Kaiser and Unser Fritz had a smile and a cheery word for the meanest of their subjects; this Kaiser has sometimes a machine-made salute, and always a scowl. He seems to despise his people, and even the Germans dislike too obvious a show of scorn, even in a Kaiser. What has he done? they ask. His father and grandfather had done great things for Germany; this man has talked much and done nothing.

Perhaps, even more than the simple courtesy of the old Kaiser, the Germans loved his simple tastes. They are a homely people, and they loved to think that their Emperor was homely like them. But the present Kaiser-observe that they hardly ever speak of him but as "the present Kaiser," and the implied comparison is telling-is all for luxury, display, extravagance. His income-all paid by the light-soiled kingdom of Prussia: Germany as an empire contributes nothing-is the enormous sum of 15,000,000 marks, or £750,000; yet he is said to be deep in debt. And at each new piece of ostentation people shake their heads, and have already begun to ask who pays.

In the evening of that day I saw the Kaiser again. There was a State performance at the opera for the King of Siam, and the house was decorated with a simple good taste which shamed the luxuriance of Covent Garden on gala nights. In the

first eight rows of stalls or so sat only officers; the ladies had to scramble for the back seats as they liked. The whole house, from floor to upper gallery, shone with orders and uniforms. The ballet was to begin at eight and end at nine.

came, five-past, a quarter-past,

But eight o'clock half-past, and the

Royal box was still empty. If punctuality be the politeness of princes, this was an unmannerly prince indeed. At last a chamberlain, or something, came to the front of the Royal box and tapped thrice with his wand. The whole house rose. Then appeared the Kaiserin-plain, plump, not interestingon the arm of the little yellow King of Siam. Behind came the Kaiser. Stiffly he moved to the front of the box; stiffly he brought his heels together and drew himself up. He seemed to bring himself into position in pieces: you could see him squaring his shoulders; you could see him inflating his chest. Then, with a fixed unmoving face, he pushed his head forward perhaps two inches: that was his salute. A king who cannot smile is bad; a king who cannot bow is worse.

He fixed himself very bolt upright and stared unwinking straight before him at the stage. The curtain went up and the ballet began; the Kaiser still sat without moving a muscle, a face and a figure like that of a statue. Now and again the King of Siam's questions became too insistent; the

Kaiser bent over for a moment, as if he had one joint in the middle of his back, and then drew back to the jointless graven image. Once he turned to somebody behind him, and I hope he laughed. Laughter on that face would be like moist grass in a desert.

It was over. The Kaiser rose, squared his shoulders, inflated his chest, pecked at his people, and went. The last I saw of him he was giving his arm to a princess: he looked like a coloured plate out of a book of etiquette. I wondered vaguely whether he ever unbends enough to get his clothes

off.

201

IV.

THE HANOVERIAN QUESTION.

IN the year 1866 Hanover was ruled by George V., grandson of George III. and first cousin of the Queen. King George was quite blind, yet he always walked straight forward, very fast, and without swerving. That was the measure of his character: he was brave, accomplished, courteous, stately, in all things a gentleman and a king, and all his people loved. him. But the war of 1866 brought him into collision with Prussia and Bismarck. There was a battle of Langensalza; the blind king led his troops into action, and the Hanoverians had the advantage. But in the night, under cover of an evaded armistice, the Prussians brought up 50,000 men, and the Hanoverians had to capitulate. George rode off the field a king no longer; Prussians appropriated his furniture and personal effects, and Hanover became a province of Prussia.

King

the

Thence arose the Hanoverian question. It is

thirty years old now. King George's heir, the Duke of Cumberland, lives quietly at Gmunden, maintaining a faint claim on his father's throne, but otherwise the most passive of all European pretenders. Prussia has had a generation to Prussianise Hanover. To most Englishmen it may be news that there is a Hanoverian question at all. And yet there is: the Guelph party is very far from dead, though you seldom hear of it outside Germany. But just because you hear little of it, because it is somnolent, a mere party of protest, with no definite programme and no visible end, it may be worth while to make a ten minutes' examination of it. To all appearance Hanover is as much an integral part of Prussia as Pomerania or Brandenburg; if, therefore, in Hanover you still find gnawing discontent and detestation of the Kaiser's rule, what may you not look for elsewhere ?

In the town of Hanover they will tell you that there are no Guelphs and no Hanoverian question party left. And, as regards the town of Hanover, that is very likely true. I have talked with "good Hanoverians," as they call themselves, in the town but most of the middle class have Prussianised into National Liberals-which is the German analogue of Liberal Unionists, or Moderate Conservatives-while the working classes, as everywhere, are Social Democrat almost to a man. The town sends a Socialist