Part 39

But let us see how the Emperor appears to his contemporaries. Dr. Paul Liman, who has made the most serious attempt to sketch the character of the Emperor that has yet appeared in German, writes:--

"We see in him a nature whose ground-tone is enthusiasm, phantasy, and a passionate impulse towards action. Filled with the highest sense of the imperial rights and duties assigned to him, convinced that these are the direct expression of a divine will, he has inwardly thrown off the bonds of modern constitutional ideas and in words recently spoken, where he claimed responsibility for fifty-eight million people, converted these ideas into a formula that, while unconstitutional, is yet moral and deeply earnest. These words were doubly valuable as giving insight into the soul of a man who can be mistaken in his conclusions and means, but not in his motives, since these are directed to the general weal. Here, too, we find the explanation of the fact that at one time he comes before us surrounded with the blue and hazy nimbus of the romantic period, and at another as the most modern prince of our time. Out of the rise in him of the consciousness of majesty there grows a greater sense of duty, and instead of keeping watch from his turret over his people he loses himself in detail. And precisely here must he fail, because modern life with its development is far too rich in complications and activities to admit of its submitting to patriarchal benevolence. And because an artistic strain and a strong fantasy simultaneously work in him, he moves joyfully beyond the limits of the actual to raise before our eyes the highly coloured dream of the picture of a time in which all men, all nations, will be friendly and reconciled--an artist's dream. Here is something characteristic, something unusual, to give particular charm to a personality which has no parallel in the history of the dynasty hitherto. There may be concealed in it the seed of illustrious deeds, but only too often disappointment and contempt lie scornfully in wait when the deed is accomplished. For the heaven we erect on earth always comes to naught, and the idealist is always vanquished in the strife with fact."

So far, Dr. Liman. Mr. Sydney Brooks, in a sketch in Maclure's Magazine for July, 1910, writes:--

"The drawback to any and to every régime of paternal absolutism is that the human mind is limited. The Kaiser will not admit it, but his acts prove it. It is not given to one man to know more about everything than anybody else knows about anything; and the Kaiser, who is a good deal of a dilettante, and believes himself omniscient, at times speaks from a lamentable half-knowledge, and occasionally has to call in the imperial authority to back up his verdicts against the judgments of experts.

"Unquestionably his mind is of an unusual order. It is a facile, quickly moving instrument; it works in flashes; it assimilates seemingly without effort, and it is at its best under the highest pressure. The Kaiser is not to be laughed at for wanting to know all there is to be known, but he may justly be criticized for failing to distinguish between the attempt and its failure....

"Is it all charlatanerie? Is it all of a part with his speech in Russian to the regiment of which the Czar made him honorary colonel, a studied trumpery effort, designed for a momentary effect? Is the Kaiser just glitter and tinsel, impulse and rhapsody, with nothing solid beneath? Is it his supreme object to make an impression at any cost, to force, like another Nero, the popular applause by arts more becoming to a cabotin than a sovereign? Vanity, restlessness, a consuming desire for the palm without the dust--an intense and theatrical egotism--are these the qualities that give the clue to his character and actions?

"I do not think so altogether. The Kaiser has scattered too much. In an age of specialists on many subjects he speaks like an amateur. He is always the hero, and often the victim, of his own imagination; like a star actor, he cannot bear to be outshone; he is morbidly, almost pruriently, conscious of the effect he is producing. And on all matters of intellect and taste his influence makes for blatant mediocrity. But he is not meretricious; at bottom he is not by any means as superficial and insincere as he often seems. He is one of those men in whom an instinct becomes an immutable truth, an idea a conviction, and a suspicion a certainty, by an almost instantaneous process; and, the process completed, action follows forthwith. The Kaiser is always resolved to do the right thing; the right thing, by some quaint but invariable coincidence, is whatever he is resolved to do."

These appreciations from afar may be as sound as they are brilliant, but they rather refer to the non-essential parts of the character of the Emperor in the first flush of imperial glory than to the essential character as it has developed with the years.

As a man--he will be dealt with as monarch presently--his essential character must be judged from his conduct, and conduct extending over a good many years. One might say, conduct and reputation, but that reputation is so often the result of a confused mixture of superficial observation, gossip, tittle-tattle, envy, hatred and uncharitableness, and, in the case of an Emperor, of merely picturesque and effective writing.

There is another source which would materially help us in forming a judgment, but it is wholly wanting in the case of the Emperor. No private correspondence of his is, as yet, available to the world.

Again, a man's character is determined by his motives, if it is not the other way about; in any case, a man's motives are for the most part inscrutable and can only be deduced from conduct, while the world usually makes the mistake of explaining conduct by attributing its own motives. Tried, then, by the standard of conduct, the only one available, the Emperor, as a man, shows us a high type of humanity. It may not, probably does not, appeal to Englishmen wholly, but there are features of it which must command, and do command, the respect of people of all nationalities. And, first of all, he is a good man; good as a Christian, good as a husband, good as a father, good as a patriot. With all the power and temptation to gratify his inclinations, he has no personal vices of the baser sort. He is moderate in the satisfaction of his appetites, whether for food or wine. He is no debauchee, no voluptuary, no gambler. He is faithful to old friends and comrades. He has high ideals, and is not ashamed of them. He is neither indolent nor fussy; neither a cynic, nor an intriguer, nor a fool; he is neither wrong-headed nor stubborn; he is honest and sincere to a degree that does him honour as a man, if it has sometimes proved perilous and blameworthy in him as a monarch. He is optimistic, and on good grounds. He is no physical or intellectual giant, but he is a man of more than average all-round intelligence and capacity. If this appreciation is correct, or even approximately correct, it is a testimonial, whatever may be its worth, to great merit.

Yet the Emperor as man has his failings and drawbacks, though they are such as time is almost sure to diminish or eradicate. Notably in his earlier years he lacked judgment, the power of balancing considerations and arriving at conclusions from them which men more gifted with poise would endorse as logical and inevitable. He does not, like spare Cassius, see quite through the deeds of men, as his friendship for Count Phili Eulenburg and the malodorous "Camarilla" go to show, and his choice of Imperial Chancellors, his grand viziers, has not in every instance been happy. He has less tact than character, as he showed once in Vienna, where he greatly pained the Foreign Minister, Count Goluchowski, one day at a club by calling to him, "Golu, Golu, come and sit beside your Kaiser." He has the German masculine enjoyment in a kind of humour which would have delighted Fox and the three-bottle men, but would sadly shock the susceptibilities of an Oxford æsthete. He has a share of personal vanity, but it springs from the desire to look the Emperor he is, not because he supposes for a moment that he is an Adonis. He is theatrical in exactly the same spirit--the desire imperially to impress his folk in the sense of the German word imponieren, a word that needs no translation. If he has lost much of Dr. Liman's "romantik," he still retains the "scatteredness" of Mr. Sidney Brooks, though the Emperor would rather hear it called "many-sidedness." En résumé he has the defects of his qualities, but to no man or woman's unmerited loss or injury, and if we weigh the good qualities with the bad, we find a fine balance remaining to his credit as a man.

The fierce light which beats upon a throne, if it is apt to dazzle the bystander, helps those at a distance, especially in these days of the still fiercer light of modern publicity, to judge fairly the throne's occupant. The character of the Emperor as monarch ought, therefore, as far as is possible in the absence of archives marked "secret and confidential" and yet lying in the ministries of all countries, to disclose itself nowadays with reasonable clearness. Yet, even still, different and conflicting opinions regarding it are to be gathered in Germany and out of it.

Indeed, his own people are among the severest critics. One of them, Professor Quidde, early in the reign, made an extraordinarily ingenious, but quite unjustifiable, comparison of him to Caligula, which, though only consisting of classical quotations and making no mention of the Emperor, was seen by everybody to refer to him and has caused discussion ever since. While many foreign critics have done the Emperor justice, others in turn have made him out to be arrogant, snobbish, bombastic, superficial, incompetent, and insincere. To writers of this class he is always the German War Lord, ready to pounce, like a highwayman or pirate, on any unprotected person or property he may come across, regardless of treaty obligations, of international disaster, or of the dictates of humanity. One day they announce he is planning the annexation of Holland in order to get a further set of naval bases, the next that he means to take Belgium to make a road for his armies into France, a third that he is about to set at naught the Monroe doctrine and with his Dreadnoughts seize Brazil. All these things are conceivable and not impossible, but they are in the very highest degree improbable, and, as yet at least, ought not to be considered seriously. To sensible and better-informed people everywhere he is a Prussian king of the best type, a sincere friend of peace, with a mania for pushing the maxim "Si vis pacem para bellum" to extremes, politically the most influential man in Europe, and, with all his faults, one of the greatest Germans of his time.

The character of the Emperor, as monarch, is reflected very largely in the character of the Germany of to-day.

Germany is optimistic, ardently desirous of peace, bent on worthily maintaining the great place she has won, and deserved to win, among the nations, and so materially prosperous as to make many Germans tremble at the thought that the prosperity may be too great to last. This, however, is not to assert that in Germany everything is couleur de rose. There are not a few things in the Empire's social and political conditions which are antiquated or promise no good. Noxious as well as beneficial forces have been introduced into the social life of the country and are beginning to make themselves felt. German home-life is ceasing to be the admirable and exemplary thing it was before the present era of class rivalry, commercialism, the parvenu and the snob. The idealism which made the Empire a possibility is passing away. There is need, and a general demand, for franchise reform in Prussia, and a change in the spirit of Prussian bureaucratic administration would be acceptable, though it is, perhaps, hopeless to expect it. The opposition in Germany between the monarchic and the democratic principle, if not more marked than it was twenty or thirty years ago, is manifesting itself over a wider and perhaps deeper area. The relations between capital and labour are far from satisfactory adjustment. Social democracy is yearly gaining fresh adherents, and if guilty of no political violence, is yet a constant source of danger to domestic peace. The German middle class, that bourgeoisie which is the backbone and strength of the Empire, is losing its Spartan simplicity and its content with small and moderate pleasures; and the national virtues of thrift and self-denial are yielding to the temptations of wealth and luxury. Business credit is unduly stretched, speculation in land has attained disturbing proportions, and the banking world is in too many instances allied with hazardous or doubtful enterprises. Nevertheless the country as a whole is sound, intellectually, morally, and financially.

It would be difficult to mention any of the greater tasks of imperial administration to which the Emperor does not continue to devote personal attention. He is the life and soul of the army and navy, though it should not be forgotten that as regards the latter he has in Admiral Tirpitz an executive talent worthy of his own directive. His interest in the mercantile marine remains what it was when in 1887, as Prince William, he drew up an expert opinion which decided the Hamburg-Amerika Company to build their fast ocean-going steamers at home instead of abroad, and by the success of the experiment commenced the modern development of Germany's shipbuilding industry. Indeed, his attention to the Hamburg line, familiarly known as the "Hapag" line, from the initial letters of its legal title, "Hamburg-Amerika Packetfahrt-Aktien Gesellschaft," and to the Norddeutsche line from Bremen, has given rise to the unfounded belief that he is heavily interested in their financial success. Herr Albert Ballin, the Director of the Hamburg line, though a Jew, is among his intimates and advisers, and the Emperor is said to have caused umbrage more than once to Court officials and the aristocracy by giving directors of both lines precedence at his table. Without the Emperor's personal support it is probable that neither the firm of Krupp at Essen nor the splendid shipbuilding yards at Hamburg, Bremen, Stettin and elsewhere would continue to progress as they are doing. He neglects no opportunity of stimulating Germany's internal and external trade. He is at all times ready to encourage the introduction of useful achievements of modern science and invention. And lastly, by tactful treatment of other German rulers, and a wise policy of non-interference with their States, he is promoting a feeling of federal solidarity.

The Emperor's conception of his relations to the people remains to-day what he was brought up in and what it was when he mounted the throne. In England, America, and France the people are the real rulers, and their monarch or president is their highest official servant and representative. The idea is not perhaps constitutionally expressed, but it is universally and deeply felt in the countries named. In Germany the opposite theory obtains--for how long it must be left to the future to say. In Germany the Emperor is the real ruler, the genuine monarch, and the people are his subjects, the country his country. Hence, while an English king in an official document or public statement would not think of putting himself first and the people or country second, the German Emperor's official statements and speeches constantly repeat such expressions as "I and my people," "I and the army," "my capital," "me and the Fatherland," and a score more; so that Anglo-Saxons and other foreigners acquire the impression that the word "my" is no figure of rhetoric or pride, but a simple claim of ownership or possession. And the official relation between monarch and people is reflected in the people's ordinary life. To the foreigner it continually appears that the public are the servants of the official, not the contrary, whether officialism takes the shape of a post-office clerk, a tramcar conductor, a shop salesman, a policeman, or a waiter. All these functionaries are the possessors of an authority which the citizen is expected to, and usually does, obey. The explanation of such a state of things is a little abstruse, but an attempt may be made at giving it.

The period immediately preceding the reign of Frederick the Great was a period of absolute monarchy in Germany, a system introduced from France, where Louis XIV had proclaimed the doctrine L'etat, c'est moi, according to which the lives and property of the subject belonged to the Prince, whose will was to be obeyed without question or demur. There were now four hundred courts in Germany in imitation of the Court of Versailles, and the smaller the principality the greater the absolutism. Absolutism, however, required an army to support it; hence the establishment of standing and mercenary armies and the disuse of arms by the citizen. The result, to quote Professor Ernst Richard's work on "German Civilization," was that

"the pride of the burgher and the peasant was broken. A submissive servility hopelessly pervaded the masses, and even the best had lost all social and national feeling, all sense of being part of a greater body.... The luxurious life and the arrogance of the ruling classes were accepted as a matter of course, one might say as a divine institution. Thus those traits of character, which had come to light under the cruel stress of the Thirty Years War, fostered by the rule of despotism and the worst vices, took deeper root. To these belong that greed for social position, for titles and the smiles of the great; servility towards those who hold a higher position as bearers of official titles and dignity, a fear of publicity, above all a rather remarkable inclination to a peevish, petty, and sceptical attitude as regards the knowledge and ability of others. The exaltation of the position of the prince extended to his Court and his officials, as well as to the nobility, which had long since become a Court nobility."

But absolutism had to go with the changes in human thought under the influence of Rationalism, which brought with it the idea of the State, not the absolute prince, as ruler. This idea was embodied in the Rechtstaat, or State based on law, which was introduced by Frederick the Great, the "first servant of the State." The State, he said, exists for the sake of the citizens. "One must be insane," he wrote,

"to imagine that men should have said to one of their equals, 'We will raise you so that we may be your slaves, we will give you the power to guide our thoughts according to yours.' They rather said: 'We need you in order to execute our laws, that you show us the way, and defend us. But we understand that you will respect our liberties.'"

The Rechtstaat exists in Germany to the present day, the Emperor is at the head of it, and the people are content to live within its confines. It is not, as has been seen, coterminous with the whole liberty of the subject, but is yet a vast bundle of rights and obligations which in public, and much of private, life leaves as little as possible to the unaided or undirected intelligence or goodwill of the citizen. It is an exaggeration, but still expresses a popular feeling even in Germany itself--and certainly describes an impression made on the Anglo-Saxon--to say that outside this bundle of laws and regulations, which, clearly and logically paragraphed, orders to a nicety all the public, and many of the private, relations of the citizens, everything is forbidden or discouraged by authority. Yet, as has been said, the people are satisfied with it, and it must be admitted that if it confines individual liberty within what to the Anglo-Saxon seem narrow limits, still, by directing the individual to common ends, it works great public advantage. It is in truth a very intelligent and practical form of Socialism, infinitely less oppressive to the people than would be the socialism of the professed Socialist.

It left, however, the German caste system of Frederick's day undisturbed; as Professor Richard says:

"The nobility retained its privileged position. It was considered a law of nature that the noblemen should assist the monarch in the administration of the State and as leaders of the army; the peasant should cultivate the fields and provide food; the commoner should provide money through industry and commerce."

To the Anglo-Saxon, of course, brought up with individualistic views of life and demanding complete personal freedom, the German Rechtstaat would be galling, not to say intolerable. The Englishman, however, has his Rechtstaat too, but the limits it places on his liberty are not nearly so restrictive in regard to public meeting, public talking, public writing, in short, public action of all sorts, as in Germany. Besides, the spirit of laws in England, as naturally follows from the Englishman's political history, is a much more liberal one than the German spirit, which is still to some extent under the influence of the age of absolutism.

The German conception of the Rechtstaat entails, as one of its consequences, a sharp contrast between the rights and privileges of the Crown and the rights and privileges of the people; and therefore, while the Emperor is never without apprehension that the people may try to increase their rights and privileges at the expense of those of the Crown, the people are not without apprehension that the Crown may try to increase its rights and privileges at the expense of the political liberties of the people. To this apprehension on the part of the people is to be attributed their widespread dissatisfaction with the Emperor's so-called "personal regiment," which, until recently, was the chief hindrance to his popularity. In truth the Emperor is in a difficult position. To be popular with the people he must be popular with the Parliament, but if he were to seek popularity with the Parliament he would lose popularity and prestige with the aristocracy and large landowners, who have still a good deal of the old-time contempt for the mere "folk," the burgher, and he would lose it with the military officer class, which is aristocratic in spirit, and is, as the Emperor is constantly assuring it, the sole support of throne and Empire. In addition to this it has to be remembered that a large majority of South Germany is Catholic, and, generally speaking, no great lover of Prussia, its people, and their airs of stiff superiority.

The personal relations of the Emperor to his people, and in especial to the vast burghertum, are precisely those to be expected from his traditional and constitutional relations. He is not popular, but he is widely and sincerely respected. His preference for the army, intelligible though it is, and the cleavage that separates Government and people, explain to some extent the want of popularity, using that word in its "popular" sense; while the consciousness of all the nation owes to his "goodwill," his initiative and energy, his conscientiousness in all directions, is quite sufficient to account for the respect. It is, in truth, in part at least, the respect which excludes the popularity. No one is ever likely to be popular, anywhere, who is constantly endeavouring to teach people how to live and what to think, and at the same time seems to have no social weaknesses to reconcile him with those--no small number--who are fond of cakes and ale. Some of the Emperor's acts and speeches have postponed, if not precluded, eventual popularity--his breach with Bismarck, for example, the whole "personal regiment," and speeches like that at Potsdam in 1891, when he told his recruits that if he had to order them to shoot down their brothers, or even their parents, they must obey without a murmur. Speeches of this last kind live long in public memory. In his dealings with his people the Emperor is neither arrogant--"high-nosed" is the elegant German expression: "arrogant" is no German word, Prince Bülow would doubtless say-- towards his subjects, nor are they cringing towards him, though this statement does not exclude the excusable embarrassment an ordinary mortal may be expected to feel in the presence of a monarch. The Emperor himself desires no "tail-wagging" from his subjects, and though there is something of the autocrat in him, there is nothing of the despot.