With that, he left the stage and the theatre. The audience, a typically middle-class one, the very class of all others to which such an oration would appeal, was stirred down to the depths of its phlegmatic Teutonic soul. As the Kaiser departed, not a “Hoch” was uttered: but multitudes of stem-faced converts poured out, silently saluting him with the fire of loyalty lighted in their eyes. Germans are logical by nature. Display indefeasible premises; and it is not a German who will err from the just conclusion. All night long, all the newspapers except the Vorwaerts issued special editions containing the Emperor’s speech. During the next few days William II himself repeated it in the great cities of his empire. At Essen and Breslau his reception partook of the nature of an ovation. Everywhere the press spread his epoch-making words to all who actually did not hear them. German good sense preferred honesty, vigorous masterly honesty, even harebrained honesty, to the base treachery which is actuated by no motive except personal gain. German good sense could see that the Kaiser himself was the hardest-working man in the Empire: that his simply amazing diligence and toil were absolutely unselfish, absolutely impersonal: that he gained no tangible reward whatever: that his life, which quite easily might have been one of irresponsible pleasure and ease, was an incessant round of mental and physical exertion for the good of others. German honour admired and German generosity repaid. The fascinating personality of William II at last was recognized as the chief element of the nation’s power. His splendid and unique confidence in himself and his imperial vocation inspired his subjects with confidence in him. The device of the secret ballot, and the now-unfettered ability of every German to vote according to his conscience, had the calculated effect. The elections showed that the enormous prestige of the Emperor had won the Socialist vote, and the Catholic vote, and the votes of the Right and the Left, in support of his paramount authority. The English newspapers ceased from jeering; and the Pall Mall Gazette split subjunctives as well as infinitives in applause of success.
The lay-Majordomo of the Apostolic Palace found occasion to invite Cardinals Talacryn and Semphill to inspect certain accounts. “I feel it my duty to call Your Eminencies’ attention to the fact,” said he, “that our Most Holy Lord consumes about seven and sixpence worth, of food and drink a week upon the average. It is shocking. Also it is ridiculous. Kindly cast your eyes over these documents. They are the accounts covering the past six months. Note how many times His dinner consists of three raw carrots and two poached eggs. Meat, you see, He eats not more than twice a week. Fish, He refuses. I understand that He will take the lean of beef, the fat of pork, the breast of a bird, and chew them for an hour.”
“That accounts for His magnificent digestion,” said Talacryn; “and I know that He eats raw carrots for the sake of His white skin. But fat pork! Semphill, could you digest fat pork when you were His age? I can’t even now.”
“Condescend to consider the wine,” Count Piccino added. “His Holiness quite fails to appreciate fine wine—”
“All I can say is I can remember seeing Him thoroughly enjoy a teaspoonful of my peach-brandy sometimes after dinner. That was twenty years ago though,” said Semphill.
“He used to enjoy peach-brandy! Eminency, a thousand thanks. He shall have a bottle. I never thought of it. Until now, He has taken what we give Him: but He has no palate whatever for superior brands. He’s quite content with a plain red wine from Citta Lavinia or Cinthyanum; and He drinks about as much of it in a week as another man would drink at a meal. But cream, and goat’s milk—I believe He bathes in those.”
“No, no,” said Semphill; “He drinks them day and night, that’s all. He’s got the digestion of a baby for milk. Shall I ever forget seeing Him drink a pint of thick cream—a whole pint—at a farmhouse once when we were out walking? I thought He’d die there. I begged Him to take some of my pills. I offered to make Him free of my collection. No. He laughed at me; and goes on rejoicing.”
“But, Eminencies, do you think His Holiness can live on this meagre diet?”
“Chi lo sa? I couldn’t. He may.”
“He’s a most incomprehensible creature whatever:” Talacryn concluded.
Armed with the allegiance of an united empire, the Kaiser scoured away across the continent to Rome. He travelled incognito as the Duke of Königsberg and put up at the Palazzo Caffarelli. The world looked on and wondered. No news of his intentions were vouchsafed; and, as a rule, journalists had the decency to refrain themselves from suppositions. The exception to the rule was French, of course. “Religion is the great preoccupation of William II. Beneath the spangled uniform of this Emperor there is the soul of a clergyman, or rather the visionary soul of an initiate of even vaguer mysteries. The Kaiser only waits for an opportunity to achieve in Rome what he has already achieved in the east, that is to say, to oust France,” shrieked M. Jean de Bonnefon in the Paris Éclair. La Patrie instantly yelled in comment, “Let Germany take the Holy See. It will be the end of Germany and the beginning of revenge for Sedan. The Paparchy is an acid which will dissolve the badly cemented parts of an empire which is still too new.”
But it was not precisely religion which dictated the Kaiser’s movement. He had
