CHAPTER XVII
THE COMING OF THE KAISER
And now for a time all other matters at Court fell into the background, and every mind was taken up with the preparations for the coming visit of the Kaiser.
The character of the young man who at this time had only recently succeeded to the Imperial throne of Germany was still to some extent a matter of conjecture. It was known that Providence had endowed him with a very ample share of confidence in his own abilities, and belief in his own prerogatives. It was very quickly discovered that these qualities in the young ruler were not tempered by any great measure of consideration for either the rights or the abilities of others. In his domestic relations he would have deserved great praise if he had been able occasionally to forget the character of the sovereign in that of the brother or son. As a Crown Prince he had suffered under the suspicion of having lent himself to an intrigue for the exclusion of his father from the throne; and such rumours obtained more credence from a certain vein of extravagance which marked all his public actions, and had led the irrepressible Von Stahlen to invent for him the name of “The Barn-door Emperor.”
One of his first acts after his accession had been to dismiss, under circumstances of some harshness, a great statesman whose services to his country and to the Imperial family had been such as have hardly been equalled in modern history. The Kaiser’s assumption of personal control over his government had not been marked by any great new departure; but what was wanting in deeds was more than made up in verbal declarations of the most imposing character. Short of requiring them to pay him divine honours, there seemed to be no limit to the claims which their new Emperor made upon the submission of his astounded subjects. That absolute power over their fortunes and their lives which the great Frederick earned by his achievements, and which he used with discreet moderation, was asserted by his untried descendant in harangues which resounded over Europe. The doctrine of the Divine right of kings was revived in the nineteenth century, and the Kaiser might have exclaimed with Louis XIV., “L’État, c’est moi.”
The foundation on which the Kaiser rested his edifice of despotic power was the military system. The army over which he wielded the supreme command was carefully indoctrinated by him with the spirit of an exclusive society, privileged above the rest of the community on condition of lending its implicit support to his personal authority. Regiments gave dinners in the Kaiser’s honour, at which he made speeches inviting them to look down upon their fellow subjects as beings of an inferior order. Sentries shot down private citizens in cold blood, for fancied affronts, and were rewarded by the personal congratulations of the Emperor. The Kaiser assumed the character of a military chieftain encamped with his followers upon the German soil, like an invader in a conquered city.
In territories like those of Franconia and the other states which preserved a partial independence, it was the theory of the German constitution that the local monarch retained the control of his army in time of peace. But the Kaiser was accused of working secretly to upset this system, and to gather the whole of the military power into his own hands. Considerable distrust had been aroused by these tactics, and an almost open breach existed between the King of Wurtemburg and the Kaiser on this account, at the time of the long-talked-of visit to Maximilian. Kaisers, like more common persons, are not above killing two birds with one stone, and it was known in the Chancelleries of the states concerned that the Kaiser’s journey was prompted quite as much by his desire to overcome this hostility, as by his curiosity to view the wonders of Seidlingen.
Thither, to the famous scene of Maximilian’s extraordinary creation, the whole Franconian Court repaired in state to receive its august visitor. The King had sent on Bernal in advance, to see that his ideas had been completely carried out to the last detail; and as soon as a favourable report was received Maximilian followed with the rest of the Court, and made his first formal entrance into his new domain.
The railway ended at a distance of eight miles from the Castle itself. From there the royal party were driven in carriages up the new road which Maximilian’s engineers had constructed, past the fountains and waterfalls which had been artfully scattered along the route, and under the archway, guarded by cannon, which gave access to the hidden valley.
Exclamations of wonder and delight burst from the lips of the courtiers as they rolled through the rocky gateway, and the full beauty of the fairyland within burst upon their sight. The gardens, the strange trees, the flower-beds, the canals and aqueducts, the kiosks and gondolas, all combined to produce the illusion of a scene upon the stage, rather than a sober reality of waking life. The season of the year—it was early June—helped to show off all the natural features at their best. And the culminating point was reached when the Castle itself came into view, built of dazzling marble, with every turret and pinnacle flashing in the sunshine, like a palace of silver built by genii at the command of the prince in some eastern tale.
Here, in the midst of these splendours, the more serious business of life seemed out of place for a time, and the whole Court abandoned itself to enjoyment. The King moved about with a lighter step, proud of the success of his work; the Princess Hermengarde put on her most gracious demeanour; and the Count von Sigismark, snatching time from the cares of office, mingled with the pleasant throng, and condescended to receive the raillery of Von Stahlen on his supposed exchange of the post of Chancellor of Franconia for that of Grand Vizier of Seidlingen. Even the stern Johann forgot his jealousy of the King’s æsthetic tastes, and yielded for a time to the fascination of his surroundings.