CHAPTER XIII
There is no more restless man in all Europe than the kaiser. It is related of him at the Court of Berlin that when on one occasion he inquired of his brother, Prince Henry, if he could suggest to him anything new wherewith to startle both his own subjects and the world in general, the sailor prince, with a merry laugh, proposed that his majesty should remain perfectly quiet, without saying or doing anything, for an entire week! That, he assured his imperial brother, would amaze and dumbfound the entire universe more than anything else that could possibly be conceived.
While this lack of repose on the part of William is the source of a good deal of fun both at home and abroad, there is no doubt that it has had the effect of strengthening the monarchial system in Prussia to a far greater degree than in any previous reign. It is not that the kaiser is more popular than his predecessors on the throne. On the contrary, it may be doubted whether he holds the same place in the affections of the German people as did his father and grandfather. But while it is possible to imagine a Prussia without either of them, it is difficult to picture to oneself a Germany without William! It seems as if he were indispensable to the existence of the nation, and that if anything untoward were to happen to him, everything in Germany would suddenly stop working, precisely as if the mainspring of a watch were to break. He conveys the impression of being the source from which proceeds every action, every phase of activity and every enterprise, no matter what its character. To such an extent is this the case, that practically nothing seems to be done throughout the length and breadth of his dominions without his influence in the matter being both felt and apparent. There is nothing so trivial that it does not interest him. He will turn from the greatest and most important matters of state to the most petty question concerning court etiquette or domestic mismanagement, and will not hesitate to interrupt an interview with the chancellor of the empire, or with some foreign ambassador, to spank one of his youngsters if he happens to have been misbehaving himself!
He keeps absolute personal control over the army, the navy, the state administration, and his court, and yet finds time to supervise his children's lessons and amusements. He attends even to the pulling out of the milk teeth of his little ones and permits no one else to do it, as the following little anecdote, concerning Prince Oscar, his fifth son, will illustrate.
The boys had, and I believe still have, an English governess, who is very strict and independent with them, and who just on that account, probably, is highly esteemed and liked by her young pupils, as well as by their parents. On the occasion of her last anniversary, the empress with her usual kindness prepared a pretty birthday table for her, decked out with all kinds of presents from the imperial couple, and from each of the children. Prince Oscar's gift, which he had carefully done up himself in ribbons and tinted paper, and inscribed with his name, turned out to be a small and empty cardboard box. On being taken to task by his mother as to what he meant by this, he informed her that the box was destined to hold the first tooth, which he was about to lose, and which his father, the emperor, was to pull for him with a string that very afternoon, at the conclusion of a "Kronrath," or council of the crown, at which his majesty was to preside. The little prince regarding that tooth as the greatest treasure at his disposal, was convinced that he could bestow upon his governess no more acceptable gift. She now wears it in a gold bangle presented to her by the empress.
Among other domestic affairs which have occupied the kaiser's attention, has been the tendency of his boys to dyspepsia and digestive troubles, owing to their habit of eating too rapidly, a fault which they have certainly inherited from their father, for he has subjected them to the same process that was adopted in his case when a child, to make him eat slowly; to wit, whenever apples or pears are given to the boys they are not permitted to get them whole, and to munch them, like any ordinary boy, but only to receive them cut into quarters, each bit being wrapped in a number of pieces of tissue paper, the unfolding of which requires time, thus preventing the young princes from eating too fast! The kaiser often alludes to the fact that he was subjected to the same formalities and will add:
"You see nothing was made easy for me in my youth. Even the matter of eating an apple was rendered as difficult for me as possible!"
The kaiser is followed wherever he goes by an extremely clever stenographer, Dr. Weiss, who was formerly official shorthand writer to the imperial parliament. He now forms part of the emperor's household, and accompanies his majesty on all his numerous travels. It is the doctor's duty to place on record and preserve all the pearls that drop from the imperial lips, or perhaps, to put it more correctly, to give the emperor and his advisers an opportunity of editing and revising his public utterances before they find their way into print. Dr. Weiss has several assistants who help him in the transcription of his shorthand notes, and none of the emperor's public speeches or casual remarks find their way into print nowadays except through Dr. Weiss. Thanks to the tact of this precious secretary, there exists, very often, a considerable diversity between what the emperor says, and what he is represented as having said, and it is in consequence of this wise provision that the imperial speeches appear to have become so much more discreet, and at the same time less sensational, than was the case during the early part of his reign.
Quick-tempered, passionate, generous-hearted, and extremely impulsive, the emperor, often speaking on the spur of the moment, frequently said more than he intended to say, and thus laid himself open to both domestic and foreign criticism and abuse. He has not yet outgrown this fault, although he has become much more cautious than formerly, and moreover, with Dr. Weiss at his elbow, and with the care that is observed by the authorities to let none of the imperial utterances reach the public in print, save through Dr. Weiss, after being duly edited by him, most of the former perils have been averted. The emperor is very particular, indeed, about having Dr. Weiss by his side, and frequently at public functions himself directs the doctor where to stand and where to sit, so that he may not lose a word of what his imperial master says.
Like the aged pontiff at Rome, William manifests a great predilection for the telephone. There are telephonic instruments in his library, in his workroom, and even in his bed-chamber, and quite a considerable portion of the day is spent talking over the wires to his ministers, government officials, relatives, courtiers or mere friends. He seems to find the same pleasure in calling up the various government departments that he does in alarming the various garrisons at night time, being evidently under the impression that by so doing he keeps the officials strictly attentive to their duties, and convinced that if not the eye, at any rate the ear of the emperor is on the qui vive! Nor are the government offices safe from being rung up by his majesty over the wires even at night time. For the past two or three years he has insisted that at the ministry of foreign affairs, at the ministry of the interior, and at the war and naval departments, at least one of the divisional chiefs and half a dozen clerks should be kept on duty all night long, in order to attend to any business or to communicate to him without delay anything that they may regard as needing his immediate attention.
Berlin is the only capital where the principal government offices are thus kept open for official business all night long, and the circumstance serves to furnish another illustration of the extraordinary activity, energy, and impatience of delay that distinguish the emperor, who wants everything done right away, without a moment's waiting!
Emperor William gives the telephone companies at Berlin and at Potsdam far more trouble than any other of their subscribers, for when he telephones to any of the government departments, or to dignitaries or officials of high rank, the operators at the central office are under the strictest orders to abstain from listening to the conversation, and are forced to rise from their seats and remove to a distance from the wires. Anyone caught disobeying in this particular is subject not only to dismissal, but to serious unpleasantness on the part of the police.
When the emperor rings up anybody, he does not announce his identity, taking it for granted that the tones of his voice are sufficiently well known to reveal it. It has been noted, moreover, that he commences all his conversations over the wire with the pronoun "I," while the verb "command," either in the past or in the present tense, almost invariably follows. This is quite sufficient to show who is talking.
William is the first sovereign of his line to accept the hospitality of his subjects. Prior to his advent to the throne, such a thing as the monarch attending any private entertainment or dinner given by one of his lieges was altogether unknown. Neither King Frederick-William III., King Frederick-William IV., nor old Emperor William, whose reigns extended over nearly ninety years of the nineteenth century, ever once honored any member of the nobility, no matter how high in rank, with their presence for a single evening or night, except during the course of the annual manoeuvres, when the monarch, as commander-in-chief of the army, was quartered in some château, much in the same manner as the officers of minor rank and the soldiers. Emperor William, however, following the example of his British relatives, and greatly to the dismay of all the old-fashioned authorities on the etiquette of the Court of Berlin, has adopted the practice of inviting himself out to dinner in town, and to shooting-parties in the country, in a manner that is absolutely startling, even to his English relatives; for whereas the latter never dine out anywhere, unless the list of guests invited to meet them is previously submitted to them for consideration and revision, in order to avoid being brought into contact with people that are not congenial, the kaiser, on the other hand, when he hears that a dinner is about to be given by one of his friends or followers, frequently invites himself either at the last moment, an hour or two before the time fixed for the meal, or else arrives unannounced and uninvited, knowing full well that he will always be welcome, since his coming can only be regarded as a particular mark of imperial regard and favor toward the giver of the entertainment.
Thus, while Count Shuvaloff was still Russian ambassador at Berlin, the emperor was in the habit of dropping in unannounced about luncheon time, and of sitting down with the count and countess, the latter being as often as not in the négligée of a mere tea-gown, and more than once when he had sat with them longer than he intended, and found that there was no time left to return to the palace before proceeding to the railroad station to take his departure for Potsdam or some other place, he would ask leave of the count to use his telephone, ring up the empress, and not only bid her adieu, but also dispatch her a kiss over the wires, in the most charmingly domestic fashion.
William prides himself in no small degree on his descent through Queen Victoria in an unbroken line from the Biblical King David, and claims that he, therefore, belongs to the same family as the founder of Christianity. Hanging in a conspicuous position in his workroom in the "Neues-Palais" at Potsdam, is a copy of the royal family tree, showing the name of King David engrossed at the root of it, with that of Emperor William at the top. According to this tree, the reigning house of England is descended from King David through the eldest daughter of Zedekiah, who, with her sister, fled to Ireland in charge of the prophet Jeremiah,—then an old man,—to be married to Heremon, the king of Ulster of the period.
Curiously enough, a Mr. Glover, a clergyman of the Church of England, who had devoted the greater portion of his life to the study of genealogy, wrote to Queen Victoria a letter in 1869, informing her that he had discovered her to be descended in an unbroken line from King David. Her majesty sent for him to come to Windsor, and to his astonishment informed him that what he thought he had been the first to discover had been known to herself and to the prince consort for many years.
Naturally, William, with his religious ideas, has always been deeply interested in this family tree, and soon after his accession to the throne requested his grandmother to let him have a copy thereof, which was sent to him most handsomely engrossed and magnificently framed. Its contemplation has, of course, tended to increase his belief in the divine origin of his authority, since, if he does not, like the old kings of France, describe himself as "first cousin of the Almighty," he can at any rate claim to be a near kinsman of the founder of Christianity.
Notwithstanding all the emperor's manifest desire to render himself agreeable to the French, and his evident eagerness to assuage by gracious and chivalrous courtesy the bitterness resulting from the war of 1870 and the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine, he has absolutely declined since he ascended the throne to permit France's national hymn, "The Marseillaise," to be played at his court, at any of the imperial and royal theatres, or by any German military or naval band. When he entertains the French ambassador at dinner or receives him in state and wishes to pay him musical honors, he causes the old "March of St. Denis," in use at Versailles prior to the great revolution, which is in every sense of the word a Bourbon hymn, to be played.
The ambassador who now represents France is the Marquis de Noailles, a scion of one of the oldest ducal houses of the French nobility, whose origin dates back to the crusades. This being the case, the envoy naturally offers no objection to the attitude of the emperor with regard to the "Marseillaise."
The kaiser, after all, acts in the matter with a far greater degree of logic and reason than any of his fellow-sovereigns, for the strains of the "Marseillaise" are familiar in the palace of the czar at St. Petersburg, at Windsor Castle, in the royal palace of Madrid, in the imperial Hofburg at Vienna, and even at the Vatican, and it is difficult to conceive anything more paradoxical than a royal band of music playing for the delectation of royal and imperial ears a national hymn, the words of which passionately call upon the people to rise up and to put to death all kings and emperors, queens and empresses, denounced as bloodthirsty tyrants.
Emperor William, even before his accession to the throne, manifested such a pronounced hostility towards the practice of gambling at cards, which is one of the curses of the corps of officers of the German army, that a very widespread impression prevails to the effect that he objects to card games in any shape or form. This is a mistake. It is the gambling and not the game itself to which the kaiser is opposed. In fact, he is very fond of a game of cards, provided the stakes are merely nominal, and I have known him to play an entire evening after a dinner at the castle of Kuckelna, which marked the close of a great pheasant "drive" organized in his honor by Prince Lichnòwski. The game which the emperor played was the German one called Skat, and the point was a German penny. The emperor was the principal loser, having had poor hands dealt to him throughout the entire game, and when he arose from the table he was out of pocket exactly six cents. In thus limiting the stakes to a merely nominal amount he has followed the example of his old friend and adviser, the veteran King of Saxony, who is accustomed to play every night his game of skat after dinner, his stakes, like those of the kaiser, never exceeding one penny.
I have often wished that I could see the face of the kaiser's uncle, the Prince of Wales, were such truly regal stakes as these proposed to him. His ordinary points and stakes are any sum from five guineas to fifty, and even a hundred, and the only time that I can recollect his having played for less than a guinea was at Hughenden when on a visit to the Earl of Beaconsfield. Bernal Osborne, father of the Duchess of St. Albans, was one of the party when the prince proposed a game of whist at five-guinea points. Lord Beaconsfield was a poor man, obliged to count every penny, and Bernal Osborne caught sight of the manner in which his face fell when the proposal was made. Grasping the situation, and remembering that Lord Beaconsfield had but a few weeks previously added the imperial crown of India to the British regalia, by causing Queen Victoria to be proclaimed Empress of India, he turned to the prince and remarked:
"Would it not be more appropriate, sir, to play for crown stakes?" The prince grasped the situation at once, made a flattering reference to the old premier, and the points played for were, as suggested, five shillings instead of five guineas!
Apropos of this question of cards, William has done everything in his power to check gambling, especially among the army officers, and before succeeding to the throne, while still only Prince of Prussia, he actually went to the length of issuing a stringent order to the officers of the Hussar regiment, of which he was colonel, forbidding them to cross the threshold of the Union Club, on account of the high play for which that institution was notorious. The club deeply resented being thus placed under a ban, and sent its president, the late Duke of Ratibor, to the aged emperor to entreat him to rescind his grandson's order, on the ground that it was a reflection upon the most aristocratic and exclusive club of all Germany, besides being unjust to the officers of the regiment, some of whom were among the most brilliant and popular members of that institution. Old Emperor William, after inquiring whether Prince William had really issued such an order, shook his head rather seriously for a few minutes, and then told the duke that he would see what he could do, but that knowing his grandson well, he feared that there would be a good deal of difficulty about the matter. On the following morning, when young Prince William came to pay his daily visit to his grandfather, the latter broached the subject to him with the utmost caution, and with manifest expectation of encountering a refusal. Nor was he disappointed. For no sooner had he mentioned the matter than the young prince declared in the most positive manner that nothing would induce him to rescind his order, and that rather than give way, he would resign command of the regiment, arguing that in such a matter especially he could brook no interference. The old emperor admitted in a rather shame-faced way that his grandson was in the right, excused himself for having mentioned the matter, did all that he could to soothe what he believed to be the ruffled feelings of the prince, and on the following day told the Duke of Ratibor that he was very sorry, but that, in spite of all his efforts, he had been unable to accomplish anything with his grandson in the way desired.
Immediately after he came to the throne he requested the resignation of a number of officers, some of them bearing the greatest names in the empire, for instance, the late Prince Fürstenberg and Prince George Radziwill, for no other reason than their fondness for cards, and in consequence of the large sums of money which they were accustomed to stake. All the princes and nobles thus forced to leave the army also quitted Berlin, in token of their disapproval of an emperor who took upon himself to interfere with what they were pleased to regard as their private amusements, and there is no doubt that for a time the brilliancy of the Berlin Court and the prosperity of trade in the Prussian capital suffered through the closing of so many princely palaces and grand houses.
It is strange that in spite of all that the emperor has done to stop gambling, the play has been higher, and the card-scandals more frequent since he became emperor than during any previous reign, with the exception of that of his grand-uncle, King Frederick-William IV. The latter's crusade against gambling culminated in the tragic death of his chief of police, and most intimate friend and crony, Baron von Hinkelday, whose spectre he was wont to see before him during his moments of temporary dementia, previous to his becoming entirely insane.
Emperor William's reign has been saddened much in the same way through the suicide of his young cousin, Prince Alfred of Coburg; the self-destruction of the young prince, who had been placed under the immediate care and guardianship of his majesty, having been due, as I have intimated, to enormous losses at the card tables of Berlin and Potsdam. In spite of all the well-meant efforts of the kaiser, and notwithstanding all his threats and disciplinary measures, gambling is more rampant to-day among the officers of the German army, and overwhelming a greater number of illustrious names with ruin and disgrace than ever before.
With all his keen sense of dignity, his shortness of temper, and his impulsiveness, the emperor is nevertheless more easily diverted from anger to good humor by means of a piece of wit than most of his fellow sovereigns. Some time ago, when old Baron Boetticher, secretary of state for the interior, was discussing with his majesty the most suitable nominations to be made in the case of a number of vacant offices, the latter became greatly irritated by the old statesman's unanswerable objections to the candidate for whom he himself desired to obtain a certain post, his anger grew quite violent, and when the baron inquired if there were no other person upon whom he would like to confer the appointment, William replied, curtly, "Oh, confer it on the devil if you like!"
"Very well," replied the old minister, with a twinkle in his eye, but in his most suave and courtly manner, and with a most unruffled demeanor: "And shall I allow the patent signed by your majesty in that case to go out in the usual form, 'To my trusted and well-beloved cousin and counsellor?'"
The kaiser saw the joke at once, burst into a loud peal of laughter, his ill-temper having vanished in a moment.
Another amusing incident in which the devil was called upon to play a part occurred on the occasion of the emperor's inspection of a number of newly-joined recruits for the first regiment of Foot Guards. In accordance with his invariable custom, he was examining-them as to what they would do in this or that emergency. Addressing one burly Pomeranian grenadier, he inquired what he would say to a man who annoyed him while on sentry duty.
"Go to the devil! Get out! your majesty," responded the man.
"All right, my friend," exclaimed the emperor, laughing, "I'll get out; but I'll be hanged if I'll go to the devil," and with that he turned to the next man.
Military inspections very often furnish the occasion for amusing and sometimes rather disconcerting episodes. I can recall as an illustration an inspection of recruits for the navy at Kiel. On that day the emperor had been holding forth, as he so often does, about the duty of sailors as well as soldiers to defend the crown against the foes beyond the frontiers of the empire, as well as against the enemies within the boundaries of the latter. He then singled out a stolid-looking recruit, and having ascertained that he was the son of a Bavarian farmer, with a strongly developed taste for the sea, he proceeded to question him with regard to the address which he had just delivered.
"And who are our foreign foes, my good fellow?" he inquired.
"The Russians and the French, your majesty," replied the recruit.
"And who are the enemies within the empire?" proceeded the emperor, expecting of course that the sailor would say that they were the socialists.
"The Prussians, your majesty," answered the Jack-tar that was to be, without apparently realizing that he had said anything wrong or impolite, and merely giving a frank utterance to the sentiment in which he, like all his countrymen in Bavaria, had been brought up.
One of the most pleasing features about Emperor William is his readiness to forgive and forget, and his inability to bear a grudge for any length of time against those who have either insulted or injured him. No more striking instance of this can be given than his treatment of General Baron von Krosick, who expected to be dismissed from the army, possibly even banished, when William ascended the throne, but who instead has been overwhelmed by his sovereign with every conceivable honor, having received not merely his promotion from the rank of brigadier-general to that of inspector-general of the army, but also investiture with the exceedingly rare distinction of the Order of the Black Eagle, which, as I have already stated before, is the Prussian equivalent to the English Order of the Garter, and the Austrian Order of the Golden Fleece. The baron enjoys the well-deserved reputation of being the most phenomenally rude and rough-spoken man in the German army, and was at one time colonel in command of the hussar regiment in which William, prior to becoming emperor, received his cavalry training.
On one occasion an almost incredible scene took place. It was at a regimental mess banquet, to which William, at that time only a captain, had invited Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria, then on a visit at Berlin. During the course of the dinner, the conversation turned upon some projected reforms in cavalry drill and movements, which ultimately turned out to be impracticable and were not carried into effect. William, in his impulsive, impetuous, and somewhat arrogant way, declaimed in a loud tone of voice on their superlative merits, declared himself in their favor, and added that he would do his utmost to see them carried through, as he regarded them as indispensable to raise the standard and tone of the German cavalry.
Colonel von Krosick, like the remainder of the officers, had drunk his fair share of wine. He never liked his royal subaltern, and took no pains to conceal his sentiments. The arrogance of the prince's utterances, as well as his assumption of superiority, exasperated him beyond measure, and, breaking into the conversation, he exclaimed in tones that were heard throughout the apartment:
"Aber das ist ja der blödste Unsinn [But that is the most ridiculous nonsense];" and then proceeded to contemptuously ridicule William's arguments.
Much nettled, and quite as short-tempered as his colonel, William called out, half jokingly, half bitterly:
"That is all very well, colonel. You are my superior officer at present, and I am bound to defer to your opinion. But our positions may change one of these days, and then you will see."
Perfectly frantic and purple in the face, Colonel von Krosick thundered forth:
"When that day comes to pass, prince, I will rather break my sabre across my knee than serve under your command."
Immediately the whole place was in an uproar. The Austrian crown prince being the first to jump from his seat, and a minute later both princes had left the mess-room and the barracks. Contrary to general expectation, Prince William made no report about the matter, either to his father or grandfather, and Colonel von Krosick heard nothing more about the affair.
Of course he expected to receive his discharge when William ascended the throne. But to his amazement, he has ever since been made the object of the most signal favor, kindliness and respect: the respect that is frequently entertained by a man after he has grown up toward the head master who caned him when he was at school. Indeed, William seems never to be able to forget that he was for several years under the old martinet's direct command.
In spite of Emperor William being at the present moment over forty years of age, he still retains a great store of boyishness, and in particular, a liking for practical jokes, though never when they are at his own expense! It is not so very long ago that he had notified a number of generals and military dignitaries to meet him at the railroad station at Potsdam, at half-past eleven in the evening, in order to accompany him to manoeuvres that were to be held at a place several hours' distance on the following day. Leaving the palace on foot shortly after eleven, he entered the railroad station by a back door, and managed to slip in without being recognized.
Shielded by the darkness, he made his way unobserved to the special train, which was in waiting, got into his carriage by the door on the opposite side from the platform. For at least half an hour he amused himself by peeping at the officers on the platform, whose faces expressed surprise and vexation that his majesty, ordinarily so punctual, should be so long in coming. Suddenly he raised the blind, opened the window, and intimated by loud and prolonged laughter his presence in the carriage, and the success of his little trick. The astonishment and the dismay depicted on the visages of those on the platform can be more easily imagined than described.
Emperor William is not fond of the press, and has never taken any trouble to conceal his dislike for that branch of the literary profession. It is true that he has been subjected to a good deal of abuse at its hands, and that he has been made the object of calumny sufficient to drive a man so hypersensitive to public comment into a lunatic asylum. Many of the most intricate troubles and most annoying episodes of his life and his reign have been in a large measure due to the press, inasmuch as they were either originated or envenomed by the newspapers. William is as nervous about what the papers will say as a young débutante on the stage. Not only does he keep an anxious watch upon the utterances of all German editors, but he ordains a vigilant scrutiny of the articles printed in foreign countries from the pens of correspondents stationed in Berlin, who, if any unfriendly mention of his name is brought home to them, are ultimately driven out of the country.
One of the first acts of Emperor William's reign was the expulsion from Berlin of a number of foreign journalists, whose criticisms and comments on his attitude towards his mother, as well as on his opposition to the political views of his dead father, had been distasteful to the imperial eye. A year later he caused a new series of press laws to be presented to the Reichstag, which contained such arbitrary provisions for stamping out the remaining liberties of the press that even the Cologne Gazette denounced it as "putting a frightful weapon into the hands of the government for suppressing freedom of speech and silencing opposition." This measure did not pass, in spite of all the efforts of his majesty, and its rejection merely served to embitter the emperor still further against the press.
As far as the German press is concerned William manages to get even with it by insisting upon the strict execution of the laws concerning the crime of Lése majesté with a severity that savors of the middle ages rather than of modern times. Indeed, while there are few prominent journalists in Germany who have not undergone imprisonment since he ascended the throne, for writing of him in a manner that he considered disrespectful, there are some newspapers that are literally obliged to employ distinguished members of their staff for no other purpose than doing time in jail, as the penalty of too free utterances of the sheet with which they are connected.
Of course, William has no such means of dealing with the foreign press, which being more fearless, thanks to its immunity, has naturally subjected him to worse treatment than that of Germany. Occasionally though, he gets even with some of his foreign assailants, and the following story is told of the manner in which he dealt with a newspaper proprietor in New York, who after rendering his journal conspicuous above all others for its personal attacks on his majesty, had the audacity to write him a letter, asking him for a brief article from his, the kaiser's, pen.
The editor in question gave as a pretext for his request, the alleged existence of a widespread belief in the United States that his majesty was not quite right in his mind, and suggested that a brief message, for which a check of five thousand dollars was enclosed, might relieve the anxiety of millions of Germans in America, and convince them that the kaiser was quite sane. Some weeks later the enterprising editor received a visit from the German consul-general in New York. On being admitted to the august presence of the editor the consul-general extracted an envelope from his pocket, and from the envelope the five-thousand-dollar check, to the order of his majesty, the German emperor, and bearing the signature of the editor; the consul-general then made a bow to the latter, handed him the check, made another bow, and withdrew without having said a single word, or opened his mouth, even to greet him!