Part 15

“Yes,” he said, “I have had a long span of life to work, but I have also been very much helped by my friends and colleagues. I know,” he continued, “I have been abused for not building my own stoves for making chemical experiments; but a general, in order to make great conquests, must have colonels, captains, lieutenants, and even privates under him.” And those who served under him and assisted him had certainly no cause to regret it. He helped them whenever he could, and his influence at that time was very great. To be mentioned in a note in his “Kosmos” was for a scholar what it was for a Greek city to be mentioned in the catalogue of ships in the “Iliad.” I could not resist telling him in strict confidence my little adventure with the police lieutenant, and he was highly amused. I hope he did not tell the King; anyhow, no names were mentioned and the poor lieutenant of police, who, of course, had only done what he was told, may, long ago I hope, have become a president of police, or some “grosses Thier.” When I left Humboldt I felt I should not see him again, and the old man was moved as much as I was in saying good-bye. These old heroes had very large and tender hearts. After all, I was only one out of hundreds of young men in whom he took an interest, and I happen to know that his interest was not only in words, but in deeds also. He was by no means what we should call a rich man, but I know that he sent young Brugsch, afterwards the great Egyptian scholar, Brugsch Pasha, a handsome sum of money to enable him to finish his studies at the University of Berlin, though no one at the time heard anything about it.

I did not see Humboldt again, nor Frederick William IV. Long before this time it had become clear that King William IV. was not what he imagined himself to be—the congruence of all the incongruent elements then fermenting in Prussia and Germany at large. There can be little doubt that towards the end of his life his mind, or rather his judgment, had given way. His mind, I believe, remained lively to the very end; but, in a State like Prussia, the Government without a clear-sighted King is like a runaway engine without its driver. It may keep to the rails for a time, but there is sure to be a smash at the end. The King had parted with one friend after another. His own brother, the Prince of Prussia, afterwards the first German Emperor, fell into disgrace, and had in the end to leave the country and take refuge in England. The name by which he was known in the family was not flattering. He was a soldier, clear-headed and straightforward. His whole heart was in the army, and when he afterwards came to the throne, he wisely left everything else to his responsible ministers, after he had once learnt to trust them. The army was the pride of his life, and to see that army ordered out of Berlin, and not allowed to restore order in the streets of the capital, had nearly broken his heart. He was intensely unpopular in 1848. His own palace was taken possession of, and, in order to preserve it from pillage, a large inscription was put on the walls, “National Property.” I was not in Germany that year, but I heard much from my friends there—v. Schlœzer, Ernst Curtius, and others—all personal friends of the Prince and Princess of Prussia. The Prince was not even allowed to command his own, the Prussian army, in the Schleswig-Holstein war, then just beginning; and the following letter, written in London, and addressed to one of his comrades, shows how deeply he felt it:—

Mit welchen Gefühlen habe ich gestern Euren Sieg bei Schleswig vernommen!!! Gott sei Dank dass unser alter Waffenruhm auch gegen einen ehrlichen Feind sich bewährt hat! Sage doch Deinen Untergebenen, wie glücklich ich wäre über diese Siegesnachricht: wie der Geist, der Euch zum Siege führte, der alte preussische war, der vor nichts zurückschreckt. Wie beneide ich Dir das Glück, diese Lorbeeren geerntet zu haben. Du weisst, wie nahe es daran war, dass ich sie mit Dir hätte theilen können. Wie wären dabei alle meine Wünsche in Erfüllung gegangen: Truppen meiner beiden lieben Corps geführt zu haben, im Ernst - Kampfe!—Es sollte nicht sein!—Aber ich kann es nicht verschmerzen, da die Möglichkeit vorhanden war! Nun, Gott wird es doch wohl noch einst so fügen, dem wir ja Alles anheim stellen müssen. Wer kann und muss es wohl mit mehr Resignation als ich! Er prüft mich schwer, aber mit einem reinen Gewissen erwarte ich den Tag der Wahrheit, damit ich dem neuen Preussen meine Kräfte widmen kann, wie dem alten, wenngleich das Herz trauern muss, über den Fall des alten Preussen, des Selbständigen. Lebe wohl! Gott schütze Dich ferner und erhalte Dich den Deinen, die sehr besorgt sein müssen. Ich kenne die Verluste noch nicht, mir bangt etwas vor ihnen.

Ewig Dein treuer Freund, WILHELM.

LONDON, d. 29. 4. 48.

I was at that time in London, and often with Bunsen at the Prussian Legation in Carlton House Terrace. There was a constant succession of couriers bringing letters from Berlin. On one occasion a sub-editor from _The Times_ office rushed in and said: “Well, another one is gone, the King of Bavaria!” He did not see that the Bavarian minister, Baron Cetto, was in the room, and thus received this very informal notification of his sovereign’s fate. It was known that the King had remained at his palace, but that the Prince of Prussia had left Berlin. For several days no one knew where he was. I was quietly sitting on the sofa with Bunsen (27th March, 1848, 8 A.M.) discussing some question of Vedic mythology, when a servant came in and whispered something in Bunsen’s ear. Bunsen rose, took me by the arm and said: “Make haste, run away.” I did so, and as I ran out of the door I rushed against the Prince of Prussia. I hardly knew him at first, for he was not in uniform, and had no moustache. In fact, I saw him as few people have ever seen him. He stayed in London for many weeks at the Prussian Legation, where I met him several times, and, honest and hardworking as he was all through life, he did not waste the time in Bunsen’s house, nor did Bunsen lose the opportunity of showing the Prince how well a free and popular form of government could be carried on with due respect for order and law, and with love and devotion to the throne. This London episode of the Prince’s life has borne ample fruit in the hey-dey of the German Empire, and he by whom the seed was sown has but seldom been remembered, or thanked for the good work he did then for his sovereign and for his country.

There was no sovereign more constitutional than the King of Prussia at the beginning of his reign. He surrounded himself with enlightened and liberal-minded ministers, and never interfered with their work. Having been brought up to look upon his brother as a great genius, he was very humble about his own qualifications, and he even thought for a time of abdicating in favour of his son. This, however, would not have suited Bismarck’s hand. When the Prince of Prussia came to the throne, he stipulated one thing only with his ministers: they must give him a free hand to strengthen the army; for all the rest he would follow their advice. And so he did for several years. But when they failed to keep their promise, and to get Parliament to pass the necessary military budget, he parted with them and invited Bismarck to form a new ministry in 1862. This was the beginning of the political drama which ended at Sedan, if indeed it ended then.

I had heard much from my friends Roggenbach, Schlœzer, and E. Curtius about the Princess of Prussia (afterwards the Queen of Prussia, and the first German Empress), and my expectations were not deceived when I was presented to her during her stay in England in the spring of 1851. She was _grand’ dame_, highly gifted, highly cultivated. She wanted to see everything and know everybody worth knowing in England. It was she who went to Eton to see a cricket match played. She had heard much about it, and was most anxious to watch it. After the game had been going on for a good quarter of an hour, she turned impatiently to the Provost, and asked: “When are the boys going to begin?” She had evidently expected some kind of fight or skirmish, and was rather disappointed at the quiet and business-like way in which the boys, who were on their best behaviour, threw the ball and hit it back. However, at that time everything English, even the games, was perfect in the eyes of the Germans, and nothing more perfect than the Princess Royal, when she had been won by the young Prince of Prussia in 1857. The Princess of Prussia never forgot people whom she had once taken an interest in, and I had several interesting interviews with her later on—at Coblentz in 1863, at Baden in 1872. I confess I was somewhat taken aback when, after dinner, the Empress took me by the hand, and stepped forward, addressing the whole company present, and giving the ladies and gentlemen a full account of what this Oxford professor had done for Germany during the Franco-German war by defending their cause in _The Times_. All I could reply was that I had done little enough, and that I could not help saying what I had said in _The Times_, and that I was proud of having been well abused for having spoken the truth.

Whatever disappointments she may have had in life, she lived long enough to see the fulfilment of her patriotic dreams; she wore the Imperial crown of Germany, and she saw in the Crown Prince Frederick the fulfilment of all that a mother can dream of for her son. One wishes that she had died a year sooner, so as to be spared the terrible tragedy of her son’s illness and death in 1888.

That son, our _Princeps juventutis_, had been educated by my friend Ernst Curtius, and was on most friendly terms with many of my German friends. I made his acquaintance when he came to Oxford as a very young man in 1857. He brought George Bunsen and two friends with him, and I took rooms for them at the Angel Hotel, which stood where the Examination School, the so-called Chamber of Horrors, now stands. For several days I took the Prince to all the Colleges and to some of the lectures, even to one of the public examinations. No one knew him, and we preserved the strictest _incognito_. He quickly perceived the advantages of the English university system, particularly of the college life and the tutorial teaching. But he saw that it would be hopeless to attempt to introduce that system into Germany. Though at that time everything English was admired in Germany, he was clear-sighted enough to see that it is better to learn than simply to copy. The weak point in the German university system is that, unless an undergraduate is personally known to a professor, he receives very little guidance. He generally arrives from school, where he has been under very strict guidance, without any choice as to what he really wishes to learn. He then suddenly finds himself independent, and free to choose from an immense _menu_ (_Index lectionum_) whatever tempts his appetite. Most German students, when they leave school, have not only a natural curiosity, but a real thirst for learning. They have also a feeling of great reverence for the professors, particularly for the most famous professors in each university. They often select their university in order to hear the lectures of a certain professor, and if he is moved to another university they migrate with him. In the strictly professional faculties of medicine, law, and theology, there is no doubt a certain routine, and students know by a kind of tradition what lectures they should attend in each semester. But in the philosophical faculty there is little, if any, tradition, and looking at my book of lectures, attested by the various professors at Leipzig, I am perfectly amazed at the variety of incongruous subjects on which I attended professorial classes. Unless they were all properly entered and attested in my book I could not believe that at that time (1840–41), when I was only seventeen years of age, I had really attended lectures on so many heterogeneous subjects. In this respect, in preventing waste, the college or tutorial system has, no doubt, many advantages, but the young Prince saw very clearly that what is called in Germany academic freedom cannot be touched, that the universities could not be changed into schools, if for no other reason, because it would be impossible to find the necessary funds to inaugurate the college system by the side of the professorial system. All that could possibly be done would be to establish a closer relation between professors and undergraduates, to increase, in fact, the number of seminaries and societies, and to make it obligatory on each professor to have some personal intercourse with the students who attend his lectures.

The Prince’s _incognito_ was carefully preserved at Oxford, though it was not always easy to persuade his attendants not to bow and take off their hats whenever they met the Prince. The very last day, however, and just before I asked for the bill at the hotel, one of his A.D.C.’s forgot himself, bowed very low before the door of the hotel, and stood bareheaded before the Prince. The hotel-keeper smiled and came to me with a very knowing look, telling me of the discovery he had made. He was very proud of his perspicacity; but I am sorry to say that the discovery had its painful influence on the bill also, which, under the circumstances, could not be helped.

What struck the Prince most at Oxford was the historical continuity of the University. I reminded him of the remark which Frederick William IV. made when at Oxford:—

“Gentlemen,” he said, “in your University everything that is young is old, everything that is old is young.” “We cannot do everything,” the Prince used to say, “but we shall do our best in Germany.” Though the Prince was still very young, he could at times be very serious. There had actually been rumours, as I have said before, that his father, always one of the most humble-minded men, would abdicate in favour of his son, who was very popular, while the father at one time was not, and the thought that he might soon be called upon to rule the destinies of Prussia and of Germany was evidently not unfamiliar to him. How different was his destiny to be! What terrible events had happened before I saw much of the Prince again; for though I saw him in his own happy home life at the Neue Palais at Potsdam in 1863, it was not until after the Prusso-Austrian and Franco-German wars that I had again some real personal intercourse with the Prince at Ems in the year 1871. He had sent me a very kind letter immediately after his return to Berlin from Paris. Even Bismarck had sent me a message through his private secretary that he was proud of his new ally. I had defended the policy of the German Emperor in _The Times_, simply because I could not keep silent when the policy of Germany was misrepresented to the people of England.

Here is the Prince’s letter, which I received in May, 1871:—

BERLIN, _Mai 1871_.

Ich habe mit aufrichtigem Danke und ganz besonderem Interesse Ihre “Letters on the War” entgegengenommen, welche Sie die Freundlichkeit hatten, mir zu übersenden.

Mit der einmüthigen Hingebung unseres Volkes während der grossen Zeit die wir durchkämpft, steht im schönsten Einklang die patriotische Haltung welche unsere deutschen Brüder, oft unter den schwierigsten Verhältnissen und mit Opfer aller Art bewährt und durch die sie sich für immer einen Anspruch auf die Dankbarkeit des Vaterlandes erworben haben.

Dass die Erfahrungen, welche die Deutschen in England während unseres ruhmvollen Krieges gemacht, nicht immer erfreulich waren, ist mir freilich bekannt, Gründe der verschiedensten Art kamen zusammen um eine Verstimmung zu erzeugen, die hüben und drüben von allen einsichtigen und patriotischen Männern gleich schmerzlich empfunden ist.

Meine feste und zuversichtliche Hoffnung bleibt es aber dass dieselbe bald jenem herzlichen Einvernehmen wieder Platz machen wird, welches die Natur unserer gegenseitigen Beziehungen und Interessen verlangt. Dieses Ziel wollen wir verfolgen, unbeirrt durch Aufregungen und Eindrücke des Augenblicks, überzeugt, dass es für das Gedeihen beider Länder ebenso heilsam wie für den Frieden Europa’s unerlässlich ist.

Sie haben Ihrerseits niemals aufgehört in diesem Geiste thätig zu sein und es ist mir deshalb Bedürfniss, Ihnen meine dankbare Anerkennung für Ihr erfolgreiches Wirken hierdurch auszusprechen.

Ihr wohlgeneigter FRIEDRICH WILHELM.

At Ems the Prince was the popular hero of the day, and wherever he showed himself he was enthusiastically greeted by the people. He sent me word that he wished to see me. When I arrived the antechambers were crowded with Highnesses, Excellencies, Generals, all covered with stars and ribands. I gave my card to an A. D. C. as simple Max Müller, and was told that I must wait, but I soon saw there was not the slightest chance of my having an audience that morning. I had no uniform, no order, no title. From time to time an officer called the name of Prince So-and-So, Count So-and-So, and people became very impatient. Suddenly the Prince himself opened the door, and called out in a loud voice, “Maximiliane, Maximiliane, kommen Sie herein!”

There was consternation in the crowd as I walked through, but I had a most pleasant half-hour with the Prince. Once when I began to bubble over and tried to express, as well as I could, my admiration for his splendid achievements in the war, he turned away rather angrily, and said, “Na, sind Sie denn auch unter die Schmeichler gegangen!” I wrote a sonnet at the time, which I find among my old papers:—

IN EMS AM 19. JULI 1871.

DEM KRONPRINZEN VON DEUTSCHLAND.

Wie jungen Most von altem Holz umschlungen Fühlt ich mein Blut, das sich im Herzen rührte, Als es den Druck der Heldenhand verspürte, Die Deutschlands Schwert so ritterlich geschwungen.

Oft hört ich’s schon gesagt und auch gesungen, Wie Dich dein Stern von Sieg zu Siege führte, Doch fühlt ich nie, wie sich’s für Dich gebührte, Das Herz so ganz von Lieb und Stolz durchdrungen.

Einst sah ich in der Jugend schönen Hüllung In Dir die Zukunft Deutschlands sich entfalten, Die neue Zeit erstehen aus der alten:— Heut stand vor mir die herrlichste Erfüllung— Ein deutscher Fürst, das Aug’ vol Treu und Adel, Ein ganzer Mann, Held ohne Furcht und Tadel.

This was followed by another sonnet at the time of his death:—

DEM KAISER FRIEDRICH—1888.

Wir warteten im Stillen lange Jahre, Und nimmer wankte unsres Herzens Glaube; Wir sah’n im dunklen Grün die reiche Traube, Und wussten, welchen Saft sie uns bewahre.

Und jetzt! O klaget nicht an seiner Bahre, Wenn auch der Leib zerfällt zum Erdenstaube, Nie werde das dem blinden Tod zum Raube, Was er gewollt das Hohe, Schöne, Wahre!

Dem edlen Geiste woll’n wir Treue halten, In stillem Dulden wie in kühnem Wagen; Wir ehren ihn durch Thaten, nicht durch Klagen, Und lassen unsre Liebe nie erkalten: Was wir verloren, kann kein Blick ermessen, Was wir gehabt, das bleibe unvergessen.

The old Emperor was at Ems at the same time, and so was the Emperor Alexander of Russia. It was a surprise to me to see these two Emperors walking together in the crowd, and fetching their glass of water at the spring, apparently without any protection. The people did not much crowd round them, but neither were they kept back by the police officers. I asked one of the higher officials how they managed to keep out any dangerous Poles or Frenchmen, who might have shot the two Emperors with a double-barrelled pistol at any moment. The place was swarming with people of every nationality; but he said that there was no one at Ems who was not known. I confess it was a riddle to me. The good old Emperor, who had heard of my presence, asked me to dine, and he also thanked me for my advocacy of Germany in _The Times_. What a change since I ran against him in Bunsen’s room! Abeken, who during the war had been Bismarck’s right hand, was there, and I learnt from him that the famous Ems telegram had been written by him, though, of course, inspired and approved of by Bismarck. This is now well known, and has become ancient history. Great as was the enthusiasm at Ems, it was heart-breaking to see the invalided soldiers, looking young and vigorous, but without arms or legs, their only wish being to catch a glimpse of the Emperor or the Crown Prince. Some of them had been blinded in the war; others walked about on crutches, some with both arms cut off, and using iron forks instead of hands and fingers. All was done that could be done for them, and the Emperor and the Crown Prince shook hands with as many of them, officers or privates, as they could. The Crown Prince had sent me word that he wished to see me once more; but his surroundings evidently thought that I had been favoured quite enough, and our meeting again was cleverly prevented. No doubt princes must be protected against intruders, but should they be thwarted in their own wishes? I had another happy glimpse, however, of the Crown Prince in his family circle, in 1876.

In the year 1879 the Crown Prince came once more to Oxford, this time with his young son, the present German Emperor, and accompanied by the Prince of Wales. He had not forgotten his former visit, when he was not much older than his son was then, and he reminded me of what had happened to us in the Examination Schools on his former visit. The Prince had preserved the strictest _incognito_, but when we entered the schools his appearance, and that of several foreign-looking gentlemen, had attracted some attention. However, we sat down and listened to the examination. It was in Divinity, and one of the young men had to translate a chapter in the Gospel of St. John. He translated very badly, and the Prince, not accustomed to the English pronunciation of Greek, could not follow. Suddenly there was a burst of laughter. The Prince did not perceive that it was due to a really atrocious mistranslation. He turned to me and said: “Let us go; they are laughing at us.” When we were outside I explained to him what had happened; but it was really so bad that I must not repeat it here. The passage was St. John, iv., 9: Λέγει οὔν αὐτῷ ἡ γυνὴ ἡ Σαμαρειτῖς.

The young Prince, the present Emperor, who was with his father, was very much pleased with what he saw of Oxford, of the river, and of the life of the young men. He would have liked to spend a term or two at Oxford, but there were objections. Fears of English influence had begun to show themselves at Berlin. Several young ladies tried their powers of persuasion on the young Prince, who told me at the time, in true academic German, “In all my life I have not been canvassed so much” (In meinem Leben bin ich noch nicht so gekeilt worden).

It is well known how warm an interest the young Prince, now the German Emperor, has always taken in the success of Oxford, and for how many years he has always sent his congratulations by telegram to the successful, and now almost charmed, Oxford crew.