prefer to make their home at Berlin, and at Potsdam, rather than in the smaller and infinitely less brilliant capitals of their respective countries. Moreover, it has now become the fashion among the various non-Prussian rulers of the German Confederation, to send the junior members of their families—the young men—to Berlin for a time, in order to complete their military education under the eyes of the kaiser, and to be in touch with that general staff which is virtually the Supreme Council of War of the German army.

It is for this reason that Prince Louis of Bavaria, although he notoriously dislikes the kaiser and resents his assumption of superiority, claiming that the members of the Wittelsbach family are not the vassals, but the allies of the emperor, nevertheless has sent first his eldest son, and then each of his younger ones in turn, to spend a year or two at the Court of Berlin, under the immediate direction and eye of the kaiser. Prince Louis was particularly anxious that his eldest son, Rupert, as future King of Bavaria, should get in touch with the emperor, and become thoroughly acquainted, not only with Prussian methods, but also with the leading statesmen and generals, and with the trend of political aims and aspirations at Berlin. The example of Prince Louis has been followed by all the other petty German sovereigns, so that there are always about a score of non-Prussian but German young princes of the blood, giving life and gayety to the Courts of Berlin, and Potsdam, and taking a leading part in Berlin society.

Among the princes there is none, however, who possesses so striking an individuality as William's only brother, Henry. His assignment to the command of the German naval forces in the far Orient a couple of years ago, created much comment and speculation, being construed by many, both in Germany and abroad, as a banishment resulting from the kaiser's jealousy and dislike of the very popular Sailor Prince. I do not believe for one moment that this supposed jealousy exists, although everything that can possibly be conceived has been done, unintentionally and intentionally, to create it, in a manner which I will describe a little further on.

The reason of Prince Henry's being sent to the far Orient was of a twofold character. In the first place, the Chinese Empire seemed to be on the eve of a break-up, and each of the various Great Powers of Europe, was exerting its utmost energies to secure the lion's share in the game of grab in progress at Pekin. Scions of European royalty who visit China and Japan are few and far between, and the emperor very naturally thought that the presence of Prince Henry at the head of the German naval forces in Chinese waters—a prince who in addition to being the kaiser's only brother, is brother-in-law to the Russian czar, and a grandson of the Queen of England,—would have the effect of giving to the cause of Germany in the Orient an importance and a prestige which would atone for the inferiority of its naval strength in that part of the globe. Then, too, the emperor is generally believed to have foreseen the conflict between Spain and the United States, and to have known beforehand of the intention of the latter to make a dash upon Manila, in order to secure possession of the rich and fertile Philippine archipelago at the first outbreak of hostilities. Germany's navy is of such relatively recent origin that its flag-officers are far from possessing either the spirit of resource, or the cleverness and diplomacy for which the commanding generals of the German army are so distinguished. They are men who, officially, intellectually, and socially, are of an inferior calibre, the majority of them being of plebeian birth. The emperor held, therefore, that it was all-important that Germany's squadron in the far Orient should be, at that particular juncture, under the command of an officer such as Prince Henry, who, by reason of his royal rank and his intimate knowledge of his brother's views and wishes, would have the necessary boldness, tact, and presence of mind to know exactly how to deal with any crisis that might arise.

I am perfectly aware that there is a disposition in the United States to blame Prince Henry for the bad feeling which was caused by the attitude of the German warships at Manila during the few months that followed the great American naval victory gained under the guns of that city, but the trouble was due to the Prussian rear-admiral, Diederichs, who, to use the expressive phrase of the English captain, Sir Edward Chichester, in endeavoring to excuse him in the eyes of Admiral Dewey, "had no sea-manners," and there is no doubt that had Prince Henry been at Manila, instead of Diederichs, at that moment, there would have been no friction whatsoever, either between the naval commanders, or subsequently between the two nations, for Prince Henry possesses precisely those qualities which would have resulted in feelings of good-will and friendship with Admiral Dewey. He is modest, honest, broad-minded, speaks English perfectly, and is entirely free from any affectation or pose. He is a man, indeed, who has so many qualities in common with Dewey that it is impossible that they should not have understood each other, and under the circumstances it is most unfortunate that the prince happened to be in the northernmost portion of the China seas at the very time that the battle of Manila was fought. It may be remembered that matters went on very much more smoothly between the Germans and the Americans at Manila after the withdrawal of Admiral Diederichs.

There was another very important reason for sending Prince Henry to Manila; he is, of all the members of his house, the one most strongly imbued with liberal and progressive ideas in political affairs. In fact, he seems to have inherited all those political views of his father, Emperor Frederick, which were a source of so much concern and apprehension to the late Prince Bismarck. To tell the truth, the political views and aspirations of Henry are diametrically opposed to those of his elder brother, a circumstance which does not, however, in any way impair the affection existing between the two.

At the time when he sent off Prince Henry to China, the kaiser was far from well, and was suffering more than usually from the painful malady of the ear already referred to, and which is identical with the disease which first of all wrecked the mind and then killed his grand-uncle, King Frederick William IV. Added to this, he is firmly imbued with the idea that he is destined to meet with a sudden death at the hands of an assassin, a conviction which never leaves him, and which is perhaps responsible for that species of stern and even aggressive air with which he, gazes at the cheering crowds when he rides home at the head of his troops through the streets of Berlin or of Potsdam after a day spent in military manoeuvres on the great plains of Tempelhof.

If any of my readers feel disposed to condemn him for this apprehension,—it would be unjust to style it fear,—let them try to imagine how they themselves would feel if they knew that there were scores of desperate men and women who had sworn to take their lives by means of bullets or explosive bombs, fired or hurled from the centre of some dense crowd, which would destroy the life of the victim of such an outrage without a moment's warning, or without being able to even so much as raise a hand in self-defense.

Now at the time when Prince Henry sailed for China, the young crown prince was sixteen years of age; that is to say, he lacked two years of the attainment of his majority. Had anything untoward happened to the kaiser during the minority of the crown prince, Prince Henry would, according to the laws of the house of Hohenzollern and of the Prussian constitution, have been appointed as regent until his nephew came of age. Prince Henry's right to the regency, as nearest male relative, was one of which he could not be deprived, save by altogether exceptional and questionable methods, which both policy and fraternal affection forbade the emperor to employ. Yet he realized that were Henry to be entrusted with the regency he would change in the most radical fashion the course of the ship of state; would introduce measures dear to the late Emperor Frederick, but to which he, the kaiser, was unalterably opposed, and would, in short, undo everything that he himself had done; so that when eventually the crown prince came of age there would be no longer any possibility of his continuing his father's policy, a policy which the emperor has been at great pains to inculcate into his boy.

With Prince Henry at the Antipodes, there was an excuse for vesting the regency either in the harmless hands of Frederick-Leopold, or in those of Prince Albert, whose ideas on the subject of government are to a great extent in keeping with those of the kaiser. That was one of the reasons why Henry was sent off to China, and any doubt upon the subject will be removed by remembering the fact that his sojourn in the far East will terminate with the eighteenth birthday,—the coming of age—of his nephew, the young crown prince.

That such real and lasting affection should subsist between William and Henry is indeed surprising, and speaks volumes for the warm-heartedness, and I might almost say magnanimity of the kaiser's character. For everything that could possibly have contributed to render him jealous of his brother, has been done, as I remarked above.

Henry was always favored at the expense of William by his father and mother, as well as by the entire imperial family. In fact, the late emperor gave a striking expression of his preference for his younger son, when at the time of the prince's marriage to Princess Irene of Hesse, he pressed into Henry's hand a slip of paper—he could not speak any longer, owing to the awful malady which carried him off,—on which he had written, "You at least have never given me a moment's sorrow, and will make as good a husband as you have been a loving son;" and when soon after this Emperor Frederick breathed his last, it was found that he had left the major part of his fortune either to Henry directly, or to Empress Frederick, in trust for this, his favorite son.

This privileged position in the affection of his parents, aye, and it may be added in the hearts of the German people, is due in a large measure to Prince Henry's education. He was brought up, so to speak, at sea, and the moral profession is of all others the one which calls forth all the best qualities of a man, develops manliness, and diminishes pride and affectation. Before he was twenty years of age, he had twice circumnavigated the globe, visiting every corner of the earth, and carrying the flag of Germany into regions where it had never been seen before. This in itself was sufficient to interest Germans in the young prince, the first of his house to seek adventures in such far distant climes; and this healthy, manly, interesting mode of life was compared to his advantage with the somewhat dissipated existence of a young army officer, which his elder brother, prior to his marriage, indulged in at Berlin.

Occasionally, stories reached the public through the press of feats of gallantry performed by the royal sailor, such as the plunging overboard once in a squall, and at another time in shark-infested waters, to save drowning sailors; while every incident which thus became known concerning the young prince served to confirm his countrymen in the belief that he was endowed in an altogether exceptional degree with those qualities which we are so fond of ascribing to "those who go down to the sea in ships." These long sea voyages had, moreover, the effect of keeping him clear of all those court and political intrigues with which Emperor William was surrounded, as if with a very network, prior to his accession to the throne; intrigues, I may add, which since William became emperor, have been devoted to many a futile endeavor designed to create mischief between the two brothers. It is probable that they will have less effect than ever from henceforth, since William, now that his eldest boy has attained his majority, will have no longer any reason to apprehend the possibility of Henry's undoing, in the capacity of regent, all the work that he, the kaiser, has accomplished during the eleven years of his reign; indeed, now that this danger is eliminated, the two brothers are likely to become more intimate than ever, and the Court of Berlin will probably see much more of the sailor prince than heretofore. Henry is the very life of his brother's court, as he is not only extremely fond of making fun, even at the expense sometimes of his majesty, especially about the excessively earnest attitude which the emperor assumes, with regard to the most trivial questions. Absolutely unconventional, save on his own quarter-deck, he carries about with him an atmosphere of brightness and breeziness which is almost as infectious and as bracing as a whiff of sea air.

For all his love of skylarking, and the freedom of his manners, his name has never been associated with any questionable story, save by the gutter element of the Parisian press, which endeavored to drag him into the Dreyfus case by declaring that Germany's strange attitude in the affair was due to the alleged knowledge the French War Department of terrible immorality proved to have been committed by Prince Henry during frequent secret visits to Paris. Of course there is not a word of truth in these contemptible stories, and the prince's reputation as a perfect husband and a healthy-minded gentleman, stands high, even in Berlin, where people are overfond of scandalous gossip. Certainly there are plenty of stories current about the pranks that he has played, but these are all of an innocent and boyish character. The prince creates the impression of the most complete wholesomeness; his six feet of well set up manhood, his bright eyes and clear, tanned skin, seem the outward and visible sign of a thoroughly clean and sound mind; common sense, frankness, fearlessness, dignity and kindness, are written in his every feature in a way that reminds people vividly of his lamented father; while the easy movements of an athletic body, always apparently in the pink of condition, are evidently allied to the smooth serenity of a mind confident in itself, but modest with the humility of knowledge.

After having said so much that is pleasant of the prince, I must, in pursuance of my determination to give the shadows as well as the lights of my portraits, admit that there are two particulars in which Prince Henry cannot be said to shine. One of these is public speaking, and the other is shooting; he is as unfortunate in the one respect as in the other.

His only public utterance of any importance was made at the time of his departure for China, when he addressed the emperor in such extravagant terms, referring to his "consecrated majesty," and so on, that it created mingled feelings of amazement and amusement from one end of the civilized world to the other! There has always been an impression in my mind that there was in this extraordinary speech just a suspicion of a disposition to guy his brother: for not only were the terms that he used entirely foreign to his character,—their outré tenor bordering on the ridiculous,—but it is impossible for anyone who has ever heard him chaffing his seasick brother while out yachting, putting his head in at the cabin door every now and again, and calling out, "Well, Willie, how do you feel now, and what has become of your imperial dignity?" to believe that he was really serious when he so solemnly ascribed divine attributes to this selfsame Willie.

I heard that after the prince's arrival in China, where banquets were given in his honor by the German and English leading colonists, he was repeatedly asked to make a few remarks in reply to the toasts drunk in his honor, but that on each occasion he politely informed his hosts that he would see them in Jericho before he got on his feet to address them. "Only once in my life," he was wont to say, "did I make a speech, and I shall never hear the end of that to the close of my days!" A little later on, when the Shanghai correspondent of the London Times was presented to him, he himself referred to this most celebrated and oft-quoted speech by inquiring good-humoredly, and withal plaintively, "By the way, don't you think your newspapers have roasted me enough about it?"

With regard to his shooting, there is no scion of royalty who has been the cause of more gun accidents than the prince. He had not attained his majority before he managed, while shooting in the game preserves of his uncle, the Grand Duke of Baden, to wound a gamekeeper so severely that the man was crippled for life, and has since been in the receipt of a generous pension from the prince. Then in Corfu, while clambering up a steep hill, he had the misfortune to unintentionally discharge his gun, the lead lodging in a Greek gentleman who was following a few feet behind him and grievously injuring him; while at a later period he succeeded in inflicting serious damage upon a Turkish dignitary appointed by the Sultan to attend him during his shooting trips in Syria. It is of him, too, that is related the story of how, when asked as a youth of twenty, by Queen Victoria, during one of his stays at Balmoral, what sport he had had while out deer stalking, he replied proudly: "Well, grandma, I did not succeed in killing a stag, but I hit quite a number." It is recorded that there was a painful silence after this remark, and that the prince was not again urged to go out deer stalking during his stay at Balmoral!

Princess Henry is probably the least favored, both as to beauty and brilliancy of intellect, of the daughters of the late Grand Duke of Hesse, and of his consort, Princess Alice, second daughter of Queen Victoria. Her three sisters, the Grand Duchess Sergius of Russia, Princess Louis of Battenberg, and the young czarina, are renowned for their loveliness and their cleverness, the latter inherited from their talented mother; whereas Princess Irene and her brother, the reigning Grand Duke of Hesse, take far more after their father. Princess Irene was born in 1866, during the Seven Weeks' War, when her father was called upon to fight his own brothers in the Prussian army, and his brother-in-law, the late Emperor Frederick, then Crown Prince of Prussia. Her baptismal sponsors were the officers and men belonging to the two cavalry regiments under her father's special command during that war:—there is no other princess in Europe who has ever had two entire regiments of cavalry for godfathers! The name of Irene was bestowed upon her by way of gratitude for the restoration of peace, and she used always to be known in her young days at Darmstadt as the "Friedenskind," or "child of peace." After her mother's death from diphtheria, it was the latter's eldest sister, the now widowed Empress Frederick, who endeavored, as far as possible, to look after the children, and it was perhaps this that led to Prince Henry's falling in love with his cousin. The match was strongly opposed by Prince Bismarck, partly upon the ground of the close relationship of the parties, but mainly on account of his hatred for the reigning house of Hesse. But when Prince Henry declared that he would remain single all his life unless he were allowed to marry Princess Irene, consent was given, and the wedding took place at Charlottenburg in the presence of the dying Emperor Frederick, this being the last public ceremony at which he was present. One of the saddest of sights, indeed, was that presented by "Unser Fritz," almost too weak to stand, giving his voiceless blessing after the ceremony to his favorite son, and to his new daughter-in-law, who, having been born in a time of war and misery, was entering upon her new life as a wife at a time when the whole nation was once more sorrowing. While Princess Irene is perhaps less attractive than her sisters, she is more interested in philanthropic movements than any other member of her family, and at Kiel, where she makes her home, she is greatly liked, especially by the poor. She is a magnificent equestrienne, and a very clever shot, being infinitely more successful in this respect than her husband, who is so devoted to her that he bears this superiority with the greatest equanimity.

Although Prince Frederick-Leopold has certainly relieved himself from any imputation of effeminacy by the conspicuous part he took in the long-distance rides between Berlin and Vienna, and by his magnificent horsemanship, yet he does not convey to people the impression of manliness that constitutes so distinguishing a characteristic of his cousins, Prince Henry and the kaiser. He is lacking alike in virility and intellect, and seems to have no other aim and aspiration in life than to live up to his name and reputation as the leader of masculine fashion or "Gigerl König," which may be rendered into English as "king of the dudes." They say at the Court of Berlin that he is so particular about the fit of his clothes that he will never remain seated for more than five minutes at a time, not even when traveling, for fear of spoiling the crease in his trousers or of making them baggy at the knees! He does not attempt to disguise the fact that the faultlessness of his coats or of his uniforms is an object of paramount importance. These are, however, very harmless weaknesses, which are more than atoned for by the fact that he is an excellent father and husband, but the obstinacy of his temper and his vagaries as a leader of masculine fashion at Berlin have often been a source of impatience and irritation to the kaiser. It is only just to lay stress on his excellence both as a husband and a father, as all sorts of stories have been circulated, not merely in the foreign press, but also in the German newspapers, charging him with intemperance and with brutality towards his wife, who is a younger sister of the empress, such as to necessitate the intervention of the kaiser.

These stories are pure calumnies, and originate in a confusion between the prince and his father, the celebrated cavalry general. The latter, popularly known as the "Red Prince," was the commander to whom Metz capitulated in 1870, and was not only noted for his hard drinking, but likewise for his rough usage of his amiable and formerly lovely consort when he was in his cups. He is credited with having frequently beaten her, either with his fist or with his riding whip, when crazed with drink; and it is no secret that she left him on three occasions with the avowed intention of securing a separation and even divorce, and was only persuaded to return to her husband by the entreaties of the old emperor.

Of course all this was a matter of court gossip at the time, and three or four years ago the stories formerly current concerning the father, who has been dead for more than a decade, were revived with regard to his son, for no other reason than that the prince had quite frequently rendered himself subject to disciplinary measures by the kaiser. If the latter has, however, ordered him to remain under arrest in his palace at various times, it has not been as a punishment for having horsewhipped his wife when drunk, as some foreign illustrated papers would have the world believe, but only because the prince had been guilty of some neglect in military duty, or had disobeyed the wishes of the emperor in connection with the management of his household.

Thus, some two or three winters ago, Princess Frederick-Leopold was almost drowned while out skating near Potsdam; she broke through the ice, was completely unconscious when miraculously rescued by four peasants who happened to be in the neighborhood, and was only brought back to life with the utmost difficulty. The emperor and empress were naturally much concerned and distressed by this accident; but William's sympathy changed into very serious anger when he learnt that the princess had remained so long under the ice and had been dependent on the courage and bravery of the peasants who rescued her, only because neither her husband nor any of the gentlemen of his household had been in attendance upon her. In fact, she was quite alone with a lady-in-waiting, who lost her head, and was completely unable to offer any assistance when the mishap occurred. The emperor also discovered that on the previous day the princess had, without any escort whatsoever, skated alone all the way from Potsdam to Brandenburg and back, a remarkable feat, calling for much endurance and attended by no little danger. Now, as I have already stated, it is contrary to the rules of court etiquette and usage for any prince or princess of the blood to leave their residence, unattended, and it was on account of the infraction of this regulation that the kaiser sentenced both the prince and his consort to several weeks' arrest in their palace. It was this circumstance that gave rise to the ridiculous and sensational tale of the prince having been punished by the emperor in consequence of the latter having caught him in the act of beating the princess while in a fit of drunken fury.

Prince Frederick-Leopold is a great traveller, and has not only spent a considerable time in India as the guest of his brother-in-law, the Duke of Connaught, when the latter was in military command at Bombay, but, moreover, he has visited China and Japan, and devoted several months to a tour in the United States, which was wound up by some rather exciting events at Coney Island before his return home to Berlin.

[Illustration: SCENE IN DUKE ERNEST GUNTHER'S QUARTERS After a drawing by Oreste Cortazzo]

Of the bachelorhood days of the kaiser's other brother-in-law, Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein, already mentioned several times in these pages, especially in connection with the anonymous letter scandal, the least said the better. A hard-drinking, dissipated, and somewhat coarse-mannered cavalry officer, he has often been a source of perpetual anger to the kaiser and of distress to his sister, the excellent empress. He managed to get his name involved in all sorts of unsavory speculations on the stock exchange and in gambling scandals, invariably, it is true, as a victim; while at least three foreign footlight favorites were expelled from Germany by the police on account of the scandals created by his association with them. On one occasion, he even had the audacity to appear at Charlottenburg with a notorious American "demi-mondaine" seated beside him on the box of his drag, although his sister, the empress, was present at the races, as well as a large number of ladies of the court and many great dignitaries. Seeing the servants of his coach arrayed in the familiar liveries of his house, they all naturally imagined that the lady beside the duke was one of his sisters, either Princess Frederick-Leopold or Princess Fedora, and accorded to her the homage which would have belonged by right to either of these two princesses, but which was totally misplaced when conceded to a woman of such unenviable notoriety as the fair stranger who sat beside the duke. Needless to add that the emperor was furious when he heard of the affair, and after giving orders for the immediate expulsion of the woman, directed the prince to leave Berlin, and to remain at his castle of Prinkenau until he had expiated his gross and flagrant breach of the proprieties.

Duke Ernest-Gunther was a suitor for the hand of quite a large number of princesses, and among those to whom he proposed were the daughters of the Prince of Wales and of the latter's brother, the Duke of Coburg, his suit being rejected with touching unanimity in each instance, in consequence of his unenviable reputation. Yet strangely enough, as stated previously, he seems to have developed into an exemplary husband, although his marriage was contracted under circumstances which, verged on a tragedy; for his wife, a mere seventeen-year-old girl, just issuing from the school-room when he made an offer for her hand, was literally flung into his arms by both her parents, who were determined to separate from each other, and who had been informed by Emperor Francis-Joseph of Austria, and by King Leopold of Belgium, that no such step could be tolerated until after the marriage of little Princess "Dolly," the only daughter of this ill-matched couple. The betrothal took place in due course at Vienna. But before the marriage could follow, the young girl's mother, namely, Princess Louise of Coburg and of Belgium, deliberately eloped from the Austrian capital with her husband's chamberlain, the Hungarian Count Keglewitch; and what was worse, took her daughter with her. The trio fled to Nice, where they were visited by King Leopold, who after endeavoring in vain to persuade the princess to return to her husband at Vienna, discarded her in hot anger, declaring that she was no longer his daughter!

The next act in the drama was a challenge issued by Prince Philip of Coburg against Count Keglewitch, who left Nice for the encounter: the duel was fought in the army riding-school at Vienna, the commander of the metropolitan garrison and the minister of war acting as seconds to Prince Philip, although duelling is strictly forbidden by law in Austria, as it is in Germany. Prince Philip received a painful wound in the hand, and the count forthwith left to rejoin the princess at Nice. The publicity given to this duel had the unfortunate result, however, of calling attention to the presence of poor little Princess Dorothy at Nice with her misguided mother and the count, and the princess having been warned by the Austrian authorities and the French police that her daughter would be taken from her by force unless she relinquished her hold upon the child, she sent her back to Vienna, whence the girl was immediately dispatched to Dresden and placed under the care of the mother and the unmarried sister of the German empress, with whom she remained until her marriage.

Shortly after her departure from Nice, her mother was forced to take flight in consequence of the persecution to which she was subjected by her creditors; and with a shamelessness that can only be explained on the score of an unbalanced mind, she deliberately returned to Austria with her lover, and coolly took up her residence at his castle near Agram, where the count actually made preparations for a siege, in order to resist by force any attempt on the part of the authorities to take the princess from him.

Ultimately, both were captured by strategy, and while the princess was conveyed under police escort to Vienna, and lodged at the request of her husband in a lunatic asylum, on the sworn statements of two court physicians concerning her insanity, the count was placed under close arrest at Agram on the charge of grossly immoral conduct, unbecoming an officer and a gentleman. Before he had been very long in the military prison, this charge was changed to one of forgery; for it was discovered that there were notes in circulation at Vienna and Paris to the extent of more than a million dollars, which the count had negotiated, and which bore the forged signature of Princess Louise's sister, the widowed Crown Princess Stephanie of Austria.

The count of course denied that he had forged the signature, but as the fact remains that he negotiated the notes, and that Princess Louise, who, failing himself, can alone have been the culprit, is officially declared insane, and legally irresponsible, he has had to bear the brunt of the affair, and is now, after having undergone the terrible ceremony of military degradation, working out a sentence of five years' penal servitude in a fortress; doubtless comparing his fate with that of the celebrated Baron Trench, who was imprisoned for years in the dungeons of Spandau, and of Magdeburg, for having compromised the fair name of the sister of Frederick the Great by indiscreet attentions.

Princess Louise is now under strict restraint in an asylum for the insane near Dresden, and inasmuch as both her father, King Leopold of the Belgians, and her husband, have declined to pay any of her debts, public sales of her belongings, even of her dresses and her under-garments, were permitted to take place at Vienna and at Nice for the benefit of her creditors. It is only fair to the unfortunate princess to state that her entire married life has been one of uninterrupted misery, owing to the brutality and drunken habits of her husband, who is noted as one of the most dissolute princes in all Europe. In fact if court gossip at Berlin and Vienna is to be believed, the princess first became enamored of Count Keglewitch when the latter, in attendance on the princely couple as their chamberlain, interfered one day to protect her from the blows of her husband.

It was amidst circumstances such as these that Princess Dorothy was married to Duke Ernest-Gunther of Schleswig-Holstein, neither her father nor her mother being present at her marriage; the reigning Duke of Coburg, as chief of the Coburg family figuring in the place of her parents, and giving her away at the altar. That with such a father, such a mother, and with a husband of such a past reputation for dissipation and wildness, the little princess should have found happiness in marriage, is, to say the least, surprising. But the duke seems devoted to his little wife, while she on her side is completely wrapped up in her husband, and thinks him perfect, in every way.

Yet another brother-in-law of the kaiser who is a conspicuous figure at the Court of Berlin, is Prince Adolphus of Schaumburg-Lippe, married to Princess Victoria, the least attractive and least popular of William's sisters. After several flirtations of a rather sensational character with young Count Andrassy, and several other gay diplomats and noblemen, which were a source of amusement to the court, although of great concern to her mother, she ultimately fell in love with Prince Alexander of Battenburg, who at the time had just been forced to abandon the throne of Bulgaria, and who was certainly one of the handsomest and most fascinating of European princes. The prince, who was at the time, to put matters plainly, out of a job, being without fortune or future, was persuaded by his relatives, notably by his brother Henry, who had married Princess Beatrice of England, to apply for her hand; this he did, on the understanding that his marriage to her would facilitate his restoration to the German army, from which he had resigned on ascending the throne of Bulgaria; for as a general of the Prussian army, he anticipated retrieving the prestige and fame which he had lost as ruler of Bulgaria.

Prince Bismarck, however, set his face strongly against the match on the ground that it would impair the friendly relations between the Courts of Berlin and St. Petersburg, Prince Alexander being for personal reasons an object of the most intense animosity to the late czar. Indeed, it was this hatred on the part of the late Emperor of Russia that had rendered it impossible for Prince Alexander to retain his throne of Bulgaria. Old Emperor William, supported his chancellor in the matter, and while the late Emperor Frederick, at that time merely crown prince, remained quite passive, the cause of Princess Victoria and Prince Alexander was strongly championed by Empress Frederick and Queen Victoria. The controversy continued even after the death of old Emperor William, and finally, in face of the persistent hostility in the matter displayed by Prince Bismarck, and by the present kaiser, it was arranged that the couple should be married, not in Germany, but in England, at Windsor Castle, and that they should make their home elsewhere than in Germany. This, however, did not meet the views of Prince Alexander, who thus saw all his ambition for a military career in the German army frustrated instead of promoted by the union. So at the very last moment, within a few days of the date appointed for the wedding at Windsor, and after all the trousseau had been purchased and the wedding presents bought, he deliberately jilted his royal fiancee, and married at Nice, an actress named Mlle. Lösinger, an offspring of the valet and the cook of the old Austrian General Faviani.

The prince, it may be remembered, subsequently abandoned the title and status of a Prince Battenberg, secured the title of Count Hartenau from his father's old friend and comrade, the Emperor of Austria, as well as a colonelcy in the Austrian army, and died as major-general in command of a brigade at Gratz.

It was more than a year after this, that Princess Victoria found a husband in the insignificant-looking and inoffensive Prince Adolph of Schaumburg-Lippe, son of Prince George of that ilk, the prince at that time serving as Captain of Hussars at Bonn. Soon afterwards, Emperor William learning that Prince Waldemar of Lippe was dying, took advantage of the fact that he was rather weak-minded to induce him to sign a species of will bequeathing the regency of the principality at his death to Prince Adolph of Schaumburg-Lippe, the next heir to the throne of Lippe; his brother Alexander of Lippe being an incurable lunatic. On the strength of this document, which was of a purely personal character, and which was neither ratified by the legislature of the principality of Lippe, nor recognized by the federal council of the German empire, Prince Adolph, with the assistance of a couple of Prussian regiments, coolly took possession of the principality of Lippe, proclaimed himself regent, and assumed the reins of government.

According to the laws of Germany governing the succession of its sovereign houses, the regency in such a case as that presented by the principality of Lippe, should have fallen to the lot of the nearest living agnate. The latter happened to be Count Ernest of Lippe, chief of the Beisterfeld branch of the Lippe family. Prince Adolph, however, and his brother-in-law, Emperor William, took the ground that Count Ernest was debarred from the regency, and from succession to the throne on the death of the crazy Prince Alexander, by the fact that sometime in the early part of the last century one of his male ancestors had contracted a mésalliance, and thus brought a plebeian strain into the family. This contention was accepted neither by the people of Lippe, nor by the count; they appealed to the tribunals of the empire, and to every reigning family of Germany in turn, the entire non-Prussian press, as well as many newspapers in Prussia itself, espousing their cause.

Finally, the emperor and his brother-in-law were forced by popular clamor to consent to bring the matter before a tribunal of arbitration, composed of the principal judges of the Supreme Federal Court at Leipzig, presided over for the occasion by the dean and veteran of German sovereigns, King Albert of Saxony. The tribunal, after due deliberation, rendered a decision against the emperor and Prince Adolph; directing the latter to at once surrender the regency and the Lippe estates, which are immensely valuable, yielding an income of eight hundred thousand dollars, to Count Ernest of Lippe, on the ground that if a mésalliance such as the one contracted by the count's eighteenth-century ancestor were to be considered sufficient to invalidate his rights to the regency and to the succession to the throne, as the nearest living male relative of the crazy reigning prince, half the thrones of Germany would have to be vacated by their present occupants.

It was pointed out by the arbitrators that if the contention of Prince Adolph and the kaiser were admitted, the Grand Duke of Baden would have to abandon his throne; the branch of the Baden family to which he belonged being descended from a prince of Baden who contracted a mésalliance at the close of the last century; that all the children of the emperor himself would be barred from succession to the throne of Germany, since the great-grandfather of the present Empress of Germany was the offspring of a terrible mésalliance; while last, but not least, Prince Adolph himself was descended from a prince of Lippe who towards the close of the last century, fell in love with and married the daughter of a mere writ-server, whose blood flows in the veins of the emperor's brother-in-law.

Emperor William and Prince Adolph bitterly resented the setback to which they were subjected by this decree of the King of Saxony; and although they were forced to yield in the present instance, they threatened to reopen the entire question should anything untoward happen to the present regent, Count Lippe, for they insist that under no circumstances can any of his sons be permitted to inherit either his rights or his honors, owing to the fact that his wife, the Countess of Lippe, is also the issue of a mésalliance, her mother having been an American girl, a native of Philadelphia, who married Count Leopold Wartensleben. On the strength of this, Prussian authorities, military as well as civilian, while directed to accord to the Count of Lippe the honors due to the regent of a German sovereignty, are forbidden to recognize in any way either the count's consort or his children, on the ground that these can only be regarded as morganatic, and as such debarred from the tokens of respect due to full-fledged members of a sovereign house.

Naturally, all this has served to render Prince Adolph and his wife extremely unpopular throughout the length and breadth of Germany; and when a short time ago there was a question of appointing the prince as regent of the Duchy of Brunswick in succession to Prince Albert of Prussia, who is tired of the post, or as a stadtholder of Alsace-Lorraine in the place of Prince Herman Hohenlohe, the press throughout Germany, and even in Prussia, raised its voice in protest against the emperor's forcing his brother-in-law into places for which he was in no sense of the word fitted, either by his talents, his administrative skill, his tact, or his intellectual abilities.

CHAPTER IX

Although Germany's young crown prince has until now been more or less of a stranger to court functions and gaieties at Berlin, his time being absorbed by his studies at the military academy of Plön, and his holidays spent in travel and Alpine expeditions, yet, as he is about to celebrate his majority, and has passed from the stages of boyhood to those of manhood, he will be from henceforth a personage of the utmost importance—second only in rank to the emperor.

Destined, in course of time, to succeed to the throne and to the immense responsibilities of his father, and to become virtually the autocratic ruler of a nation of fifty million people, as well as the absolute master of the greatest military power on the face of the globe, every scrap of information concerning this youth must naturally be of vast interest, not only to his future subjects, but also to the entire civilized world. Under the circumstances, therefore, it is satisfactory to be able to say truthfully that Germany's future kaiser is a fine, healthy-minded, healthy-bodied lad, disposed to take an extremely serious view of his duties and his obligations, and who, thanks to the excellent education which he has received both from his parents and his teachers, seems destined to prove a wise as well as a popular monarch.

It seems but the other day that the young crown prince, as a chubby ten-year-old lad, was being introduced by his father to the officers and men of the first regiment of Foot Guards at Potsdam, to which, in accordance with traditional usage, he was appointed on his tenth birthday as lieutenant. There may be some of my readers who were present on that occasion, and who may remember the spectacle presented by the little fellow, vainly endeavoring to keep step with the giant strides of these huge grenadiers, the tallest men in the German army, during the march-past that followed the ceremony. Since then there have been so many portraits of the crown prince published, as he appeared at that time, that this taken in conjunction with the rapid flight of years, renders it difficult to realize that he is now no longer a little boy, but a youth considerably taller and almost as broad and stalwart as his father, whose best friend he has become.

William and his eldest boy are fondly devoted to each other. To the crown prince, his father is in every sense of the word "William second to none;" while the kaiser himself is entirely wrapped up in his heir. For the last few years the emperor has given every spare moment that he could snatch away from his multifarious occupations to the task of instilling his ideas and views into the crown prince. In talking and reasoning with him, he has treated the lad as far older than his years, has discussed with him, in fact, as if he were a man; and it is due to this that Germany's future emperor is at the present moment remarkably mature for his age, and really in a position to view matters with a degree of experience and knowledge that are unrivalled in so young a man. As a general rule, young people are unwilling to accept the advice of their elders, or to benefit by their experience, convinced that their seniors are behind the spirit of the age, and in no sense of the word up to date. But with the German crown prince this is different: he is so imbued with the idea that his father is wiser and better than anyone else in the world, that he is willing and glad to accept the paternal recommendations and to benefit by paternal advice.

Yet with all this the lad is not a prig, nor is he forward or presumptuous. True, he has a keen sense of his own dignity, but it takes the form of an extreme simplicity, and of an absolute lack of affectation, since he is intelligent enough to realize that his rank and position are sufficiently assured to render it unnecessary that he should call attention thereto either by his manner or by his speech. He is modest too, very frank, particularly courteous to old people, boyishly chivalrous to women, and firmly convinced that there is no member of the fair sex in the entire world who is so ideally perfect in appearance, as well as in character, as his mother.

I would not for all the world that this description of the crown prince should in any way convey the impression to my readers that he is a milksop or an overgrown child! Devoted to every form of sport, a splendid gymnast, a clever oarsman, a skilful driver and a bold rider, an excellent shot, he is in every sense of the word a manly young fellow, who, however, has been kept free from all contact with the darker sides of life, and who still retains, therefore, mingled with the experience of a grown man, much of the innocence and freshness of mind of a mere boy. Indeed, he is a son of whom any father and mother might well be proud!

Fair-haired and blue-eyed, with the down of a blond moustache upon his upper lip, the young prince is a typical Hohenzollern, and resembles his grandfather, Emperor Frederick, more than he does his father. He is passionately devoted to everything military, and keenly relishes the idea that the six months following the attainment of his majority are to be devoted to military duties at Potsdam, for although he has held a commission of lieutenant of the first regiment of Foot Guards since his tenth year, he is only now about to be called upon to fulfil the duties of his rank with the regiment.

It will be in every sense of the word an arduous training, for the first regiment of Guards being considered all the world over as the crack corps of the German army, and as the embodiment of military perfection in every sense of the word, its officers, realizing that it is, so to speak, the star phalanx of Germany, are engaged, morning, noon and night, in maintaining it at its proper standard, and there are no officers anywhere in Europe who are so hard worked as those of the first regiment of Prussian Guards;—that regiment which in the days of Frederick the Great's father was composed entirely of giants, recruited, or rather purchased often, at a cost of several thousand dollars apiece, from all parts of the world!

The prince must be on the drill grounds and the manoeuvre fields as early as four o'clock in the morning, returning for a sort of luncheon towards ten or eleven; he must devote his afternoon to military studies of one kind or another; while from four o'clock till seven his time will be taken up by barrack-room inspections, company reports, and the other thousand and one duties incidental to regimental life in Germany. In the case of the crown prince the work will be exceptionally heavy, as he is expected to acquire in the course of six months an experience which other subalterns take years to obtain. At the end of the term in question he is to go to Bonn, there to take his seat, like his father before him, on the benches of the celebrated university as an ordinary student.

From his eighteenth birthday the crown prince will have an establishment and a civil list of his own. He will have his court marshal, who will be at the same time the treasurer, governor, and chief officer of his household. He will have his aids-de-camp, who will, as far as possible, be young men of his own age and alive to the responsibilities of their office; he will also have a palace of his own, stables of his own, and his own shooting. Indeed the forest of Spandau has already been for some time past strictly preserved in view of his coming of age.

This particular forest has from time immemorial been assigned as the particular game-park of the heir to the crown. The crown prince is to make his home in the so-called "Stadtschloss" at Potsdam, where he will occupy the same suite of apartments that was tenanted by his parents during the alterations that recently took place at the "Neues Palais." This palace was erected at the close of the seventeenth century, and contains, among other objects of interest, the furniture used by Frederick the Great, the coverings of which were nearly all torn to shreds by the claws of his dog; his writing-table covered with ink-stains, his library filled with Trench books, music composed by himself, etc. The various halls and rooms are kept nearly in the same manner, indeed, as when he used them. Adjoining his bedroom there is a small cabinet, where he used to dine alone or with Voltaire, without attendants, everything coming through the floor on a dumbwaiter, the king himself placing the dishes on the table.

It is in this palace, haunted, one might almost say, at every point by memories and by the spirit of the most famous of Prussian kings, a monarch distinguished as a general, as an administrator and as a philosopher, that Germany's future emperor will from henceforth make his home until he in turn, on the death of his father, will migrate, as did the latter, from the so-called Stadtschloss to the "Neues Palais," two miles and a half distant. The crown prince is also to have a residence of his own at Berlin, where he is to occupy the Bellevue Palace during the court season.

Among other characteristics of the young crown prince is his fondness for animals, and the extraordinary influence which, even as a child, he has always seemed to exercise over them. He succeeded in training his ponies, his dogs and other domestic pets to perform such clever tricks that on several occasions he managed, with the assistance of his brothers, to organize very creditable circus performances, usually in honor of the birthday of his father or his mother. There was one instance especially that I may recall, which took place some years ago. This particular performance began in the afternoon at three, with a prologue spoken by Prince August William, in which he mentioned the different items of the programme. Then each of the royal lads led his pony in front of the box in which the imperial couple sat with their guests, and the crown prince put his horse "Daretz," through all kinds of tricks, of a high school character, winding up by making the horse kneel in token of salute before the emperor and empress. More trick riding on another horse named "Puck," belonging to the crown prince, followed, and thereupon there was a comical intermezzo, in which Prince Adalbert and Prince Eitel took the part of two clowns. Later on, the crown prince's dogs were brought on the scene, and his favorite "Tom" went through some extraordinary antics, walking about all over the ring on his hind legs, tolling bells, driving other of the prince's dogs with reins, and jumping through hoops covered with tissue paper. The whole affair lasted over two hours, was very entertaining, even to grown-up people who did not happen to be related to the organizers of the entertainment, and did great credit to the cleverness of the crown prince, and above all to the marvellous influence which he exercises over animals of every description.

Military tastes in the royal lad have been developed by the games and pastimes in which he and his brothers were encouraged to indulge; hence, in the grounds of the Bellevue Palace at Berlin, as well as in a corner of the great park of the Neues Palais at Potsdam, the boys constructed full-fledged forts with water-filled moats, and cleverly constructed bastions, which were stormed from time to time in due form, and being defended with the utmost tenacity, hard knocks were ofttimes given and received. The playmates of the crown prince and his brothers have been not merely the sons of nobles forming part of the imperial household and court, but likewise the children of employés of much less exalted rank, such as the sons of lodge-keepers, gardeners, game-keepers, etc., who all played and tumbled with the young princes on a footing of the most perfect equality, drubbing one another totally irrespective of rank. It is a pleasant thing to know that friendships thus formed subsist in after life; as an instance, when the kaiser's sister, now crown princess of Greece, sent to Germany some time ago for a nursery governess for her young children, she was able to acquire the services of her old girlhood playmate, the daughter of one of the gardeners employed at the "Neues Palais."

The crown prince may be said to have traveled over all Germany, and that, too, in the most democratic and sensible fashion. In Germany, and, in fact, all over the continent of Europe, a pedestrian tour, domestic and foreign, constitutes part and parcel of the education of every youth, especially those of the industrial classes. No apprenticeship is considered complete without the accomplishment of a trip of this kind, which is usually performed with a knapsack on the back, and in the most economical manner imaginable. This portion of the youth's life is known as his "wanderjahr" and the traveler is known by the name of "wanderbürsche" The trip serves to broaden the mind of the "bürsche," to render him self-reliant, and to give him a knowledge and experience of the world—aye, and of his craft as well—that he could never obtain if he remained at home. Emperor William, who in many things is so exceedingly reactionary, and so apparently assured that royalty is constructed of an entirely different clay than that used for ordinary folks, gave a manifestation of those democratic notions which constitute such a paradox to the remainder of his character by sending forth his three eldest boys each year during their holidays on a pedestrian tour through the length and breadth of his dominions, just as if they were the sons of artisans, and were compelled to learn a trade for a living. The crown prince and his brothers traveled, not in a palace-car, nor in carriages, but on foot, with knapsacks on their backs, and spending the nights at mere roadside inns. They had no servant with them, only their military governor, Colonel von Falkenheyn, and his assistant, the latter a lieutenant of the guards, and the name tinder which they journeyed was an incognito one; indeed, so cleverly did they manage to conceal their identity that it was hardly ever revealed.

It is difficult to imagine anything that appealed more to the masses in Germany than this manner adopted by the kaiser for making his sons acquainted with the world. It was felt that the royal lads, with their knapsacks on their backs, afoot, and with no indication of their rank, would obtain by actual experience a contact with the people and a knowledge which they could never hope to acquire if they had toured through the land in special trains, on horseback, or in splendidly-appointed carriages. Moreover, it makes every German youth, trudging along the dusty roads, and ignorant for the most part of where and how he is to sup and sleep that night, feel that after all his lot is not such a very unenviable one, since even his future monarch has been a "wanderbürsche," like himself.

It is probable that before the education of the crown prince is considered complete, he will be sent on a trip around the world, mainly with the object of endowing him with that breadth of mind which foreign travel alone can give, and partly also with the idea of reviving the dormant loyalty of Germans who have settled in foreign lands. Emperor William has frequently expressed the opinion that among the hitherto unused factors in German politics, are the Germans established in the United States, in Australia, and in other equally distant climes. While he does not in any way expect or imagine that Germans who have thus emigrated from the Fatherland, will render themselves guilty of any disloyalty to the land of their adoption, yet he believes that by keeping alive their memories of the old country, and their affection for its reigning house they may help Germany by using their political influence in their new home for the benefit of Germany. Thus William, in spite of all that has been said to the contrary, has in contemplation an eventual understanding if not an actual alliance with the United States; this result to be brought about largely through the influence of the immense and prosperous German population in America, and he believes that the project is likely to be promoted and fostered by a visit of his eldest son, the crown prince, to the United States for the purpose of making himself acquainted, not only with the country, but above all with its German inhabitants.

In making the grand tour of the world, the crown prince will be but following in the footsteps of the heirs to the thrones of Austria and Belgium, who have both visited the United States for the purpose of improving their minds, and of fitting themselves more thoroughly for their duties as twentieth century rulers. The present Emperor of Russia, and his younger brother, the late Czarevitch George, likewise started on a tour round the world, which in the case of George was cut short at Bombay by that sickness to which he subsequently succumbed, while the globe-trotting tour of Nicholas was brought to a sudden close through his attempted assassination in Japan.

No pen-sketch of the young Crown Prince of Germany would be complete without a reference to his remarkable skill as a violinist, an instrument which he has been studying steadily ever since his eighth year, under the direction of the Berlin court violinist Von Exner. He seems to have inherited all the musical talent for which the reigning house of Prussia is so celebrated, and to which I propose to devote at least a part of the following chapter.

CHAPTER X

If it is observable that the taste, ear, and talent for music prevail among the inhabitants of the mountain districts of the world far more extensively than among the populations of the plains, it is no less true that nearly all persons belonging to the exalted spheres of life, for instance, emperors and kings and their consorts, as well as princes and princesses of the blood, are not only passionately fond of music, but frequently absolute melomaniacs. In none of the reigning houses, however, is this particular branch of art developed to such an extent as in the Hohenzollern family. Thus the collection of the compositions for the flute by Frederick the Great discovered some ten years ago in the lumber rooms of the "Neues Palais" at Potsdam, and recently published after being edited by Professor Spitta, proves that the royal patron of Voltaire, and the founder of Prussia's military power was no mere dilettante, but a real genius in the art of composition. Prince Louis Ferdinand, the son of Frederick the Great's brother, who courted and met with a premature death at Saalfeld, while rashly engaging the French enemy, against strict orders, showed, with all his eccentricities, remarkable musical gifts, leaving in fact behind him a variety of compositions for orchestras. He also wrote a march which is published under his name.

Among the collection of marches constantly used in the Prussian army, is one composed by Frederick-William III. in 1806, which occupies a place between that of Frederick the Great, written in 1741, and the well-known Dessauer march. In that very same collection are the so-called "Geschwind Marsch," No. 148, for infantry, the "Parade Marsch" No. 51, for cavalry, and the "Marsch Für Cavallerie" No. 55, which emanate from the pen of Princess Charlotte of Prussia, niece of old Emperor William, and first wife of the present reigning Duke of Saxe-Meiningen. It is doubtless from her that Prince Bernhardt of Saxe-Meiningen, married to the eldest sister of the present kaiser, has inherited his powers of composition, for his name figures on the title page of many a piece of music; and among his other more important works has been the setting to music of "the Persians of Aeschylus," which has been most successfully staged at Athens. This is published under the initials of "E.B." (Erbprinz Bernhardt).

Though King Frederick-William IV. did not himself add anything to royal musical literature, as did his predecessors on the throne, he devoted much attention to ecclesiastical melody and song. The Berlin cathedral choir of men and boys—trained to sing without musical accompaniments—owes its origin to his ambition for having a choir in his own Protestant basilica at Berlin, corresponding more or less to the Pope's in the Sistine Chapel of Rome. It was he who engaged Mendelssohn as director of this choir, as well as composer; and it was the latter's successor, the director of the music of the Chapel Royal at the Prussian court, who compiled a collection of volumes containing settings of many of the Psalms of David, most beautifully arranged.

Among living Hohenzollerns, musical talent is most strongly developed. Prince Albert, regent of Brunswick, is not only a composer of rare genius, but likewise a most talented organist. His son, Prince Joachim, has inherited his talent for composition, and is the author of some eight works, which have been printed for circulation, in court circles only, and have not become the property of the public; the cleverest of them being a festal march, written for his father's birthday, and a grand funeral march. He shares his father's intense devotion to Bach and Handel, as well as his fondness for the works of Mendelssohn, Beethoven and Mozart, and is a most accomplished performer on the violoncello, being a pupil of the well-known master of that instrument, Professor Luedemann. Prince Albert's sister, the widowed Duchess William of Mecklenberg-Schwerin, has been particularly active as a composer of songs for mezzo soprano, but none of her works, which are printed for private circulation under the initials of "A.H.M.", have been placed on public sale. Her songs, some thirty in number, are melodious and full of feeling. She seems to thoroughly understand how to bring out the meaning of the words of her composition, the melody of one of them, "Ein Duerres Blatt" furnishing a particularly striking illustration of this peculiarity; they left a very lasting impression upon my mind. Among her collections is an English song, beginning with the words:

"No ditch is too deep,
And no wall is too high,
If two love each other
They'll meet by-and-by."

The music of this is particularly sweet, graceful and tender.

Prince Henry, the sailor brother of the kaiser, has written a number of pieces, one of the best known and most popular of which is called the "Matrosen Marsch," which is to be purchased in all large music stores. He also holds his own as a first-class amateur performer, both on the violin and the piano. His sister, the crown princess of Greece, a pupil of Rufer, excels on the organ, as does also the widowed Empress Frederick, while there is not one of the children of the present kaiser who does not possess musical gifts of a high order, which are being developed both in theory and in practice by celebrated professors and masters.

There is no doubt that, but for the weakness of his left arm, Emperor William would have been as skilful a performer as the other members of his family. As it is, his devotion to music is restricted to composition and to conducting. The kaiser is very fond of acting as bandmaster during the musical soirées given at court, and other entertainments of this kind honored by the presence of the reigning family. It has been claimed that he is the first Prussian ruler to thus wield the bâton since the days of Frederick the Great. But this is not the case, for I recall being present, many years ago, at a dinner at the palace of Koblenz, given by Empress Augusta in honor of her consort, old Emperor William, who had come over from Ems for the purpose, when during the dinner the old emperor remarked that the band of the Augusta regiment, which was playing at the further end of the White Hall, had played the ballet melody of "Satanella" in too fast a time. Rising from his seat, and pushing aside the screen which concealed the band from view, he took the bâton from the hand of the bandmaster, and after exclaiming: "Very quietly and slowly, gentlemen, if you please," he tapped twice on the music-stand in front of him, and then commenced to conduct with as much skill and art as if he had never done anything else in his life. Several times during the course of the piece he exclaimed "Noch rühiger," (still more gently) and when the end of the piece was reached he laid down the bâton with the remark, "Now, that was fine," and, thanking the band with a very friendly and kindly smile, returned to his seat at table.

The present kaiser's principal contribution to music is undoubtedly his composition of the melody to the "Sang am Aegir," a poem of considerable power by his friend Count Philipp Eulenburg. The composition begins as follows:

[Illustration: O Ae-gir Herr der Flu-then dem Nix und Nex sich beugt!]

The words may be rendered as:

"Of Aegir, Lord of the Waves,
Whom mermaids and mermen revere."

The bars that follow rivet the attention of the listener on account of their weird originality. They are full of feeling, very melodious, and easily caught by the ear. Towards the close, the melody breaks off into a purely military strain, so that the final bars are suggestive of the sound of trumpets, recalling to mind some ancient martial fanfare.

William has a very marked predilection for Wagnerian music, and is the life and soul of the "Potsdam-Berlin Wagner Society," which is one of the most influential social institutions of the Prussian capital. His principal lieutenant and Adlatus in the management of this association, which is in every sense of the word a court institution, is Major von Chelius, who holds a commission in the kaiser's own body regiment of Hussars of the Guard. The major is a particular favorite of both the emperor and the empress, and he takes a very prominent part in all the musical entertainments at court, almost invariably playing the piano accompaniments for the singing of Princess Albert of Saxe-Altenburg, and of Prince Max of Baden, who possesses a rich baritone voice. The major is the composer of the popular opera "Haschisch," and has inherited his musical talents from his mother, a Hamburger by birth. His father is a dignitary of the Court of Baden, while his wife, a most charming woman, was, prior to her marriage, a Fraulein von Puttkamer, a member, therefore, of the same family as the late Princess Bismarck.

But although manifesting a preference for Wagner, the kaiser is not averse to Mozart, or to the Italian school. "Der Freischuetz" is one of his favorite operas, and while he does not care for Falstaff, he is very fond of "I Medici," and greatly admires Leon Cavallo. He possesses a very correct ear, and a most pleasing voice, and many of his evenings are passed in trying new songs, his wife, who is an excellent pianist, playing the accompaniment.

Though quite as passionately fond of music as the Hohenzollerns, the Hapsburgs have achieved less distinction as composers, and even as performers. Indeed, there are but two scions of the reigning house of Austria, who can be said to have won any kind of fame as composers, namely, the missing Archduke John, who was the author of an exceedingly pretty and catchy ballet that still figures on the repertoire of the imperial opera, and Archduke Joseph, so well known by the name of the "Gypsy Archduke," who has done more than anyone else in Europe to place on record, both in writing and in print, the weird music and extraordinary quaint melodies of the Tziganes, melodies which he has arranged exquisitely for orchestral use. True, there is not a single archduke or archduchess in Austria and Hungary, who does not play with taste and feeling. Indeed, music seems to be inborn in them, and while the widowed crown princess is devoted to her piano, on which her performances are characterized by a superb technique, but coupled alas! with a complete absence of sentiment, her husband, the lamented Crown Prince Rudolph, was a composer of no mean power and seemed at times to pour forth his entire soul in the melodies which he coaxed from this instrument. Indeed he often sat at the piano for hours, playing, in a manner indescribably expressive and touching, airs improvised on the spur of the moment, which, while they remained impressed on the minds and ears of those present, would seem to fade at once from the memory of the prince himself. His was what may be called a true genius for music.

The member of the House of Hapsburg most famous in the annals of music of the present century, was undoubtedly that Archduke Rudolph, son of Emperor Leopold II., who died a cardinal. He was the protector, the friend and disciple of Beethoven, many of whose most famous works, would assuredly have remained unwritten had it not been for the fact that he received the same powerful support, both material and moral, from the imperial cardinal as Richard Wagner obtained from King Louis of Bavaria.

With regard to Archduke Joseph, the above-mentioned "Gypsy Archduke," there is no doubt that without him the outer world would still have been left in ignorance of the incalculably rich mine of Tzigane music. He is only distantly related to Emperor Francis-Joseph, being the senior member of a branch of the house of Hapsburg which has been settled for more than one hundred years in Hungary. His father's entire life was spent there, where he held the office of Viceroy, and it is there that Archduke Joseph himself was entirely brought up, and where he has spent his whole existence.

At an early age he was attracted to the gypsies by their music, and it was this that led him to think of their welfare, and to devote himself to the study of the characteristics, the history and the origin of these mysterious nomads. Until he took them under his protection, they were regarded more or less as pariahs of Central and Southern Europe, the hand of every man being against them, and the authorities and people at large combining to subject them to persecution of the most cruel character. Their gratitude to the archduke when he obtained better treatment for them knew no bounds, and was shown, among other instances, in a notable manner during the Austro-Prussian. war, when Joseph was at the head of a division of Magyar troops.

"Our retreat," so the archduke tells the story, "before the advance of the Prussian army, immediately preceding the battle of Sadowa, led us to camp one night in the neighborhood of a town in Bohemia. I was lodged in a peasant's cottage, when about midnight I heard the sentry at my door hoarsely challenging some new-comer. My aid-de-camp entered, and reported that a gypsy wanted to see me in private.

"On my asking the dusky visitor in Romani what was the matter, he told me that the enemy was approaching to surprise us.

"'The outposts have not heard anything suspicious?' I remarked.

"'No, your imperial highness,' he replied, 'because the enemy is still a long way off.'

"'But how do you know this?' I asked.

"'Come to the window,' replied the Zingari, leading me forward to the narrow glazed opening in the rough wall, and directing my gaze to the dark sky, lighted by the silver rays of the moon. 'Do you see those birds flying over the woods towards the south?'

"'Yes, I see them. What of it?'

"'What of it? Do not birds sleep as well as men? They would certainly not fly about at night-time thus had they not been disturbed. The enemy is marching through the wood southwards, and has frightened and driven the birds before it.'

"I at once ordered the outposts to be reinforced, and the camp to be alarmed. Two hours later, the outposts were fighting fiercely with the foe, and I was able to realize that my camp and my division had been saved from surprise and destruction only by the keen observation and sagacity of a grateful gypsy."

The archduke spent a large sum of money, some years ago, in endeavoring to turn the gypsies from their nomadic life, and to induce them to settle down, in order to devote their time and energies to the practice of the wonderful art of working metal, which they possess to so marked a degree, instead of roaming aimlessly about, and sometimes thieving, as is unfortunately their habit. He built a number of villages for them in the district surrounding Presburg, and organized gypsy settlements. But the scheme proved a failure. The Tziganes, true to the instincts that they have inherited from countless generations, abandoned the comfortable houses, the fields and blossoming gardens with which they had been provided by their imperial benefactor. They refused to till the soil, and commenced once more their interminable wanderings.

In spite of this fiasco, the archduke still continues to consider himself as the protector of the Romanys, and remains proud of his title of "Gypsy Prince," being sagacious enough to realize that it is impossible for a race to eradicate from their character, in a comparatively short space of time, traits that have been theirs for hundreds, nay thousands of years; for the origin of these gypsies is still shrouded in mystery and lost in the gloom of prehistoric ages, although it is probable that they are of Persian descent.

While Emperor William's taste as regards music meets with very widespread approval, and his gifts as a composer are very generally recognized, he has been less fortunate with regard to other branches of art; notably in the matter of painting, where he finds himself in frequent conflict with his people, especially with the great painters of his empire. Of all the muses there is none so truly democratic as that of pictorial art. The pictorial muse displays a truly republican intolerance of control on the part of either king or government. Hence it is only natural that Germany, which has produced in the past, and still possesses, so many world-famed painters and architectural designers, should strongly resent the kaiser's assumption of the supreme arbitership in all matters relating to art. His subjects submitted to his claim of "Regis voluntas suprema lex," in matters connected with the administration of the government, in diplomacy, in the drama, in music, and in literature, but they deny his power to impose upon them his taste in pictorial art.

It is no exaggeration to state that the emperor is in almost perpetual conflict, and at open war with the great majority of German painters and designers—a notable exception being the case of Professor von Menzel. Indeed, their discontent occasionally breaks forth with an intensity altogether new in the annals of German loyalty to the throne. A very remarkable instance thereof is the means which they adopted to show their disapproval of the emperor's treatment of Wallot, the designer of the palace of the imperial parliament. Wallot is universally recognized as the foremost architect of the age in Germany, and his original design for the building, as accepted by the authorities, was a very grandiose and magnificent conception. Financial considerations necessitated the modification of some of the features of the building, while others were forced upon the architect sorely against his will by the emperor, with the result that the palace is not quite so superb as originally projected. It remains, however, a magnificent and imposing pile, well worthy of the purpose for which it has been erected, and in no way a displeasing monument of German art and architecture as understood in the nineteenth century.

All the recognized authorities, both Teuton and foreign, in questions of art and architecture, have pronounced themselves in this sense, the only discordant note being that to which the emperor has given utterance. Not only has he publicly declared the new Reichshaus to be "the very acme of bad taste," but he even went to the length of striking the designer's name from the list of gold medalists at the exhibition of art and architecture held at Berlin shortly after the completion and inauguration of the building. The gold medal had been voted to Herr Wallot by a jury composed of all the most celebrated artists in Germany, whose verdict, representing that of the nation, might have been considered as definite and final. The kaiser, however, when the list was submitted to him for final approval, substituted, in lieu of the name of Professor Wallot, that of his favorite portrait painter, Madame Palma Parlaghy, whose work is, in the eyes of Germany's leading artists, so execrable that the hanging committee of the Berlin Academy have repeatedly refused to accord places to any of her pictures on its walls.

Madame Parlaghy is a pupil of Makart and of Lenbach, and a native of Hadji-Dóròg, in Hungary. She is between thirty and forty, possessed of glittering, enigmatic eyes, highly-colored cheeks and lips, and the almost too profuse head of hair that one sees so often on the shores of the Danube. Her beauty may, nevertheless, be described as majestic, and she conveys the idea of being a woman possessed of considerable strength of mind, as well as much diplomacy. She was first recommended to the emperor by the present Czarina of Russia, to whom she gave drawing lessons, prior to the marriage of the empress, and after William had obtained an idea of her skill by a very pleasing portrait which she painted of Field Marshal von Moltke, which was, however, rejected by the hanging committee of an art exhibition at Berlin, he purchased the picture in question for a large sum, and likewise gave her an order to paint several portraits of himself, declaring openly that if the judgment of the leading Berlin artists were to be final in the matter of admitting paintings to public galleries and exhibitions, there would never be a single work of art worthy of the name on view. Madame Parlaghy's portraits of the emperor, though questionable as works of art, are, it must be confessed, very flattering likenesses of his majesty.

It was shortly after this slight inflicted by the emperor on Professor Wallot, and the honor conferred upon Madame Parlaghy, that the National Society of Architects and the National Association of Artists, the two principal organizations of the kind in Germany—composed of all that is most eminent in the realms of architecture and art—jointly invited Professor Wallot to a great banquet in Berlin, at which over six hundred guests were present, in the course of which William was guyed in a most merciless manner! The chief ornament on the principal table was a model of the Reichshaus in "Schwarzbrod," cheese and confectionery. The dome consisted of a Dutch cheese, the "Germania" on the top was represented by a smartly aproned chambermaid on horseback, the horse being led by a footman in imperial livery, while the whole was labeled "Der gipfel des geschmack,"—the acme of taste. Another item of the programme was a sort of automatic machine, which, when a gold medal was placed in the slot, would perform "Der gesang an Ihr,"—the song to her—meaning, of course, Madame Parlaghy.

The joke, I need hardly say, consisted in the parodying of the title of the emperor's musical composition "Sang am Aegir!" The lustre hanging from the ceiling, which is known in Germany as a "Kronleuchter" was in the form of an old crinoline. At the entrance to the banqueting hall hung the representation of a gold medal, which a lady painter was trying in vain to grasp. The tone of the speeches throughout the evening was in thorough keeping with the decorations, and it is doubtful whether such a bold exhibition of independence, and even disloyalty towards the sovereign, has ever been seen in the Prussian capital. It speaks well for William's good sense that he should have refrained from proceeding against any of the organizers of the entertainment on the ground of lése majesté.

There is, as I stated above, one Prussian painter, however, of whom the kaiser is exceedingly fond, whose eminence in art is acknowledged, not only in Germany, but all the world over, and upon whom William has lavished the highest honors that it is in his power to bestow. The painter in question is Professor von Menzel; popularly known in Berlin as "His Little Excellency," owing to his diminutive size, his stature being about four feet nine inches! Professor Menzel, who is of the most humble origin, is to-day a Knight of the Order of the Black Eagle, which is the Prussian equivalent of the English Order of the Garter, or of the Austrian Order of the Golden Fleece, this decoration carrying with it a patent of hereditary nobility. He is now considerably over eighty, but from his twelfth year he has earned his living by means of his brush and palette. All his principal paintings are devoted to the illustration of historic episodes of Prussian history and of the reigning house of Hohenzollern. One of his masterpieces is entitled "The Flute Concert," and represents Frederick the Great in his palace at Sans-Souci, at a concert with the principal members of court and his household around him.

One evening the emperor sent for old Menzel, and asked him to join the royal family at Sans-Souci. When the little painter alighted he was conducted to the imperial presence, and was somewhat astonished to notice that the sentinels at the various doors instead of being arrayed in their ordinary uniform, wore the military garb of the time of Frederick the Great. But his surprise developed into downright amazement, when at length two folding-doors were thrown open, and he found himself in the same apartment which had furnished the scene of his painting of "The Flute Concert." The room was lighted, as in olden times, with wax candles, the old-time furniture was disposed identically as represented in his painting, and, moreover, the company assembled was composed of men in the costumes of the time of Frederick the Great, and of ladies attired in the picturesque dress of the middle of the last century. There advanced to welcome the astounded artist a personage who, but for the moustache, was the very image of Frederick the Great, and in whom the little professor had some difficulty to recognize the kaiser. William greeted him with old-fashioned courtesy, using the elaborate politeness of our great grandfathers, and after having presented the little painter to all the guests, the ladies curtsying deeply in the fashion of the Court of Versailles, and the men bowing low, Menzel was led by the emperor to a seat beside the empress, and the emperor's private band, whose uniforms were in perfect keeping with the costumes of the guests, played first of all several of Frederick the Great's compositions for the flute, and then a few of Bach's loveliest morceaux. The emperor himself remained standing beside the little painter's chair throughout the entire concert, the empress alone and some of her ladies being seated, while the remainder of the fair guests, as well as all the men, stood about the apartment endeavoring as far as possible to group themselves in the same way as the personages figuring in Menzel's painting. After the concert was finished, the company adjourned to an adjoining room, Menzel occupying the place of honor to the right of the empress, while the emperor toasted the little fellow with more than ordinary eloquence and cordiality.

It is doubtful whether any sovereign has ever gone to such lengths in order to honor the leading artist of his dominions, and it is difficult to speak too highly of the delicacy of the compliment, or of its originality. It might have been sufficient to turn the head of any other painter than Menzel. But while he is devoted to the reigning family there is certainly no one who is less of a courtier. In fact he is terribly outspoken, and never hesitates to speak to his sovereign with the fearless sincerity of a Diogenes. Of a truth, there is no end to the stories current, illustrating his independence of character. Once, having been commissioned by the grandfather of the present kaiser, namely, old Emperor William, to paint a picture of his coronation as King of Prussia, he reproduced with too much exactitude, and too little flattery, the features of the emperor's exceedingly vain and by no means youthful consort, Empress Augusta. Her majesty insisted that he should alter his portrait of her, and render it more attractive, but this Menzel absolutely refused to do, and the consequence was that the empress on numerous occasions made him feel the weight of her displeasure.

The old painter bided his time, and eventually got even with her in a very characteristic fashion. Being entrusted with the task of reproducing on canvas the scene of the emperor's departure for the seat of war in 1870, he portrayed the Empress Augusta with her face entirely concealed in her handkerchief, as if weeping, although she prided herself on not having shed a single tear on that occasion.

Another time during the life of old Field Marshal Wrangel, a lady of the court, more famous for her vanity than her beauty, complained to him that Menzel had done her scant justice in a large picture representing some important event of contemporary court history. Wrangel, who was famous as a brow-beating bully of the good old Prussian type,—people trembling at the mere sight of him,—promised to see Menzel, and to make him change the portrait of the lady to a more flattering likeness. Greatly to his surprise, however, when he broached the subject to Menzel, he discovered that the latter greatly resented such meddlesomeness. Indeed, Menzel even had the temerity to suggest that field marshals would do far better to attend to subjects that they knew something about than to the art of painting, of which they knew nothing. Wrangel flared up, so did Menzel, and soon the air was blue with finely characterized and bona-fide Prussian oaths, punctuated with the angry sarcasms of the enraged painter. The upshot of the interview was that Wrangel, who had never before turned his back on an enemy, was compelled to beat an ignominious retreat without having accomplished his object; but before disappearing through the door of the studio, he turned and positively yelled at the painter:

"You are a disgusting little toad, and your picture is vile."

While most of the members of the House of Hapsburg paint and sketch with a good deal of cleverness and skill, there is only one, namely, the now widowed Archduchess Maria-Theresa, who can be regarded as an artist in every sense of the word. She excels alike with the chisel and the brush, while during the lifetime of her husband, her salon became, in spite of the strictness of Austrian court etiquette, the one place where eminent artists were certain to find a cordial welcome, irrespective of birth or social status.

The studio of the archduchess is situated on the second floor of her palace, in the Favoritenstrasse, and is a very lofty, long and narrow apartment, looking out on the street. It is particularly remarkable for its simplicity, presenting therein a powerful contrast to the magnificence of the two salons through which it is necessary to pass in order to reach it. The few stools, tabourets, armchairs and divans therein contained, are upholstered with soft-toned Oriental rugs, the walls are hidden by some sort of olive-colored velvety fabric, and the wall opposite the windows is divided in the middle by a species of gallery, the exquisite wood carvings of which were brought by the archduchess herself from Meran. The parqueted floors are partly concealed by the skins of tigers and polar bears, shot in the Arctic regions and in India by her brother, Dom Miguel, Duke of Braganza, the legitimist pretender to the throne of Portugal, while on easels, and suspended from the walls, are oil-color portraits by the archduchess of Baroness C. Kolmossy, to whom she is indebted for her knowledge of painting, of her husband, the late Archduke Charles-Louis, and of her sister-in-law, the lamented Empress Elizabeth, in riding habit and in ball-dress.

There is also a very pretty picture of a cat in the act of effecting its escape from the basket in which it had been confined, and a wonderful crayon sketch of Maria-Theresa's stepson, Archduke Francis-Ferdinand, the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The colossal fire-place niched in one of the corners of the studio, is surmounted, not by a mirror, but by a panel of well-nigh priceless Oriental embroidery, the brilliant colors of which have been softened and rendered harmonious and mellow by age.

The doors are draped by portieres of Flemish tapestry, and shielded by Mucharabieh screens of curiously-carved wood from Cairo. Preserved from dust and damage beneath plate-glass are some unique pieces of antique Venetian point lace, presented by another brother-in-law, Don Alfonso of Spain, the younger brother of the Pretender Don Carlos, while on a huge square writing-table, the equipments of which are of Oriental gold filigree-work, richly jewelled, are usually found letters either to or from the favorite brother-in-law of the archduchess, Duke Charles-Theodore of Bavaria, the celebrated oculist, who during the course of his practice has performed more than three thousand successful operations for cataract without accepting a single penny-piece by way of remuneration.

True, the patients of this royal physician are nearly all of them poor people, and it is for their benefit that he has converted one of his castles into an ophthalmic hospital, and another palace into a species of convalescent home and resort, where poor gentlefolk and government servants with inadequate means can spend a couple of weeks in the country free of all cost.

It is difficult to refrain from a deep degree of sympathy for this so brilliant and accomplished Archduchess Maria-Theresa, whose character is best illustrated by the fact that she is literally worshipped by her grown-up step-children. The sudden death of her husband was not only a cruel bereavement, but was also the destruction of great and much-cherished ambitions.

Through the death of Crown Prince Rudolph, her husband, as next brother to Emperor Francis-Joseph, became heir to the throne, and owing to the refusal of Empress Elizabeth to take any part whatsoever in court life, the archduchess was from that moment, to all intents and purposes, the "first lady in the land." It was she who presided at all court ceremonies and official functions, who received the presentations, and who filled the post of empress alike at Vienna and at Pesth. Her husband was entirely swayed by her, and completely subject to her influence, and it is notorious that she looked for the day when, through his accession to the throne, she would become the virtual ruler of the great dual empire, and be in a position to inaugurate all sorts of political ideas, peculiar to herself, notably in connection with a reversal of Austria's present foreign policy. She has never made any secret of her disapproval of the Austrian alliance with Italy, and has even gone so far as to attend with her husband public meetings in favor of the restoration of the temporal power of the Papacy, at which King Humbert was bitterly denounced and abused as a usurper! There seemed no reason whatsoever why her consort should not live to succeed his elder brother, and as the archduke possessed a singularly strong constitution, and had scarcely suffered a single hour's illness since his childhood, there was no cause to fear any untoward event. Indeed he might have been alive at the present moment had it not been for his unfortunate pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where in some way he contracted the malady which carried him off so very suddenly. He enjoys the distinction of being the only member of his house whose whole body reposes in the vault of the Capuchin Church at Vienna, where so many hundred Hapsburgs sleep, some in coffins of silver and gold, others in caskets of exquisitely ornamented copper. According to a very gruesome custom in vogue with the reigning house of Austria for many centuries, the heart is extracted from the body of the imperial dead within twenty-four hours after their demise, placed in a silver urn filled with spirits of wine, hermetically sealed, and then conveyed with the utmost pomp and ceremony, though at night, to the old cathedral of St. Stephen, where it is received with much solemnity by the clergy, and placed in niches of the wall, near the high altar. The entrails are in the same way removed, and conveyed with identically the same ceremonies to the ancient church of the Augustines, and it is only what is left that is buried in the vaults of the Capuchin Church.

Archduke Charles-Louis did not relish this extraordinary yet traditional treatment of his remains after death, and fervently believing in the resurrection of the body in the flesh, thought it distinctly uncanny that his heart and his entrails should each have to go hunting through the city for his body on the Day of Judgment. Accordingly, he was laid to rest just as he died, instead of being entombed, like all the other members of the House of Hapsburg, in sections.

CHAPTER XI

If I have refrained in the preceding chapter from making any mention of the attainments of the Dowager Empress Frederick, either as a sculptor or as a painter, it is because she is so immeasurably superior to all other royal personages in the realms of art that she can no longer be regarded as a mere amateur, no matter how clever. Besides this, her individuality is so strong, her intellectual gifts so great, and the part which she has played in German politics so important that she really deserves separate treatment.

If I link her name with that of her daughter-in-law, Empress Augusta-Victoria, it is because the latter's influence on German affairs has been even still more weighty, though she is far less brilliant and clever than her husband's mother. Indeed my readers after perusing this chapter may feel disposed to ask themselves whether ordinary intelligence in high places does not work more successfully than genius.

It is difficult to describe Empress Frederick as anything else than a genius. Certainly I have never known a more gifted woman. The diversity, the scope, and the depth of her knowledge are simply amazing. In conversation it is difficult to broach any subject, no matter what it is, that she has not mastered. Her acquaintance with the mediaeval, Renaissance and modern schools of painting, and with every form and work of art industry is unsurpassed even by those men who have devoted their entire lives to these studies. I have on one and the same evening heard her converse on Venetian art with Ludovic Passini, proving herself his equal in her astounding knowledge of Venice, past and present; talk with a distinguished physician, who was amazed by the theoretical knowledge which she displayed of the throat and breathing organs, and who declared that if she had only had practical experience, she would have been the finest throat specialist in the world; and discuss literature with a celebrated Englishman of letters, chiding him upon his admitting his inability to cap a passage from Pope, which she quoted! The late Sir Richard Wallace, than whom no one possessed a more profound knowledge of the masterpieces of the painters, goldsmiths, jewelers and potters of bygone centuries, was wont to declare that Empress Frederick surpassed him as an expert, although, with unlimited wealth at his disposal, he had devoted more than half a century of his life to the collection of "chefs d'oeuvre" in all parts of the world.

The depth of her researches into chemical science exceeds that of Lord Salisbury, who is her most intimate personal friend in England, and at whose Elizabethan country seat she invariably visits when in her native country, most of her time while under his roof being spent with him in his laboratory. But it is particularly as an artist, both with brush and chisel, that she excels, and while as a painter she ranks with some of the leading professional masters of the present day, as a sculptor she surpasses anything achieved or even attempted as yet by a woman.

The subject which naturally stimulates her most to artistic effort is the portraiture of her fondly-loved husband. His memory, although he has been dead eleven years, is so fresh in her mind, her eye is so capable of recalling his image, and her hand is so well trained to follow her impressions, and to reproduce what she can visualize, that no sculptor could vie with her in reproducing his splendid form and manly features. She once gave a commission to the celebrated German sculptor Uphues for a colossal statue of "Unser Fritz," and calling at the artists' studio, whilst he was at work on his clay model, she pointed out to him some points in which he had not caught the right expression. Verbal explanations not adequately conveying her meaning, she asked permission to use the roughing chisel, set to work, and in half an hour with a touch here and a touch there, modified the features to such a degree that the sculptor was astounded at the striking improvement. The model has since been transferred to marble, and is universally considered to be the best portrait extant of Emperor Frederick.

No greater tribute to her brilliancy and penetration in the matter of statecraft could possibly be given than the undisguised and openly acknowledged animosity with which she was, throughout her married life, regarded by the late Prince Bismarck, who feared her more than all his masculine rivals and opponents together. She was a political foe worthy in every respect of his steel, for she repeatedly checkmated his moves; and if he sometimes spoke of her with a brutality and a degree of vehemence altogether out of place, this must be regarded as more in the light of a compliment than as an intentional piece of discourtesy, as it was a virtual admission of the fact that her opposition to his projects was of altogether too masculine and virile a character to admit for one moment of his according to her that forbearance and chivalrous deference which men as a rule are wont to concede to women as a tribute to their sex. She fought him unceasingly, from the time when he violated the Prussian constitution, shortly before the war with Denmark, until the day when through her efforts and statecraft he was driven from office,—a vanquished foe. He had used in vain every weapon against her that his ingenuity could devise. He had even gone so far as to publicly charge her with treason in betraying to the English, and through them to the French, military secrets which had been imparted to her by her husband, during the war of 1870. He had, in short, done everything that lay in his power to prevent her husband from succeeding to the crown, mainly, as he admitted, with the object of preventing her from sharing the throne as empress; and after having grossly insulted her in the presence of her dying, voiceless and helpless husband by refusing to transact any state business, or to communicate any confidential reports to the monarch as long as she was in the room, he incited her eldest son, whose mind he had deliberately poisoned against her, to take steps which could only intensify the sorrow of the grief-stricken woman immediately after her so fondly loved husband had been taken from her.

Yet she carried the day in the end, and her son is now the very first to acknowledge his mother's cleverness and the fact that she showed herself more than a match in statecraft for the man reputed as the greatest statesman of the century, namely, Bismarck.

One of the cleverest of the many clever things that she did, was the manner in which she brought about the fall of Bismarck. She was too shrewd to dream of exercising any direct pressure on her son. It was done indirectly, and with so much diplomacy, that William never dreamt at the time of dismissing the iron chancellor that he was playing his mother's game. Abstaining from any steps towards a reconciliation with her son, she merely took advantage of the kaiser's visit to Westphalia, to place in his path his old tutor, Professor Hintzpeter, a pedagogue of whom William had been very fond, and whose teachings had left a deep impression upon the mind of his imperial pupil. The empress knew the professor's characteristics, his fads, and his views. She likewise recognized and understood, as only a mother can do, the complex character of her son, and she foresaw the effects that were likely to be achieved by bringing the two men once more into communication with each other.

Like William II., Hintzpeter is full of contrasts, for while on the one hand he has always professed the most advanced radical and even socialistic doctrines,—doctrines with which he impregnated the mind of his princely charge,—yet he would tolerate no familiarity or condescension on his part towards inferiors, and was even wont to force William to wash his hands when he had so far forgotten himself as to shake hands with anyone of a subordinate or menial rank. Another trait of character of Professor Hintzpeter, is his firm conviction that difficulties, no matter how vast and intricate, are always capable of being settled and satisfactorily arranged by means of eloquent phrases and good intentions.

At the time when William renewed his acquaintance, in the capital of Westphalia, with his old tutor, the socialistic and labor problems were engaging the attention not merely of Germany, but likewise of all Europe. Prince Bismarck was in favor of a continuance of harsh measures with regard to labor, and of persecution of the most resentless nature so far as the socialists were concerned. Hintzpeter, full of his former sympathies for autocracy and socialism at one and the same time, called William's attention to the fact that Bismarck's policy had merely had the effect of vastly increasing the strength of the socialists as a factor in German politics, and of rendering the labor difficulties more acute. He, therefore, suggested to the emperor the idea that he should endeavor to solve both problems by means of an international congress, under his own presidency, at which means should be devised for reconciling the interests of socialism with the state, and those of capital with labor.

William, with all his common-sense and cleverness, has inherited from his ancestress, Queen Louise, and one might almost say from his grand-uncle, King Frederick William IV., a very strongly developed tendency towards idealism. It was to this phase of his nature that the recommendation of Professor Hintzpeter particularly appealed, and the more he considered the matter, the more he discussed it with his old tutor, the more convinced he became that it was in his power to solve the difficulties of both socialism and labor, and thus to earn the gratitude, not only of his own people, but of the entire civilized world.

Of course, Prince Bismarck immediately realized the Utopian character of the scheme, saw its impracticability, and proceeded to condemn it with more than his ordinary irritability and brusquerie. Finding, however, that the emperor was not to be argued out of the idea of holding a labor conference, he proceeded to ridicule it, and what was worse, to cause it to be scoffed at and treated with derision as the vaporings of an inexperienced and altogether too generous-minded youth, in German as well as foreign papers, which William knew derived their inspiration from the chancellor's palace in the Wilhelmstrasse.

All this served to embitter the relations between the emperor and the prince. The latter perceived that the kaiser was getting beyond his control, and was subject to other influences, while the emperor now commenced to appreciate the extent to which, he had been made subservient to the policy and to the wishes of his chancellor. Meanwhile the necessity became apparent of taking some immediate step, one way or another, in connection with the prolongation of the exceptional measures against the socialists which were just expiring. The chancellor was determined that they should be renewed, while the emperor felt that, with the international congress coming on, he would be handicapped in his rôle of arbitrator, and his good faith would justly be suspected by the socialists were he to consent to the continuance of repressive measures against them that were extra-legal, that is to say, beyond the laws of the land, and as such, strictly speaking, unconstitutional.

Finally, William discovering that Bismarck was negotiating with the various party leaders, notably with the late Dr. Windhorst, leader of the Catholic party in the Reichstag, with a view to the prolongation of the anti-socialist measures, made up his mind to dismiss him, and called for his resignation for having ventured to negotiate with the opposition leaders in the Reichstag, without his knowledge or consent, in order to obtain their support to a measure about which he had expressed his disapproval. That was the real cause of Bismarck's fall, despite all other stories current on the subject, and had not Empress Frederick engineered the meeting in the Westphalian capital between her son and his former tutor, it is possible that Prince Bismarck might have died in office.

It is scarcely necessary to remind my readers that, as predicted by the old chancellor, the international labor congress resulted in a fiasco, while the emperor ultimately became so embittered by the failure of the socialists to appreciate his kindly intentions towards them, that he now regards them as his most bitter enemies, and practically calls upon every soldier who joins the army to be prepared to use his rifle, not only against the enemies from without, but also against the enemies within—that is, the socialists.

Naturally William to-day regrets that he permitted himself to be talked into any such schemes as the reconciliation of the socialists with the crown, and of capital with labor, and Professor Hintzpeter, while retaining the affection of his former pupil, has long ceased to enjoy his confidence as a political adviser. He is no longer looked upon in the light of a German Richelieu, as the foreign newspapers were wont to describe him when he was at the climax of his power, and he no longer possesses anything in common with his Russian counterpart, Professor Pobiedenotsoff, except in a singular peculiarity of appearance. Indeed, Hintzpeter's looks invite caricature. He is lanky, ungainly and lantern-jawed, and seems like a man who has never been young, and who has not yet obtained the venerability of old age. His manners are exceedingly ungracious, and even repellent, but when once he becomes interested in a discussion he seems to undergo an entire transformation. He is no longer the same man, and gives one at that moment the impression of being nothing but a bundle of seething nerves, the vibrations of which seem to extend to, as well as to influence, all those who are within range of his voice.

The Empress Frederick was shrewd enough to keep in the background all the time! She took no part in the fight between her son and Prince Bismarck, and was particularly careful to avoid identifying herself in any way with Professor Hintzpeter. The result was that the kaiser did not dream of ascribing to her any responsibility for the mistake into which he had been led by his former tutor.

As foreseen by Empress Frederick, with Prince Bismarck once in retirement and disgrace, and the emperor disposed to reverse the entire Bismarckian policy, it commenced to dawn upon his majesty that among other errors into which he had been led by his ex-chancellor was his own harshness and unfriendliness towards his mother. It was while under this impression that he took the first steps towards a reconciliation with the imperial widow, who, by showing herself particularly affectionate and amiable, made her son feel still more bitterly the unfilial nature of the conduct which he had been led by Bismarck to adopt until then towards his mother. The friendly relations thus established between mother and son have subsisted ever since, and the emperor does not disdain now to seek Empress Frederick's advice in a number of matters, having realized how clever she is, while there is no one whose approval he values more highly than hers. Most people are in the habit of portraying the Empress Frederick as a woman embittered and soured by disappointment. Yet if the truth were known, there are few whose existence at the present moment is of a more ideal character, She has lost a noble and devoted husband, but this bereavement must, to a certain extent, have been softened by the genuine sorrow manifested by all, not only in his own country, but throughout the civilized world, when he died. Her marriage was a singularly happy one, unclouded by even the faintest difference of opinion with her consort, and she is now enjoying a delightfully contented eventide of life.

She resides during the greater part of the year in a home constructed in one of the loveliest portions of Germany, near Homburg, according to her own designs, and her own ideas; she possesses a vast fortune, which renders her independent of all her relatives, and which she is free to spend as she wishes. With all her sons and daughters married, she has no domestic cares of her own, and is at liberty to order her mode of existence as she pleases, unhampered by any obligations or restrictions, save those which her son may see fit to impose. Her rank is of the highest, for she is the eldest daughter of Queen Victoria, and the mother of the present German emperor, besides which she has the status and title of an empress-queen. In fact, she has the rank of a sovereign, without any of the responsibilities that are attached thereto, and while she may have experienced, at one moment, disappointment at being deprived by her husband's premature death of engineering a number of political, social and economic reforms in Germany, upon which she had set her heart, yet she cannot but have realized by this time that her existence as an empress-dowager is infinitely more agreeable than that of an empress-regent would have been, for had she been at the present moment seated by her husband's side on the throne, she would have found no time to devote to those arts and sciences to which she is so passionately devoted, and which nowadays occupy the greater portion of her life.

In spite of being a great-grandmother, Empress Frederick is still in splendid bodily health and vigor. She rides on horseback daily in summer, and in winter spends a considerable amount of time skating on the ice. She is not handsome, and, in fact, has never been even pretty, but has always had a bright, intelligent and pleasing face. Moreover, she has inherited her mother's peculiarly melodious voice. Unfortunately, she is imperious, and intolerant of stupidity; it is this, coupled with her lack of tact, which is responsible for her unpopularity.

In spite of all her philanthropy, her generosity, and her cleverness, and notwithstanding the blamelessness of her life, she is not liked by the people of her adopted country, and this, while it has not prevented her from playing a preponderant rôle in German politics, as above described, has proved an obstacle to her exercise of any influence upon the German people. After all, this absence of tact may be excused, for it is usually wanting in people of genius. She is very tender-hearted, and will not, if she can prevent it, allow any living thing on the estate to be disturbed or killed.

No description of Empress Frederick seems complete without adding thereto a brief reference to the grand-master of her court, Count Seckendorff, who may be said to have devoted his entire life to her service, and to that of her husband. A scion of one of the oldest houses of the Prussian aristocracy, and bearing a name that figures frequently in the pages of German history, he was attached to the household of Empress Frederick as chamberlain in the early days of her marriage, and the only time since then when he has been absent from her side was during the war; for the count is no mere drawing-room soldier, as is the case with so many military men who are in attendance on royalty. He has seen active service in the wars of 1864, 1866 and 1870, winning the iron cross for bravery in the latter campaign, and was likewise attached to Lord Napier's expedition to Abyssinia, which found its climax in the storming of Magdala, and in the death of Emperor Theodore.

As an artist he may be said to be almost as gifted as Empress Frederick is herself, and his paintings have won distinctions of the highest order at many national and foreign exhibitions. Indeed, it is this sympathy of artistic tastes that has contributed in no small measure to the altogether exceptional position which he enjoys in the favor and confidence of the widowed empress. He has seen all her children grow up around her, has been the confidant of many of her sorrows, and at a moment when both she and her dying husband were surrounded by chamberlains and officers who were devoted to the interests of Bismarck, and virtually traitors in the camp, he alone remained loyal in evil as well as in happier days. Being a bachelor, he makes his home with the empress, attends her wherever she goes, and, after having been the object of much abuse and even calumny,—the latter originated and circulated by the so-called "reptile press,"—that is to say, the newspapers, domestic and foreign, drawing pay and inspiration from Prince Bismarck,—he now enjoys the regard and the good-will of everyone at the Courts of Berlin and Windsor, particularly at the latter, where his lifelong devotion to the widowed empress is keenly appreciated by her mother, Queen Victoria.

No greater contrast can be conceived than that which exists between Empress Frederick and her daughter-in-law, the empress-regnant. Far less brilliant than either her husband's mother or grandmother, she has nevertheless managed to achieve, as I have remarked before, not only an infinitely greater degree of popularity, but likewise a more extensive influence upon the German people. Experience and history show that ordinary sense on the throne is far more beneficial to the population than a lofty order of intellect, and Empress Augusta-Victoria merely offers another illustration of the truth of this assertion. None of the queens of Prussia, nor either of the first German empresses, can be said to have left any impress upon the subjects of their respective husbands. There is no doubt that the so celebrated Queen Louise of Prussia was the cause of Prussia's receiving infinitely harsher treatment at the hands of Napoleon than the kingdom would otherwise have experienced; while the consort of old Emperor William, a pupil of Goethe, and famed for her culture and accomplishments, was disliked by the people, and was just as little in touch with them as her still more talented daughter-in-law, Empress Frederick.

For Empress Augusta-Victoria, however, a most profound sympathy extends throughout the length and breadth of Germany. Every housewife, every mother, looks to her as to a model, knows that she is satisfied to excel in her purely domestic duties, and that she does, not strive to render herself superior to her sex by intellectual brilliancy and scientific attainments. Thanks to this sympathy which she inspires, and to the fact that she is looked upon by men and women alike in her husband's dominions as the ideal of what a German "hausfrau" should be, she has been able to exercise an influence of infinitely greater importance upon the nation at large than any other consort of a Prussian sovereign can have boasted to achieve.

It is to this estimable woman, whom some were disposed at first to denounce as narrow-minded and witless, that must be attributed the very strongly developed religious revival apparent throughout Protestant Germany since the present emperor came to the throne. Prior to the present reign, church-going was as a rule eschewed by the male sex, women constituting the backbone of the congregation, while the clergy of the Lutheran persuasion was looked down upon, being treated by the territorial nobility much in the same way as upper servants, that is to say, on a par with the farm bailiffs, the stewards and the housekeepers In a word, religion and everything pertaining thereto was not considered fashionable.

To-day all this is changed. Under the guidance of the empress, her husband, reared by his broad-minded mother in the ideas of Strauss and of Renan, has become a strict churchman, and court, nobility, bureaucracy and in fact the middle and lower classes too, have followed suit. Free-thinking and neglect of religious duties are at present considered the acme of bad form in Germany. Everybody professes the most profound interest in questions and enterprises relating to the church, and a large number of daughters of the most illustrious houses of the German nobility have conferred their hands and their hearts upon penniless Lutheran pastors, whose social status has thereby been entirely changed. Moreover, if during the past ten years more churches have been built, particularly in Berlin, than had been the case in the entire previous half-century, this is because every one has become aware that the most facile way of winning the good graces of the empress, and the favor of her consort is by building a church, or endowing some hospital.

The empress is ever ready to help in every good work, and her private charities are very great, but she does not approve of the higher education or the emancipation of women, and entertains a holy horror of everything pertaining to the female suffrage movement. Women, according to her views, should remain in their own sphere, and should regard their duties to their husbands, their children, and their homes as their first and foremost obligations; the nursing of the sick, the training of young people, and the organization and direction of charitable institutions, affording plenty of scope for those members of the fair sex who have no domestic tasks to occupy their time.

[Illustration: AUGUSTE VICTORIA EMPRESS OF GERMANY] From Life

She claims that in this way a woman is able to exercise a far more important and beneficial influence than by endeavoring to supplant men in professions essentially masculine, and certainly she herself constitutes a striking illustration of the truth of her contention, for the influence of the present German empress is felt throughout the length and breadth of the land—a gracious womanly influence in every sense of the word.

Among the many philanthropic organizations which owe their origin to the empress, is the Central Association of German Actresses, which has of late years done more towards elevating the stage than has ever been accomplished by members of the aristocracy who have seen fit to join the dramatic profession with that avowed object in view. The work of this society is to enable actresses to provide themselves, at the lowest possible cost, with the costumes considered necessary by the managers of the theatres. It is well known that while in Germany the pieces are beautifully put on the stage, the salaries paid to the actresses do not in many cases cover the expenses of the stage dresses. The empress makes a point of giving all her court and evening gowns, which were formerly the perquisites of her dressers and maids, to the association, and has invited the ladies of the Court of Berlin to follow her example. Those ladies who feel that they cannot afford to give the dresses, are asked to sell them to the Association as cheaply as possible, and the latter then turns them over at a merely nominal cost to such ladies of the dramatic profession as are considered worthy of support and assistance.

This organization is managed entirely by great ladies, the empress herself acting as president, and in this manner they are brought into personal contact with actresses both of high and low degree. The intercourse thus established has been most beneficial, for it has not only helped to place the social status of the stage on a more agreeable basis, but it also constitutes an incentive to actresses to keep their names and reputations free from blemish, since they naturally understand that the empress and the great ladies of the aristocracy can only treat them as friends, so long as they live up to the same standard of respectability as that which prevails in the highest circles of society, and at court.

One of the most valuable qualities of Empress Augusta-Victoria is her extraordinary tact. It is due to this, more than anything else, that she has been able to retain, not only a hold upon the affection and regard of her impulsive and brilliant husband, but also an influence over him without his being aware of the fact. By the leading members of his court, and by his principal ministerial advisers, she is regarded not merely in the light of his guardian angel, but as his most sensible counsellor. She may be relied upon at all times to soothe his anger, soften any bitterness which he may entertain towards this or that person, and call forth at critical moments the most generous and chivalrous phases of his, on the whole, very attractive character.

She is claimed by those who know the true state of affairs to act in the capacity of a brake and a safety-valve to her husband, and it is no secret that both the classes and the masses feel an additional sense of security when they know their popular empress to be by the emperor's side; for every mistake that he has made since he ascended the throne has taken place during her absence, and he himself is the first to acknowledge that she is largely responsible for every success that he has achieved.

The sentiments of the empress towards Bismarck have been much misunderstood and misconstrued. It is perfectly true that she was brought up from her earliest childhood to regard him as the enemy of her house, the prince having, as I have already related, been the author of the indefensible act of spoliation, by means of which her father had been deprived of the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, now forming part of the kingdom of Prussia. The manner in which the Iron Chancellor was viewed in the home of the empress when a young girl, may best be gathered from the fact that whenever her nurses and governesses were desirous of putting a stop to her naughtiness and of frightening her into obedience, they would exclaim: "Bismarck's coming! wow! wow!" This childhood impression has continued so deep that even to this day, whenever the empress shows any signs of reluctance to comply with her husband's wishes, or betrays irritation, the kaiser is in the habit of springing upon her the familiar old cry of "Bismarck's coming! wow! wow!" which at first always makes her start as she did in infancy and girlhood, and then causes her to burst into laughter, and restores her to good humor.

These sentiments of aversion to Bismarck were to a great extent modified at the time of her marriage by the knowledge that it was the chancellor who had contributed more than anybody else to facilitate and bring about the match. The latter was opposed by many of Emperor William's kinsfolk, as well as by influential people at court, on the ground that her rank was inadequate to render her a suitable match for the heir to the throne of Germany. Bismarck, however, took the ground that a marriage between the heir presumptive and the eldest daughter of the de jure Duke of Schleswig-Holstein would go a long way to reconcile the inhabitants of the above-named duchies to their annexation by Prussia, while at the same time it would constitute the reparation of an act which he himself admitted was extremely unjust, but to which he was compelled by imperative considerations of policy.

Empress Augusta-Victoria has been so supremely happy in her married life that she has always felt a certain amount of gratitude to Bismarck, which tended to obliterate her childhood's impressions against him; and no more striking indication of her sentiments towards the famous statesman can be given than the fact that she travelled all the way to Friedrichsrüh at a moment when the sickness of her children demanded her presence by their bedside, in order to attend the private and home funeral of the man who had publicly described her father as the most stupid prince in all Europe; who had deprived him of his throne, and who had sent him to an early grave as a broken-spirited and thoroughly embittered man.

While the empress takes but little part in politics, on her favorite ground, that women should have no concern whatsoever in the conduct thereof, she has at least on two occasions, to my knowledge, intervened in important crises. Thus in 1892, when General Count Caprivi, having differed with William on the subject of the new education laws, had written to tender his resignation of the office of chancellor, the empress at once indicted an autograph letter, in which, with expressions of mingled pathos and dignity, she appealed to him so strongly not to desert her husband, or to subject the latter to the anxiety, the trouble, and even the odium of another ministerial crisis, that he at once traveled down to Hübertüsstock, where the emperor was staying, and informed him that he withdrew his resignation, and would remain in office.

Two years later, when Caprivi again resigned, it was largely the personal entreaties contained in the letters which she addressed to old Princess Hohenlohe which led to the latter's withdrawal of the opposition that, until then, had stood in the way of Prince Hohenlohe's acceptance of the chancellorship.

Like most other consorts of reigning sovereigns and princesses of the blood, Empress Augusta-Victoria holds the colonelcy of a number of Prussian and Russian regiments, whose uniform she occasionally wears in a somewhat feminized form at those grand military reviews of which the kaiser is so fond. Her favorite garb of this kind is the uniform of the second regiment of Pomeranian Cuirassiers, one of the oldest and most celebrated corps of cavalry of the Prussian army. The regimental tunic is of snow-white cloth, and held in its place by the silver shoulder-straps of a colonel is the orange ribbon of the Order of the Black Eagle, which crosses her breast to the left hip, where the jewel of the order is attached by a large rosette. The star of the order is worn on the left breast, while just above it are a number of smaller decorations. With this white tunic, with its silver buttons, its silver embroidery and scarlet facings, a white cloth skirt is worn, while in lieu of the helmet now in use by the regiment, the empress has adopted the old-fashioned, broad-brimmed cavalier hat, with the flowing white ostrich plumes which the officers of the corps were wont to don in the early part of the last century. Thus attired, the empress takes her place by the side of her husband at the saluting point at any of the grand reviews at which she may happen to be present, and as soon as a regiment of which she happens to be colonel approaches, she at once canters, takes her place at its head as commanding officer, and leads it past her husband in true military fashion, saluting with her riding whip before returning to his side.

Sometimes she is accompanied by one or another of the emperor's sisters, or else by the handsome young Grand Duchess of Hesse, all of whom hold honorary colonelcies, and who appear on such occasions on horseback and in uniform. The Grand Duchess of Hesse, who holds the command of an infantry regiment, wears not merely the tunic, but likewise the helmet of the corps in question, and looks particularly fascinating on these occasions.

Empress Augusta-Victoria and her mother-in-law, the Empress Frederick, are the only two women who have ever been admitted to the Order of the Black Eagle, the highest order of the kingdom of Prussia, and neither the consort of Old Emperor William nor any of the earlier queens of Prussia, not even Queen Louise, ever received this distinction. The innovation dates from the time of the late Emperor Frederick. The first thing he did on becoming emperor was to take the ribbon of the order from his own uniform and hang it across the shoulders of his wife, in token of gratitude, and in recognition of the fact that, had it not been for her championship and faithful guard of his interests, Bismarck would have carried the day, and debarred him from accession to the crown. While the emperor's action, of course, excited a good deal of criticism amongst the older dignitaries of the order, and among the members of the government and court, it was heartily approved of by the world at large, as being not only well deserved, but also a singularly pathetic demonstration on the part of the dying monarch of his profound sense of obligation to his most devoted consort.

When Emperor William in turn ascended the throne, he at once proceeded to follow his father's example, and to invest his own wife with the Black Eagle, in order to place her, as the reigning empress, upon the same level in this particular respect, as her mother-in-law, the dowager empress. It may be taken for granted that henceforth the Order of the Black Eagle will remain a prerogative of all the consorts of the kings of Prussia and emperors of Germany.

The whole youth of the empress was spent at Prinkenau, the fine country seat of her parents, which is now owned by her brother. Those days were varied only by visits to her uncle, Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, who makes his home in England, where he is married to Queen Victoria's daughter Helena, and to her relatives, the Prince and Princess Hohenlohe. The emperor first made her acquaintance during a day's shooting at Prinkenau. He was en route to the château, when, having lost his way in the forest, he met a young girl, of whom he inquired his whereabouts and how to proceed. This was the Princess Augusta-Victoria, and he always declared that he fell in love with her from that moment.

She was, therefore, a total stranger to Berlin court life and Berlin society at the time of her marriage, and at first found it very difficult to adapt herself to the formal etiquette by which royal personages are surrounded at Berlin. It was here that her American aunt, Countess Waldersee, came to her assistance, instructed her, and acted as her mentor, not only in matters of etiquette and manner, but in the attitude to be observed towards the various members of Berlin society as well.

It is as a mother that the empress shows herself in one of her most charming lights. She is, indeed, an ideal mother, and, in spite of her manifold duties, personally supervises, not merely the education of her children, but even every little detail connected with their comfort and well-being. In fact the empress, as well as the emperor, are at their best when surrounded by their children, in whose company they spend far more time than fashionable people in less exalted spheres of society consider it necessary or pleasant to do.

The empress is extremely economical as regards the clothing of her children, and the suits of the elder princes are cut down to fit their younger brothers.

With her own wardrobe the empress is equally careful, and she has a staff of dressmakers who are always at work remodelling her gowns, so that it is possible for her to appear in them several times without their being recognized. On state occasions she is always superbly dressed, and covered with the most gorgeous jewels, but when in the country she delights in the simplest costumes; a serge skirt, a pretty blouse, and a plain straw hat, being her favorite garb. Her grand court costumes, as a rule, hail from Vienna, and Empress Augusta-Victoria probably shares with her grandmother, Queen Victoria, the distinction of being one of the two ladies, occupants of thrones, who do not patronize any of the great Parisian couturiers.

The empress never orders her dresses herself. That is done by her principal lady-in-waiting, who has patterns sent to the palace, from which she selects a certain number to show the empress. When the imperial lady has made her choice, she settles from plates the way in which the gown is to be made, after invariably submitting her selections to the emperor, who has excellent taste in such matters.

The empress usually breakfasts alone with the emperor. In summer, often at the unearthly hour of six in the morning! The meal is a substantial one, American and English, rather than Continental in fashion, and she is apt to declare that it is the only time throughout the entire day when she is able to discuss matters of a private or domestic character with her husband. The imperial couple often ride out on horseback together in the early morning, after breakfast, before the kaiser repairs to the palace to begin his day's work at nine o'clock. The empress looks very well on horseback, as she has an excellent seat, and the plain habit suits her rounded figure extremely well. Her stable is quite distinct from that of the emperor, and with the exception of one white horse all the mounts that she uses are brown in color.

At luncheon the emperor and empress generally have a few guests, and it is the same at dinner, which takes place at seven in the evening. On rising from the table, the empress frequently takes her place at the piano to accompany the emperor, who has a fine baritone and most expressive voice.

It is asserted by those who know the empress best, that she has kept a diary since her earliest girlhood, in which she has set down her daily experiences, although it is claimed that these diaries have been seen by no one, not even by the emperor. The empress, who never fails to write her diary every evening, keeps the precious volumes under lock and key in a large cabinet situated in her bedroom. Perhaps some day the personal experiences of Empress Augusta-Victoria will be published, and while they may possibly throw light on many dark places in the history both of the nation and the court, there is no doubt that their revelations will be characterized by that kindliness of heart, that forbearance, and, above all, that sound common sense which are so conspicuous in Empress Augusta-Victoria.

CHAPTER XII

Since the days of the canonized rulers of Hungary, Bohemia, Russia, and France, there have been no sovereigns of the Old World who have been so distinguished for their piety and for the fervor of their religious belief as the present Emperors of Germany and Austria, for they both take very seriously to heart their official and liturgical designation as the Anointed of the Lord.

It is no mere cant or hypocrisy in their case, but a profound belief in the teachings of the Scripture in which they truly believe is to be found the most powerful bulwark of the throne against the ever rising tide of democracy, and the fundamental basis of the entire monarchical system. Save for this, their manifestations of Christianity may be said to differ.

Francis-Joseph, now in the eventide of a singularly sad and stormy life, and of a reign that was inaugurated by a most sanguinary civil war, reminds one, in spite of the hereditary title of "Apostolic Majesty" conferred upon his forbears by the Papacy, of nothing so much as of the publican of the parable going up to the temple to pray, so deep and unaffected is the humility with which he approaches the altar or kneels at the priedieu in the chapel of his palace, or beside the tombs of those most near and dear to him.

Emperor William's piety, while equally fervent, does not give one the same idea of self-abasement in the sight of the Almighty. It would be unfair to compare him to that other personage of the parable, namely, the Pharisee, for the latter was obviously lacking in sincerity; but at the same time, William in his moments of religious fervor, invariably recalls to mind that pretty story told by the late Alphonse Daudet, entitled the "Dauphin's Deathbed," in which the little boy-prince, on the eve of his departure for a happier world, responds to the exhortations of his chaplain with the exclamation: "But one thing consoles me, M. l'Abbé, and that is that up there in the Paradise of the stars I shall still be the Dauphin. I know that the good God is my cousin, and cannot fail to treat me according to my rank!"

Emperor Francis-Joseph will be prepared, in, a future existence, to take his place among the very humblest of his subjects, realizing that in the eyes of the Divinity all human creatures are equal, whereas Emperor William, on the other hand, in his heart of hearts, is certainly convinced that there will be a special place reserved for him above—a place in keeping with his rank here on earth. True, he has never actually said this in so many words, but he has assuredly indicated this belief both by his utterances and his actions. He makes no attempt to conceal his conviction that personages of royal birth, and, in particular, reigning sovereigns, are fashioned by the Almighty with clay of a quality vastly superior to that employed for the composition of ordinary human creatures.

Notwithstanding all the Spartan rigor and severity to which he was subjected in his youth, for the purpose of dispelling exaggerated pride of birth and station, he feels assured that the rights and privileges which he enjoys above his fellow-men are of Divine origin. Although a constitutional sovereign, he is never tired of declaring that he is responsible for the performance of his duties as ruler of Germany to the Almighty alone, and that God alone is able to appreciate and to pass judgment upon his actions.

That Emperor William considers himself to be far nearer to the throne of God, and in an infinitely closer degree of communion with the Almighty than any ordinary being, is apparent from many of his public utterances. In fact, the amazing intimacy which he professes with his Maker, and the strange manner in which he implies that he and the Creator have interests in common, and joint understandings that are beyond the comprehension of ordinary mankind, would savor of downright blasphemy, were it not for the undeniable sincerity of his Teutonic majesty, who really regards himself as a Divine instrument. Indeed, there is no doubt that it is this belief which he honestly entertains that has served to keep his private life, since he ascended the throne, so thoroughly blameless. For there is no doubt that William does his utmost to live up to the teachings of his faith, to order every phase of his existence in conformity with the precepts of Christianity, and to avoid everything that could tend to impair his status as a vice-regent of Providence in the eyes of the devout.

Few are the incidents and events of his reign to which he does not impart a religious flavor. Thus it was only last summer, on the completion of a new fort at Metz, that he insisted on its inauguration taking place with much religious pomp and ceremony, and he himself christened the fortress in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, thus calling down the blessing of the Trinity on a stronghold, the guns of which are pointed against France, and the success of which can only consist in the destruction of innumerable French foes!

It is he, too, who has originated the practice of christening with religious ceremonies the great guns furnished by Krupp for use afloat and ashore against Germany's enemies; and on the blades of the swords which he has presented to his elder sons, and to his favorite generals and officers, there is invariably inscribed on the one side, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," and on the other, averse from the Bible, surmounted by the imperial cypher.

William has even gone to the length of drawing up an extraordinary argument in defence of duelling based upon quotations taken from the Bible. The emperor takes as the text of his argument that verse of the writings of St. Paul, in which the Apostle declares that he would rather die than that anyone should rob him of his good name. William infers from this that the most eloquent and forcible of all the fathers of the Church was prepared to fight to the death for the honor of his name.

"Nowhere in the Bible," adds his majesty, "is there any prohibition
of duelling, not even in the New Testament, which, unlike the Old
Testament, is not a book of law. Indeed, every attempt to use the New
Testament as the basis for a new code of law has resulted in failure."

With regard to the use made by the opponents of duelling of that law in the Old Testament which proclaims, "Thou shalt not kill," the emperor draws attention to another portion of the Old Testament, wherein is mentioned that the sword shall not be carried in vain. Then invoking St. Paul's epistle to the Galatians, in which the Apostle exclaims: "Oh! ye foolish Galatians. This only would I learn of you. Received ye the spirit by the works of the law, or by the hearing of the faith? Are ye so foolish, having begun in the spirit, that ye wish to perfect yourselves in the flesh?"

The emperor declares that to twist the Word of God into a prohibition of duelling is nothing else than to perfect one's self by the flesh—that is to say to attribute an altogether material and common-place interpretation to what is meant spiritually. He adds that this is just as reprehensible in the eyes of the Almighty as the attempts by the Pharisees to adapt the Mosaic law to their own convenience, attempts which were so bitterly denounced by Christ.

Finally, the emperor generally concludes this extraordinary exposition of his views by the following exordium:

"He who after careful self-examination finds himself compelled to fight a duel, and whose conscience is clear of sentiments of hatred and of vengeance, may do so in the conviction that he is in no wise acting contrary to the Word of God, to the obligations of honor, or to the accepted customs of society. As in battle, so also in the duel, which has been forced upon him in one way or another, he may say to himself: If we live, we live in the Lord, and if we die, we die in the Lord, Amen."

It must be borne in mind that Emperor William delivered himself of these utterances, not merely in his capacity of Emperor of Germany, King of Prussia, and commander-in-chief of the entire German army, but also in his self-assumed rôle of Summus-Episcopus, or spiritual as well as temporal chief of the Lutheran Church throughout the empire. Such a speech was delivered on the occasion of the endeavor made by certain members of the court circles to induce the Lutheran synod to institute disciplinary measures against the Potsdam pastor who had declined to accord the rites of Christian burial to Baron von Schrader, killed in a duel by Baron Kotze, the encounter being the outcome of the anonymous letter scandal already described. The synod, however, thoroughly endorsed the attitude of the Lutheran minister in question, and availed itself of the opportunity to pass a resolution to the effect that no person killed in a combat of this kind, or even dying from wounds received in a duel, could be regarded as having met his death as a Christian, and as such entitled to Christian burial.

Curiously enough this view was endorsed by the gallant old General Bronsart von Schellendorf, at that time minister of war, who, in expressing his approval of the resolution, called upon the emperor as commander-in-chief to take more radical steps for checking the phenomenal growth of the practice of duelling.

William, however, declined to comply with the request, dismissed the general shortly afterwards from office, and, on the contrary, proceeded to condemn both the action of the synod and of the Potsdam pastor who had declined to officiate at Baron Schrader's obsequies, giving as the reason for his position in the matter the argument from which I have just given some extracts.

This was by no means the first time that William found himself in conflict with the provincial synods of the Lutheran Church in his dominions. On one occasion the consistory of the Lutheran Church of the Province of East Prussia, in which the imperial game preserves of Rominten are situated, passed a unanimous vote of censure upon the kaiser for having desecrated the Sabbath, and violated the secular laws with regard to its observance, by giving a big hunting-party on Sunday at Rominten. It was understood at the time that the consistory would have abstained from taking this extreme step had it not been for the comment excited throughout Germany by the somewhat malicious juxtaposition in most of the newspapers of two articles, one of which gave an elaborate description of the Sunday shooting-party of the emperor at Rominten, while in a parallel column was a proclamation just issued by the civil governor of the province of Westphalia, calling attention to the lax observance of the Sunday laws, and reiterating the pains and penalties that are prescribed by statute for those who shoot, sing, dance, play skittles or indulge in any recreation, whether in public or in private, that is inconsistent with repose on Sunday.

Of course, the vote of the consistory of Eastern Prussia was eventually quashed, and its members disciplined. But the publicity given to the affair served to call the attention of the people at large to the emperor's disregard of the laws which he himself had caused to be enacted. Previous to his reign, Sunday had been looked upon as a day of recreation, revelry, and festivity throughout Germany.

In the days of the old emperor all the finest performances of the court theatres were reserved for Sunday, the principal state banquets took place on that day, as well as the imperial hunting parties and battues. Among the bourgeoisie, dances, balls and picnics were the order of the Lord's Day, while the lower classes thronged the beer gardens and the beer halls that constitute so important a feature of German life. Regattas, parades, race-meetings, and popular entertainments and festivals of one kind or another, were, in fact, all reserved for Sunday.

All this was changed when the emperor came to the throne, and among the earliest laws enacted on his initiative, were those to which the Governor of Westphalia called attention in the proclamation just described, and which prohibited every form of revelry on the Sabbath. For instance, a few months after William's accession he was invited by the Berlin Yacht Club to attend the annual regatta, which was to take place on the following Sunday morning, but he declined on the ground that it would prevent his going to church, and when the committee offered to postpone the races until the afternoon he declared that his principles would not permit him to regard Sunday as a day to be devoted to regattas, and analogous forms of popular entertainment. It must be explained that he was at the time strongly imbued with the evangelistic views which he had derived from his wife's aunt, the American Countess of Waldersee, and from her protégé, ex-Court Chaplain Stoecker, who combined with his strict and Puritanical views on the subject of the Sabbath, the most intense animosity towards the Jews, and a virulent hatred for the late Emperor Frederick.

This strange divine, so famous for many years as the leader of the so-called "Jüdenhetz" movement, is one of the most displeasing figures in German public life, and Emperor William, who has long since turned his back upon him, and dismissed him from his court chaplaincy, must bitterly regret that he ever accorded him any favor or intimacy, and permitted himself to be influenced by his views. How is it possible to speak with any patience of a minister of the Church who, in a weekly paper, "The Ecclesiastical Review," of December 10, 1887, actually had the audacity to write in an editorial article signed with his name the following cruel sentence? "Let us pray every day and every hour for our royal family, and in particular for the Old Man (the old kaiser) and for the Young Man (the present emperor) of this race of heroes. May God in His mercy grant that the terrible punishment which has overtaken the sick Prince Frederick (the late Emperor Frederick) bear fruit, and may it bring resignation to his mind, and peace to his conscience."

At the moment when the article appeared, in which it was publicly intimated that the crown prince's malady was a just and well-merited punishment for his sins, the imperial patient, so sorely afflicted, whose life had been so blameless, was at death's door, a fact over which the court chaplain openly rejoiced, proclaiming that "a brilliant future is about to open up before us."

Since William has cut himself adrift from Pastor Stoecker, the strictness of his views with regard to the observance of Sunday, has undergone a change. At any rate, he has modified them in so far as he himself is concerned, and while he is very regular in his attendance at church on Sunday morning, he no longer seems to consider it a sin to go out sailing, shooting or hunting on Sunday afternoons, or to attend theatrical performances or other kinds of entertainment in the evening. Inasmuch as the Sunday Observance Laws have not been repealed, one can only take it for granted that he considers himself and his consort as being above the law of the land, and in no wise bound thereby. Yet neither of their majesties has a legal right to any such immunity. According to the terms of the Prussian constitution the emperor and empress are just as amenable to the laws that figure in the statute book, and equally required to obey them as any ordinary German citizen. The only advantage that the emperor enjoys is that he possesses certain prerogatives in connection with the giving of evidence, and with the punishment of offences that are directed against his person and his honor.

In this obligation to submit to the laws of the land he differs from his grandmother Queen Victoria, and from his ally, Emperor Francis-Joseph, the tenure of whose thrones was originally based on what in olden times was known as the Divine right of kings. Thus, in England, as in Austria, and even in Spain and Portugal, the mediaeval theory still prevails that "the king can do no wrong!" Queen Victoria, for instance, is not below the law like Emperor William, but above it. No court has jurisdiction over her, and legally speaking there is no jurisdiction upon earth to try her in a civil or criminal way, much less to condemn her to punishment.

Of all the prerogatives enjoyed by Queen Victoria, the one, however, of which the kaiser is the most envious is her supremacy of the state Church of England. His ambition is to acquire the same position with regard to the whole Lutheran Church as she enjoys over the Anglican denomination. This dream, difficult of execution for reasons which I will proceed to explain, originated with his great-grandfather, King Frederick-William III., who first conceived the idea of a species of Lutheran Kaliphate, with its headquarters at Berlin, and its Mecca at Jerusalem.

His successor, King Frederick-William IV., took up the notion with all the enthusiasm natural to his mystic character, and kept one of his most trusted statesmen and confidants busily employed for years in endeavoring to federate all the Reformed Churches, with the exception of that of England, under the protectorate and supremacy of the Hohenzollerns. Emperor William goes still further. He aspires to become, not merely the temporal head of the Lutheran Church throughout the world, but likewise its spiritual chief, its pontiff, in fact, in the same manner that the czar is the chief ecclesiastical dignitary and the duly consecrated spiritual head of the national Church of Russia. William bases his claims to the dignity of a summus-episcopus on the fact that he is a titular bishop and archbishop, some nineteen times over, for his ancestors, when annexing the various petty states and sovereignties in bygone times, always made a point of getting the mitre with the crown, and the crozier with the purple and ermine. Many of the petty states of Germany in mediaeval days were ruled, not by temporal rulers, but by archbishops possessing the rank of sovereign and the title of prince.

The ecclesiastical dignity was, in fact, inherent, and part and parcel of the sovereignty. Consequently, when Emperor William's ancestors acquired the one, they likewise secured possession of the other, and thus among his many ecclesiastical titles is that of Prince Archbishop of Silesia, and it is in his ecclesiastical capacity that he has conferred canonries and deaneries upon the military and civil members of his household.

Of course, the difficulty in the way of the emperor's recognition as the supreme head of the Lutheran Church is the fact that the Lutheran faith is by no means confined to his dominions. Lutherans constitute the major part of the population in Würtemberg, Saxony and Baden, as well as in all the other non-Prussian states of the Confederation, save Bavaria. Besides this, there are millions of Lutherans in Austro-Hungary, the Netherlands, Russia and Scandinavia, who could not recognize his supremacy without disloyalty to their own rulers, all of whom, with the exception of the king of Saxony, the Czar and the Austrian emperor, are, like himself, members of the Reformed Church.

His celebrated pilgrimage to Jerusalem a year ago, the first pilgrimage of a German emperor to the Holy Land since the days of the Crusades, clearly showed the trend of the kaiser's aspirations. He had invited all his fellow-Protestant monarchs to accompany him to Jerusalem, either in person or to send one of the princes of their houses as their representatives, and to ride in his train when he made his entry into the Holy City of Christendom. But not one of the sovereigns thus invited responded to the invitation tendered, and William had no German or foreign prince with him during this memorable pilgrimage.

It was the most extraordinary thing of the kind that has ever been seen, the strangeness of the affair being intensified by that same mixture of the mediaeval with the intensely modern and up-to-date ways which constitutes so peculiar a phase of William's character. The emperor rode into Jerusalem by the same route as that followed by the Founder of Christianity on the first Palm Sunday, wearing a flowing white mantle, and mounted on a milk-white steed. He prayed at dusk with the members of his suite in the Garden of Gethsemane, piously kneeling on the ground, pronounced a religious discourse on the Mount of Olives, received the Holy Communion in the Coenaculum, that is to say, the house in which, according to tradition, Christ celebrated the Last Supper,—nay, he even preached a full-fledged sermon on the occasion of the dedication of the Church of the Saviour at Jerusalem, and traveled by road from Jerusalem to Damascus! And yet, destroying all the romance and old-time glamor that might otherwise have surrounded this imperial crusade, was the fact that he was a "personally conducted" Cook's tourist, that his meals were prepared by French chefs, that champagne was the ordinary beverage at his table, and that, while tramcars were used to go about Damascus, the railroad was selected by him to get back from Jerusalem to Jaffa!

Emperor William has a weakness for preaching, and it must be confessed that he does it well. He possesses a very ready gift of speech, and his fervent religious belief seems to serve as a species of inspiration to his eloquence. Thus on board the Hohenzollern, during his annual yachting cruise along the coast of Norway, he invariably conducts divine service on Sunday morning, taking his place in front of an altar erected on deck, upon which the German war-flag is spread, in lieu of an altar-cloth. Luther's hymns, accompanied by the trombones of the band, are sung. Then the emperor reads the epistle and the gospel with great feeling, and recites the liturgical prayers with considerable fervor. Next he preaches a sermon, which, as a rule, is of his own composition, and extemporary, though occasionally he will read the sermon of some well-known pulpit orator.

It has been observed that he is always much more indulgent in cases of inattention on the part of the congregation when he reads a sermon than when he preaches one of his own. Any sailor who has the misfortune to fall asleep during the discourse is disciplined, and his name figures, of course, on the punishment roll on the following morning, when the day's report is presented to the emperor as the commanding officer of the ship. If the sermon has been one of his majesty's own composition, as a rule he allows the punishment to stand. But if the discourse happens to have been of less illustrious origin, he will almost invariably order the penalty to be remitted, adding, with a smile of indulgence, that "the sermon was rather dreary, wasn't it?"

At Berlin and at Potsdam the kaiser keeps his court chaplains under very strict discipline, and they expose themselves to a stern reprimand if they presume to extend their pulpit orations beyond the term of ten or, at the most, fifteen minutes. Emperor William very justly takes the ground that if they are sufficiently concise in their remarks, they can say all that they have to say within that space of time, and if their discourse is prolonged beyond the stipulated period it loses its force and its power of retaining the interest and the attention of the congregation.

The emperor does not hesitate to call the divines to account when they enunciate doctrines of which he does not approve, and whereas in former reigns a court chaplaincy was regarded in the light of an office for life, it is now considered as a merely temporary appointment, so frequent are the dismissals.

At the Dome at Berlin, and at the Garrison Church at Potsdam, the emperor follows the service with an air of mingled devotion and authority that is rather amusing. While most devout and fervent in his prayers, and joining in the hymns in such a manner that his ringing baritone voice is easily discernible above the rest, his eyes wander in a stern fashion around the church, quick to note any member of the congregation who is not behaving with proper decorum and reverence. He conveys the impression that he considers it to be his duty to keep the congregation in proper order, and if he finds that either he, or the imperial party is being stared at with any degree of persistency or curiosity, he at once sends off one of his officers to sharply warn the offenders. Indeed, he has more than once caused it to be made known through official communications to the press that he thoroughly disapproves of being stared at when attending church, and engaged in his devotions.

Like William, Francis-Joseph has made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem and the Holy Land, but it was without any fuss or pomp. In fact, there are few persons, save those connected with the Court of Austria, who are aware that Austria's ruler ever visited the Holy Land. He went there in 1869, traveling in the strictest incognito, and attended only by two of his gentlemen-in-waiting and two servants, after the inauguration of the Suez Canal, at which he had been present. There was no solemn entry on horseback into the city that witnessed the foundation of Christianity, and while he prayed at the Holy Places like Emperor William, he did so quietly and unobtrusively, without attracting any attention. His pilgrimage was characterized by the same unaffected humility that distinguishes his religion from that of his brother monarch at Berlin.

William's faith still retains the enthusiasm and, if I may use the word, the exuberance of youth, whereas that of Francis-Joseph, though even more fervent, is chastened, humbled and mellowed by the experience of many a cruel sorrow and many a hard blow. To some of these he would have succumbed had it not been for his religious belief. There have been at least three different occasions during his fifty years' reign when he would have abandoned his throne, and abdicated his crown had it not been pointed out to him by his spiritual adviser that it was his duty—his religious duty—to remain at his post, and to bear with bravery the trials with which he was overwhelmed.

The first of these occasions was at the close of the disastrous wars of 1866, when the march of the Prussians on Vienna was only stayed within a few hours' distance of the capital by the ignominious peace of Nicolsburg. The second time was when he lost his only son by the frightful tragedy of Mayerling, and he saw his boy's body refused even Christian rites of burial by the church, until he had been able to convince the kindly old pontiff at Rome that the poor lad's mind was unbalanced at the time that he took his life. The third occasion was when his lovely consort, to whom, in spite of all that is said to the contrary, he was so deeply devoted, was taken from him by the hand of an assassin in a foreign land, and under peculiarly heartrending circumstances.

Moreover, he saw the body of his brother Maximilian brought home from the Mexican plain of Queretaro, where he had been shot down by a file of soldiers as if a vulgar criminal; he stood by the deathbed of a favorite niece, burnt to death before his eyes in the palace of Schoenbrunn, when her dress had caught fire from a lighted cigarette which she was endeavoring to conceal from him and from her father; he followed to the grave another favorite of his, a nephew, accidentally killed while out shooting. Indeed, there is no end to the tragedies which have gone to sadden the life of this now septuagenarian monarch, and while on ordinary occasions, especially when engaged in military inspections or in great court functions, he appears to retain the elasticity, vigor and temperament of a man still in his prime, yet when in church or chapel, attending divine service, and so wrapped up in his devotions that he becomes oblivious to his surroundings, the restraint which he puts upon his feelings at other times disappears, and one is able to realize the extent of his sufferings, and how supreme is the consolation that he finds in his religion.

Vienna is the only capital in the world where one can see a full-fledged monarch kneeling bareheaded in the streets, and offering up prayers in the most fervent manner, the spectacle exciting not ridicule, but sentiments of profound reverence and sympathy on the part of the people—Christians, Jews, and Mohammedans from Herzegovina and Bosnia—who throng the thoroughfares of the beautiful city on the Danube. The sight is witnessed each year, on the occasion of the Corpus Christi procession. This glorious procession starts out from the Cathedral of St. Stephen at an early hour in the morning, and the entire route through the various streets which it traverses Is kid with boards, over which grass is strewn. At various points along the way there are altars, or so-called reposoirs, where the Sacred Host is placed for a few moments, the emperor and the great personages with him kneeling piously on the ground and offering up prayers.

The procession is opened by choristers, then come priests and monks with hands crossed upon their breasts, next the rectors of the various metropolitan parishes, displaying their distinctive banners like the knights of old. The municipal authorities, the officers of the imperial household, the Knights Grand Cross of the various orders, the cabinet ministers, and the principal dignitaries of the army, of the navy, and of the crown. Finally, comes a magnificent canopy borne by generals, under which walks the tall and stately Cardinal Archbishop of Vienna, carrying the Host, to which the troops lining the route bend the knee while presenting arms, the civilians behind them baring their heads, while the women cross themselves. Immediately behind the Host, bareheaded and alone, with a lighted candle in his hand, and wearing the full uniform of an Austrian field marshal,—a snow-white cloth tunic with scarlet and gold facings,—strides the aged emperor, still erect as a dart, with all the slender, shapely elegance of a man of thirty, in spite of his three-score years and ten. He is followed by the archdukes, conspicuous among them the gigantic Archduke Eugene, grand master of the Teutonic Order, in the semi-ecclesiastical habits of his rank, while the procession is brought to a close by escorts of the superbly arrayed Archer and Hungarian Body Guards.

The spectacle is impressive, and the silence along the route, save for the chanting of the choristers, and the recitation of prayers in an undertone by the clergy, adds to the solemnity of the occasion. In days gone by, the murdered empress used to figure in the procession in full court dress and followed by her ladies, but now women take no part therein.

Another remarkable religious ceremony in which the emperor plays the leading part, and which is only to be witnessed nowadays at the Court of Vienna, is the washing of the feet of twelve aged men on the Thursday of Holy Week, in memory of the washing of the feet of the twelve apostles on the first Holy Thursday by the Founder of Christianity. The ceremony takes place at the imperial palace, in the presence of the entire court. The twelve old men, each carefully dressed for the occasion, who have been brought from their homes to the palace in imperial carriages, are seated in a row, and, after a brief religious service celebrated by the cardinal archbishop, the emperor kneels in front of each, and washes his feet in a golden basin filled with rose water, the ewer being carried by the heir to the throne, while the prelate who holds the office of court chaplain hands to his majesty the gold-embroidered towel with which the feet are dried after having been washed. When the emperor has reached the end of the line there are more prayers, and the blessing; then a banquet is served to the old men, at which they are waited on in person by the emperor, the various dishes being handed to him by the archdukes and princes of the blood. The old people are finally sent home, each with a purse containing gold pieces, and a large hamper, wherein are placed several bottles of fine wine and the remains of the various dishes and gastronomical masterpieces which have figured on the table during the banquet. As a rule, the old men dispose of these for considerable sums of money to wealthy Viennese, who are only too delighted to purchase them, and thus to be able to boast of having partaken of the emperor's hospitality!

Brought up by parents who axe renowned for their religious bigotry, in the absolutist school of the great Prince Metternich, Emperor Francis-Joseph has experienced the utmost difficulty in reconciling his religions belief with his obligations as a constitutional monarch, for he has been repeatedly obliged to give his sanction as a sovereign to reforms enacted by the legislature of Austria, and particularly of Hungary, which were strongly opposed by the Roman Catholic Church, fiercely denounced by the clergy, and condemned by the Vatican. That he should in matters such as these have sacrificed his religious prejudices and conscientious scruples to what he conceived to be his duty as a constitutional monarch, speaks volumes for his strength of character, and for his uprightness as a ruler. There is only one thing that he has declined to do, in spite of all the pressure brought to bear upon him by his ministers and by his allies: he has absolutely declined to visit Rome so long as the Pope remains deprived of his temporal sovereignty. Ordinarily the most chivalrous and courteous of monarchs, and extremely punctilious in the fulfilment of all the obligations imposed by etiquette, he has up to the present moment refrained from returning the visit paid to his court at Vienna by King Humbert and Queen Marguerite nearly twenty years ago. Leo XIII., like his predecessor, has intimated that he would regard any visit paid to the King of Italy in the former Papal Palace of the Quirinal at Rome, by a Catholic sovereign, as a cruel affront to the occupant of the chair of St. Peter. The only Catholic ruler who has visited King Humbert at the Quirinal, in spite of this papal protest, is Prince Ferdinand of Bulgaria, who was at the time subject to the ban of the church, in consequence of the conversion of his little son from Catholicism to the Greek orthodox rite, in order to insure his own (Ferdinand's) recognition by Russia as ruler of Bulgaria. But Francis-Joseph has never consented to set his foot in Rome, although it has been pointed out to him that the existence of the triple alliance was imperilled by this slight placed upon King Humbert and Queen Marguerite. He did not hesitate to declare that he would rather forego the alliance than affront the Pope by visiting Rome under the present circumstances.

One little scene, in conclusion, which I witnessed at Vienna, has always remained impressed upon my mind, illustrating as it does the democracy of the Catholic Church, if I may use that expression, and demonstrating the good old emperor's belief,—so different from that of Emperor William,—that in the eyes of the Almighty all men are equal.

It transpired at the funeral of Cardinal Gangelbauer, the popular and universally venerated Archbishop of Vienna. The obsequies took place in the ancient Cathedral of St. Stephen. Military and ecclesiastical pomp were combined with the magnificent ceremonial of the Austrian court for the purpose of rendering the last honors to the dead prelate. The entire metropolitan garrison was under arms, and lined the streets through which the funeral procession passed. The bells of all the churches in the metropolis were tolling throughout the ceremony, and added to the solemnity of the occasion. The stately Papal Nuncio performed the funeral service in the most impressive manner, and when he stood on the step of the high altar, and raised his hands aloft to pronounce the absolution, the whole of the vast assemblage bowed down, the wintry sunlight streaming through the rich stained glass windows, falling alike upon the reverently bent head of the monarch, and those of the peasant mourners who stood by his side at the head of the bier. For the dead cardinal was the son of an old farmer, and his brothers, his sisters, and his nephews, all of them plain, humble peasants of Upper Austria, were kneeling there in their peasant garb with the emperor in their midst, and surrounded by the glittering uniforms of the archdukes, the princes, the generals, cabinet ministers and ambassadors assembled around the coffin. There was no undue exaltation or timidity on the part of the peasants, no undue condescension or contempt on the part either of emperor or dignitaries for the lowly rank of their fellow mourners. All seemed thoroughly to realize that they were equal in the face of death, and in the presence of their Creator.

It is only in a metaphorical sense that William can be described as an Anointed of the Lord. For whereas Francis-Joseph was both anointed and crowned as King of Hungary in 1867, Emperor William has never been the object of either of these ceremonies. The fact of the matter is that there is a good deal of difference of opinion concerning the dignity of a German emperor; for while William claims that it is identical with the status of the emperors of Austria and Russia, the non-Prussian states of Germany insist that it is merely titular, inasmuch as he has no control or jurisdiction in the various federal states which constitute the empire, such as Bavaria, Saxony and Würtemberg, each of which has an independent king in nowise subject, but merely allied to the Prussian monarch.

It is only in time of war, and for the sake of successful co-operation that the supreme command of the united German military forces is by special agreement vested in the hands of the German emperor—a tribute to the superiority and pre-eminence of the Prussian military reorganizations. It is true that Prussia has since then, by degrees, endeavored to encroach upon the independence of the federal states. But this is strongly resented, to-day more than ever, and William is constantly being reminded by the non-Prussian press, by the non-Prussian governments, and even by the non-Prussian reigning dynasties that they are not vassals, but allies of Prussia.

The German emperor has no crown as such, nor any civil list, and with the solitary exception of his eldest son, all the members of his family figure merely as royal Prussian, not imperial German princes. Thus, for instance, Prince Henry, the brother of the emperor, is addressed not as imperial highness, but only as royal highness.

Had William attempted to have himself crowned as German emperor, it would merely have had the effect of attracting public attention to the difference existing between his own status as emperor and that of his fellow-sovereigns of Austria and Russia, besides which it would have raised all sorts of troublesome questions with the non-Prussian courts, and intensified their sensibilities and prejudices. If, on the other hand, he had caused himself to be crowned king of Prussia in the ancient city of Königsberg, where all Prussian kings have been crowned, the ceremony would have had the effect of impressing upon the world at large the fact that the only real crown to which William can lay claim, and which he is entitled to wear, is the crown of the kings of Prussia.

That is why he has never been either crowned or anointed, differing in this respect from Francis-Joseph, Emperor Nicholas and Queen Victoria, all of whom have experienced both ceremonies, which by the masses of Europe, especially among the uneducated and ignorant, are considered indispensable to endow the majesty of the sovereign with a sacred character. The Hungarians did not consider Francis-Joseph as entitled to their allegiance and loyalty until he had been crowned at Pesth with the crown of St. Stephen, and anointed with the sacred oil, and there is no doubt that the Bohemians would be transformed from the most turbulent, malcontent, and troublesome of his subjects into his most devoted lieges, were he to comply with their demands, and have himself anointed and crowned as King of Bohemia, with the crown of Saint Wenceslaus.

Nor was Emperor Nicholas of Russia considered a full-fledged Czar of Russia, nor his consort a czarina, until he had been anointed and crowned at Moscow, nearly two years after his accession to the throne. In fact, until the time of his coronation, his mother, the dowager empress, enjoyed precedence of his wife on all official occasions, on the ground that she was the widow of a crowned czar, and had herself been solemnly crowned as the consort of Alexander III., by her imperial husband, whereas her daughter-in-law, the younger empress, had enjoyed no such advantage up to that time.

Only those who know William well can realize how deeply he feels this difference which exists between himself and the rulers of more ancient dynasties, or how glad he would be to find some means of being crowned and anointed, not as a mere titular German emperor, but as Emperor of Germany. It is difficult to see how this ambition of his could be fulfilled so long as the Austrian empire remains in existence. The dignity of Emperor of Germany belonged for centuries to the house of Hapsburg, in relation to the head of which the chief of the Hohenzollern family ranked merely as a cup-bearer, being compelled to stand behind the chair of the Hapsburg monarch at all state banquets, and to keep his cup supplied with wine. The whole of the ancient insignia of the former Emperors of Germany, including the sceptre, the orb, and the sword of state, are in the possession of Emperor Francis-Joseph at Vienna, and are comprised in the imperial Austrian regalia. Indeed, at the time when King William of Prussia was proclaimed German Emperor at the palace of Versailles, in 1871, the Emperor of Austria wrote to the then widowed Queen Marie of Bavaria, that he protested, "from the very bottom of his heart, against the dignity and crown of his father being vested in persons without a shadow of right thereto, and that he had placed his rights in the hands of Providence." Although he entertains the friendliest sentiments towards Emperor William, there is no reason to believe that either he or the members of his house have modified their resentment in connection with this quasi-usurpation of the dignity of Emperor of Germany by the Prussian family of Hohenzollern.

CHAPTER XIII

There is no more restless man in all Europe than the kaiser. It is related of him at the Court of Berlin that when on one occasion he inquired of his brother, Prince Henry, if he could suggest to him anything new wherewith to startle both his own subjects and the world in general, the sailor prince, with a merry laugh, proposed that his majesty should remain perfectly quiet, without saying or doing anything, for an entire week! That, he assured his imperial brother, would amaze and dumbfound the entire universe more than anything else that could possibly be conceived.

While this lack of repose on the part of William is the source of a good deal of fun both at home and abroad, there is no doubt that it has had the effect of strengthening the monarchial system in Prussia to a far greater degree than in any previous reign. It is not that the kaiser is more popular than his predecessors on the throne. On the contrary, it may be doubted whether he holds the same place in the affections of the German people as did his father and grandfather. But while it is possible to imagine a Prussia without either of them, it is difficult to picture to oneself a Germany without William! It seems as if he were indispensable to the existence of the nation, and that if anything untoward were to happen to him, everything in Germany would suddenly stop working, precisely as if the mainspring of a watch were to break. He conveys the impression of being the source from which proceeds every action, every phase of activity and every enterprise, no matter what its character. To such an extent is this the case, that practically nothing seems to be done throughout the length and breadth of his dominions without his influence in the matter being both felt and apparent. There is nothing so trivial that it does not interest him. He will turn from the greatest and most important matters of state to the most petty question concerning court etiquette or domestic mismanagement, and will not hesitate to interrupt an interview with the chancellor of the empire, or with some foreign ambassador, to spank one of his youngsters if he happens to have been misbehaving himself!

He keeps absolute personal control over the army, the navy, the state administration, and his court, and yet finds time to supervise his children's lessons and amusements. He attends even to the pulling out of the milk teeth of his little ones and permits no one else to do it, as the following little anecdote, concerning Prince Oscar, his fifth son, will illustrate.

The boys had, and I believe still have, an English governess, who is very strict and independent with them, and who just on that account, probably, is highly esteemed and liked by her young pupils, as well as by their parents. On the occasion of her last anniversary, the empress with her usual kindness prepared a pretty birthday table for her, decked out with all kinds of presents from the imperial couple, and from each of the children. Prince Oscar's gift, which he had carefully done up himself in ribbons and tinted paper, and inscribed with his name, turned out to be a small and empty cardboard box. On being taken to task by his mother as to what he meant by this, he informed her that the box was destined to hold the first tooth, which he was about to lose, and which his father, the emperor, was to pull for him with a string that very afternoon, at the conclusion of a "Kronrath," or council of the crown, at which his majesty was to preside. The little prince regarding that tooth as the greatest treasure at his disposal, was convinced that he could bestow upon his governess no more acceptable gift. She now wears it in a gold bangle presented to her by the empress.

Among other domestic affairs which have occupied the kaiser's attention, has been the tendency of his boys to dyspepsia and digestive troubles, owing to their habit of eating too rapidly, a fault which they have certainly inherited from their father, for he has subjected them to the same process that was adopted in his case when a child, to make him eat slowly; to wit, whenever apples or pears are given to the boys they are not permitted to get them whole, and to munch them, like any ordinary boy, but only to receive them cut into quarters, each bit being wrapped in a number of pieces of tissue paper, the unfolding of which requires time, thus preventing the young princes from eating too fast! The kaiser often alludes to the fact that he was subjected to the same formalities and will add:

"You see nothing was made easy for me in my youth. Even the matter of eating an apple was rendered as difficult for me as possible!"

The kaiser is followed wherever he goes by an extremely clever stenographer, Dr. Weiss, who was formerly official shorthand writer to the imperial parliament. He now forms part of the emperor's household, and accompanies his majesty on all his numerous travels. It is the doctor's duty to place on record and preserve all the pearls that drop from the imperial lips, or perhaps, to put it more correctly, to give the emperor and his advisers an opportunity of editing and revising his public utterances before they find their way into print. Dr. Weiss has several assistants who help him in the transcription of his shorthand notes, and none of the emperor's public speeches or casual remarks find their way into print nowadays except through Dr. Weiss. Thanks to the tact of this precious secretary, there exists, very often, a considerable diversity between what the emperor says, and what he is represented as having said, and it is in consequence of this wise provision that the imperial speeches appear to have become so much more discreet, and at the same time less sensational, than was the case during the early part of his reign.

Quick-tempered, passionate, generous-hearted, and extremely impulsive, the emperor, often speaking on the spur of the moment, frequently said more than he intended to say, and thus laid himself open to both domestic and foreign criticism and abuse. He has not yet outgrown this fault, although he has become much more cautious than formerly, and moreover, with Dr. Weiss at his elbow, and with the care that is observed by the authorities to let none of the imperial utterances reach the public in print, save through Dr. Weiss, after being duly edited by him, most of the former perils have been averted. The emperor is very particular, indeed, about having Dr. Weiss by his side, and frequently at public functions himself directs the doctor where to stand and where to sit, so that he may not lose a word of what his imperial master says.

Like the aged pontiff at Rome, William manifests a great predilection for the telephone. There are telephonic instruments in his library, in his workroom, and even in his bed-chamber, and quite a considerable portion of the day is spent talking over the wires to his ministers, government officials, relatives, courtiers or mere friends. He seems to find the same pleasure in calling up the various government departments that he does in alarming the various garrisons at night time, being evidently under the impression that by so doing he keeps the officials strictly attentive to their duties, and convinced that if not the eye, at any rate the ear of the emperor is on the qui vive! Nor are the government offices safe from being rung up by his majesty over the wires even at night time. For the past two or three years he has insisted that at the ministry of foreign affairs, at the ministry of the interior, and at the war and naval departments, at least one of the divisional chiefs and half a dozen clerks should be kept on duty all night long, in order to attend to any business or to communicate to him without delay anything that they may regard as needing his immediate attention.

Berlin is the only capital where the principal government offices are thus kept open for official business all night long, and the circumstance serves to furnish another illustration of the extraordinary activity, energy, and impatience of delay that distinguish the emperor, who wants everything done right away, without a moment's waiting!

Emperor William gives the telephone companies at Berlin and at Potsdam far more trouble than any other of their subscribers, for when he telephones to any of the government departments, or to dignitaries or officials of high rank, the operators at the central office are under the strictest orders to abstain from listening to the conversation, and are forced to rise from their seats and remove to a distance from the wires. Anyone caught disobeying in this particular is subject not only to dismissal, but to serious unpleasantness on the part of the police.

When the emperor rings up anybody, he does not announce his identity, taking it for granted that the tones of his voice are sufficiently well known to reveal it. It has been noted, moreover, that he commences all his conversations over the wire with the pronoun "I," while the verb "command," either in the past or in the present tense, almost invariably follows. This is quite sufficient to show who is talking.

William is the first sovereign of his line to accept the hospitality of his subjects. Prior to his advent to the throne, such a thing as the monarch attending any private entertainment or dinner given by one of his lieges was altogether unknown. Neither King Frederick-William III., King Frederick-William IV., nor old Emperor William, whose reigns extended over nearly ninety years of the nineteenth century, ever once honored any member of the nobility, no matter how high in rank, with their presence for a single evening or night, except during the course of the annual manoeuvres, when the monarch, as commander-in-chief of the army, was quartered in some château, much in the same manner as the officers of minor rank and the soldiers. Emperor William, however, following the example of his British relatives, and greatly to the dismay of all the old-fashioned authorities on the etiquette of the Court of Berlin, has adopted the practice of inviting himself out to dinner in town, and to shooting-parties in the country, in a manner that is absolutely startling, even to his English relatives; for whereas the latter never dine out anywhere, unless the list of guests invited to meet them is previously submitted to them for consideration and revision, in order to avoid being brought into contact with people that are not congenial, the kaiser, on the other hand, when he hears that a dinner is about to be given by one of his friends or followers, frequently invites himself either at the last moment, an hour or two before the time fixed for the meal, or else arrives unannounced and uninvited, knowing full well that he will always be welcome, since his coming can only be regarded as a particular mark of imperial regard and favor toward the giver of the entertainment.

Thus, while Count Shuvaloff was still Russian ambassador at Berlin, the emperor was in the habit of dropping in unannounced about luncheon time, and of sitting down with the count and countess, the latter being as often as not in the négligée of a mere tea-gown, and more than once when he had sat with them longer than he intended, and found that there was no time left to return to the palace before proceeding to the railroad station to take his departure for Potsdam or some other place, he would ask leave of the count to use his telephone, ring up the empress, and not only bid her adieu, but also dispatch her a kiss over the wires, in the most charmingly domestic fashion.

William prides himself in no small degree on his descent through Queen Victoria in an unbroken line from the Biblical King David, and claims that he, therefore, belongs to the same family as the founder of Christianity. Hanging in a conspicuous position in his workroom in the "Neues-Palais" at Potsdam, is a copy of the royal family tree, showing the name of King David engrossed at the root of it, with that of Emperor William at the top. According to this tree, the reigning house of England is descended from King David through the eldest daughter of Zedekiah, who, with her sister, fled to Ireland in charge of the prophet Jeremiah,—then an old man,—to be married to Heremon, the king of Ulster of the period.

Curiously enough, a Mr. Glover, a clergyman of the Church of England, who had devoted the greater portion of his life to the study of genealogy, wrote to Queen Victoria a letter in 1869, informing her that he had discovered her to be descended in an unbroken line from King David. Her majesty sent for him to come to Windsor, and to his astonishment informed him that what he thought he had been the first to discover had been known to herself and to the prince consort for many years.

Naturally, William, with his religious ideas, has always been deeply interested in this family tree, and soon after his accession to the throne requested his grandmother to let him have a copy thereof, which was sent to him most handsomely engrossed and magnificently framed. Its contemplation has, of course, tended to increase his belief in the divine origin of his authority, since, if he does not, like the old kings of France, describe himself as "first cousin of the Almighty," he can at any rate claim to be a near kinsman of the founder of Christianity.

Notwithstanding all the emperor's manifest desire to render himself agreeable to the French, and his evident eagerness to assuage by gracious and chivalrous courtesy the bitterness resulting from the war of 1870 and the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine, he has absolutely declined since he ascended the throne to permit France's national hymn, "The Marseillaise," to be played at his court, at any of the imperial and royal theatres, or by any German military or naval band. When he entertains the French ambassador at dinner or receives him in state and wishes to pay him musical honors, he causes the old "March of St. Denis," in use at Versailles prior to the great revolution, which is in every sense of the word a Bourbon hymn, to be played.

The ambassador who now represents France is the Marquis de Noailles, a scion of one of the oldest ducal houses of the French nobility, whose origin dates back to the crusades. This being the case, the envoy naturally offers no objection to the attitude of the emperor with regard to the "Marseillaise."

The kaiser, after all, acts in the matter with a far greater degree of logic and reason than any of his fellow-sovereigns, for the strains of the "Marseillaise" are familiar in the palace of the czar at St. Petersburg, at Windsor Castle, in the royal palace of Madrid, in the imperial Hofburg at Vienna, and even at the Vatican, and it is difficult to conceive anything more paradoxical than a royal band of music playing for the delectation of royal and imperial ears a national hymn, the words of which passionately call upon the people to rise up and to put to death all kings and emperors, queens and empresses, denounced as bloodthirsty tyrants.

Emperor William, even before his accession to the throne, manifested such a pronounced hostility towards the practice of gambling at cards, which is one of the curses of the corps of officers of the German army, that a very widespread impression prevails to the effect that he objects to card games in any shape or form. This is a mistake. It is the gambling and not the game itself to which the kaiser is opposed. In fact, he is very fond of a game of cards, provided the stakes are merely nominal, and I have known him to play an entire evening after a dinner at the castle of Kuckelna, which marked the close of a great pheasant "drive" organized in his honor by Prince Lichnòwski. The game which the emperor played was the German one called Skat, and the point was a German penny. The emperor was the principal loser, having had poor hands dealt to him throughout the entire game, and when he arose from the table he was out of pocket exactly six cents. In thus limiting the stakes to a merely nominal amount he has followed the example of his old friend and adviser, the veteran King of Saxony, who is accustomed to play every night his game of skat after dinner, his stakes, like those of the kaiser, never exceeding one penny.

I have often wished that I could see the face of the kaiser's uncle, the Prince of Wales, were such truly regal stakes as these proposed to him. His ordinary points and stakes are any sum from five guineas to fifty, and even a hundred, and the only time that I can recollect his having played for less than a guinea was at Hughenden when on a visit to the Earl of Beaconsfield. Bernal Osborne, father of the Duchess of St. Albans, was one of the party when the prince proposed a game of whist at five-guinea points. Lord Beaconsfield was a poor man, obliged to count every penny, and Bernal Osborne caught sight of the manner in which his face fell when the proposal was made. Grasping the situation, and remembering that Lord Beaconsfield had but a few weeks previously added the imperial crown of India to the British regalia, by causing Queen Victoria to be proclaimed Empress of India, he turned to the prince and remarked:

"Would it not be more appropriate, sir, to play for crown stakes?" The prince grasped the situation at once, made a flattering reference to the old premier, and the points played for were, as suggested, five shillings instead of five guineas!

Apropos of this question of cards, William has done everything in his power to check gambling, especially among the army officers, and before succeeding to the throne, while still only Prince of Prussia, he actually went to the length of issuing a stringent order to the officers of the Hussar regiment, of which he was colonel, forbidding them to cross the threshold of the Union Club, on account of the high play for which that institution was notorious. The club deeply resented being thus placed under a ban, and sent its president, the late Duke of Ratibor, to the aged emperor to entreat him to rescind his grandson's order, on the ground that it was a reflection upon the most aristocratic and exclusive club of all Germany, besides being unjust to the officers of the regiment, some of whom were among the most brilliant and popular members of that institution. Old Emperor William, after inquiring whether Prince William had really issued such an order, shook his head rather seriously for a few minutes, and then told the duke that he would see what he could do, but that knowing his grandson well, he feared that there would be a good deal of difficulty about the matter. On the following morning, when young Prince William came to pay his daily visit to his grandfather, the latter broached the subject to him with the utmost caution, and with manifest expectation of encountering a refusal. Nor was he disappointed. For no sooner had he mentioned the matter than the young prince declared in the most positive manner that nothing would induce him to rescind his order, and that rather than give way, he would resign command of the regiment, arguing that in such a matter especially he could brook no interference. The old emperor admitted in a rather shame-faced way that his grandson was in the right, excused himself for having mentioned the matter, did all that he could to soothe what he believed to be the ruffled feelings of the prince, and on the following day told the Duke of Ratibor that he was very sorry, but that, in spite of all his efforts, he had been unable to accomplish anything with his grandson in the way desired.

Immediately after he came to the throne he requested the resignation of a number of officers, some of them bearing the greatest names in the empire, for instance, the late Prince Fürstenberg and Prince George Radziwill, for no other reason than their fondness for cards, and in consequence of the large sums of money which they were accustomed to stake. All the princes and nobles thus forced to leave the army also quitted Berlin, in token of their disapproval of an emperor who took upon himself to interfere with what they were pleased to regard as their private amusements, and there is no doubt that for a time the brilliancy of the Berlin Court and the prosperity of trade in the Prussian capital suffered through the closing of so many princely palaces and grand houses.

It is strange that in spite of all that the emperor has done to stop gambling, the play has been higher, and the card-scandals more frequent since he became emperor than during any previous reign, with the exception of that of his grand-uncle, King Frederick-William IV. The latter's crusade against gambling culminated in the tragic death of his chief of police, and most intimate friend and crony, Baron von Hinkelday, whose spectre he was wont to see before him during his moments of temporary dementia, previous to his becoming entirely insane.

Emperor William's reign has been saddened much in the same way through the suicide of his young cousin, Prince Alfred of Coburg; the self-destruction of the young prince, who had been placed under the immediate care and guardianship of his majesty, having been due, as I have intimated, to enormous losses at the card tables of Berlin and Potsdam. In spite of all the well-meant efforts of the kaiser, and notwithstanding all his threats and disciplinary measures, gambling is more rampant to-day among the officers of the German army, and overwhelming a greater number of illustrious names with ruin and disgrace than ever before.

With all his keen sense of dignity, his shortness of temper, and his impulsiveness, the emperor is nevertheless more easily diverted from anger to good humor by means of a piece of wit than most of his fellow sovereigns. Some time ago, when old Baron Boetticher, secretary of state for the interior, was discussing with his majesty the most suitable nominations to be made in the case of a number of vacant offices, the latter became greatly irritated by the old statesman's unanswerable objections to the candidate for whom he himself desired to obtain a certain post, his anger grew quite violent, and when the baron inquired if there were no other person upon whom he would like to confer the appointment, William replied, curtly, "Oh, confer it on the devil if you like!"

"Very well," replied the old minister, with a twinkle in his eye, but in his most suave and courtly manner, and with a most unruffled demeanor: "And shall I allow the patent signed by your majesty in that case to go out in the usual form, 'To my trusted and well-beloved cousin and counsellor?'"

The kaiser saw the joke at once, burst into a loud peal of laughter, his ill-temper having vanished in a moment.

Another amusing incident in which the devil was called upon to play a part occurred on the occasion of the emperor's inspection of a number of newly-joined recruits for the first regiment of Foot Guards. In accordance with his invariable custom, he was examining-them as to what they would do in this or that emergency. Addressing one burly Pomeranian grenadier, he inquired what he would say to a man who annoyed him while on sentry duty.

"Go to the devil! Get out! your majesty," responded the man.

"All right, my friend," exclaimed the emperor, laughing, "I'll get out; but I'll be hanged if I'll go to the devil," and with that he turned to the next man.

Military inspections very often furnish the occasion for amusing and sometimes rather disconcerting episodes. I can recall as an illustration an inspection of recruits for the navy at Kiel. On that day the emperor had been holding forth, as he so often does, about the duty of sailors as well as soldiers to defend the crown against the foes beyond the frontiers of the empire, as well as against the enemies within the boundaries of the latter. He then singled out a stolid-looking recruit, and having ascertained that he was the son of a Bavarian farmer, with a strongly developed taste for the sea, he proceeded to question him with regard to the address which he had just delivered.

"And who are our foreign foes, my good fellow?" he inquired.

"The Russians and the French, your majesty," replied the recruit.

"And who are the enemies within the empire?" proceeded the emperor, expecting of course that the sailor would say that they were the socialists.

"The Prussians, your majesty," answered the Jack-tar that was to be, without apparently realizing that he had said anything wrong or impolite, and merely giving a frank utterance to the sentiment in which he, like all his countrymen in Bavaria, had been brought up.

One of the most pleasing features about Emperor William is his readiness to forgive and forget, and his inability to bear a grudge for any length of time against those who have either insulted or injured him. No more striking instance of this can be given than his treatment of General Baron von Krosick, who expected to be dismissed from the army, possibly even banished, when William ascended the throne, but who instead has been overwhelmed by his sovereign with every conceivable honor, having received not merely his promotion from the rank of brigadier-general to that of inspector-general of the army, but also investiture with the exceedingly rare distinction of the Order of the Black Eagle, which, as I have already stated before, is the Prussian equivalent to the English Order of the Garter, and the Austrian Order of the Golden Fleece. The baron enjoys the well-deserved reputation of being the most phenomenally rude and rough-spoken man in the German army, and was at one time colonel in command of the hussar regiment in which William, prior to becoming emperor, received his cavalry training.

On one occasion an almost incredible scene took place. It was at a regimental mess banquet, to which William, at that time only a captain, had invited Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria, then on a visit at Berlin. During the course of the dinner, the conversation turned upon some projected reforms in cavalry drill and movements, which ultimately turned out to be impracticable and were not carried into effect. William, in his impulsive, impetuous, and somewhat arrogant way, declaimed in a loud tone of voice on their superlative merits, declared himself in their favor, and added that he would do his utmost to see them carried through, as he regarded them as indispensable to raise the standard and tone of the German cavalry.

Colonel von Krosick, like the remainder of the officers, had drunk his fair share of wine. He never liked his royal subaltern, and took no pains to conceal his sentiments. The arrogance of the prince's utterances, as well as his assumption of superiority, exasperated him beyond measure, and, breaking into the conversation, he exclaimed in tones that were heard throughout the apartment:

"Aber das ist ja der blödste Unsinn [But that is the most ridiculous nonsense];" and then proceeded to contemptuously ridicule William's arguments.

Much nettled, and quite as short-tempered as his colonel, William called out, half jokingly, half bitterly:

"That is all very well, colonel. You are my superior officer at present, and I am bound to defer to your opinion. But our positions may change one of these days, and then you will see."

Perfectly frantic and purple in the face, Colonel von Krosick thundered forth:

"When that day comes to pass, prince, I will rather break my sabre across my knee than serve under your command."

Immediately the whole place was in an uproar. The Austrian crown prince being the first to jump from his seat, and a minute later both princes had left the mess-room and the barracks. Contrary to general expectation, Prince William made no report about the matter, either to his father or grandfather, and Colonel von Krosick heard nothing more about the affair.

Of course he expected to receive his discharge when William ascended the throne. But to his amazement, he has ever since been made the object of the most signal favor, kindliness and respect: the respect that is frequently entertained by a man after he has grown up toward the head master who caned him when he was at school. Indeed, William seems never to be able to forget that he was for several years under the old martinet's direct command.

In spite of Emperor William being at the present moment over forty years of age, he still retains a great store of boyishness, and in particular, a liking for practical jokes, though never when they are at his own expense! It is not so very long ago that he had notified a number of generals and military dignitaries to meet him at the railroad station at Potsdam, at half-past eleven in the evening, in order to accompany him to manoeuvres that were to be held at a place several hours' distance on the following day. Leaving the palace on foot shortly after eleven, he entered the railroad station by a back door, and managed to slip in without being recognized.

Shielded by the darkness, he made his way unobserved to the special train, which was in waiting, got into his carriage by the door on the opposite side from the platform. For at least half an hour he amused himself by peeping at the officers on the platform, whose faces expressed surprise and vexation that his majesty, ordinarily so punctual, should be so long in coming. Suddenly he raised the blind, opened the window, and intimated by loud and prolonged laughter his presence in the carriage, and the success of his little trick. The astonishment and the dismay depicted on the visages of those on the platform can be more easily imagined than described.

Emperor William is not fond of the press, and has never taken any trouble to conceal his dislike for that branch of the literary profession. It is true that he has been subjected to a good deal of abuse at its hands, and that he has been made the object of calumny sufficient to drive a man so hypersensitive to public comment into a lunatic asylum. Many of the most intricate troubles and most annoying episodes of his life and his reign have been in a large measure due to the press, inasmuch as they were either originated or envenomed by the newspapers. William is as nervous about what the papers will say as a young débutante on the stage. Not only does he keep an anxious watch upon the utterances of all German editors, but he ordains a vigilant scrutiny of the articles printed in foreign countries from the pens of correspondents stationed in Berlin, who, if any unfriendly mention of his name is brought home to them, are ultimately driven out of the country.

One of the first acts of Emperor William's reign was the expulsion from Berlin of a number of foreign journalists, whose criticisms and comments on his attitude towards his mother, as well as on his opposition to the political views of his dead father, had been distasteful to the imperial eye. A year later he caused a new series of press laws to be presented to the Reichstag, which contained such arbitrary provisions for stamping out the remaining liberties of the press that even the Cologne Gazette denounced it as "putting a frightful weapon into the hands of the government for suppressing freedom of speech and silencing opposition." This measure did not pass, in spite of all the efforts of his majesty, and its rejection merely served to embitter the emperor still further against the press.

As far as the German press is concerned William manages to get even with it by insisting upon the strict execution of the laws concerning the crime of Lése majesté with a severity that savors of the middle ages rather than of modern times. Indeed, while there are few prominent journalists in Germany who have not undergone imprisonment since he ascended the throne, for writing of him in a manner that he considered disrespectful, there are some newspapers that are literally obliged to employ distinguished members of their staff for no other purpose than doing time in jail, as the penalty of too free utterances of the sheet with which they are connected.

Of course, William has no such means of dealing with the foreign press, which being more fearless, thanks to its immunity, has naturally subjected him to worse treatment than that of Germany. Occasionally though, he gets even with some of his foreign assailants, and the following story is told of the manner in which he dealt with a newspaper proprietor in New York, who after rendering his journal conspicuous above all others for its personal attacks on his majesty, had the audacity to write him a letter, asking him for a brief article from his, the kaiser's, pen.

The editor in question gave as a pretext for his request, the alleged existence of a widespread belief in the United States that his majesty was not quite right in his mind, and suggested that a brief message, for which a check of five thousand dollars was enclosed, might relieve the anxiety of millions of Germans in America, and convince them that the kaiser was quite sane. Some weeks later the enterprising editor received a visit from the German consul-general in New York. On being admitted to the august presence of the editor the consul-general extracted an envelope from his pocket, and from the envelope the five-thousand-dollar check, to the order of his majesty, the German emperor, and bearing the signature of the editor; the consul-general then made a bow to the latter, handed him the check, made another bow, and withdrew without having said a single word, or opened his mouth, even to greet him!

CHAPTER XIV

Emperor William, like his brother monarch at Vienna, is seldom seen out of uniform. Soldiers above everything else by profession, it constitutes the garb to which they have been accustomed from their boyhood, and both look ill at ease and uncomfortable in civilian clothes.

Francis-Joseph, in fact, never wears "mufti" except when abroad, and it is doubtful whether anyone in Switzerland or in the South of France would have recognized the Emperor of Austro-Hungary in the elderly gentleman who was there on several occasions, and who wore a black round hat, and a rather badly-fitting morning or sack suit of dark cloth, had it not been for the striking appearance of the beautiful and slender black-garbed empress by his side. In the same way, Emperor William, although he gets his civilian clothes from some of the leading London tailors, invariably looks by no means to advantage in them, and suggests the French description of endimanché, that is to say, like a young man in his Sunday, go-to-meeting attire.

The uniforms ordinarily affected by Francis-Joseph are the undress regimentals of an Austrian general, the blue-gray short tunic, faced with scarlet and gold, trousers with broad red stripes, and that peculiar, oval-shaped, rather high-crowned soft cap, with a small vizor, which constitutes the undress headgear of officers belonging to every rank of the Austrian army. The only token of his imperial rank is the small badge of the Order of the Golden Fleece peeping forth from between the first and second buttons of his tunic, the cross of Maria-Theresa, and the medal accorded to every officer and soldier who has served fifty years in the army attached to his breast. On state occasions at Vienna the emperor dons the full-dress uniform of an Austrian general, consisting of a white short tunic or "Atilla," faced with gold and scarlet, scarlet trousers, with broad gold stripes, and a general's three-cornered chapeau, surmounted by a big tuft of green plumes.

When Francis-Joseph is in Hungary he invariably wears either the undress or full-dress uniform of a Hungarian general, and it must be confessed that, in spite of the somewhat theatrical appearance of the gold embroidered, tight-fitting scarlet pantaloons and gold-topped high boots, the scarlet gold-laced tunic of the full dress, with the heron-plumed kálpàk, or the slightly less gorgeous "shako," and blue-grey, gold-laced tunic of the undress uniform, he looks remarkably well, thanks to the extraordinary elasticity and elegance which he has retained in spite of his three-score years and ten.

Emperor William's ordinary garb is the familiar undress uniform of a Prussian general, the dark-blue long frock coat, with its double row of silver buttons, its scarlet collar, and its silver shoulder-straps. The trousers are of the same hue as the coat, with broad scarlet stripes, the latter being worn only by generals. Hanging from the collar is usually the cross of the Brandenburg Langue of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, while on the breast is fastened a sort of star, consisting of the letter "W" encircled by gold laurel leaves, which has been accorded to all the officers who formed part of the household of Old Emperor William. The cap is the ordinary flat, black vizored undress headgear of all the officers of the German army.

The uniforms which the emperor wears on state occasions are either the full-dress uniform of a Prussian general, richly-embroidered, dark-blue tunic, and epaulets, with a helmet surmounted by the white plumes of a field officer, or else the regimentals of a colonel-in-chief of the gardes-du-corps. In the latter, the emperor looks exceedingly well, especially on horseback. The helmet is surmounted by a silver eagle with outstretched wings, the white tunic is partly concealed by a silver cuirass, adorned with a gold sun, and with the white, tight-fitting knee-breeches are worn high jack-boots. In fact, it is no flattery to Emperor William to declare that his appearance in this uniform invariably suggests "Lohengrin." At court entertainments, in the evening, he frequently wears the so-called gala, or court dress of this regiment. The coat is scarlet instead of white, while the cuirass is abandoned. Sometimes the emperor attires himself in the uniform of a colonel of the Hussar regiment which he commanded at the time of his accession to the throne. It is scarlet, gold-laced, and the tight-fitting scarlet pantaloons are worn with knee-boots, topped with gold.

The emperor is likewise very fond of donning naval attire, being particularly proud of his connection with the fleet of Germany and those of a number of foreign countries. Indeed, it may be safely asserted that if there is any one foreign dignity which he cherishes extremely, it is that of admiral of the fleet in the British navy, conferred upon him by his grandmother, Queen Victoria.

Emperor William was only a brigadier-general at the time of his accession to the throne. It was not until several months after becoming emperor that he assumed the insignia of a general of division. Inasmuch as some curiosity exists as to how a monarch can promote himself, it may be stated that old Field Marshal Moltke, who was then possessed of the highest rank in the German army, called one day upon William, and, presenting him with a pair of silver shoulder-straps, adorned with the insignia of a general of division, entreated his majesty in the name of the entire army, and in particular on behalf of the corps of officers, to assume the rank of a full general.

The same request was presented to the present czar at the time of his coronation, but met with a refusal on the part of his Muscovite majesty, for he pointed out that Peter the Great had throughout his entire reign contented himself with the rank of colonel. There is also another reason which Nicholas did not mention officially, but which is well known to the members of his immediate entourage. At the present moment his name figures on the army list as the principal orderly officer and personal adjutant of the late czar. This is an office which can only be held by military men below the rank of general. The moment young Nicholas acquires that rank his name ipso-facto disappears from the list of his dead father's adjutants, and he is far too attached to his memory to desire this, preferring the minor rank of colonel and the association with his beloved predecessor, to all the pomp and glory of a generalissimo.

Of all the other sovereigns in Europe there is not one who travels with such an immense amount of luggage as Emperor William. He seldom undertakes a trip without taking along at least one hundred huge trunks of the so-called Saratoga pattern, which fill several wagons of the imperial train; indeed, an entire special train is not infrequently chartered solely for the conveyance of his luggage. Like some French élégantes at a fashionable seaside resort, he changes his garb five, six, and even seven times a day. The consequence is that it is necessary to have at hand not only a vast number of naval and military uniforms, but also a diversity of shooting suits, hunting suits, civilian clothes, Tyrolese jäger costumes, and even the kilt, sporran and tartan of a Highlander, for he is very proud of the fact that Stuart blood flows in his veins, and considers that he is quite as much entitled to wear the Stuart tartan as his uncle, the Prince of Wales.

All these clothes are not under the charge of a mere valet, but of a grand dignitary of the Court of Berlin,—Count Perponcher-Sedlinzky,—who holds the rank of privy councillor, and who is addressed as "your excellency." The count has a perfect army of dressers and valets under his orders, but it is he who is responsible, not only for the uniforms being in good trim, but likewise for their being on hand whenever the emperor happens to need them.

In order to understand what this entails, it must be remembered that the kaiser is not only colonel of some hundred or more German regiments, but also of a very great many foreign corps, belonging to every country in Europe, except Turkey, Bulgaria and France. Now for each regiment, there are sometimes six, sometimes eight different uniforms—one each for parade, fatigue duty, court wear, an undress uniform, and others too numerous to mention.

When the emperor travels and is likely to be brought into contact with English princes, with Russians or with Austrians, it is necessary that he should have within his reach, not merely one of his English, Austrian or Russian uniforms, but all of them—that is to say, thirty or forty at least, in addition to his German uniforms and ordinary clothes.

An immense amount of importance is attached to these sumptuary questions by the reigning families of Europe. On one occasion an imperial meeting between the kaiser and the late czar was delayed for three whole days, while government stocks all over the world declined in value, and the utmost apprehension prevailed on the score of peace, merely because the prince who held the office of grand-master of the czar's wardrobe had neglected to bring with him the German uniforms of his master. It may be added that he lost his office in consequence.

This peculiar form of royal and imperial courtesy, consisting in the sovereign and royal princes of one country donning the uniforms or livery of the foreign monarch whom they wish to compliment, originated with Frederick the Great. In 1770, he had to pay a visit to the Emperor of Austria at the castle of Neustadt, in Moravia. Only seven years before, Prussia had been engaged in her great struggle with the empire, and had thoroughly beaten Austria. Frederick feared that the too familiar blue Prussian uniform might awaken unpleasant memories on the part of the emperor and his court. So, with the utmost delicacy, he and all his staff appeared at Neustadt in the white Austrian uniforms, an act of courtesy on the part of the victor to the vanquished which was warmly appreciated both by Emperor Joseph and all his Austrian entourage. The fashion thus inaugurated has remained in existence ever since, being facilitated by the fact that every sovereign in Europe, including even Queen Victoria, the Queen Regent of Spain, and the two Queens of Holland, holds honorary commands in a number of foreign regiments.

During the reign of Old Emperor William, those who did not possess the right to wear any civil or military uniform were permitted to make their appearance at court in ordinary evening dress, which ultimately had the effect of giving a sort of bourgeois flavor to imperial entertainments. The present kaiser, however, proceeded to change all this before he had been very long on the throne, and having noticed that at the court of his English grandmother, no one is allowed to appear at any of the state entertainments or functions in ordinary evening dress,—the only exception made being in favor of the United States embassy,—he inaugurated similar regulations at Berlin.

According to these sumptuary decrees gentlemen who are invited to entertainments at court, and who for any reason have no right to military, naval or civil service uniform, are compelled to appear in a species of court dress, consisting of a coat cut after the fashion of the last, rather than of the present century. Its color is black, or dark blue, as are also the revers, the collar and the cuffs; with it are worn black, tight fitting knee breeches, black silk stockings, and low patent leather shoes with gold buckles. A three-cornered chapeau, without feathers, and a court sword, complete this costume.

The emperor likewise directed that all officials of the court and the civil service, namely, every man who did not happen to belong either to the army or to the navy, should wear at court balls and at all great state entertainments, white knee breeches, and white silk stockings, with low, gold-buckled shoes, in lieu of the blue, black, or white gold-laced trousers that had until then been habitually worn with the gold-embroidered swallow-tail coat, which constitutes the uniform of the German civil service, and of court officialdom. Until that time, the only European court at which knee breeches had been insisted upon at court and state entertainments, was that of Great Britain. They were likewise de rigueur at the Tuileries during the reign of Napoleon III. The kaiser, however, came to the conclusion that continuations of this kind gave a more brilliant and dressy appearance to court functions than long trousers, and accordingly the latter are barred, save in the case of officers of the army and navy.

At the imperial court of Berlin there are four types of receptions or cours, the latter being the French word which has clung to these state functions ever since the reign of Frederick the Great. They are the "Défiler-Cour," the "Spiel-Cour," the "Sprech-Cour" and the "Trauer-Cour." The first, namely, the "défiler cour"—from the French word défiler, to file past—is the Berlin counterpart of Queen Victoria's drawing-rooms at Buckingham Palace in London, and is held once a year for the purpose of presenting débutantes, brides and ladies whose husbands have recently been promoted, or raised to the rank of nobility. They pass one by one before the throne, curtsy profoundly to each of their majesties, while the grand chamberlain mentions their names, and then leave the imperial presence by a side exit. No one kisses the empress's hand, as is the case with Queen Victoria in England, nor are the presentees compelled to back out of the imperial presence, as at Buckingham Palace. The court dress of débutantes at Berlin is not necessarily white, though that is the hue most affected. The long court train may be of an entirely different material and color from the dress itself, if the wearer pleases, the only stipulation made being that the richness and splendor of the fabric must be beyond question. An indispensable feature of the toilette is the so-called "barbe," a sort of tiny lace veil, suspended on each side of the coiffure, about two inches in width. The lace of course must be real, though the kind is left to the wearer's choice. It is generally white Spanish point, Alençon, or Point d'Angleterre.

The "défiler-cour" almost invariably takes place on New Year's Day, immediately after Divine service. This service begins at ten o'clock, the men being in full uniform, and during the benediction a battery of artillery, stationed in the "Lust-Garten," fires a royal salute of one hundred and one guns.

As soon as the last gun has been fired, the royal and imperial procession forms, headed by the grand marshal of the court, Count Augustus Eulenburg, bearing his wand of office, and leaves the court chapel. When it reaches the "Weisse-Saal"—one of the grandest apartments of this ancient palace—the band stationed in the gallery commences to play, generally the Hohenzollern march. The emperor and empress thereupon take their places on the dais beneath the great escutcheoned golden canopy, and in front of the two chairs of state that represent the thrones. At the right and left are grouped the various royal and imperial personages present, while at the foot of the dais stands the grand master of the ceremonies for the purpose of mentioning to their majesties the names of those who pass before them. At the back of the royal and imperial party are ranged the palace guard in their quaint, old-fashioned, and exceedingly picturesque uniforms. The first to pass before the throne is invariably the chancellor of the empire, and while the emperor and empress merely respond with an inclination of the head to the salutations of those of minor rank, they invariably approach to the edge of the dais in order to give their hands to be kissed by the octogenarian Prince of Hohenlohe, who has held the office of chancellor ever since the retirement of General Count Caprivi. The band plays throughout the entire ceremony, which is a most magnificent affair.

The so-called "spiel-cour" still keeps its name, implying card playing, although, as a matter of fact, cards are never played at court now. In former times they constituted a very important feature of court entertainment, and the "spiel-cour," or "le jeu de leurs majestés," was the function to which those whom the anointed of the Lord desired to honor were most frequently bidden. In earlier days, as soon as the guests had made their bows to the sovereign and to the princes and princesses of the blood, card-tables were set out, and gambling commenced, those to whom their majesties wished to accord special distinction and honor receiving royal commands, through the chamberlains-in-waiting to take their places at the card-tables of the king, or of the queen, as the case might be.

It was these royal games of cards at the Court of Versailles which contributed in no small measure to the downfall of the old French monarchy, and to the outbreak of the great revolution in Paris a hundred years ago. The ill-fated Queen Marie-Antoinette of France became an inveterate gambler. It was her craze for high play that led her to admit not only to her court, but also to her card-table, parvenus of doubtful reputation and of questionable antecedents, such as the infamous Cagliostro, soi-disant Count of St. Germain, and others of his class, whose only merit in her eyes was that they were rich and willing to lose their money without counting it. Indeed, the celebrated diamond necklace scandal, which compromised to such a terrible degree the reputation of this French queen, and precipitated the overthrow of the throne, would have been impossible had it not been for her gambling propensities.

[Illustration: IN THE WHITE HALL After a drawing by Oreste Cortazzo]

The "spiel-cour" only takes place on the eve of the wedding of a member of the Hohenzollern family. It is held in the weisse-saal of the Berlin schloss, or palace. The kaiser and the kaiserin, with the bridal pair, seat themselves at a card table under a canopy of gold brocade, adorned with the imperial arms. The other royal personages sit at card-tables lower down on the dais on each side. The invited guests then pass before their majesties, precisely as at the "défiler-cour."

The "sprech-cour" is, as its name signifies, a kind of conversazione. The persons invited are partitioned off, according to their ranks, in different rooms, through which their majesties promenade. Those not personally known to the emperor and empress are introduced by the masters of ceremonies in attendance, and others with whom their majesties are already acquainted are honored by a short conversation.

"Trauer-cours," or mourning levées, are held immediately after the death of the reigning sovereign, and are exceedingly impressive, mainly by reason of the flowing robes and peculiar sable-hued attire which the ladies of the royal family of Prussia and of their courts are compelled by tradition and etiquette to adopt. Moreover, all the apartments are draped in black, the gilded ornaments being shrouded in crape. The last of these mourning courts was held by Empress Frederick, in the place of her dying husband, on the demise of old Emperor William, and so painful and depressing was this occasion, that at her urgent request, no ceremony of the kind was held when "Unser Fritz" in his turn, was gathered to his fathers.

Very stately are the court balls, of which a number are given in the early part of each year, between the First of January and the beginning of Lent. In fact, court balls at Berlin are infinitely less amusing, at any rate to young people, than are analogous entertainments at the Hofburg, at Vienna, or at Buckingham Palace, in London. This is due partly to the fact that Hohenzollern tradition and etiquette require that the proceedings should be inaugurated with the Polonaise, and furthermore, because the waltz has, for nearly forty years, been denied a place in the programme of terpsichorean entertainments at court.

In fact, waltzes have been forbidden ever since an accident which happened to Empress Frederick at a court ball not long after her marriage. She was waltzing with a young nobleman, when suddenly she was tripped up inadvertently by her partner, and precipitated to the floor at the very feet of old Empress Augusta, her mother-in-law. The latter, who was a terrible despot on the score of etiquette, could not bear the idea of a dance which could have the effect of placing a princess of the blood in such an undignified position, and turning a deaf ear to all arguments about the mishap being due to the awkwardness of the dancers, rather than to the dance itself, she vetoed the inclusion of waltzes thenceforth in all programmes of court balls.

Fortunately, no such regulation prevails at the Court of Vienna, where Strauss's waltzes invariably form the most attractive feature of the so-called "hofball" and "ball-bei-hof." There is a great difference in the character of these two state balls at Vienna. To the first, all sorts of people are commanded who are entitled solely by virtue of their official position to appear at court. The second, and far more brilliant one, is restricted to what is known as the court circle, or the elite,—the old blue-blooded aristocracy,—alone.

So far Emperor William has resisted all the pressure brought to bear upon him by the princesses and ladies of his court to revive the waltz, taking the ground that it is more conducive than any other dance to ridiculous mishaps on the highly polished and parqueted floors of the royal and imperial palaces. Even with the polka, the schottische and the mazurka, to which the round dances are now limited, there are so many accidents that some time ago the kaiser summoned the generals commanding the various troops stationed in and around Berlin, and instructed them to direct those officers who were not able to dance properly, to abstain from attempting to do so at the imperial entertainments. The result is that young officers are now put through their paces by their seniors, and have to display a certain proficiency in dances around the billiard or mess table before they are allowed to dance at court.

I remember on one occasion at a court ball at Berlin when a young subaltern incurred the anger of the late Prince Frederick-Charles by tripping up his partner. The Red Prince assailed the young officer so bitterly that the crown prince was obliged to intervene.

At a Viennese court ball I once saw the young secretary of a foreign embassy fall so unfortunately while dancing with one of the archduchesses that he actually came down in a sitting position on her face, and caused her nose to bleed. It need scarcely be added that he left Vienna the next day, and a week later obtained his transfer to another post.

A short time before the tragedy of Mayerling, Crown Princess Stephanie had a very nasty fall, owing to the gaucherie of a cavalry officer with whom she was waltzing. The emperor was terribly annoyed, and Crown Prince Rudolph spoke his mind in no measured tones to the offender.

Far more polite was Emperor Napoleon III. when at a Tuileries ball a middle-aged officer and his fair partner came to grief. As the mortified warrior scrambled to his feet, the emperor extended a hand to help him, and turning to the lady, remarked:

"Madame, c'est la deuxième fois que j'ai vu tomber monsieur le colonel. La première fois c'était sur le champ de bataille de Magenta." (Madame, this is the second time I have seen the colonel fall. The first time was on the battlefield of Magenta.)

In order to see the Polonaise danced in all its glory, it must be witnessed on the occasion of the wedding of some princess of the reigning house of Prussia, when the dance is headed by a procession of cabinet ministers, bearing candles or torches, whence it is styled the "Fackel-tanz," (Torch-dance).

On such an occasion the emperor, the empress and the royal guests having taken up their places on the dais, under the baldaquin, and immediately in front of the throne, the less exalted guests ranging themselves to the right and left of the great white hall, according to rank and precedence, the court marshal receives orders from his majesty for the dance to begin. The count thereupon approaches the royal bride and bridegroom, and bowing low to them, invites them to take part in the dance. The bridegroom extends his hand to his consort, and to the sound of a very slow and stately march conducts her around the hall, preceded by the twelve ministers of state, walking two by two, those highest in rank coming last. Each, minister bears in his hand a lighted torch of white perfumed wax. When the procession returns to the point from which it started, in front of the throne, the bride approaches the emperor, and with a curtsy invites his majesty to take part in the dance, and is conducted around the room by him, the bridegroom going through the same formality with the empress. As soon as these first three rounds are concluded, the twelve ministers hand over their wax torches to twelve pages of honor, each lad being of noble birth, and the bridegroom then similarly invites the remaining princesses of the blood, two at a time, leading one with each hand, while the bride goes through the same procedure with two princes of the blood, until the total list of royal personages has been exhausted. When the number of royal guests is very large this dance sometimes lasts nearly two hours.

On ordinary cases, of course, the torches are dispensed with, and the polonaise only continues long enough to enable the emperor and empress to march once round, the hall with those guests whom they wish particularly to honor. On such occasions they are preceded by the court marshal bearing the wand of grand marshal, by several masters of the ceremonies, and by picturesquely attired pages of honor.

Court ceremonies have been few and far between during the last ten or twelve years at Vienna owing to the circumstance that the imperial family have been almost uninterruptedly in mourning, consequent upon the successive deaths of Crown Prince Rudolph, Archduke Charles-Louis and Empress Elizabeth, in addition to a number of less important members of the imperial family. The ceremonial is very different from that which prevails at Berlin, and it must be confessed that the guests are more select, since the Court of Vienna is infinitely more exclusive than that of Berlin, and requires much more stringent genealogical qualifications on the part of women admitted to the honor of presentation. Indeed, there Is no court in Europe more exclusive than that of Emperor Francis-Joseph, and the threshold of the Hofburg may be regarded as barred without hope of admission to any lady who is not endowed with the necessary ancestry, free from all plebeian strain for at least eight generations on both the father's and the mother's side.

The presentation of débutantes and of brides ordinarily takes place prior to the commencement of court balls, and there are no such things as state concerts or "défiler-cours," as at Berlin, and in England, at which latter court guests receive their invitations to state balls by means of large lithographed cards emblazoned with the royal or imperial arms, on which it is stated that the grand-master of the Court at Berlin, or the lord chamberlain in London, has been directed by their majesties, or her majesty, as the case may be, to "command" the attendance of such and such a person to a ball at court. These commands are usually sent out about a week or more in advance: but in Vienna, where it is taken for granted that all the people having a right to invitations belong to the same intimate circle, cards are dispensed with, and on the day before the entertainment, sometimes on the very morning on which it is given, one of the court messengers, or so-called Hofcouriers, calls at the residence of invited guests with a long sheet of paper, on which is inscribed the list of invités. On this list, opposite his or her name, the invited person writes yes or no, indicating thereby acceptance of the imperial command or prevention by some grave event.

The guests are already assembled in the Hall of Ceremonies before the imperial party makes its appearance. The ladies all wear court trains, and in almost every case the bodice of their dress is adorned with the insignia of the "Sternkreutz" [star cross], an order restricted exclusively to women, of which the late empress was grand-mistress, and to possess which even still greater ancestral qualifications are needed than for presentation at court. The men are all in uniform, either civilian, military or naval. Indeed it is impossible to find in Austria any man that has the right to appear at court who does not possess some sort of uniform. If he happens to be a Hungarian, he wears the picturesque dress of the great Magyar kingdom, bordered with priceless furs, adorned with jewels and composed of costly velvets and silks.

Shortly before the arrival of the imperial procession the grand-master of ceremonies taps on the floor with his ivory wand of office to attract attention, and the guests thereupon range themselves along the two sides of the hall, the ladies to the right and the gentlemen to the left. Suddenly the folding-doors at the further end of the hall are flung open, and to the sound of the most inspiriting march that the conductor of the court orchestra, Edouard Strauss, can devise, the imperial cortege makes its appearance, preceded by Count Hunyadi, in his uniform of a cavalry general, and Prince Rudolph Leichtenstein, each armed with a wand of office. Since the disappearance of the empress from court life—a disappearance which may be said to have preceded her death by several years—the emperor has been in the habit on these occasions of offering his arm to the Duchess of Cumberland, daughter of King Christian of Denmark, and de jure sovereign duchess of Brunswick, as the principal foreign royal lady present. Immediately after him follows the archduke next in the line of succession, now Francis-Ferdinand, or, failing him, Otto, leading the archduchess designated to take the place of the first lady of the land, and who at the present time is Archduchess Maria-Josepha, wife of Archduke Otto.

The imperial procession, consisting of all the archdukes and archduchesses—there are nearly one hundred of them—and of the principal members of their households, marches along the avenue thus formed by the guests, and are welcomed by low curtsies on the part of the women, and by profound bows on the part of the men. The brilliant pageant then disappears in the room set apart for the imperial party, and thereupon the emperor and Archduchess Maria-Josepha return, and while the emperor passes along in front of the male guests, preceded by one of the principal dignitaries of his court, either Count Kalmàn Hunyadi or Prince Montenuovo, the archduchess, escorted by the grand-mistress of her court, makes her way along the front rank of the ladies, bowing to some, extending her hand to be kissed by others, and chatting familiarly to those who are old friends.

As soon as the emperor and the archduchess reach the end of the line the emperor passes over to the ladies' side, while the archduchess in her turn passes along the front rank of the men. The archduchess then proceeds to the so-called "Rittersaal," and taking her seat on a sofa, sends her ladies-in-waiting and her chamberlains to bring to her presence ladies who have presentations to make. With each débutante the archduchess converses for a few seconds before dismissing her, the wives of the foreign ambassadors being on these occasions invited to take a seat beside the archduchess on her sofa while presenting their countrywomen.

Meanwhile the ball has commenced in the Hall of Ceremonies, and is usually opened with a waltz. While the dancing is in progress the emperor strolls about, talking from time to time to some guest. Foreign ambassadors and envoys usually avail themselves of this opportunity to present their countrymen to his majesty.

Of course no one is permitted to invite any of the archduchesses or foreign princesses of the blood who may happen to be present to dance. It is they who have the privilege of taking the first step in the matter. Whenever they desire to dance with any man they cause him to be notified of their wish by their chamberlain in attendance. The cavalier thus honored is obliged to consider this intimation in the nature of a command, and all engagements with fair partners of a less exalted rank, are annulled thereby.

Refreshments are served for the ordinary guests in the "Pietra-Dura" room, where a superb buffet is set, the tables glittering with gold plate and Venetian glass. For the imperial princes and princesses the Hall of Mirrors is generally reserved, and there the scene is even still more magnificent. By midnight all is over. The court has retired with the same ceremonial that marked its arrival, and the guests are looking for their wraps and cloaks. All court entertainments at Vienna begin early and end early, so as not to interfere unduly with the emperor's practice of rising at about five o'clock in the morning.

One of the features of the great court functions at Berlin, as well as at Vienna, which excites the greatest surprise of Americans visiting Europe for the first time, is that particular form of homage accorded to royalty which consists in the kissing of the hand or "handkuss." Not only the hands of the royal and imperial ladies are required by etiquette to be kissed when offered to gentlemen, but it is also considered necessary for both men and women to kiss the hand of the sovereign when he condescends to extend it for the purpose. This seems, perhaps, less odd at Vienna, as the emperor is a septuagenarian with snow-white hair and a sad and kindly face, inspiring feelings of sympathy and loyal affection. Indeed there is nothing out of the way in a young girl, and even a man of mature years, kissing the hand of a veteran of the age of Francis-Joseph, just as if he were their father. But it certainly does appear strange to those from across the Atlantic who are obtaining their first insight into European court life, to see not only grey-haired generals, and white-whiskered statesmen, but also venerable ladies,—grandmothers perhaps—and belonging to the highest ranks of the nobility kissing the hand of Emperor William.

It has always seemed to me that William must have realized for the first time his altered rank when old Field-Marshal Moltke, and the late Prince Bismarck, on hailing him as emperor within a few hours after his father's death, bent down to kiss his hand. This took place more or less in private. But shortly afterwards, when he opened the imperial parliament for the first time as emperor, in the presence of most of the German sovereigns who had come to Berlin for the purpose, and had finished reading his speech, and handed it to the chancellor of the empire, old Bismarck, as he took it, bent almost double to kiss the hand that was tendering the document to him, in the presence of the princes and representatives of the entire German empire.

Kissing, it may be added, forms a great feature of court etiquette in Germany and Austria. It is, for instance, de rigueur that two sovereigns of equal rank visiting each other, should embrace at least thrice, no matter how deeply they may detest each other privately! A petty sovereign will have to content himself with being embraced merely twice by a monarch such as Francis-Joseph or Emperor William, while a crown prince or heir apparent will receive only one hug. Mere princes of the blood receive no kisses at all, but only a hearty hand-shake, with which they have to be satisfied, and which is, after all, perhaps the most sensible fashion of greeting.

CHAPTER XV

All royal and imperial people are more or less superstitious, and neither Emperor William nor his brother monarch at Vienna are exceptions to the rule. Striking evidence thereof is furnished by the presence of a large horseshoe cemented into the wall just outside the fourth window of the first story of Empress Frederick's palace at Berlin. One day, some time before his accession to the throne, and before his father was seized with that terrible malady to which he eventually succumbed, William was invited to dine with his parents. Finding that he was very late, and knowing the strictness of his father and mother on the score of punctuality, William directed his coachman to drive as fast as he could, and the carriage positively raced up the incline to the portal.

Suddenly one of the big Mecklenburg horses lost his shoe, which in some extraordinary manner, flew up into the air, dashed through the first-story window and fell upon the dinner table, right in front of Frederick and the then crown princess, who, declining to wait any longer, had just sat down to table. The shoe is reported to have grazed the nose of the late emperor. At any rate, the fact that it should have failed to seriously injure anyone is a miracle. It was so regarded by Frederick, his wife and his children, who deemed the queer advent of the shoe, and the escape of everybody from injury, as an indication of good luck. At the suggestion of the present kaiser, it was thereupon cemented into the wall just outside the window through which it had come, and was fastened upside down, in order to prevent the luck from dropping out.

It is not altogether astonishing that royal personages should be prone to superstition, for in almost every case they are compelled to make their homes in palaces and castles that have been stained with the blood of one or more of their ancestors. Ordinary people experience an uncanny feeling when forced by circumstances to live in houses which have been the scene of suicide or murder, even when the victims of the tragedy, or the perpetrators thereof are in no way, even the most remotely, connected with them. What wonder, then, that royal and imperial personages should entertain the same kind of superstition and sentiments with regard to their palaces, when it is borne in mind that the participants in the drama have been members of their own families!

For months prior to the assassination of Empress Elizabeth, forebodings of an impending catastrophe were prevalent at the Court of Vienna, and so imbued was Emperor Francis-Joseph with ominous presentiments, that he repeatedly exclaimed in the hearing of his entourage: "Oh, if only this year were at an end!"

These apprehensions on the part of the monarch and his court were due to an incident which took place on the night of April 24, 1898, and which was of sufficient importance to be comprised in the regular report made on the following morning to his military superiors by the officer of the guard at the Hofburg. It seems that the sentinel posted in the corridor or hall leading to the chapel was startled almost out of his senses by seeing the form of a white-clad woman approaching him, soon after one o'clock in the morning. He at once challenged her, whereupon the figure turned round, and passed back into the chapel, where the soldier then observed a light. Hastily summoning assistance, a strict search was instituted, but the chapel was explored without any result.

The sentinel in question was a stolid, rather dull-minded Styrian peasant, who was possessed of but little power of imagination or of education, and who was entirely ignorant, therefore, of the tradition according to which a woman in white makes her appearance by night in the Hofburg at Vienna, either in the chapel or in the adjoining corridors and halls, whenever any misfortune is about to overtake the imperial house of Hapsburg.

On each occasion, this spectral appearance to the sentinel on duty has been described in the report of the officer of the guard on the following morning, and is absolutely a matter of official record. The previous visitations of the "white lady" had taken place on the eve of the shocking tragedy of Mayerling; a few weeks previous to the shooting of Emperor Maximilian of Mexico; and prior to the burning to death of the daughter of old Archduke Albert, at Schoenbrunn; while the very fact that there should have been no supernatural appearance of this kind at the time when Archduke John vanished from human ken, leads the imperial family and the Court of Austria to still doubt the story, according to which he perished at sea while on his way round Cape Horn, from La Plata to Valparaiso.

I do not know the origin of the "white lady" tradition at Vienna, nor have I ever been able to ascertain anything definite about her history, but there is plenty of documentary evidence, as well as a wonderful array of records concerning "the white lady of the Hohenzollerns," who makes her appearance in the old palace at Berlin whenever death is about to overtake a member of the reigning house of Prussia. The late Emperor Frederick—the most matter-of-fact and least imaginative prince of his line—was particularly interested in the matter, and collected all the evidence that he could upon the subject, for the purpose of depositing it in the archives of his family.

Perhaps the most important testimony in this connection are the sworn statements signed by Prince Frederick of Prussia, and a number of his fellow officers, to all of whom the "White Lady" is declared to have appeared as they sat together on the eve of the prince's death at the battle of Saalfeld in 1806.

Moreover, Thomas Carlyle went to no little trouble to procure evidence when writing the history of Frederick the Great, that the "White Lady" had appeared to that famous monarch on the eve of his death. The king, it is asserted, was on the high road to recovery from his illness, when suddenly one morning he declared that he had seen the white-clad spectre during the night, that his hour had come, and that it was useless to ward off death any longer. So he refused to take any further medicine or nourishment, turned his face to the wall, and died.

The "White Lady" is considered sufficiently real by the hard-headed matter-of-fact commanders of the Prussian army, to lead to their adopting special measures whenever her appearance is reported. The moment she is seen, the sentinels within and around the royal palace are at once doubled. The object of this is not so much to protect the royal family from harm, as to prevent the sentinels themselves from following the example of the two who shot themselves while on guard at the palace in the year 1888, one, shortly before the death of old Emperor William, the other, a few days before the demise of Emperor Frederick, the men in each case declaring before they expired that they had seen the "White Lady," their story being in a measure borne out by the fact that their faces even after death seemed to be distorted with terror.

The appearances of the "White Lady" are kept as quiet as possible, the matter is never mentioned at court, save in whispers, and nothing concerning her is ever permitted to appear in print in the Berlin papers.

This dread apparition that forebodes evil to the reigning house of Prussia, is supposed to be the spectre of Countess Agnes Orlamunde, who murdered her first husband, as well as her two children, who constituted an obstacle to her marriage with, one of the ancestors of the kaiser.

The palace in which the spectre of this historic murderess appears is a huge and massive structure of grey stone, the walls of which are pierced by over one thousand windows, and which contains over six hundred rooms. Commenced four hundred and fifty years ago by one of the earliest electors of Brandenburg, it has been added to by each sovereign in turn, until it has attained its present enormous dimensions.

There is probably no structure of the kind in the world the building of which has cost so many lives. Indeed the very mortar used in its construction may be said to have been mixed with blood. The people of Berlin, who from time immemorial have been noted for their democracy and their spirit of independence, have opposed from the very outset the erection of this building in their midst as calculated to endanger their liberty, and many were the attempts that they made to arrest the undertaking, and to destroy the work already accomplished. Bloody fights took place between the mob and the troops appointed to protect the workmen, and on two occasions the populace even went so far as to cut the dams, and destroy the flood gates, deluging the foundations with the waters of the River Spree, and drowning each time many hundreds of workmen.

Even at the present moment Emperor William is engaged in an angry fight with, the people of Berlin in connection with this palace. He wishes to surround it with a terrace and a garden, which will naturally add to its beauty. At present the windows look onto the public streets, a fact which, in these days of bombs and dynamite outrages, renders it difficult to protect with any degree of efficiency. The municipality and people of Berlin, however, absolutely decline to consent to the expropriations necessary in order to enable the destruction and removal of the existing houses and buildings which interfere with the execution of his majesty's project.

Like his uncle, the Prince of Wales, the kaiser is very superstitious on the subject of the number thirteen in the case of any entertainment, and more than once has a mere subaltern who happened to be on duty at the palace as an officer of the guard, been commanded at a moment's notice to join the imperial party in order to avoid there being thirteen at the table.

This superstition is perhaps partly due to the fact that the emperor is aware of the old Scandinavian custom, from which it originates, and which still subsists among the peasantry of the west coast of France. In the Pagan days of Scandinavia, the hardy Norsemen were accustomed at all their banquets to invite the spirit of the last of their male relatives or friends to participate in the feast, and the food that he would have eaten and the mead that he would have drunk was cast into the fire, the supposed resting-place of the soul. When the Norsemen embraced Christianity, on ceremonious occasions they sat down to the banquet in parties of twelve, doing this in honor of the twelve Apostles; but unable entirely to disassociate themselves from their old heathen custom of inviting the spirit of a dead relative or friend, they constituted him,—the spectre,—the thirteenth guest at table, and his health was always drunk in solemn silence. In course of time people came to forget the traditional custom of considering a spectre to be the thirteenth guest. He was, however, associated in their minds with the notion of death, and thus the belief has grown that though a thirteenth person at table is no longer a corpse, one of the party is destined, at any rate, to speedily become one.

Throughout Brittany on the eve of the day sacred to the memory of the dead "La Toussaint," the family all sit down to a festive repast, and there is invariably a place laid at table, the plate filled with the choicest viands, and the glass filled with the finest wine or cider, for the one or more members of the family who have died during the previous twelve months. The peasantry are convinced that the spirits of their dear ones take part in this repast at one time or another during the course of the night. It is for this reason that they consider it their duty to sit up till daybreak, the women chiefly praying, the men talking in undertones about the qualities and the characteristics of the mourned ones. Wearied with watching, imbued with the most fervent and devout faith, blended with a belief in old-time legends, what wonder is it that towards dawn both the men and the women, especially the latter, should imagine that they see the spirits of their dead glide into the room, take their place at the family board, and then, after a brief sojourn in their midst, vanish with the light of the breaking day. It is a pretty and a touching idea, which is not combated by the clergy, and of which, indeed, no one possessed of any heart would seek to disabuse the minds of the poor, simple-minded peasant folks.

Of course Emperor Francis-Joseph and Emperor William are imbued with all the old superstitions peculiar to Nimrods. As an instance, they will give up an entire day's shooting, no matter how elaborate the arrangements made for it, if a hare is seen to cross their path, for this is always looked upon as being a very bad omen.

Both emperors also attach much importance to dreams, and claim to have been furnished by them with premonitions of each misfortune that has overtaken them, and regard Friday as the most unlucky day of the week.

There is no colder, more unemotional and level-headed woman in the-world than the young Empress of Russia, who is a German princess by birth, and a first cousin of Emperor William, yet she too believes in dreams, since the following incident, which enjoys the fullest degree of credence on the part of the emperors of Germany and Austria. It seems that during the coronation festivities she was resting one afternoon, and had dropped off into a doze, when she suddenly found herself awakened by one of her ladies who had been frightened by the manner in which she moaned and even wailed in her sleep. The empress then related that her slumbers had been disturbed by a bad dream. An old gray-haired Moujik, or peasant, all covered with blood, had appeared to her, and had exclaimed:

"I have come all the way from Siberia, czaritza, to see your day of honor, and now your Cossacks have killed me."

The vision had been so real that the empress hastened to her husband to inquire if any misfortune had happened. Nicholas laughed at his wife's fears, but to soothe her, telephoned to the minister of the imperial household, asking whether anything untoward had occurred, and only then learnt of the terrible disaster that had taken place in connection with the open-air banquet, where over two thousand lives were lost, through a panic that had seized upon the vast concourse of people, the terrible catastrophe being aggravated by the unfortunate attempts of large bodies of mounted Cossacks to restore order by riding into the crowd and using their whips and even their swords against the terrified masses of penned-up Moujiks.

It must be borne in mind that the entire monarchial system of the old world is largely based on legend and superstition, and that a belief in the supernatural, therefore, is to be expected in such personages as the anointed of the Lord, who are firmly convinced that there is a considerable amount of the supernatural in their authority and in the origin of their power.

Another manner in which Emperor William displays his superstition, is his absolute refusal to permit any steps to be taken to clear up the mystery which has existed throughout this entire century in connection with the hunting château of Grünewald, which, like the great palace at Berlin, is popularly believed to be haunted. Indeed, it is regarded with considerable misgiving by the peasantry of the surrounding district. It is an old castle, built almost two centuries ago, by the father of the first King of Prussia, and has been the scene of several tragedies.

The one which is supposed to have led to the haunting of the palace is the murder by one of the princes of the house of Hohenzollern, in a fit of passion, of a Prussian nobleman who was his guest at the time. The prince is reported to have run the nobleman through the back with his sword while following him down one of the staircases from the upper story to the ground floor.

Endeavors have repeatedly been made to obtain permission from the sovereign to tear down the brick wall so as to give access to this staircase, not only for the sake of convenience, but also with the object of setting at rest forever the popular superstitions and rumors on the subject. Neither King Frederick-William IV., nor the late Emperor William would ever hear of such a thing, and the late Emperor Frederick, who was the least superstitious and most matter-of-fact of men, grew grave and silent, when it was suggested to him that he should give the desired permission. As for the present emperor, he has sternly forbidden that the matter should even be mentioned in his presence. This extraordinary reluctance displayed by both the kaiser and his predecessors to discover what there is behind that brick wall leads to the conviction that the mouldering remains of the victim of the treacherous hospitality of a prince of Prussia lie concealed there.

CHAPTER XVI

It is among the crowned heads and princes of the blood in the Old World that St. Hubert, the patron of the chase, finds his most fervent devotees, and nowhere is his cult followed with a greater degree of pomp and ceremoniousness, and, I might almost add, religious sentiment, than at the Courts of Berlin and Vienna.

The foremost Nimrod of Europe is undoubtedly old Emperor Francis-Joseph, who finds his only relaxation from the cares of state in stalking the chamois, and who is celebrated in the annals of sport as the most successful and fearless hunter of that excessively shy and difficult quarry.

No man living possesses a larger collection of gemsbock beards, which constitute the hunter's trophy of this form of the chase. They number nearly three thousand, and the only person whose score at all approximates the emperor's is his intimate friend and crony, the aged King Albert of Saxony. Both monarchs are now old men, with hair, whiskers and moustache, of a snowy white, but neither their years, nor their sorrows, which have contributed so much towards aging them prematurely, have been permitted until now to interfere with their chamois-hunting expeditions in the Styrian Alps. On these occasions the two sovereigns make their headquarters at Francis-Joseph's picturesque shooting-lodge, or rather château, at Mürzsteg. They are usually accompanied by the emperor's eldest son-in-law, Prince Leopold of Bavaria, Archduke Francis-Ferdinand, heir apparent to the throne, some younger members of the imperial family, and a few of the dignitaries of the court who have been the longest attached to the service of his majesty, prominent among whom is Baron Gudemus, grand huntsman of the empire. The latter, by virtue of his office, holds a seat in the privy council, ranks higher than the cabinet ministers, has under his control all the game preserves, the hunting equipages, and the shooting lodges of the crown in the various parts of the empire, and is the generalissimo of the army of game-keepers, and jägers, many thousands in number, who wear the livery of the house of Hapsburg.

Usually, the first three or four days of the stay at Mürzsteg are devoted to stalking the chamois, the two sovereigns generally remaining together, attended only by the grand huntsman, and by a few jägers and guides, while the other members of the shooting party follow their individual devices. The start is made each morning about an hour before dawn, so as to enable the sportsmen to be well up on the mountain side by daybreak, that being the time when it is least difficult to get within range of a chamois.

All day long the two old sovereigns, Alpenstock in hand, and short, stocky rifles slung over the shoulder, go toiling up and down the mountains, along the edges of great precipices, tracing their steps along paths that to the uninitiated would seem to afford no foothold to any living thing, save a goat or a chamois. Sometimes they are overtaken by snowstorms while up in the mountains, and are unable to see their way, or to move either backwards or forwards, for whole hours together, while at other times they are forced to lie down flat on their stomachs and to cling with hand and foot to any friendly piece of projecting rock in order to avoid being blown down the precipices, or into the deep crevasses, by the terrible winds which without warning suddenly sweep through the Alpine gorges and valleys, with a force that can only be described as cyclonic.

All the party, emperor, king, princes, and attendants, down to the humblest jäger, wear the same kind of Styrian dress, consisting of a sort of Yoppe, or Austrian jacket of grey homespun, with green collar and facings, and buttons of rough stag-horn, homespun breeches, cut off above the knees, which are left entirely uncovered, thick woollen stockings rolled below the knee, and heavy, hob-nailed, laced boots. The head gear is that known in this country as the Tyrolese hat, adorned by a chamois beard, which is inserted between the ribbon and the felt.

By nightfall, which comes early in the mountains, everybody is back at the "jagdschloss," and dinner is served at five, in a room panelled with wood and decorated with trophies. The emperor and the king sit next to each other, while Baron Gudemus, as grand huntsman, faces them on the opposite table. The attendants are not liveried footmen, but jägers and game-keepers. On arising from the table the party as a rule descends into the courtyard, where all the game killed during the day is laid out on a layer of pine branches, the jägers forming three sides of a square, lighting up the scene with great pine torches, while the huntsmen sound the curée-chaude on their hunting horns. By eight or nine o'clock, everybody is in bed, and the whole château is wrapped in slumber.

During the last three or four days of the stay, the so-called "Treibjagds," or "Battues" take the place of stalking. They are far more ceremonious, but infinitely less fatiguing and interesting affairs, and as they begin between eight and nine, and last till four, they do not involve getting out of bed at the unearthly hour of three or four in the morning. They necessitate, however, an enormous amount of preparation and organization on the part of the grand huntsman. For at least forty-eight hours previously, a vast corps of "treibers," or Styrian mountaineers engaged for the purpose have been employed in surrounding a district of mountain and valley many miles in area. The circle is gradually narrowed down until the whole of the game is driven from the heights into the valley, where the emperor and his guests have taken up their positions.

The selection of the positions of the party is regarded as a matter of the utmost importance, and on the evening before, the grand huntsman submits to the emperor a carefully drawn up plan of the locality. His majesty thereupon designates with his own hand the spot where each of his guests is to take up his position on the following morning. He himself and the King of Saxony generally await the game in the lowest part of the valley, the remaining guests and officials being spread up the mountain side on each hand according to their degree of rank and the imperial favor, those who enjoy the greatest share of the latter being the nearest to the sovereign down the valley, while those of less importance are posted higher up on the mountain side. By nine o'clock, every member of the party must be in the place assigned to him on the plan, and the beaters, who have kept the game carefully within the circle of their lines, now proceed to drive it down towards the shooting party.

Usually, great nets are stretched a hundred yards to the rear of the two monarchs, with the object of forcing the game which may have got past their majesties to retrace its steps, and to face the royal and imperial sportsmen once more.

Sometimes curious scenes result in connection with these nets. On one occasion a magnificent gemsbock had managed to get past the King of Saxony, and finding a net in the way, charged it full tilt with a flying leap. Its horns got entangled in the meshes, seven or eight feet high, and there it remained hanging and kicking until a couple of jägers in attendance on the king disentangled it and carefully placed it on the ground. For a moment it stood as if transfixed with amazement, gazing steadfastly at the net, and then deliberately charged head down, and with a tremendous bound, at the obstacle once more, with the same result, of course. Again the jägers disengaged it, but in its struggles to recover its liberty the gemsbock left its beard torn out by the very roots in the hand of one of the men who had grabbed it for the purpose of holding the animal fast. A third time the gallant buck charged the net, and cleared it in magnificent style and made good its escape. The beard which it left behind it figures to this day on the Alpine hat of King Albert, who is probably the only man living who can boast of wearing the beard of a chamois that may still be roaming over the Styrian Alps.

Emperor William's favorite form of sport is wild-boar hunting. This species of game abounds in the imperial preserves of Königs-Wusterhausen, Letzlingen, Gohrde and Springe, the latter being quite near to the ancient city of Hamelin, celebrated in legendary lore for its "pied-piper" and for its rats!

The preserves at Gohrde are liked best by the kaiser, as they were by his grandfather, the old emperor, for they are alive with wild boars. Persons invited for the first time to these imperial shooting parties have to go through a regular form of initiation, somewhat akin to that practised in the case of people crossing the line for the first time at sea.

On the eve of the day on which the hunt is to begin, and when the party are assembled in the smoking and card-rooms of the jagdschloss, after dinner, the great oak table in the dining-room is cleared and ornamented with several lines of chalk; thereupon, the deputy grand huntsman, Baron Heintze Weissenrode, after receiving the emperor's final instructions, selects a dozen members of the party, and conducts them to the dining-room, where they take their places around the table, each armed with a wooden spoon of a different size from those of his neighbors.

At a given signal the huntsman in charge of the imperial pack of boar-hounds, who has been stationed at the entrance leading into the dining-room, sounds the "view-halloo!" on his horn, and immediately every one of the wooden spoons is rubbed up and down the oaken table in a manner that produces a sound similar to that of the noise made by a pack in full pursuit. The person about to be initiated is then seized and blindfolded, after which the doors are thrown open, and he is carried into the dining-room, and laid upon the table athwart the chalk lines. The emperor immediately draws his short hunting-knife, and after making several mystic passes with it in the air, strikes the prostrate body of the neophyte a smart blow with the flat of the broad blade. The huntsman toots forth the signal of "dead! dead!" which is used to call the pack off the quarry, and the new-fledged "weide-man" is permitted to struggle off the table and onto the ground.

I may add that the emperor's blow with the hunting-knife is not the only one which the neophyte receives while stretched on the table on his face, nor does it constitute the sum total of the initiation, but only the conclusion thereof. Indeed, there is sometimes a good deal of rough horse-play on these occasions, in which the emperor, who delights therein, takes a prominent part.

The boar hunt on the following day partakes of the nature of the chamois drives already described, the only difference being that the beaters are assisted in their work by a carefully trained pack of boar-hounds, which are accustomed to obey the horn signals of the huntsman in charge, and are of much service in driving the quarry from its lair in the dense brush and underwood.

Another difference is that the shooting parties, instead of firing in the direction of the drivers, are under the strictest orders only to fire away from them; that is to say, the hunters are practically forced to wait until the wild boar rushes past before their rifles may be levelled. Of course, it sometimes happens that the boar, instead of charging past, charges directly at some member of the party in the fiercest and most dangerous manner, and it is in order to be prepared for an assault of this kind, that each of them is provided with a kind of pike, or lance, which goes by the euphonious name of "sowpen."

The costume worn on these occasions is an exceptionally hideous uniform, specially invented and devised by the present emperor. It consists of a double-breasted frock coat of grey cloth, with grass-green lapels and collar, green striped pantaloons, high boots, and a grey Tyrolese hat, with a wide green band. In the emperor's case it is further adorned by the ribbon and badge of a Hohenzollern family order known as that of the "White Hart."

At these shooting parties the emperor is accustomed to wind up the day with a most extraordinary kind of drink, of which he himself is very fond, and of which he insists upon everybody's partaking, assuring them that it will help them to sleep. It consists of the following ingredients: White beer, sugar, citron peel, ginger spices, the yolks of at least a dozen eggs, Rhine wine, Madeira, and old Santa Cruz rum. All this, after being thoroughly stirred, is placed on the fire and slowly heated, several large pats of butter being added to the concoction while it is warm.

It need scarcely be said that it requires a stomach as strong as that of the emperor to be able to absorb several glasses of such a drink before retiring, and it is asserted at the Court of Berlin that there are many of his subjects of high rank who feign illness when commanded to join the imperial hunting parties, solely because of the apprehensions they entertain of being called upon by the kaiser to drink this extraordinary brew.

For shooting wild-fowl, hares and other small game, William uses a very dainty and extremely light fowling-piece, specially constructed for him, which he raises to his shoulder with one hand, and with extraordinary rapidity takes a remarkably sure aim; but when it comes to hunting the wild boar, stag, elk, bear and big game in general, the killing of which requires a heavier gun, he is naturally forced to adopt other devices. His crippled left arm being useless to support the weapon, his body jäger, specially trained for this particular duty, steps forward and offers either his arm or his shoulder for the support of his master's rifle. This, bien entendu, when his majesty is engaged in stalking. In cases where the chase takes the form of a "battue," a species of horizontal bar is affixed at right angles to the tree beside which the emperor stands, and it is on this support that the kaiser rests his gun when shooting at the driven game.

Handicapped as William is by this crippled arm, his record of 33,967 head of game killed with his own hand, during the past two decades, is a very remarkable one. It may be found in his "Game Book," published a few months ago for private circulation among the royal personages and court circles of the Old World.

Comprised in this grand total are some pieces which do not fall to the lot of every sportsman. Thus there are a couple of "aurochsen," which is a species of bison-like wild cattle, still to be found strictly preserved in the private domains of the Emperor of Russia. Unless I am mistaken, there are only about five hundred of them left, and, in spite of all the efforts made to foster the breed, they are so rapidly diminishing in number that ere many years are past they will surely become extinct. In pre-Christian times they roamed all over Germany, and were, and still are, larger, fiercer, and much lighter colored than the American buffalo.

The wild boars number in the "Game Book" over 2,700. There are eleven elks shot in Sweden, three reindeer killed in Norway, and ten bears laid low, some of them in Russia, and others in Hungary. The emperor has, much to his vexation, only managed to bag three unfortunate snipe, an extremely difficult bird to shoot on the wing; but his record of 120 chamois is decidedly good, when it is remembered what an exceedingly difficult game this is to reach, entailing, as it does, mountaineering of the most arduous and perilous character, especially in the case of a man who can use but one arm easily. These 120 chamois serve in a measure to atone for the twenty foxes which figure as having been shot by the emperor, a fact which is more likely to injure his reputation and prestige in the eyes of hunting men than any other fault or even crime of which he could possibly render himself guilty. The most unique item of this "Game Book," with the exception, naturally, of the two aurochsen, are assuredly the three whales which the emperor shot with a harpoon gun, on the occasion of his yachting trip to the furthermost portion of Norway a few summers ago. These three huge monsters of the deep form a fitting and amusing counterpart in the "Game Book" to the three snipe above mentioned.

Emperor William has a number of shooting-lodges, among the best known of which is Hubertusstock, of which he is particularly fond owing to its proximity to the capital. Yet it is hated by the members of his suite, for it is a terribly gloomy place. It stands in the midst of a dense, dark forest of vast extent, and swarming with game, within a few hundred yards of the reed covered and marshy shores of the Werbellin Lake, and was built by the late King Frederick-William IV. During the last few years of his madness this monarch was frequently taken out to Hubertusstock by his attendants, who hoped that the entire absence of all excitement and the intense solitude of the place would diminish the recurrences of his attacks of violence.

The emperor sometimes spends an entire week at Hubertusstock and it has frequently been asserted that he takes advantage of the complete absence from public observation which he then enjoys, to make secret trips abroad. It was his absence at this place for a period of ten days while the czar was at Paris that led to the very circumstantial story in the German and foreign press about his having been in the French capital, in the strictest incognito, for several days during the Russian emperor's stay on the banks of the Seine. A number of people claim to have recognized him, and it is even alleged that he caught the czar's eye, and was recognized by him during the grand entertainment given by President Faure in honor of his Muscovite visitors at the Palace of Versailles.

A story was told at the time about a couple of German officers, one of them attached to the embassy, who happening to find themselves face to face with an individual presenting a striking likeness to the kaiser, save for the fact that his moustache was twisted downwards instead of upwards, and his hair brushed in a different way, lost to such an extent their presence of mind that they could not help drawing their heels together and standing at attention; a form of courtesy which received as its only response the muttered exclamation of "Verdammte Esel!" which may be translated: "Accursed jackasses!"

That served to confirm their suspicions, and unfortunately both their behavior and the growl of the stranger had been witnessed and heard by people who were quick to make the matter public.

It was with the object of endeavoring to disprove and discredit these stories that the emperor caused a telegram, to be sent to the czar from Hubertusstock, not written, as usual, in cipher, but in ordinary language. There is an old French proverb according to which "he who seeks to prove too much, proves nothing," and thus it happened that this open telegram which reached the czar at Châlons, and which was published in the German newspapers, even before Nicholas had made it known to the members of his entourage, merely served to convince people that the kaiser had really been in Paris when he was supposed to be buried amidst the gloomy forests of Hubertusstock.

Hubertusstock is not, as most people seem to imagine, a castle, but merely a huge, overgrown two-storied chalet, surrounded by a number of smaller wooden dwelling-houses for the use of the imperial suite. Formerly, it required a drive of at least three hours from the station on the main line in order to reach the jagdschloss. But since the accession of the emperor he has caused a private railroad to be constructed from the trunk line to a small station within a few hundred yards of the chalet.

Seldom is the kaiser found in the schloss after daybreak. The entire morning is spent by him in the woods, which are so vast that one can wander about them for days without meeting a soul. Luncheon is usually partaken of at some point in the forest, and frequently during this repast a concert takes place, the performers consisting of a quartette of foresters, their instruments being mere hunting horns, and their melodies those of old hunting-songs. Within the limits of the imperial preserves is the celebrated Schorfhaide, which each year, towards the month of November, becomes the meeting place of thousands of stags. They come from all parts of Germany and Austria, this being rendered possible by the proximity to one another of the great estates of the territorial nobility, so that it would be feasible to march almost from the Adriatic to the Baltic without leaving forest glades. This annual assemblage of stags on the Schorfhaide has been taking place every autumn for untold centuries. In fact, mention thereof has been found in documents more than a thousand years old. The meetings afford an extraordinary sight, and are the scenes of numerous single combats to death between "Royals," the other stags and the deer standing round, as if to form a huge amphitheatre, and gravely watching the duel without making any attempt to interfere.

All sorts of theories have been put forward with regard to this annual concourse of stags on the Schorfhaide. Foresters, however, insist that it is nothing more nor less than a species of great animal congress, at which the various antlered tribes meet for a big "palaver" to decide matters affecting the policy and the leadership of their various clans! Far-fetched as this theory may seem at first sight, it is evident that there is something of the kind which brings stags and their mates from the remote forests of Galicia on the Russian border, from the vast Liechtenstein game preserves to the South of Vienna, and from the still larger sporting property of Belyer, in Hungary, belonging to Archduke Frederick, all the way to the Schorfhaide on the reedy banks of the Werbellin Lake, in order to flock together by thousands.

It is a matter of forest ethics, and of the law of the chase, to abstain from disturbing this annual convivium of the stags, as it is called, and while it lasts, not a single shot is to be heard in the forests around Hubertusstock. In fact, November has on this account become a species of close season there, no one interested in sport wishing to do anything that could in the least degree interfere with this, so far as I know, altogether unique custom in the animal world. The meetings, however, have been witnessed by the emperor and a few chosen companions who concealed themselves in the branches of trees, bordering on the Schorfhaide, and William is never tired of expatiating on the magnificence of the spectacle presented.

Next to Hubertusstock, the most favored shooting-lodge and sporting-estate of the kaiser, is Rominten, not far from the Russian frontier. Owing to this proximity, bears and wolves, especially the latter, of Muscovite origin, are frequently to be found in the Rominten forests, adjoining which is the celebrated imperial Trakenen stud and horsebreeding establishment, founded as far back as 1732 by Frederick the Great. Some idea of the size and importance of this stud-farm may be gathered from the fact that over two thousand hands are employed in connection with the concern. Trakenen was originally famous for elk, and an elk's horn remains to this day the Trakenen brand placed upon all horses bred there. The emperor's headquarters at Rominten are situated at a place called Theerbude. His jagdschloss or shooting-lodge consists of a handsome Norwegian block house, brought from Norway, and erected on the Goldberg on the left bank of the Rominten River. The stables are built on a most extensive scale, and the chapel, as well as all the other buildings, are constructed in the picturesque Norwegian style, which harmonizes so well with the dark fir forests by which they are surrounded.

There is no interruption of the business of slate during the emperor's stay at Rominten. Theerbude is connected with Berlin by wire, and telegrams are arriving and departing at all hours of the day.

The kaiser shoots as a rule twice a day, at four in the morning, and four in the afternoon, the drive to the hunting-grounds often taking several hours, for most of them are at a considerable distance. The various foresters' lodges, even at the most remote portion of the estates, are connected by telephone with the imperial residence, and thus the emperor is able to know at midday where the game is likely to be most plentiful in the afternoon.

When the emperor is not shooting, he transacts business with his various military and civil secretaries, and long after his guests are asleep he himself is still at work, signing state papers or reading and annotating reports. Indeed one of the most remarkable things about Emperor William is his apparent ability to do almost entirely without sleep.

On Sundays the emperor invariably makes a point of attending divine service at the Chapel of St. Hubert, opposite his residence, and subsequently is accustomed to walk to the Königshöhe, a neighboring hill on which he has built an observatory-tower about one hundred feet high, which commands a magnificent view of the surrounding forest, extending about twenty miles in every direction from the tower. Curiously enough, wild boars are not found at Rominten; but the stags there are superb, and specimens turning the scales at a thousand pounds are the rule rather than the exception.

One of the features of the Theerbude is a goblet of the time of King Frederick-William III. The vessel is held between the points of a couple of antlers, and it is only possible to drink out of it by squeezing one's face between these two points. The possessor of a rotund countenance experiences considerable difficulty in performing this feat, and is apt to spill the contents over himself, yet every one of the emperor's guests has to submit to the ordeal, for an inscription on the goblet says that all persons attending shooting-parties at Rominten for the first time must empty the vessel of its contents,—a pint bottle of champagne,—at one draught, to the health of the sovereign.

So great are the quantities of game shot by the emperor and his guests at these shooting-parties that they very much exceed the needs for the consumption of the imperial household. Formerly, it was the kaiser's custom to distribute all the surplus among the various hospitals and charitable institutions; but since discovering that these gifts of game seldom reached the persons for whom they were destined, namely the inmates, but were monopolized by the staff and the attendants of the establishments, he has given orders that the game that is not needed for imperial consumption should be sold, and the money derived therefrom turned over to the funds of the hospitals and convalescent homes under the patronage of the crown. That is why one so frequently sees in the great Central Market of Berlin, deer, stags, wild boars, etc., adorned with greenery, and with cards intimating that the quarry in question has been shot by his imperial majesty the kaiser.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

WILLIAM II AND FRANCIS JOSEPH

VOLUME I

WILLIAM II, EMPEROR OF GERMANY……….. Fronts

PRINCESS FREDERICK AND PROFESSOR VON BERGMANN…………. 80

THE RUNAWAY AT PROECKELWITZ…………………………. 104

SCENE IN DUKE ERNEST GUNTHER'S QUARTERS………………. 136

AUGUSTA VICTORIA, EMPRESS OF GERMANY…………………. 192

IN THE WHITE HALL………………………………….. 256

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SECRET MEMOIRS OF THE COURTS OF EUROPE: WILLIAM II, GERMANY; FRANCIS JOSEPH, AUSTRIA-HUNGARY, VOLUME I. (OF 2) ***

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Table of Contents

- SECRET MEMOIRS
- VOLUME I
- SECRET MEMOIRS OF THE COURTS OF EUROPE
- IN TWO VOLUMES
- PUBLISHERS' NOTE
- WILLIAM II
- CHAPTER I
- CHAPTER II
- CHAPTER III
- CHAPTER IV
- CHAPTER V
- CHAPTER VI
- CHAPTER VII
- CHAPTER VIII
- CHAPTER IX
- CHAPTER X
- CHAPTER XI
- CHAPTER XII
- CHAPTER XIII
- CHAPTER XIV
- CHAPTER XV
- CHAPTER XVI

- LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

- VOLUME I

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE