respectable in Germany, and to have seen there only what is ugly, mean, and ridiculous. There is no lack of ugliness, meanness, and absurdity spread over the whole world, and Germany has its due share; but what country claims to be exempt from such blemishes, or can claim even to have a smaller share of them than Germany?

What a sad picture might be drawn of France, for instance, if we were to shut our eyes to all that is good, honest, and respectable there, and were to depict nothing but the meanness, ugliness, and folly to be found in Paris! And in order to publish a violent and abusive pamphlet on French society, one need take but little trouble. By collecting in a volume the opinions of a certain number of well-known and much-admired French writers, poets, and politicians, one could produce the most cruel and unjust book that ever was written on France. Neither Victor Tissot, nor Paul Déroulède, nor the anonymous author of the recently published 'Letters on the Society of Berlin,' have shown. greater bitterness towards Germany than Victor Hugo, Henri de Rochefort, Paul de Cassagnac, the Intransigeant,' the 'République Française,' the Figaro,' 'Univers,' and a hundred other writers or newspapers have exhibited when speaking of their Imperialist or their Republican compatriots, as the case might be, and according as the one or the other party was composed of political antagonists. Political passion is dominant in France. Frenchmen-as far as one is able to judge by reading French papers, books, pamphlets, or libels-seem to have lost the sense of measure and moderation. Every one attacks his adversary with blind fury, and despises no weapon with which to

wound and slay him. There is no calumny so vile that it has not been uttered somewhere in France with regard to her public men, and found numerous believers. I do not think that, as a rule, Germans are more intensely hated by Frenchmen than good French Republicans are by stanch French Bonapartists or Legitimists, and vice versa : but they are more generally hated; they have no partisans of any kind in France. And so it has come to pass that a good deal of vindictive and unjust writing has been published there in respect of Germany, and has filtered through many channels into public opinion without encountering any contradiction. A great many good and respectable Frenchmen, who would feel ashamed of calumniating any one, or giving their tacit consent to calumny, are bona fide of opinion that the Germans are a nation of robbers and barbarians, merely because they have been told so a hundred times; whereas no one has drawn their attention to the fact that it would be just to apply to the German question that old principle of justice, "Audiatur et altera pars.” However, Germans have no reason to complain of being exceptionally badly treated by Frenchmen. The epithets applied to them are, as I have said, also used in France with regard to Frenchmen belonging to an opposite political camp. To be violently abusive and blindly unjust has become a fashion in France. There are probably among Frenchmen hundreds of thousands who have not adopted this fashion, but they do not make themselves heard; whereas the chorus of loud hoarse voices of abuse and calumny becomes daily more deafening and offensive. Calm will be restored one day, though at present that day seems to be far off. Meanwhile I may be excused if, in the

following pages, I dwell more particularly on the pleasant and respectable aspects of Berlin society. All its failings, weaknesses, ridiculousnesses, and shortcomings have been frequently represented in such a glaring light by a certain class of French writers, that scarcely anything new or worth writing remains to be said on that score.

At the head of what is called the society of Berlin naturally stand the Imperial family and the Court. Taking this to be a fact, as it certainly is in the capital of a thoroughly monarchical country, one cannot help wondering that any one undertaking to speak of Berlin society should not have been moved to deference and natural respect by that imposing historical figure called William I. No King of Prussia or Emperor of Germany has done more for the greatness of his people than that hardworking, fearless, conscientious old man, who for twenty-seven years has reigned over Prussia; who has borne since the 18th January 1871 the title of Emperor of Germany, and who at the age of eighty-seven still attends with never-failing earnest diligence to all the stern duties of his high and weighty office. If Emerson had known him when he wrote his book on 'Representative Men,' he would have chosen him as the type of "The Sovereign"; for there is no king or emperor, and perhaps there has never been one, who as thoroughly as William, Emperor of Germany, combines all the qualities which ought to belong to those who are called to govern the destinies of a great country and a powerful nation. He is a king by nature. Strange to say, this fact is understood only by a few, even in Germany.

Certainly no prince can be more venerated and loved by his subjects than the Emperor William by the

Germans; but if he is loved because of his singular greatness as a sovereign, it is, so to speak, unconsciously. The Germans love their old Emperor because he is kind to them, because he is just, because his life is pure, his soul fearless; because he is hard-working, being as scrupulously attentive to the duties of his office as the most laborious of his subjects; because his great age adds to his popularity; and because he appears as the incarnation of the power and greatness of Germany, of which Germans are not the less proud because of the novelty of the thing.

Up to 1871, Germans had not known the elevating pride with which an Englishman says, "I am English," or a Frenchman, "I am French." When Germans came to England or to France, they quickly learned the languages of those countries, adopted the customs of the people with whom they lived, very frequently got naturalised as soon as could be, and appeared satisfied, while in foreign countries, to be taken for natives. When they returned to their own country, they were wont to place themselves on a pinnacle, from which they looked down on the unsophisticated, untravelled Germans, their countrymen, condescending, if they were particularly gracious, to initiate them into the mysteries of French or English life and man

ners.

All that is changed now. Most Germans in the present day-those at least who belong to the upper classes have grown proud of being what they are by birth; and to look like an Englishman or a Frenchman has ceased to be the fashion amongst the coxcombs of Berlin. The present generation of Germans is still represented by the men who fought at Gravelotte and Sedan, and belonged to the besieging armies

of Metz, Strasburg, and Paris. And although they feel, as regards the French, a certain sense of superiority, yet their demeanour will not generally be offensive. An Englishman will find among them much genuine admiration for France and the genius and attractiveness of its inhabitants; but if he comes to speak of certain facts connected with what is called Chauvinism, he will detect in the eyes and at the corners of the mouth of his interlocutor a quiet, almost good-natured smile, which, in my opinion, must be more galling to Frenchmen than the most violent French diatribes can be to Germans.

It is not the object of this essay to enter into any details respecting the antagonism which still exists between Germany and France, though peace has been formally proclaimed between the two countries. If I state the fact that, since 1871, French writers have showered a great deal of abuse on Germany, to which, on the whole, Germans have paid but little attention, I do not mean to blame the violence or bad manners of the French, nor to praise the superior patience of the Germans. The latter have come out winners of that great game which was decided on the battle-fields from Saarbrück to Paris. It is easy for them to be satisfied, and natural that they should desire to obtain the adhesion of others to a state of things which raises them above their once more powerful neighbour. On the other hand, it is not to be expected that the French should show themselves battus et contents. The French hatred of Germany is quite as natural as the indifference with which the Germans accept the fact of being hated by their neighbours; and without any intention of entering into that question, I have been led to the above considerations merely

to explain one of the reasons, or rather the chief reason, why William I. is the idol of his people. Under his reign Germany has acquired the consciousness of its power and greatness; and for this the gratitude of Germans towards their old Emperor is intense.

But in my opinion, it is not because he is kind, just, popular, and victorious, that the Emperor William is an extraordinary man. There have been many kings and emperors before him who were as kind and just as he,-" the delights of mankind"; and again, others whose successes in war were so overpowering, and who crushed their enemies so completely, that history called them "scourges of God."

William I. is too august, he preserves too great a distance between his subjects and himself, he cares too earnestly and exclusively for German interest, to be called one of the "delights of mankind." On the other hand, he is anything but bloodthirsty or cruel. He abhors war; and he only made war when he believed himself by his royal duty bound to do so. He has very little of the conqueror about him; it cannot even be said that it is his ambition to be accounted a great general; he has never tried to take away an atom from the glory of Moltke for the way in which the French war was conducted. The denomination, "scourge of God," cannot in any way be applied to him.

Is he a man of great genius, of powerful, high conceptions? The question may be debated. But he is something quite peculiar: he is a sovereign pure and simple-a heaven-born sovereign, a perfect sovereign; and that is something so extraordinary, that, on examining him more closely, I can compare him to no other man.

There are people who do not like

music, others who do not care for painting. To them Mozart and Beethoven, Haydn and Bach, Raphael and Rembrandt, Titian and Rubens, will be indifferent, though they were heaven-born artists, perfect artists. I can well understand that a somewhat similar indifference may be felt in respect of the qualities which constitute the "perfect sovereign," the more so, as those characteristic qualities cannot, on the whole, be described as amiable.

Goethe, in his second part of "Faust," says of the Emperor"... He who would command Must in commanding find his highest blessing:

Then let his breast with force of will expand,

But what he wills, be past another's guessing!

What to his faithful he hath whispered,

that

Such is William I., the old Emperor of Germany. In commanding he finds his highest blessing. His subjects may seek enjoyment. He, in his august, placid way, will be glad of it; but it is not in his nature to wish to partake of their joys. His whole life is expanded into acts. It is contrary to his nature to receive passively deep impressions. This must be taken as the only possible explanation of his glorious reign, of his whole career, of his simple mode of life; and lastly, of his relations to Prince Bismarck and Count Moltke, the two men through whose brains, deeds, and daring, he has achieved all that he has done for Germany.

It would be a great mistake to suppose that the slightest feeling of jealousy had ever entered the Emperor's head with regard to his

VOL. CXXXVI.-NO. DCCCXXV.

No one,

great Chancellor, even when that statesman's name became the most popular in Germany, and was on every man's lips as that of the hero who had made Germany the powerful empire it is. perhaps, in all Germany was at that time prouder of Prince Bismarck than the Emperor; for to him Bismarck was the instrument of his own will, the faithful executor of his royal commands. He could no more be jealous of him and of his power and popularity than he could be jealous of the popularity of his army, or of the power of that million of bayonets which, by his command, marched into France and stood before Metz, Strasburg, and Paris.

It is said that the enemies of the Chancellor have repeatedly tried to excite the Emperor's anger against that man of extraordinary genius and of imperious will. They thought to strike a responsive chord in the Emperor's heart by representing Bismarck as acting with an independence of will offensive to the majesty of the sovereign. But there is no reason to suppose that these insinuations ever found belief or were even understood. The Emperor considers Bismarck as his Chancellor, just as he considers his right arm to be his right arm. Bismarck has done great things, because by his, the Emperor's will, Bismarck was allowed to have his way. Would he have marched into Bohemia and into France against the king's will?

Those who have attempted to make the Emperor jealous of any of his subjects can have known nothing of the character of that Sovereign, in whose mind the Sovereign (who is himself), and the People-to which belong all other Germans (the Crown Prince and the highest officials and officers as well as the poorest citizen)-are two in

B

commensurable unities. Such ideas would make of any ordinary ruler a tyrant, a bad king. But the Emperor of Germany is an extraordinary man, perfect in his way: if it is his "highest blessing" to command, commanding is at the same time his highest, one might say his only duty, to which every other thing is sacrificed without effort. He is an officer equal to his office. He is careful to perform his duties perfectly. His commands are never given negligently, lightly; they are always well pondered and peremptory. It is a fact that when decorating a private soldier with the military medal, a thing which must have occurred thousands of times during his long reign, he does not do it without having paid due attention to that particular case. He will likewise pay due attention when signing a sentence of death, the duty of all others apparently the most painful to him, as the number of executions has been exceedingly small under his rule; and we may hold for certain that he also paid due attention, neither more nor less, when signing a declaration of

war.

The Emperor has great confidence in those officials who approach him most closely, and in his Chancellor more than in any other man, because he appreciates his genius and his loyalty. He follows his adviser willingly, never blindly. He will discuss when he has any doubts, and he will never yield unless fully convinced of the wisdom and justice of what is proposed to him. It would be an error to suppose that in the end he has always allowed himself to be persuaded by his advisers. More than once Bismarck, whose profound veneration and love for the old Emperor are singularly touching, has yielded to his sove

reign, though he may have believed himself in the right.

There are other characteristics of the Emperor to which I wish briefly to allude, because they all contribute more or less to make him a sovereign with extraordinary gifts for governing.

The Emperor's greatest passion is for his army, as the most powerful instrument of his will. After the victorious battle of Gravelotte he was not carried away by the exultation of victory. He wept bitterly over the thousands of brave soldiers slain on that day; but his grief was not, so to speak, of a personal nature. He did not speak of those he had personally known: he mourned over the destruction of a magnificent portion of his army. He is familiar with the minutest details of soldiering, with a keen eye for the qualities and defects of the troops mancuvring before him. His judgments are those of a general of rare experience and discernment, and are taken into serious consideration by his officers, not only because they are the opinions of the sovereign, but also because they are those of an experienced old soldier.

The Emperor has few wants. His habits are very frugal, and he never indulges in any luxury— scarcely in the comfort to which a man of his age would, under all circumstances, be fully entitled. He sleeps on a narrow, hard campbed, and dresses in full uniform as soon as he gets up. He has identified himself with Germany, and defends German interests wherever they are implicated. He is perfectly unselfish, and very economical, knowing well the power of money; nevertheless he will display, whenever he thinks it right, a truly royal munificence. There is certainly no stinginess in him. He holds his functionaries and