CHAPTER VIII
EDUCATION
THOSE ardent military Prussian educationalists into whose hands is given the instruction of the tender princeling usually desire to develop in their pupil characteristics approximating as nearly as possible to those of the most famous Hohenzollern of his race, Frederick the Great; and since, in their estimation, it was the harsh training of his childhood and youth which stimulated into growth the splendid qualities of his manhood, they strive to reproduce as closely as they can—of course in harmony with the more enlightened ideas of the present day—something of the same strenuous atmosphere and stern conditions which surrounded that celebrated monarch as he grew up.
The ordinary German child goes to school at a certain age, and if he is of average intelligence passes from one class to another according to the rules laid down for him, securing every year his “remove,” working steadily upward to his examination, after which he goes to the University, or if of the working classes to the earning of his daily bread until the age for military service; all is preordained, and one step leads naturally to the next. In theory this is what happens to a princeling of either sex, but the difficulties in the way are manifold and subtle; chief among them being the multiplicity of persons interested in his education, most of whom have, or think they have, paramount authority over their pupil. Usually the parents of a child arrange how it shall be educated, and kings and queens are no exception to this rule, but it is the admittance of the State functionary into the business that immediately complicates matters. Perhaps nothing is worse for any young child than to perceive that there are differences of opinion about his treatment among those whom he must obey.
A young prince, having reached the age of seven, is promoted from the nursery to a room of his own, and instead of the ministrations of the faithful, crabbed, tyrannical, loving old nurse, probably of English nationality, who has washed and dressed and scolded him from birth, is given over to the care of a well-meaning but inexperienced footman and the supervision of a well-bred, well-educated, but equally inexperienced young officer, who, imbued with stern Prussian notions of discipline and a complete ignorance of childish needs, is prepared to do his duty at whatever cost and to lay the first foundations of a training which shall ultimately develop in his pupil the qualities of another Frederick the Great. It is a position requiring much tact on both sides, but who expects tact from a young officer? There is the royal mamma to be reckoned with, for she considers that she has still some rights in her infant, even if he be one day destined to wear a crown; and among various other people let us not forget the tutor, full of theories on education which he is yearning to put into practice.
The prince, then, is installed in his own apartments of the palace, where he has his bedroom, sitting-room, and schoolroom, with suitable accommodation for his governor, as the young officer who has his education in hand is officially called, his tutor and his servants. He is supposed henceforth, in the rosy dreams of the governor, to be, except at occasional meal-times and perhaps a scanty hour in the evening, entirely sequestered from his family, devoted to qualifying himself for future renown in some one of the restricted careers, military for choice, open to royalty. If the prince has brothers of a suitable age they share his rooms, his governor, and his tutor, and are encouraged to share his aspirations.
The tutor draws up a portentous Stundenplan, which, copied by the footman in his intervals of leisure, is posted up in various conspicuous places, so that there is no excuse for not knowing the particular study, pause from study, walk, ride, or drill that shall be taking place at a particular hour or minute. The hitherto more or less casual education of the prince now gives way to a strictly regulated régime. He begins to follow the ordinary curriculum of the German secondary schools, and knows exactly what stage he has reached on the ladder of learning; for every child in Germany, be he prince or peasant, educated at home or at school, works to a certain universal standard which, whatever may be its drawback, establishes a curious educational bond throughout the Empire and is eminently characteristic of the nation.
The tutor, who usually resides in the royal palace, is of a type unknown in England. He is a young man, often a Kandidat for the ministry, but by no means curate-like in mind or appearance; he has passed his examination at a university (which does not necessarily imply a university education), and gained his experience of teaching in one of the Government boys’ or girls’ schools—for all State schools for girls in Germany are managed and mainly taught by men. If he has had a university education probably the only trace of it will be a disfiguring scar on his face, relic of a student’s duel, of which he will be inordinately proud; but if he is going to be a Pastor the scar will be absent, as well as the year’s military training which he would otherwise have undergone—a distinct loss for any one who has in hand a prince to educate.
A volume might be written on German tutors, more especially on those employed in royal households. They are usually solemn, fleshy, conscientious young men in black frock-coats and Cylinder (top-hats), who in a few years develop an alarming embonpoint, and after finishing their work of implanting in princely minds a sufficiency of classics, history, and mathematics, retire to other spheres of labour, provided by courtly influence—spheres which they rarely consider to be worthy of the services they have rendered. They usually know nothing at all of sport, though professing to know a good deal, as in their vocabulary sport is only another name for exercise: they fondly imagine that the man who trots on horseback every morning round the Tier-Garten, especially if he wears English gaiters and carries a hunting-crop, is a sportsman, and consider any game “sporting” where there is plenty of running—even if no demand be made on the courage, decision, quickness or other mental qualifications of the players. They are unable to grasp the sporting idea, which, after attempted explanation, they believe to be a figment of the English imagination.
On the occasion of the thirteenth birthday of the Princess Victoria Louise, she invited the pupils of one of the aristocratic girls’ schools of which the Empress her mother is patroness, to have tea and games with her in the lovely Wildpark, close to the New Palace. I was asked to draw up a programme of sports for the occasion, as the games usually played on former birthdays were stigmatized by Her Royal Highness as childish and silly (“kindisch und albern”).
So a list of various obstacle and flat races was arranged, as well as potato, egg-and-spoon, and sack-races (which I own I had hesitated to introduce, fearing they were hardly fitting for the amusement of tender female German aristocracy, but, under pressure from the giver of the feast, had finally included in the programme).