Chapter 27

Besides the Tweedmouth Letter and the "November Storm" there were one or two other notable events in the parliamentary proceedings of the year. The Reichstag dealt with Prussian electoral reform and the attitude of Germany towards the question of disarmament. As to the first, the Government refused to regard it as an imperial concern, though the popular claim was and is that the suffrage should be the same in Prussia as in the Empire, viz., universal, direct, and secret. This claim the Emperor will not listen to, on the ground that it would injure the influence of the middle classes by the admission of undesirable elements (meaning the Socialists); that the electoral system for the Empire, with the latter's national tasks, should be on a broader basis than in the case of the individual States, where the electors are chiefly concerned with administration, the school, and the Church; and that it would bring the Imperial and Prussian Parliaments into conflict to the injury of German unity. The Emperor has made only one reference to electoral reform in Prussia, a promise, namely, he gave the Diet in October of this year, that the regulations concerning the voting should experience

"an organic further development, which should correspond to the economic progress, the spread of education and political understanding, and the strengthening of the feeling of State responsibility."

No reform, however, has yet been effected by legislation.

As to disarmament, Germany's position is simply negative, though it may be noticed by anticipation that she has recently (1913) expressed her disposition to accept the proportion of ten German to sixteen English first-class battleships suggested by Sir Edward Grey in 1912 as offering the basis of a possibly permanent arrangement. At the time now dealt with, however, Chancellor von Bülow asserted that no proposal that could serve as a basis had ever been submitted to his Government, and added that even if such a proposal were made it was doubtful if it could be accepted. It was not merely the number of ships, he said, that was involved; there were a host of technical questions--standards, criteria of all sorts, which could not be expressed in figures, economic progress abroad and the possible effect of new scientific inventions--to be considered. Lastly there were the navy laws, which the Government was pledged to carry out. As for military disarmament, the Emperor and his advisers regard it as impossible, considering the unfavourable strategic situation of Germany in the midst of Europe, with exposed frontiers on every side.

This year the Emperor and his family took up their quarters for the first time in their new Corfu spring residence "Achilleion." They were met by the Royal Family of Greece, who showed them over the Castle, and in the evening were welcomed by the mayor of Corfu, who, in a flight of metaphor, said his people desired to wreathe the Emperor's "Olympic brow" with a crown of olive. That the Emperor did not pass his days wholly in admiring the beauty of the scenery was shown by the fact that a few days after his arrival he delivered a lecture in the Castle on "Nelson and the Battle of Trafalgar," being prompted thereto by a book on the subject by Captain Mark Kerr, of H.M.S. _Implacable_. The Emperor illustrated his lecture with sketches drawn by himself of the positions of the united French and Spanish fleets during the battle.

Almost every year sees some specialty produced at the Royal Opera in Berlin. This year it was Meyerbeer's "Les Huguenots," performed in the presence of the French Ambassador in Berlin, Monsieur Jules Cambon, and two directors of the Paris Opera. The Emperor told Monsieur Messager, one of the latter, that he had taken an infinity of trouble to get the right character, colour, and movement of the period of the opera, and explained his interest in the work by the fact that he had lost two of his ancestors, Admiral Coligny and the Prince of Orange, in the historic massacre. This opera, with Verdi's "Aida," are still, as given at the Royal Opera, the favourite operas of the Berlin public.

Americans, like all other people, regard the Emperor with friendly feelings, but for a time this year their respect for him suffered some diminution owing to what was known as the Tower-Hill affair. When the American Ambassador in Berlin, Mr. Charlemagne Tower, resigned his post in 1908, the Washington authorities found difficulty in choosing a suitable successor. Mr. Tower was a wealthy man, who by his personal qualities, aided by a talented wife, whom the Emperor once described as "the Moltke of society," and by frequent entertainments in one of the finest houses of the fashionable Tiergarten quarter, had fully satisfied the Emperor of his fitness to represent a great nation at the Court of a great Empire. The Emperor has a high opinion of his country, and, in small things as in great, will not have it treated as a _quantité négligeable_: consequently a millionaire was not too good for Berlin. The impression produced by Mr. Tower on Republican America was not quite the same. When Ambassador in St. Petersburg, Mr. Tower had invented a Court uniform for himself and staff of a highly ornate, not to say fantastic, kind, and when in Berlin was thought to take too little trouble to win popularity among his American fellow-colonists. This non-republican attitude, as it seemed to be, met with a good deal of adverse criticism in America, and the Washington authorities, for that or for some other reason, considered it advisable to choose as Mr. Tower's successor a man of another type. Their choice fell on Dr. David Jayne Hill, American Minister at Berne, a former President of Rochester University, the author of a standard work on the History of Diplomacy, and as renowned for the amiability of his character as for his academic attainments. A further reason for choosing him was that he had been attached to the service of the Emperor's brother, Prince Henry, during the latter's visit to the United States some years before. Dr. Hill spoke German excellently, was able and distinguished, and, if not a man of great means, was sufficiently well-to-do to represent his country becomingly at the Court of Berlin. His selection was in due course communicated for _agrément_ to the German Foreign Office, and by it, also in due course, transmitted to the Emperor. The Emperor without more ado signed the _agrément_ and the arrival of Dr. Hill in Berlin was daily expected.

Just at this time, however, Mr. Tower gave a farewell dinner to the Emperor, and invited to it specially from Rome the American Ambassador to Italy, Mr. Griscom. Mr. Griscom was accompanied by his clever and attractive wife. The dinner-party assembled, and Mr. Griscom and his wife were placed in the immediate neighbourhood of the Emperor. Before dinner was over it was evident that the Griscoms had made a most favourable impression on the imperial guest. Accordingly, so the story goes, when towards the end of dinner the Emperor, in his impulsive way, exclaimed, "Now, why didn't America send me the Griscoms instead of the Hills?" or words to that effect, the company was not completely taken by surprise. When, however, the Emperor went on to suggest to his host to telegraph to President Roosevelt to make the change, it became evident that an international incident of exceptional delicacy had been created. Mr. Tower, who would perhaps have acted with better judgment had he declined to adopt the Emperor's suggestion, cabled to President Roosevelt, and at the same Mr. Griscom wrote to him privately. Before Mr. Griscom's letter arrived, perhaps before Mr. Roosevelt was in possession of Mr. Tower's telegram, the words of the Emperor had become known in Berlin, were cabled to the American Press, and much indignation at the Emperor's conduct was aroused in all parts of America. The two Governments, as well as Dr. Hill, were placed in a position of great embarrassment. In view of the state of public opinion in America, and in view also of the American Government's engagement _vis à vis_ Dr. Hill, the Washington authorities could not withdraw a nominee who had been already signalled to it from Germany as _persona grata_. The only way possible out of the difficulty was to employ the machinery of the official _démenti_, and this was accordingly done. It was denied by the Foreign Office that the Emperor had expressed dissatisfaction with Dr. Hill's appointment, and the incident closed with the carrying out of the original arrangements and the arrival of Dr. Hill in Berlin. Subsequent events proved that had the Emperor known Dr. Hill personally he would never have thought of expressing dissatisfaction at the prospect of seeing him as Ambassador at his Court, for Dr. Hill, during the two years of his stay, fully vindicated the wisdom of the Washington Government's choice, and before he left his post had earned the Emperor's complete respect, if not his cordial friendship.

XV.

AFTER THE STORM

1909-1913

Next year, 1909, was the year of the famous finance reform measure which, though finally carried through, led to the resignation of Chancellor von Bülow. It had been obvious for some years that a reorganization of the imperial system of finance with a view to meeting the growing expenses of the Empire, and in especial those of the army and navy, was necessary if imperial bankruptcy was to be avoided. The practice of taking what were known as matricular contributions from the separate States to make up for deficits in the imperial budgets, and of burdening posterity by State loans, had one day to cease. At the beginning of the reign the National Debt was 884 million marks (£44,200,000), and in 1908 over 4,000 million marks (£200,000,000). A year before this Prince Bülow had made his first proposals for reform, including new taxes on beer, wine, tobacco, and succession duties on property.

All parties in Parliament, except of course the Social Democrats, admitted that fresh imposts were inevitable, but, very naturally, no party was willing to bear them. The Conservatives would not hear of an inheritance tax and the Liberals would not hear of duties on popular consumption. The result was to make the Centrum masters of the political field and place the Conservative-Liberal "bloc" at its mercy. After long discussion, the Government proposals were put to the vote on June 24th, and as the Centrum threw in its lot with the Conservatives, the proposals were rejected by 195 votes to 187. Prince Bülow thereupon went to Kiel and tendered his resignation to the Emperor, but at the latter's urgent request consented to remain in office until financial reform in one shape or another had been effected. This result was attained a month later, after much compromising and discussion. The Chancellor renewed his request for retirement, and the Emperor agreed. On the same day, July 14th, that the resignation took effect, it was officially announced that Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, who had hitherto been Minister of the Interior, was appointed to succeed Prince von Bülow as Imperial Chancellor.

An impression prevails widely in Germany that Prince Bülow's retirement was due to the loss of the Emperor's favour owing to the Prince's attitude towards the monarch during the "November storm." Prince Bülow, very properly, has always refused to say anything about his relations with his royal master, but a lengthy statement he made to a newspaper correspondent referring his resignation to the conduct of the Conservatives, and a letter from the Emperor gratefully thanking the Prince in the warmest terms for his "long and intimate co-operation," and conferring upon him at the same time the highest Order in the Empire, that of the Black Eagle, should be sufficient evidence to disprove the supposition. It is more probable that the Prince was weary of the cares of office and of the strife of party. Moreover, he had, in the state of his health, a strong private reason for retirement. Four years before, on April 5, 1906, he had fallen unconscious from his seat on the ministerial bench during the proceedings in the Reichstag, and although he was back again in Parliament, perfectly recovered, in the following November, the attack was an experience which warned him against too great a prolongation of such heavy work and responsibility as the Chancellorship entails.

The retirement of Prince Bülow meant the disappearance of the most notable figure in German political life since the beginning of the century. In ability, wit, and those graces of a refined and richly cultivated mind which have so often distinguished great English statesmen, he was a head and shoulders above any of his fellow-countrymen; while the mere fact that he was able to maintain his position for almost twelve years (he had been, as Foreign Secretary for over two years, the Emperor's most trusted counsellor and the real executive in foreign policy) is a convincing proof of his tact and diplomatic talent, as well as of his statesmanship.

His successor, the present Chancellor, Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, is a man of another and very different type. He incorporates the spirit of Prussian patriotism of the most orthodox kind in its worthiest and best manifestations, but as yet he has given no proofs of possessing the breadth of view, the oratorical talent, or the urbanity which distinguished his predecessor. Prince von Bülow's career as a German diplomatist in foreign capitals made him an acute and highly polished man of the world. The present Chancellor has spent all his life within the comparatively narrow confines of Prussian administrative service. It is, of course, too soon to pass final judgment on him as German Prime Minister.

The visit of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra to Berlin in February, 1909, disposed finally of the idea, which had prevailed in Germany as well as abroad for two or three years, that England was pursuing a policy aiming to bring about the "isolation" of Germany in world-politics. The visit was an official one, paid, of course, chiefly to the Emperor; but its most remarkable feature politics apart, was the friendly relations which King Edward established with the Berlin City Fathers at a reception in the Town Hall. It was not that he said anything out of the way to the assembled burghers; but his simple manner, genial remarks, and perhaps especially the sympathetic way in which he handled the loving-cup offered by his hosts, made an instantaneous and strong impression.

The controversy that raged round the so-called "Flora Bust" contributed not a little to the gaiety of nations towards the close of this year. The bust, an undraped wax figure, reproducing the features of Leonardo da Vinci's famous "La Joconde," was bought by Dr. Wilhelm Bode, Director of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin, for £8,000 from a London dealer as an authentic work of the celebrated Italian painter, dating from about the year 1500. It was brought with a great flourish of trumpets to Berlin, and a chorus of self-congratulation was raised in Germany on the successful carrying off of such a prize from England. The harmony, however, was rudely disturbed by the publication of a letter from Mr. F.C. Cooksey, art critic of the _Times_, stating that the bust was not by da Vinci at all, but was in reality the work of Mr. R.C. Lucas, an artist of some note forty or fifty years ago, and that it had for long occupied a pedestal in Lucas's suburban garden.

The Emperor, whose curiosity as well as patriotism was aroused, spent half an hour on November 11th discussing the bust with Dr. Bode and examining an album containing photographs of the works of Lucas. At the close of his inspection the Emperor expressed great delight at the acquisition, as to the genuineness of which he declared he "had not the slightest doubt," and said he did not regard the price paid as extremely high. Unfortunately for the Emperor's conviction, a letter now appeared in the _Times_ from Mr. A.C. Lucas, a son of R.C. Lucas, who said he recollected the making of the bust, and suggested that there might be found in its interior a piece of cloth, probably a part of an old waistcoat of his father's, which had been used as a sort of filling. In the presence of such a statement there was only one thing left to be done: to examine the interior of the bust. First of all it was subjected to the Roentgen rays, the result being to show that the interior was not homogeneous. A few days after, there was a great gathering of experts at the Museum, a hole was cut in the wax at the back of the bust, a bent wire was introduced, and the search for the famous piece of waistcoat began. It was a dramatic moment as Professor Latghen with his wire explored the interior of the bust, and the tension reached its highest point when the Professor, drawing from the bust what was evidently a piece of cloth, exclaimed, "_Hier ist die Veste!_" On being further withdrawn the substance proved to be about two square inches of a grey, canvas-like material, feeling soft and velvety to the touch. It was a disagreeable discovery for the Germans, but it was got over by the suggestion that the original bust had been entrusted to Lucas for repair, and that in this way the waistcoat had got into it. The "poor English newspapers," Dr. Bode said, referring to the sarcastic comments on the discovery from the other side of the Channel, "had had, without any acquaintance with our bust or with the work of its alleged forger, to give this particular form of expression to their ill-humour at the sale." As a matter of fact, the bust, whoever made it, is a lovely work of art, as every one who has seen it readily admits.

The Emperor's friendship with Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, which was now to be confirmed by personal acquaintance, throws a side light on his own character, and testifies to his desire to keep in touch with the rulers of other countries--another illustration, by the way, of his consistency, since he laid down the policy of cultivating friendly relations with foreign rulers at the very commencement of his reign. Probably many letters in the large characteristic handwriting of both men have passed between them, and there probably always existed a desire on the part of the wielder of the mailed fist to make the personal acquaintance of the advocate of the big stick. The meeting occurred in May, 1910, after Mr. Roosevelt had shot wild beasts in Africa, visited Egypt, London, Vienna, Rome, and other continental cities, with a cohort of newspaper correspondents, and caused by his speeches political, if fortunately harmless, disturbance almost everywhere he went. When in Berlin he was to have lodged at the Emperor's palace; but the Emperor's hospitable intent was frustrated by the death of King Edward VII, which prevented all entertainment in the home of his German nephew.

The Roosevelt party, consisting of the ex-President, Mrs. Roosevelt, and Miss Ethel Roosevelt, arrived in Berlin on May 11th from Stockholm, and at noon the same day were taken by royal train to Potsdam. At the New Palace the party were heartily greeted by the Emperor, whom they found standing on the steps waiting to receive them. After shaking hands the Emperor led his guests into a small reception-room, where they were introduced to the Empress, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, and other members of the imperial family. The Emperor then took them to the Shell Room, so called from its being inlaid with shells and rare stones, and here were found some of the Emperor's high officials, including Admiral von Müller, chief of the Marine Cabinet, and one of the most able and amiable of the Emperor's entourage, who had met Mr. Roosevelt when on his trip to America with Prince Henry several years before. Luncheon followed at six small tables in the Jasper Gallery, the Emperor taking his seat between Mrs. Roosevelt and the Crown Princess, while the Empress had Mr. Roosevelt on her left and her eldest son, the Crown Prince, on her right. Princess Victoria Louise, the Emperor's only daughter, occupied a seat on Mr. Roosevelt's left. After lunch was over the guests went back to the Shell Room, and here the Emperor, taking Mr. Roosevelt apart, began a conversation so long and animated that the shades of evening began to fall before it ended. The Roosevelts did not return to Berlin by train, but were first driven by the Emperor to inspect Sans Souci, and were afterwards whirled back to Berlin in the yellow imperial motors.

Only two other incidents of the visit need be mentioned. One of them was a lecture on "The World Movement," delivered by Mr. Roosevelt in very husky tones (for he was suffering badly from hoarseness) at Berlin University, in the presence of the Emperor and Empress. The other was a parade of 12,000 troops, arranged by the Emperor at Doeberitz, the great military exercise camp near Potsdam, which Mr. Roosevelt, clad in a khaki coat and breeches, and wearing brown leather gaiters and black slouch hat, observed from horseback beside the Emperor. As the troops went by at the close of the review the Emperor and Mr. Roosevelt saluted in military fashion simultaneously.

Immediately after the visit of the Roosevelts, the Emperor was called to England to attend the funeral of King Edward VII. The imperial yacht _Hohenzollern_, with the Emperor on board, arrived in England on May 19th. Next day the Emperor travelled to Victoria terminus, where he was received and warmly embraced by King George. They proceeded to Buckingham Palace, where the Emperor's first call was made on the widowed Queen Alexandra. On the 21st took place the funeral of King Edward, the procession to Westminster Abbey, where the service was held, being headed by King George with the Emperor on his right and the Duke of Connaught on his left. Both the Emperor and the Duke were dressed in Field-Marshal's uniform and carried the bâtons of their rank. The countenance of the Emperor is described by a chronicler of the time (and the _Times_) as wearing "an expression grave even to severity."

The procession moved slowly on to the famous Abbey, the Emperor riding a grey horse, saluting at intervals as he rode along. On arrival at the Abbey an incident occurred. As soon as Queen Alexandra's carriage arrived and drew up, the Emperor, according to the accounts of eyewitnesses, ran to the door of the carriage with so much alacrity that he had reached it before the royal servants, and when it appeared that her Majesty was not to alight from that side of the carriage, the Emperor motioned the lacqueys round to the other door, and was there before them to assist her Majesty. This he did, after himself opening the door. The Emperor remained in England only a very few days after the funeral, seeing old friends, among them Lord Kitchener.

As of interest to both Englishmen and Germans may be mentioned the tour through India undertaken by the Crown Prince in November. Steele once happily said of a Lady Hastings that "to love her was a liberal education"; to make a tour through India, it might similarly be said, is an education in the extent and character of British imperial power and administration. The Crown Prince naturally devoted a goodly share of his time to the delights of sport, including tiger-shooting and pig-sticking, but he must also have learned much of England's fine imperial spirit from his intercourse with an official hierarchy as honest and conscientious as that of his own country. The Crown Prince, on his return home, published a volume of hunting reminiscences which does no small credit to him as an author.