THE GERMAN EMPEROR
The German Emperor was paying his annual visit to the moors at Springe. But this year he had little time to spare for the noble sport which usually brought him fresh vigour and recreation in the refreshing solitude of the forest. The telegraph was busy without interruption, and statesmen, diplomats, and high officers arrived daily at the hunting-box, and held long conferences with the Emperor. The windows of his study were lit up till late at night, and the early morning generally found the monarch again at his writing-desk.
After a night half spent at work, to-day the yearning for a breath of fresh air had taken the Emperor at early dawn into the silent pine-woods.
A light hoar-frost had fallen during the night, covering the ground with fine white crystals. The shadows of dawn still lingered between the tree-trunks. But in the east a glowing light suffused the pale, greyish-blue sky.
The Emperor directed his gaze in that direction. He halted under a tall, ancient fir-tree, and his lips moved in silent prayer. He asked for counsel and strength from Him who decides the fate of nations, to enable him to arrive at his weighty and difficult decision at this grave crisis. Suddenly, the sound of human voices struck his ear. He perceived two men, evidently unaware of his presence, coming towards him hard by, on the small huntsman’s track in the wood, engaged in lively conversation. The Emperor’s keen huntsman’s eye recognised in one of the two tall gentlemen his Master of Horse, Count Wedel. The other was a stranger to him.
It was the stranger who now said—
“It is a great pleasure to me, at last, to be able to talk to you face to face. I have deeply mourned the rift in our old friendship and fellowship. On my side, the irritation is long since past. I did not wish to enter the Prussian service at that time, because I could not bear the thought of our old, brave Hanoverian army having ceased to exist, and I was angry with you, my dear Ernest, because you, an old Hanoverian Garde du Corps officer, appeared to have forgotten the honour due to your narrower Fatherland. But the generous resolution of the Emperor to revive Hanoverian traditions, to open a new home to our old corps of officers, and to inscribe our glorious emblems upon the flags and standards of these new regiments, has made everything right. I hope the time is not far distant when also those Hanoverians, who still hold aloof in anger, will allow that a war lord of such noble disposition is the chosen shepherd and leader of the universal Fatherland.”
“Well, I have never misjudged you and your iron will. Meanwhile, you have thoroughly made acquaintance with the world, and since you are a merchant prince of Hamburg, I suppose you are the possessor of a large fortune.”
“My life has been both interesting and successful, but I have not got what is best after all. I long for a sphere of activity in keeping with my disposition. I am a soldier, as my forbears have been for centuries before me. Had I entered the Prussian army in 1866, I might to-day be in command, and might perhaps in a short time have the honour to lead my corps into the field under the eyes of our Emperor himself.”
“You believe Germany will be brought into this war? Against whom should we fight?”
“If our Emperor is really the sharp-sighted and energetic spirit for which I take him—”
The monarch did not care to let the gentlemen talk on longer in ignorance of his presence.
“Hallo! gentlemen!” he called out merrily. “Do not betray your secrets without knowing who is listening!”
“His Majesty!” the Count said under his breath, taking off his hat and bowing low. His companion followed his example, and as the Emperor looked at him with a questioning glance, said—
“At your Majesty’s command; Grubenhagen, of Hamburg.”
The monarch’s eyes travelled over the tall, broad-shouldered figure of the fine man, and he asked smilingly—
“You have been in the service?”
“Yes, your Majesty—as lieutenant in the Royal Hanoverian Garde du Corps.”
“There were then commoners as officers in that regiment.”
“May it please your Majesty, my name is Baron von Grubenhagen, but the ‘Baron’ was in the way of the merchant.”
The open and manly bearing of the Baron, combined with the deference due to his sovereign, appeared to please the Emperor. He gazed long into the clear-cut, energetic face, with its bold and intelligent eyes.
“You have seen much of the world?”
“Your Majesty, I was in America, and for many years in England, before entering business.”
“A good merchant often sees more than a diplomatist, for his view is unbiassed, and freer. I love your Hamburg; it is a loyal city, full of intelligence and enterprise.”
“The Alster people would reckon themselves happy to hear your Majesty say so.”
“Do not the Hamburgers suffer great losses from the war?”
“Many people in Hamburg think as I do, your Majesty.”
“And what is your opinion?”
“That, under the glorious reign of your Majesty, all Germans on the Continent will be united to one whole grand nation, to which all Germanic races of the north will be attracted by the law of gravitation—Danes, Swedes, and Norwegians.”
“You have the courage of your opinions.”
“Your Majesty, we live in an age, the characteristic of which is the formation of great empires.”
The monarch interrupted him with a friendly movement of his hand.
“Let us go in to breakfast, gentlemen. Baron von Grubenhagen, you are my guest. I shall be interested to hear more of your bold ideas.”
Immediately after his return to the hunting-box, the Imperial Chancellor, who had arrived from Berlin by a night train, had been announced to the Emperor. With the monarch’s suite he also was present at the breakfast-table, probably not a little surprised to find a strange guest in the company of the Emperor, who was evidently very kindly disposed to him.
After breakfast, when the company were seated around the table in the smoke-room, and when, upon a sign from the Emperor, the aide-de-camp du jour had ordered the servants to withdraw, the Emperor William turned with a grave face to Baron von Grubenhagen.
“And now let us hear, openly and without reserve, how, according to your observation, the German nation regards the possibility of a war.”
The Baron raised his fine, characteristic head. Looking openly and naturally into the Emperor’s eyes, he replied—
“Your Majesty, no one is in doubt that it would, on the one hand, be a fatal step to declare war. By it many thousands will be sent to an early grave, lands devastated, and commerce perhaps ruined for many long years to come; and countless tears are the inevitable concomitants of war. But there is a supreme law, to which all others must yield—the commandment to preserve honour unsullied. A nation has its honour, like the individual. Where this honour is at stake, it must not shrink from war. For the conservation of all other of this world’s goods is dependent upon the conservation of the national honour; where peace has to be preserved at any price, even at the price of national honour, all the benefits and blessings of peace will by degrees be lost, and the nation falls a prey to its neighbours. Iron is more precious than gold, for it is to iron we owe all our possessions. What use would be our army and navy? They are the outward sign of the political truth, that only courage and power are guarantees for the continuance and prosperity of a nation. Russia and France have joined hands to fight England. And the German nation feels it is time to take its share in these struggles. But nowhere is there any uncertainty as to which side Germany ought to join. Our nation has for a long time past been exasperated by English intrigues and encroachments. The human heart knows no other feeling so profound and powerful as the sense of justice, and the sense of justice has constantly been wounded by England’s policy. Only one word from the Emperor is needed to strike the deepest chords in the German soul, and to raise a flame of enthusiasm that will swallow up all internal dissension and all party quarrels. We must not ask what might possibly happen; we must obey the dictates of the hour. If Germany fights with the whole of her strength, she must be victorious. And victory is always its own justification.”