Then the Oberbürgermeister, with committees in black coats and white rosettes behind him, in behalf of the city, made his little speech, which I will not quote because we all know what mayors have to say on such occasions, and this was quite the proper thing, as mayors' addresses always are. Indeed, if I only venture to give the first half-dozen words, I fear that people who are not used to the German form of expression will be alarmed, and will say gently, “Not any more at present, thank you.”
“Allerdurchlauchtigster grossnädigster Kaiser and Konig allerguädigster Herr!” This is the glorious way it began. Isn't it fine? Can any one look at that “allerdurchlauchtigster” without involuntarily making an obeisance? Aren't these words entirely appropriate to head a huge procession of aldermen, and other pompous municipal boards, and do credit to a great city? And wouldn't you or I be a little intimidated if any one should say them to us?
The Kaiser is, however, accustomed to having such epithets hurled at him. He was therefore not dismayed, and replied somewhat as follows:—
“This is the first time since the glorious war of the German nation that I have visited your city. I accept with pleasure the friendly reception which you have prepared for me, and heartily unite with you in the good wishes for our German Fatherland which you in your greeting have expressed. Until now we have only sowed, but the seed will spring up. In this I rely upon your king, who has ever loyally stood by my side. [Here he turned and extended his hand to the king. This as a dramatic ‘point’ was very good indeed.] Assure the city that I rejoice to be within its walls.”
After which were more and more “Hochs,” and then the illustrissimi seated themselves in the carriages which were waiting to convey them slowly through the crowded streets. Along the whole route where the procession passed were fire-companies with glittering helmets, different clubs and vereins, school-children,—the girls in white, with wreaths of flowers to cast before the emperor,—and soldiers, all stationed in two long lines. Through the alley so formed the carriages passed, and, behind, the dense crowd reached to the houses.
The people seemed very eager to see the Kaiser, but their curiosity was more strongly manifested than their enthusiasm, this first day of his visit, at least so it appeared to us. The loyal Tagblatt, however, says that the cries of the multitude rose to the skies in a deafening clamor, or something equally strong. But our eyes and ears told us that while the people continuously cheered, they were very temperate in their demonstrations. There was more warmth and volume in the voices when they greeted the crown prince. But Moltke alone kindled the real fire of enthusiasm. They cheered him in a perfect abandonment of delight. Hundreds of his old soldiers gave the great field-marshal far more homage than they accorded the Kaiser. As soon as he came in sight there was instantly something in the voices that one had missed before.
In the procession, first, were some of the city authorities, police and city guard, mounted, preceding the carriage in which the Kaiser and king rode. This was drawn by six white horses, with outriders in scarlet-and-gold livery. The two sovereigns chatted together, and the Kaiser looked in a friendly way upon the people, often acknowledging their greetings by a military salute.
Next came the crown prince,—“the stately, thoroughly German hero, with his dark-blond full beard,” says the German reporter,—and with him were the grand duke of Baden and Adjutant Baldinger. Many carriages followed, full of celebrities. Prince Karl of Prussia was there, Prince August von Würtemberg, Prince of Hohenzollern, Princes Wilhelm and Hermann of Saxe-Weimar. In the sixth carriage sat the great, silent Moltke, with his calm face, received with storms of cheering, and he would put up his hand with a deprecating gesture, as if to appease the tumult his presence created. There were, besides, magnates and dignitaries of all descriptions in the long train. Generals and majors and hofraths, counts and dukes, men with well-known names, men recognized as brave and brilliant soldiers; but it is scarcely expedient to tell who they all are. My pen has so accustomed itself to-day to writing the names of sovereigns, and to linger lovingly over the beautiful six-syllable words that cluster round a throne, it has imbibed from these august sources a lofty exclusiveness. It says it really can't be expected to waste many strokes on mere dukes. “Everybody of course cannot be born in the purple,” it admits,—this it writes slowly with long, liberal sweeps,—“no doubt counts and dukes are often very estimable people, but really, you know, my dear, one must draw the line somewhere”; and it does not deny that it feels “a certain antipathy towards discussing persons lower than princes,”—which impressive word it makes very black and strong,—“except in the mass.” And then it waves its aristocratic gold point in a way that completely settles the matter. I am very sorry if anybody would like to know the names, but it is such a tyrant I never know what it will do next; and I really don't dare say anything more about those poor dukes, except to mention briefly that there were seventeen carriages full of manly grace and chivalry, uniforms and decorations, scarlet, and blue, and crimson, and gold, and white, blond mustaches, plumes, swords, and titles.
When the line of carriages had passed over the appointed route, and all the people had gazed and gazed to their heart's content, the procession approached the Residenz where Queen Olga received her imperial relative and guest. He gave her his arm, and they vanished from the eyes of the ignobile vulgus. This was an impressive and elevating moment; but it is not curious to remember that after all, if the truth be told, allerdurchlauchtigster though he be, he is only her—Uncle William.
In the evening was a brilliant and large torch-light procession, and all the world was out in merry mood. The illuminated fountains, the statues and flowers in the pretty Schloss Platz, shone out in the gleam of Bengal lights, which also revealed the sea of heads in the square in front of the palace. A stalwart young workman stood near us with his little fair-haired daughter perched on his shoulder. They did not know how statuesque they looked in the rosy light, but we did. Much music, many Hochs, and the edifying spectacle of all their majesties and royal highnesses in a distinguished row on the balcony, for the delectation of the masses, completed the joys of the evening.