THE NOVEMBER STORM

1908

The “November Storm” was a collision between the Emperor and his folk, a result of his so-called “personal regiment.”

In a general way the latter phrase is intended to describe and characterize the method of rule adopted by the Emperor from the very beginning of his reign, especially as exhibited in his semi-official utterances, public and private, in his correspondence, private conversation, and public and private conduct generally. According to the popular interpretation of the Imperial Constitution the nearest thing to a Magna Charta in Germany the Emperor should observe, in his words and acts, a reserve which would prevent all chance of creating dissension among the federated States and in particular would secure the avoidance of anything which might disturb Germany’s relations to foreign countries or interfere with the course of Germany’s foreign policy as carried on through the regular official channel, the Foreign Office. The ground for this popular interpretation is a constitutional device which to an Englishman, if it be not offensive to say so, can only recall the well-known definition of a metaphysician as “a blind man, in a dark room, looking for a black cat, which is not there.”

The device is known as the Chancellor’s “responsibility,” which was regarded, and is still regarded in Germany, as at once “covering” the Emperor and offering to his folk a safeguard against unwisdom or caprice on his part. The nature of this responsibility which is evidenced by the Chancellor signing the Emperor’s edicts and other official statements, is so frequently discussed by German politicians, the position of the Chancellor the Grand Vizier of Germany he has been picturesquely called is so influential, and the intercourse between the Emperor and the Chancellor is so close, exclusive, and confidential, that an examination of the meaning of the term “responsibility” in this connexion is desirable.

Whenever the Emperor does anything important or surprising, especially in foreign policy, the first question asked by his subjects is, has he taken the step with the knowledge, and therefore with the joint responsibility, of the Chancellor? If the answer is in the negative, it is the “personal regiment” again, and people are angry: if the latter, they may disapprove of the step and grumble at it, but it is covered by the Chancellor’s signature and they can raise no constitutional objection. Hence the demand usually made on such occasions for an Act of Parliament once for all defining fully and clearly the Chancellor’s responsibilities. According to Prince von Buelow, and it is doubtless the Emperor’s own view, the responsibility mentioned in the Constitution is a “moral responsibility,” and only refers to such acts and orders of the Emperor as immediately arise out of the governing rights vested in him, not to personal expressions of opinion, even though these may be made on formal occasions; and the Prince goes on to say that if a Chancellor cannot prevent what he honestly thinks would permanently and in an important respect be injurious to the Empire, he is bound to resign.

The Chancellor, then, takes responsibility of some kind. But responsibility to whom? To the Emperor? To the Parliament? To the people? The answer is, solely to the Emperor, for it is the Emperor who appoints and dismisses him as well as every other Minister, imperial or Prussian, and the Emperor is only responsible to his conscience. In parliamentarily ruled countries like England Ministers are responsible to Parliament, which expresses its disapproval by the vote of a hostile majority, or in certain circumstances by a vote of censure or even impeachment. In Germany, where the parliamentary system of government does not exist, and where there is no upsetting Ministries by a hostile majority, and no parliamentary vote of censure or impeachment, no Minister, including the Chancellor, is responsible, in the English sense of the word, to Parliament; accordingly, a German Chancellor may continue in office in spite of Parliament, provided of course the Emperor supports him. At the same time the Chancellor to-day is to some indefinable extent responsible to Parliament, and therefore to the people, in so far as they are represented by it, for he must keep on tolerable terms with Parliament as well as with the Emperor, or he will have to give up office. How he is to keep on terms with a Parliament consisting of half a dozen powerful parties and as many more smaller fractions and factions is probably the part of his duties that gives him most trouble and at times, doubtless, very disagreeably interferes with the placidity of his slumbers.

There is no struggle for government in Germany between the Crown and the people: Germans have no ancient Magna Charta, no Habeas Corpus, no Declaration of Rights to look back to on the long road to liberty. In the protracted struggle for government between the English people and their rulers, the people’s victory took the form of parliamentary control while retaining the monarch as their highest and most honoured representative. Socially he is their master, politically their servant, the “first servant of the State.” In Germany there has never, save for a few months in 1848, been any struggle of a similar political extent or kind. German monarchs including the Emperor, have applied the expression “first servant of the State” to themselves, but they did not apply it in the English sense. They applied it more accurately. In Germany the State means the system, the mechanism of government, inclusive of the monarch’s office: in England the word “State” is more nearly equivalent to the word “people.” To serve the system, the government machinery, is the first duty of the monarch, and government is not a changing reflection of the people’s will, but a permanent apparatus for maintaining the power of the Crown, harmonizing and reconciling the sentiments and interests of all parts of the Empire, and for conducting foreign policy.

It may be objected that legislation is made by the Reichstag, that the Reichstag has the power of the purse, and that it is elected by universal suffrage; but in Germany the Government is above and independent of the Reichstag; legislation is not made by the Reichstag alone, since it requires the agreement of the Federal Council and of the Emperor, and what is of great practical importance Government issues directions as to how legislation shall be carried into effect. The law of 1872 passed against the Jesuits forbade the “activity” of the Order, but the interpretation of the word “activity,” and with it the effects of the law, were left to the Government.

Kings of Prussia and German Emperors have never shown much affection for their Parliaments: Parliaments are apt to act as a check upon monarchy, and in Prussia in particular to interfere with the carrying out of the divinely imposed mission. This is not said sarcastically; and the Emperor, like some of his ancestors, has more than once expressed the same thought. Parliaments in Germany only date from after the French Revolution. After that event there came into existence in Germany the Frankfurt Parliament (1848), the Erfurt Parliament (1850), and the Parliament of the German Customs Union (1867). These, however, were not popularly elected Parliaments like those of the present day, but gatherings of class delegates from the various Kingdoms and States composing the Germany and Austria of the time. Since the Middle Ages there had always been quasi-popular assemblies in Prussia, but they too were not elected, and only represented classes, not constituencies. The present Parliaments in Prussia and the Empire are Constitutional Parliaments in the English sense, elected by universal suffrage, the one indirectly, the other directly.

The present Prussian Diet dates from the “First Unified Diet,” summoned by Frederick William IV in 1847, which was transformed next year under pressure of the revolutionists into a “national assembly.” This was treated a year after by General Wrangel almost exactly as Cromwell treated the Rump. The General entered Berlin with the troops which a few weeks before had fought against the revolutionists of the “March days.” He passed along the Linden to the royal theatre, where the “national assembly” was in session, and was met at the door by the leader of the citizens’ guard with the proud words, “The guard is resolved to protect the honour of the National Assembly and the freedom of the people, and will only yield to force.”

Wrangel took out his watch one can imagine the old silver “turnip” and with his thumb on the dial replied:

“Tell your city guard that the force is here. I will be responsible for the maintenance of order. The National Assembly has fifteen minutes in which to leave the building and the city guard in which to withdraw.”

In a quarter of an hour the building was empty, and next day the city guard was dissolved. A month later the King, Frederick William IV, granted his octroyierte Constitution that is, a concession of his own royal personal will which established the Diet as it is to-day.

Emperor William I, as King of Prussia, had a good deal of trouble with his Parliament, and in 1852 wanted to abdicate rather than rule in obedience to a parliamentary majority it was the “conflict time” about funds for army reorganization. Bismarck dissuaded him from doing so by promising to become Minister and carry on the government, if need were, without a parliament and without a budget. He actually did so for some years, but there was no change in the Constitution as a result.

Nor has there been any constitutional change in the relations of Crown to Parliament during the present reign. As a young man, the Emperor had of course nothing to do with Parliament, Prussian or Imperial, and since his accession, though there is always latent antagonism and has been even friction at times, he has, generally speaking, lived on “correct,” if not friendly terms with it. There is little, if any, of the devoted affection one finds for the monarch in the English Parliament.

And not unnaturally. Early in his reign, in 1891, he made a reference to Parliament little calculated to evoke affection. “The soldier and the army,” he said to his generals at a banquet in the palace, “not parliamentary majorities and decisions, have welded together the German Empire. My confidence is in the army as my grandfather said at Coblenz: ‘These are the gentlemen on whom I can rely.’” Again, a year or two afterwards he dissolved the Reichstag for refusing to accept a military bill and did not conceal his anger with the recalcitrant majority. In 1895 he telegraphed to Bismarck his indignation with the Reichstag for refusing to vote its congratulations on the old statesman’s eightieth birthday. In 1897, speaking of the kingship “von Gottes Gnaden” he took occasion to quote his grandfather’s declaration that “it was a kingship with onerous duties from which no man, no Minister, no Parliament, no people” could release the Prince. In 1903 his Chancellor, Prince Buelow, had to defend in Parliament his action in the case of the Swinemunde despatch already mentioned. Attention was called to the telegram in the Reichstag and the Chancellor defended the Emperor. He denied that the telegram was an act of State it was a personal matter between two sovereigns, the statement of a friend to a friend. “The idea,” said the Chancellor, who contended that the Emperor had a right to express his opinions like any citizen,

“that the monarch’s expression of opinion is to be limited by a stipulation that every such expression must be endorsed with the signature of the Chancellor is wholly foreign to the Constitution.”

Next day the Chancellor had again occasion to defend his imperial master against a charge of being “anti-social,” brought by the Socialist von Vollmar, who coupled the charge with insinuations of absolutism and Caesarism. Prince Buelow said:

“Absolutism is not a German word, and is not a German institution. It is an Asiatic plant, and one cannot talk of absolutism in Germany so long as our circumstances develop in an organic and legal manner, respecting the rights of the Crown, which are just as sacred as the rights of the burgher; respecting also law and order, which are not disregarded ‘from above,’ and will not be disregarded. If ever our circumstances take on an absolute, a Caesarian, form, it will be as the consequence of revolution, of convulsion. For on revolution follows Caesarism as W follows U that is the rule in the A B C of the world’s history.”

There is no harm in reminding Prince Buelow that the letter V which may be a very important link in the chain of events comes between U and W. It is clear also that the Chancellor must have forgotten his English history for the moment, for though Cromwell’s rule may be called Caesarism of a kind, the reign of William III, of “glorious, pious, and immortal memory,” which followed the revolution of 1688, could not fairly be so named.

Three years later, in 1906, Prince Buelow found it necessary to defend the Emperor on the score of the “personal regiment.” “The view,” Prince Buelow said,

“that the monarch should have no individual thoughts of his own about State and government, but should only think with the heads of his Ministers and only say what they tell him to say, is fundamentally wrong is inconsistent with State rights and with the wish of the German people”;

and he concluded by challenging the House to mention a single case in which the Emperor had acted unconstitutionally. None of these bickerings between Crown and Parliament went to the root of the constitutional relations between them, but they betrayed the existence of popular dissatisfaction with the Emperor, which in a couple of years was to culminate in an outbreak of national anger.

An occurrence calls for mention here, not only as a kind of harbinger of the “storm,” but as one of the chief incidents which in the course of recent years have troubled Anglo-German relations. The incident referred to is that of the so-called “Tweedmouth Letter,” which was an autograph letter from the Emperor to Lord Tweedmouth, First Lord of the British Admiralty at the time, dated February 17, 1908, and containing among other matters a lengthy disquisition on naval construction, with reference to the excited state of feeling in England caused by Germany’s warship-building policy. The letter has never been published, but it is supposed to have been prompted by a statement made publicly by Lord Esher, Warden of Windsor Castle, in the London Observer, to the effect that nothing would more please the German Emperor than the retirement of Sir John Fisher, the originator of the Dreadnought policy, who was at the time First Lord of the Admiralty; and to have contained the remark that “Lord Esher had better attend to the drains at Windsor and leave alone matters which he did not understand.” The Emperor was apparently unaware that Lord Esher was one of the foremost military authorities in England.

The sending of the letter became known through the appearance of a communication in the London Times of March 6th, with the caption “Under which King?” an allusion to Shakespeare’s “Under which king, Bezonian, speak or die” and signed “Your Military Correspondent.” The writer announced that it had come to his knowledge that the German Emperor had recently addressed a letter to Lord Tweedmouth on the subject of British and German naval policy, and that it was supposed that the letter amounted to an attempt to influence, in German interests, the Minister’s responsibility for the British Naval Estimates. The correspondent concluded by demanding that the letter should be laid before Parliament without delay. The Times, in a leading article, prognosticated the “painful surprise and just indignation” which must be felt by the people of Great Britain on learning of such “secret appeals to the head of a department on which the nation’s safety depends,” and argued that there could be no question of privacy in a matter of the kind. The article concluded with the assertion that the letter was obviously an attempt to “make it more easy for German preparations to overtake our own.” The incident was immediately discussed in all countries, publicly and privately.

Everywhere opinion was divided as to the defensibility of the Emperor’s action; in France the division was reported by the Times correspondent to be “bewildering.” All the evidence available to prove the Emperor’s impulsiveness was recalled the Kruger telegram, the telegram to Count Goluchowski, the Austrian Minister of Foreign Affairs, after the Morocco Conference, characterizing him as a “brilliant second (to Germany) in the bout at Algeciras,” the premature telegram conferring the Order of Merit on General Stoessel after the fall of Port Arthur, and other evidence, relevant and irrelevant. Reuter’s agent in Berlin telegraphed on official authority that the Emperor “had written as a naval expert.”

On the whole, continental opinion may be said to have leaned in favour of the Emperor. Mr. Asquith, the English Prime Minister, at once made the statement that the letter was a “purely private communication, couched in an entirely friendly spirit,” that it had not been laid before the Cabinet, and that the latter had come to a decision about the Estimates before the letter arrived.

All eyes and ears were now turned to Lord Tweedmouth, and on March 10th he briefly referred to the matter in the House of Lords. He received the letter, he said, in the ordinary postal way; it was “very friendly in tone and quite informal”; he showed it to Sir Edward Grey, who agreed with him that it should be treated as a private letter, not as an official one; and he replied to it on February 20th, “also in an informal and friendly manner.” A discussion, in which Lord Lansdowne and Lord Rosebery took part, followed, the former to give the tone, not the words of his speech handing in a verdict of “Not guilty, but don’t do it again,” against the Emperor, and laying down the principle that “such a communication as that in question must not be allowed to create a diplomatic situation different from that which has been established through official channels and documents”; and Lord Rosebery, while he recognized the importance of the incident, seeking to minimize its effects by an attitude of banter. The treatment of the incident by the House of Commons as a whole gave considerable satisfaction in Germany, where all efforts were directed to showing malevolent hostility to Germany on the part of the Times.

Prince von Buelow dealt with the letter in a speech on the second reading of the Budget on March 24, 1908. After referring to the Union Internationale Interparlementaire, which was to meet in a few months in Berlin, and to the “very unsatisfactory situation in Morocco,” he said:

“From various remarks which have been dropped in the course of the debate I gather that this honourable House desires me to make a statement as to the letter which his Majesty the Kaiser last month wrote to Lord Tweedmouth. On grounds of discretion, to the observance of which both the sender and receiver of a private letter are equally entitled, I am not in a position to lay the text of the letter before you, and I add that I regret exceedingly that I cannot do so. The letter could be signed by any one of us, by any sincere friend of good relations between Germany and England (hear, hear). The letter, gentlemen, was in form and substance a private one, and at the same time its contents were of a political nature. The one fact does not exclude the other; and the letter of a sovereign, an imperial letter, does not, from the fact that it deals with political questions, become an act of State (’Very true,’ on the Right).

“This is not and deputy Count Kanitz yesterday gave appropriate instances in support the first political letter a sovereign has written, and our Kaiser is not the first sovereign who has addressed to foreign statesmen letters of a political character which are not subject to control. The matter here concerns a right of action which all sovereigns claim and which, in the case of our Kaiser also, no one has a right to limit. How his Majesty proposes to make use of this right we can confidently leave to the imperial sense of duty. It is a gross, in no way justifiable misrepresentation, to assert that his Majesty’s letter to Lord Tweedmouth amounts to an attempt to influence the Minister responsible for the naval budget in the interests of Germany, or that it denotes a secret interference in the internal affairs of the British Empire. Our Kaiser is the last person to believe that the patriotism of an English Minister would suffer him to accept advice from a foreign country as to the drawing up of the English naval budget (’Quite right,’ hear, hear). What is true of English statesmen is true also of the leading statesmen of every country which lays claim to respect for its independence (’Very true’). In questions of defence of one’s own country every people rejects foreign interference and is guided only by considerations bearing on its own security and its own needs (’Quite right’). Of this right to self-judgment and self-defence Germany also makes use when she builds a fleet to secure the necessary protection for her coasts and her commerce (’Bravo!’). This defensive, this purely defensive character of our naval programme cannot, in view of the incessant attempts to attribute to us aggressive views with regard to England, be too often or too sharply brought forward (’Bravo!’). We desire to live in peace and quietness with England, and therefore it is embittering to find a portion of the English Press ever speaking of the ’German danger,’ although the English fleet is many times stronger than our own, although other lands have stronger fleets than us and are working no less zealously at their development. Nevertheless it is Germany, ever Germany, and only Germany, against which public opinion on the other side of the Channel is excited by an utterly valueless polemic (’Quite right’).

“It would be, gentlemen,”

the Chancellor continued,

“in the interests of appeasement between both countries, it would be in the interest of the general peace of the world, that this polemic should cease. As little as we challenge England’s right to set up the naval standard her responsible statesmen consider necessary for the maintenance of British power in the world without our seeing therein a threat against ourselves, so little can she take it ill of us if we do not wish our naval construction to be wrongly represented as a challenge against England (hear, hear, on the Right and Left). Gentlemen, these are the thoughts, as I judge from your assent, which we all entertain, which find expression in the statements of all speakers, and which are in harmony with all our views. Accept my additional statement that in the letter of his Majesty to Lord Tweedmouth one gentleman, one seaman, talks frankly to another, that our Kaiser highly appreciates the honour of being an admiral of the British navy, and that he is a great admirer of the political education of the British people and of their fleet, and you will have a just view of the tendency, tone, and contents of the imperial letter to Lord Tweedmouth. His Majesty consequently finds himself in this letter not only in full agreement with the Chancellor I may mention this specially for the benefit of Herr Bebel but, as I am convinced, in agreement with the entire nation. It would be deeply regrettable if the honourable opinions by which our Kaiser was moved in writing this letter should be misconstrued in England. With satisfaction I note that the attempts at such misconstruction have been almost unanimously rejected in England (’Bravo!’ on the Right and Left). Above all, gentlemen, I believe that the admirable way in which the English Parliament has exemplarily treated the question will have the best effect in preventing a disturbance of the friendly relations between Germany and England and in removing all hostile intention from the discussions over the matter (agreement, Right and Left).

“Gentlemen, one more observation of a general nature. Deputies von Hertling and Bassermann have recommended us, in view of the suspicions spread about us abroad, a calm and watchful attitude of reserve, and for the treatment of the country’s foreign affairs consistency, union, and firmness. I believe that the foreign policy we must follow cannot be characterized better or more rightly (applause).”

A German saying has it that one is wiser coming from, than going to, the Rathaus, the place of counsel. It is easy to see now that it would have been better had the Emperor not written the letter, better had the Times not brought it to public notice, better, also, had the Emperor or Lord Tweedmouth or Sir Edward Grey for one of them must have spoken of it to a third person not let its existence become known to anyone save themselves, at least not until the international situation which prompted it had ceased. As regards the Emperor in particular, judgment must be based on the answer to the question, Was the letter a private letter or a public document? The Times regarded it as the latter, and many politicians took that view, but probably nine people out of ten now regard it as the former. For such, the reflection that it was part of a private correspondence between two friendly statesmen, both well known to be sincere in their views that a country’s navy that all military preparations are based on motives of national defence, not of high-handed aggression, must absolve the Emperor from any suspicion of political immorality. It was unfortunate that the letter was written, unfortunate that it was made known publicly, but, as it is an ill wind that blows nobody good, the episode may profit monarchs as well as meaner folk as an object lesson in the advantages of discretion.

Discussion of the Tweedmouth letter had hardly ceased when the whole question of the “personal regiment” was again, and as it now, five years after, appears, finally thrashed out between the Emperor and his folk. Before, however, considering the Daily Telegraph interview and the Emperor’s part in it, something should be said as to the state of international ill-feeling which caused him to sanction its publication.

The ill-feeling was no sudden wave of hostility or pique, but a sentiment which had for years existed in the minds of both nations a sentiment of mutual suspicion. The Englishman thought Germany was prepared to dispute with him the maritime supremacy of Great Britain, the German that England intended to attack Germany before Germany could carry her great design into execution. The proximate cause of the irritation for it has not yet got beyond that was the decision, as announced in her Navy Law of 1898, to build a fleet of battleships which Germany, but especially the Emperor, considered necessary to complete the defences, and appropriate for affirming the dignity, of the Empire.

This was the origo, but not the fons. The source was the Boer War and the Kruger telegram, though the philosophic historian might with some reason refer it in a large measure also to the surprise and uneasiness with which the leading colonial and commercial, as well as maritime, nation of the world saw the material progress, the waxing military power, and the longing for expansion of the not yet forty-year-old German Empire. Forty years ago the word “Germany” had no territorial, but only a descriptive and poetical, significance; certainly it had no political significance; for the North German Union, out of which the modern German Empire grew, meant for Englishmen, and indeed for politicians everywhere, only Prussia. Prussia was less liked by the world then than she is now, when she is not liked too well; and accordingly there was already in existence the disposition in England to criticize sharply the conduct of Prussia and to apply the same criticism to the Empire Prussia founded. In this condition of international feeling England’s long quarrel with the Transvaal Republic came nearer to the breaking-point; at the same time there was an idea prevalent in England that Germany was coquetting with the Boers if not looking to a seizure of Transvaal territory, at least hoping for Boer favour and Boer commercial privileges. The Jameson Raid was made and failed; the Emperor and his advisers sent the fateful telegram to President Kruger; and the peace of the world has been in jeopardy ever since!

The “storm” arose from the publication, in the London Daily Telegraph of October 28, 1908, of an interview coming, as the editor said in introducing it, “from a source of such unimpeachable authority that we can without hesitation commend the obvious message which it conveys to the attention of the public.” As to the origin and composition of the interview a good deal of mystery still exists. All that has become known is that some one, whose identity has hitherto successfully been concealed, with the object of demonstrating the sentiments of warm friendship with which the Emperor regarded England, put together, in England or in Germany, a number of statements made by the Emperor and sanctioned by him for publication. Whether the Emperor read the interview previous to publication or not, no official statement has been made; it is, however, quite certain that he did. At all events it was sent, or sent back, to England and published in due course. The immediate effect was a hubbub of discussion, accompanied with general astonishment in England, a storm of popular resentment and humiliation in Germany, and voluminous comment in other countries, some of it favourable, some of it unfavourable, to the Emperor.

The text of the interview in the Daily Telegraph was introduced, as mentioned, with the words:

We have received the following communication from a source of such unimpeachable authority that we can without hesitation commend the obvious message which it conveys to the attention of the public.

And continued as follows:

Discretion is the first and last quality requisite in a diplomatist, and should still be observed by those who, like myself, have long passed from public into private life. Yet moments sometimes occur in the history of nations when a calculated indiscretion proves of the highest public service, and it is for that reason that I have decided to make known the substance of a lengthy conversation which it was my recent privilege to have with his Majesty the German Emperor. I do so in the hope that it may help to remove that obstinate misconception of the character of the Kaiser’s feelings towards England which, I fear, is deeply rooted in the ordinary Englishman’s breast. It is the Emperor’s sincere wish that it should be eradicated. He has given repeated proofs of his desire by word and deed. But, to speak frankly, his patience is sorely tried now that he finds himself so continually misrepresented, and has so often experienced the mortification of finding that any momentary improvement of relations is followed by renewed out-bursts of prejudice, and a prompt return to the old attitude of suspicion.

As I have said, his Majesty honoured me with a long conversation, and spoke with impulsive and unusual frankness. “You English,” he said,

“are mad, mad, mad as March hares. What has come over you that you are so completely given over to suspicions quite unworthy of a great nation? What more can I do than I have done? I declared with all the emphasis at my command, in my speech at Guildhall, that my heart is set upon peace, and that it is one of my dearest wishes to live on the best of terms with England. Have I ever been false to my word? Falsehood and prevarication are alien to my nature. My actions ought to speak for themselves, but you listen not to them but to those who misinterpret and distort them. That is a personal insult which I feel and resent. To be for ever misjudged, to have my repeated offers of friendship weighed and scrutinized with jealous, mistrustful eyes, taxes my patience severely. I have said time after time that I am a friend of England, and your Press or, at least, a considerable section of it bids the people of England refuse my proffered hand, and insinuates that the other holds a dagger. How can I convince a nation against its will?”

“I repeat,” continued his Majesty,

“that I am the friend of England, but you make things difficult for me. My task is not of the easiest. The prevailing sentiment among large sections of the middle and lower classes of my own people is not friendly to England. I am, therefore, so to speak, in a minority in my own land, but it is a minority of the best elements, just as it is in England with respect to Germany. That is another reason why I resent your refusal to accept my pledged word that I am the friend of England. I strive without ceasing to improve relations, and you retort that I am your arch-enemy. You make it very hard for me. Why is it?”

Thereupon I ventured to remind his Majesty that not England alone, but the whole of Europe had viewed with disapproval the recent action of Germany in allowing the German Consul to return from Tangier to Fez, and in anticipating the joint action of France and Spain by suggesting to the Powers that the time had come for Europe to recognize Muley Hand as the new Sultan of Morocco.

His Majesty made a gesture of impatience. “Yes,” he said,

“that is an excellent example of the way in which German action is misrepresented. First, then, as regards the journey of Dr. Vassel. The German Government, in sending Dr. Vassel back to his post at Fez, was only guided by the wish that he should look after the private interests of German subjects in that city, who cried for help and protection after the long absence of a Consular representative. And why not send him? Are those who charge Germany with having stolen a march on the other Powers aware that the French Consular representative had already been in Fez for several months when Dr. Vassel set out? Then, as to the recognition of Muley I Hand. The Press of Europe has complained with much acerbity that Germany ought not to have suggested his recognition until he had notified to Europe his full acceptance of the Act of Algeciras, as being binding upon him as Sultan of Morocco and successor of his brother. My answer is that Muley Hafid notified the Powers to that effect weeks ago, before the decisive battle was fought. He sent, as far back as the middle of last July, an identical communication to the Governments of Germany, France, and Great Britain, containing an explicit acknowledgment that he was prepared to recognize all the obligations towards Europe which were incurred by Abdul Aziz during his Sultanate. The German Government interpreted that communication as a final and authoritative expression of Muley Hand’s intentions, and therefore they considered that there was no reason to wait until he had sent a second communication, before recognizing him as the de facto Sultan of Morocco, who had succeeded to his brother’s throne by right of victory in the field.”

I suggested to his Majesty that an important and influential section of the German Press had placed a very different interpretation upon the action of the German Government, and, in fact, had given it their effusive approbation precisely because they saw in it a strong act instead of mere words, and a decisive indication that Germany was once more about to intervene in the shaping of events in Morocco. “There are mischief-makers,” replied the Emperor,

“in both countries. I will not attempt to weigh their relative capacity for misrepresentation. But the facts are as I have stated. There has been nothing in Germany’s recent action with regard to Morocco which runs contrary to the explicit declaration of my love of peace which I made both at Guildhall and in my latest speech at Strassburg.”

His Majesty then reverted to the subject uppermost in his mind his proved friendship for England. “I have referred,” he said,

“to the speeches in which I have done all that a sovereign can to proclaim my goodwill. But, as actions speak louder than words, let me also refer to my acts. It is commonly believed in England that throughout the South African War Germany was hostile to her. German opinion undoubtedly was hostile bitterly hostile. The Press was hostile; private opinion was hostile. But what of official Germany? Let my critics ask themselves what brought to a sudden stop, and, indeed, to absolute collapse, the European tour of the Boer delegates who were striving to obtain European intervention? They were feted in Holland; France gave them a rapturous welcome. They wished to come to Berlin, where the German people would have crowned them with flowers. But when they asked me to receive them I refused. The agitation immediately died away, and the delegation returned empty-handed. Was that, I ask, the action of a secret enemy?

“Again, when the struggle was at its height, the German Government was invited by the Governments of France and Russia to join with them in calling upon England to put an end to the war. The moment had come, they said, not only to save the Boer Republics, but also to humiliate England to the dust. What was my reply? I said that so far from Germany joining in any concerted European action to put pressure upon England and bring about her downfall, Germany would always keep aloof from politics that could bring her into complications with a Sea Power like England. Posterity will one day read the exact terms of the telegram now in the archives of Windsor Castle in which I informed the Sovereign of England of the answer I had returned to the Powers which then sought to compass her fall. Englishmen who now insult me by doubting my word should know what were my actions in the hour of their adversity.

“Nor was that all. Just at the time of your Black Week, in the December of 1899, when disasters followed one another in rapid succession, I received a letter from Queen Victoria, my revered grandmother, written in sorrow and affliction, and bearing manifest traces of the anxieties which were preying upon her mind and health. I at once returned a sympathetic reply. Nay, I did more. I bade one of my officers procure for me as exact an account as he could obtain of the number of combatants in South Africa on both sides, and of the actual position of the opposing forces. With the figures before me, I worked out what I considered to be the best plan of campaign under the circumstances, and submitted it to my General Staff for their criticism. Then I dispatched it to England, and that document, likewise, is among the State papers at Windsor Castle, awaiting the serenely impartial verdict of history. And, as a matter of curious coincidence, let me add that the plan which I formulated ran very much on the same lines as that which was actually adopted by Lord Roberts, and carried by him into successful operation. Was that, I repeat, the act of one who wished England ill? Let Englishmen be just and say!

“But, you will say, what of the German navy? Surely that is a menace to England! Against whom but England are my squadrons being prepared? If England is not in the minds of those Germans who are bent on creating a powerful fleet, why is Germany asked to consent to such new and heavy burdens of taxation? My answer is clear. Germany is a young and growing Empire. She has a world-wide commerce, which is rapidly expanding, and to which the legitimate ambition of patriotic Germans refuses to assign any bounds. Germany must have a powerful fleet to protect that commerce, and her manifold interests in even the most distant seas. She expects those interests to go on growing, and she must be able to champion them manfully in any quarter of the globe. Germany looks ahead. Her horizons stretch far away. She must be prepared for any eventualities in the Far East. Who can foresee what may take place in the Pacific in the days to come days not so distant as some believe, but days, at any rate, for which all European Powers with Far Eastern interests ought steadily to prepare? Look at the accomplished rise of Japan; think of the possible national awakening of China; and then judge of the vast problems of the Pacific. Only those Powers which have great navies will be listened to with respect when the future of the Pacific comes to be solved; and if for that reason only Germany must have a powerful fleet. It may even be that England herself will be glad that Germany has a fleet when they speak together on the same side in the great debates of the future.”

Such was the purport of the Emperor’s conversation. He spoke with all that earnestness which marks his manner when speaking on deeply pondered subjects. I would ask my fellow-countrymen who value the cause of peace to weigh what I have written, and to revise, if necessary, their estimate of the Kaiser and his friendship for England by his Majesty’s own words. If they had enjoyed the privilege, which was mine, of hearing them spoken, they would doubt no longer either his Majesty’s firm desire to live on the best of terms with England or his growing impatience at the persistent mistrust with which his offer of friendship is too often received.

There are more indiscretions than one in the interview, but the most important and most dangerous was the Emperor’s statement that at the time of the Boer War the Governments of France and Russia invited the German Government to join with them “not only to save the Boer Republics, but also to humiliate England to the dust.” Such a revelation coming from the Emperor ought, one would suppose, to have caused serious trouble between Great Britain and her Entente friends. That it did not is at once testimony to the cynicism of Governments and the reality and strength of the Entente engagement. In private life, if a fourth person confidentially told one of the three partners in a firm that the other two partners had invited him to join them in humiliating him to the dust, there would have been a pretty brisk, not to say acrimonious correspondence between the proposed victim and his partners. Governments, it appears, look on things differently, and so far as the public knows, England simply took no notice of the Emperor’s communication. Possibly, however, the Emperor had put the matter too strongly and an explanation of some kind was forthcoming. If so, it must be looked for among the secret archives of the Foreign Office. It was at once suggested that the Emperor made the revelation expressly to weaken, if not destroy, the Entente. One can conceive Bismarck doing such a thing; but it is more in keeping with the Emperor’s character, and with the indiscreet character of the entire interview, to suppose it to be a proof of deplorable candour and sincerity.

The excitement in Germany caused by the publication of the interview soon took the shape of a determination on the part of the Chancellor and the Federal Council, for once fully identifying themselves with the feelings of Parliament, Press, and people, that “something must be done,” and it was decided that the Chancellor should go to Potsdam, see the Emperor, and try to obtain from him a promise to be more cautious in his utterances on political topics for the future. The Chancellor went accordingly, being seen off from the railway terminus in Berlin by a large crowd of people, among whom were many journalists. To Dr. Paul Goldmann, who wished him God-speed, he could only reply that he hoped all would be for the best. He looked pale and grave, as well he might, since he was about to stake his own position as well as convey a mandate of national reproach.

What passed at Potsdam between the Emperor and his Chancellor has not transpired. Naturally there are various accounts of it, one of them representing the Emperor as flying into a passion and for long refusing to give the required guarantees; but as yet none of them has been authenticated. It should not be difficult to imagine the mental attitudes of the two men on the occasion, and especially not difficult to imagine the sensations of the Emperor, a Prussian King, on being impeached by a people his people for whom, his feeling would be, he had done so much, and in whose best interests he felt convinced he had acted; but whatever occurred, it ended in the Emperor bowing before the storm and giving the assurances required.

The Chancellor’s countenance and expressions on his return to Berlin showed that his mission had been successful, and there was great satisfaction in the capital and country. The text of these assurances, which was published in the Official Gazette the same evening, was as follows:

“His Majesty, while unaffected by public criticism which he regards as exaggerated, considers his most honourable imperial task to consist in securing the stability of the policy of the Empire while adhering to the principle of constitutional responsibility. The Kaiser accordingly endorses the statements of the Imperial Chancellor in Parliament, and assures Prince von Buelow of his continued confidence.”

After returning to Berlin, Prince Buelow gave in the Reichstag his impatiently awaited account of the result of his mission, and made what defence he could of his imperial master’s action in allowing the famous interview to be published. Before giving the speech, which was delivered on November 10, 1908, it will be as well to quote the five interpellations introduced in Parliament on the subject, as showing the unanimity of feeling that existed in all parts of the House:

1. By Deputy Bassermann (leader of the National Liberals):

“Is the Chancellor prepared to take constitutional responsibility for the publication of a series of utterances of his Majesty the Kaiser in the Daily Telegraph and the facts communicated therein?”

2. By Deputy Dr. Ablass (Progressive Party):

“Through the publication of utterances of the German Kaiser in the Daily Telegraph, and through the communication of the real facts in the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung caused by the Chancellor, matters have become known which demonstrate serious short-comings in the treatment of foreign affairs, and are calculated to influence unfavourably the relations of the German Empire to other Powers. What does the Chancellor propose to do to devise a remedy and to give full effect to the responsibility attributed to him by the Constitution of the German Empire?”

3. By Deputy Albrecht (Socialist):

“What is the Chancellor prepared to do to prevent such occurrences as have become known through the Daily Telegraph’s communications regarding acts and utterances of the German Kaiser?”

4. By Deputy von Norman (Conservative Party):

“Is the Chancellor prepared to submit further information
regarding the circumstances which led to the publication of
utterances of his Majesty the Kaiser in the English Press?”

5. By Prince von Hatzfeldt and Freiherr von Gamp (Imperial Party Conservative):

“Is the Chancellor willing to take precautions that such
occurrences as that brought to light by the publication in
the Daily Telegraph shall not recur?”

In reply to the interpellations Prince von Buelow said:

“Gentlemen, I shall not apply myself to every point which has just been raised by previous speakers. I have to consider the effect of my words abroad, and will not add to the great harm already caused by the publication in the Daily Telegraph (hear, hear, on the Left and Socialists).

“In reply to the interpellations submitted, I have to
declare as follows:

“His Majesty the Kaiser has at different times, and to different private English personalities, made private utterances which, linked together, have been published in the Daily Telegraph. I must suppose that not all details of the utterances have been correctly reproduced (hear, hear, on the Right). One I know is not correct: that is the story about the plan of campaign (hear, hear, on the right). The plan in question was not a field campaign worked out in detail, but a purely academic (laughter among the Socialists) Gentlemen, we are engaged in a serious discussion. The matters on which I speak are of an earnest kind and of great political importance be good enough to listen to me quietly: I will be as brief as possible. I repeat therefore: the matter is not concerned with a field campaign worked out in detail, but with certain purely academic thoughts I believe they were expressly described as ’aphorisms’ about the conduct of war in general, which the Kaiser communicated in his interchange of correspondence with the late Queen Victoria. They are theoretical observations of no practical moment for the course of operations and the issue of the war. The chief of the General Staff, General von Moltke, and his predecessor, General Count Schlieffen, have declared that the General Staff reported to the Kaiser on the Boer War as on every war, great or small, which has occurred on the earth during the last ten years. Both, however, have given assurances that our General Staff never examined a field plan of campaign, or anything similar, prepared by the Kaiser in view of the Boer War, or forwarded such to England (hear, hear, on the Right and Centre). But I must also defend our policy against the reproach of being ambiguous vis-a-vis the Boers. We had the documents show it given timely warning to the Transvaal Government. We called its attention to the fact that in case of a war with England it would stand alone. We put it to her directly, and through the friendly Dutch Government in May, 1899, peacefully to come to an understanding with England, since there could be no doubt as to the result of a war.

“In the question of intervention the colours in the article of the Daily Telegraph are too thickly laid on. The thing itself had long been known (hear, hear). It was some time previously the subject of controversy between the National Review and the Deutsche Revue. There can be no talk of a ‘revelation.’ It was said that the imperial communication to the Queen of England, that Germany had not paid any attention to a suggestion for mediation or intervention, is a breach of the rules of diplomatic intercourse. Gentlemen, I will not recall indiscretions to memory, for they are frequent in the diplomatic history of all nations and at all times (’Quite right,’ on the Right). The safest policy is perhaps that which need fear no indiscretion (’Quite right,’ on the Left). To pass judgment in particular cases as to whether or not a breach of confidence has occurred, one must know more of the closely connected circumstances than appears in the article of the Daily Telegraph. The communication might be justified if it were attempted in one quarter or another to misrepresent our refusal or to throw suspicion on our attitude; circumstances may have previously happened which make allusion to the subject in a confidential correspondence at least intelligible. Gentlemen, I said before that many of the expressions used in the Daily Telegraph article are too strong. That is true, in the first place, of the passage where the Kaiser is represented as having said that the majority of the German people are inimically disposed towards England. Between Germany and England misunderstandings have occurred, serious, regrettable misunderstandings. But I am conscious of being at one with this entire honourable House in the view that the German people desire peaceful and friendly relations with England on the basis of mutual esteem (loud and general applause) and I take note that the speakers of all parties have spoken to-day in the same sense (’Quite right’). The colours are also too thickly laid on in the place where reference is made to our interests in the Pacific Ocean. It has been construed in a sense hostile to Japan. Wrongly: we have never in the Far East thought of anything but this to acquire and maintain for Germany a share of the commerce of Eastern Asia in view of the great economic future of this region. We are not thinking of maritime adventure there: aggressive tendencies have as little to say to our naval construction in the Pacific as in Europe. Moreover, his Majesty the Kaiser entirely agrees with the responsible director of foreign policy in the complete recognition of the high political importance which the Japanese people have achieved by their political strength and military ability. German policy does not regard it as its task to detract from the enjoyment and development of what Japan has acquired.

“Gentlemen, I am, generally speaking, under the impression that if the material facts completely, in their proper shape were individually known, the sensation would be no great one; in this instance, too, the whole is more than all the parts taken together. But above all, gentlemen, one must not, while considering the material things, quite forget the psychology, the tendency. For two decades our Kaiser has striven, often under very difficult circumstances, to bring about friendly relations between Germany and England. This honest endeavour has had to contend with obstacles which would have discouraged many. The passionate partisanship of our people for the Boers was humanly intelligible; feeling for the weaker certainly appeals to the sympathy. But this partisanship has led to unjustified, and often unmeasured, attacks on England, and similarly unjust and hateful attacks have been made against Germany from the side of the English. Our aims were misconstrued, and hostile plans against England were foisted on us which we had never thought of. The Kaiser, rightly convinced that this state of things was a calamity for both countries and a danger for the civilized world, kept undeviatingly on the course he had adopted. The Kaiser is particularly wronged by any doubt as to the purity of his intentions, his ideal way of thinking, and his deep love of country.

“Gentlemen, let us avoid anything that looks like exaggerated seeking for foreign favour, anything that looks like uncertainty or obsequiousness. But I understand that the Kaiser, precisely because he was anxious to work zealously and honestly for good relationship with England, felt embittered at being ever the object of attacks casting suspicion on his best motives. Has one not gone so far as to attribute to his interest in the German fleet secret views against vital English interests views which are far from him. And so in private conversation with English friends he sought to bring the proof, by pointing to his conduct, that in England he was misunderstood and wrongly judged.

“Gentlemen, the perception that the publication of these conversations in England has not had the effect the Kaiser wished, and in our own country has caused profound agitation and painful regret, will this firm conviction I have acquired during these anxious days lead the Kaiser for the future, in private conversation also, to maintain the reserve that is equally indispensable in the interest of a uniform policy and for the authority of the Crown (’Bravo!’ on the Right).

“If it were not so, I could not, nor could my successor,
bear the responsibility (’Bravo!’ on the Right and National
Liberals).

“For the fault which occurred in dealing with the manuscript I accept, as I have caused to be said in the Norddeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, entire responsibility. It also goes against my personal feelings that officials who have done their duty all their lives should be stamped as transgressors because, in a single case, they relied too much on the fact that I usually read and finally decide everything myself.

“With Herr von Heydebrand I regret that in the mechanism of the Foreign Office, which for eleven years has worked smoothly under me, a defect should on one occasion occur. I will answer for it that such a thing does not happen again, and that with this object, without respect to persons, though also without injustice, what is needful will be done (’Bravo!’).

“When the article in the Daily Telegraph appeared, its fateful effect could not for a moment be doubtful to me, and I handed in my resignation. This decision was unavoidable, and was not difficult to come to. The most serious and most difficult decision which I ever took in my political life was, in obedience to the Kaiser’s wish, to remain in office. I brought myself to this decision only because I saw in it a command of my political duty, precisely in the time of trouble, to continue to serve his Majesty the Kaiser and the country (repeated ’Bravo!’). How long that will be possible for me, I cannot say.

“Let me say one thing more: at a moment when the fact that in the world much is once again changing requires serious attention to be given to the entire situation, wherever it is matter of concern to maintain our position abroad, and without pushing ourselves forward with quiet constancy to make good our interests at such a moment we ought not to show ourselves small-spirited in foreign eyes, nor make out of a misfortune a catastrophe. I will refrain from all criticism of the exaggerations we have lived through during these last days. The harm is as calm reflection will show not so great that it cannot with circumspection be made good. Certainly no one should forget the warning which the events of these days has given us (’Bravo!’) but there is no reason to lose our heads and awake in our opponents the hope that the Empire, inwardly or outwardly, is maimed.

“It is for the chosen representatives of the nation to exhibit the prudence which the time demands. I do not say it for myself, I say it for the country: the support required for this is no favour, it is a duty which this honourable House will not evade (loud applause on the Right, hisses from the Socialists).”

Prince Buelow’s speech requires but little comment its importance for Germany is the fact that it brought to a head the country’s feeling, that if the Emperor’s unlimited and unrestrained idea of his heaven-sent mission as sole arbiter of the nation’s destinies was not checked, disaster must ensue. The speech itself is rather an apology and an explanation than a defence, and in this spirit it was accepted in Germany. It is fair to say that the Emperor has faithfully kept the engagement made through Prince Buelow with his people so far, and unless human nature is incurable there seems no reason why he should not keep it to the end of the reign. More than four years have passed since the incidents narrated occurred. The storm has blown over, the sea of popular indignation has gone down, and at present no cloud is visible on the horizon.

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 Buelow 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 a 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 dementi, 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.