Empress Frederick was naturally deeply offended by the precautionary measures adopted by the emperor on his father's death, and saw therein a new and most insulting indication of his unfilial conduct towards herself. Nor were the relations between the mother and the son improved, but on the contrary rather aggravated by the presence of the Prince of Wales at Berlin. The latter remained in the Prussian capital for a number of weeks after the funeral of Emperor Frederick, and the English newspapers, which had been most outspoken in their criticisms of the young emperor's attitude towards his parents, did not hesitate to declare openly that if the prince was continuing his stay in Berlin, it was for the purpose of championing the interests of his favorite sister, and of protecting her from the insults of her son, and of the latter's mentor and chief counsellor, Prince Bismarck.
There were all sorts of troublesome questions cropping up between the mother and the son during the first few months of her widowhood, many of which were inevitable; for certain courses of policy upon which Emperor Frederick had embarked were disapproved by the young sovereign's constitutional advisers. Then, too, it would appear that Frederick III. had taken advantage of his brief tenure of power to unduly favor his wife and his younger children at the expense of the Hohenzollern family property in a manner that was not in consonance with the traditions of the reigning house. It was also whispered that the late emperor had lent a very large sum of money to his brother-in-law, the Prince of Wales, and it was further asserted that the then minister of the imperial household had preferred resigning his post to countenancing such a use of the money belonging to the Hohenzollern family. There was the question, moreover, of the distribution of the palaces. While William was perfectly ready to permit his mother to keep her residence at Berlin, he felt that he was entitled, as emperor and chief of the family, to the new palace of Potsdam, the finest of the lot, and the only one roomy enough for the abode of a reigning sovereign. It was, therefore, necessary that he should have possession thereof. His mother, on the other hand, took the ground that inasmuch as it had been her principal home throughout her married life, that nearly all her children had been born there, and that it was in many respects a creation of her husband's, she ought to be allowed to retain it. Of course the emperor had his way, and this but served to increase the bitterness, particularly when he issued an order to the effect that its old name of "Neues Palais" should be restored in the place of "Friedrichskron," which had been given to it by the widowed empress during her husband's brief reign.
Of course all these differences of opinion between the mother and the son were carefully intensified by Prince Bismarck, and aggravated by the continued presence of the Prince of Wales, who was regarded, probably unjustly, as largely responsible for the animosity which it was claimed was entertained and manifested by the imperial widow for her son. The newspapers took sides in the matter, and the press being very active, there is every reason to believe, in view of the wide field of German and foreign journalism over which the influences of the chancellor extended at the time, that he had a finger, not alone in the denunciation on the one hand of Empress Frederick as grasping, mercenary, and too much of an Englishwoman to be a patriotic German, but likewise in the abuse of Emperor William for unfilial conduct. Every act of his that could possibly be construed as such, was painted in the blackest of colors, especially in the English press, manifestly with the idea of conveying to the kaiser the impression that the attacks originated with his English relatives, possibly with his mother herself; and I can recall seeing at the time a story to which the London papers devoted columns, and which was made the theme of editorials, the subject of which was that the emperor had sold to a carpenter the pony-carriage and pony used by his father daring the few weeks immediately preceding his death, for his drives in the palace gardens. The story related with much detail about how the pony trap was to be seen during the week in the streets of Potsdam, laden with window-sashes, etc., while on Sunday and holidays the seat where formerly the dying emperor reclined was occupied by the "Herr Tischlermeister" and his frowsy, vulgar-looking "frau." Yet there was not a word of truth in this story. The pony-carriage used by "Unser Fritz" during the closing days of his life is preserved as a species of sacred relic in the imperial coach-house at Potsdam, while the pony leads a life of ease, idleness and equine luxury, out of regard for the fact that it had the honor of drawing the moribund monarch around the grounds of Charlottenburg and Potsdam. Inasmuch as this precious story about Emperor William's selling the pony-carriage in question first made its appearance in a London newspaper, which, as long as Bismarck remained in office, was regarded as his particular organ in the British press, being owned by a gentleman bearing a distinctly German name, there is every reason to believe that the tale in question originated with some of the journalistic myrmidons employed by the chancellor, and that its object was to embitter William against the English, against his British kinsfolk, and, above all, against his mother.
It is not without significance that the mother and the eldest son have understood one another only since the dismissal from office of Prince Bismarck. From that time the relations between the two have been of the most affectionate and cordial character. Perhaps at first there was at times a little difference of opinion, owing to the difficulty experienced by a woman of the imperious character of Empress Frederick in realizing the fact that her eldest son was no longer "her boy Willie," to be ordered about and controlled, but that he had become, not merely emancipated from her control, but her sovereign master, whose commands she is now forced to obey, and whose wishes she is obliged to consult and consider. But every year since the fall of Bismarck has had the effect of bringing the mother and the son nearer to each other.
The empress seems to have come to the conclusion that she has judged her son harshly and unjustly, prejudiced by appearances which were frequently against him; while he, on the other hand, demonstrated to Prince Bismarck that, while he was grateful to him for his services to the empire, he found difficulty in pardoning him for the advantage which he had taken of his—the emperor's—youth and inexperience to estrange him from both his father and his mother.
If I have repeated in this chapter some history that may be regarded as ancient, since it dates back to eleven and twelve years ago, it is for the purpose of relieving Emperor William of much unmerited reproach heaped upon him, as the most unfilial of royal and imperial princes in modern times. William has a warm heart, and an affectionate disposition. He shows this in the happiness of his home life, and by the tenderness of his devotion to his wife and children. If he was for a time estranged from his parents, and in particular from his mother, it was less through any fault of his, or of theirs—I repeat it—than through the intrigues of Bismarck, and of the latter's friends within and without the imperial household, who fondly imagined that they were serving the "vaterland" by keeping the parents and their son estranged from one another.
CHAPTER VII
Everyone, I presume, is acquainted with that old French saying, "Dis moi qui tu hantes et je te dirai qui tu es!" which may be rendered in English: "Tell me with whom you associate and I will tell you who you are!" While this adage is almost invariably true in the case of ordinary people, it would hardly be just to apply it where monarchs and princes of the blood are concerned. Given that every form of pleasure, of entertainment and of amusement is always within their reach, thanks to the loftiness of their station, their wealth, and facilitated furthermore by the anxiety of their courtiers both to please them and to retain their favor, they naturally soon become blasé to such an extent that they become a prey to ennui—a thoroughly royal malady, from which few, if any, of the scions of the reigning houses of Europe are exempt. "Ennui," like "chic," is a French word difficult to translate and subject to much misinterpretation, especially in the United States, where it is practically unknown. The majority of Americans are far too busy, and are environed by too much bustle and activity to experience such a thing as ennui, and even the American leisure class, still in an embryo condition, as a rule are too new to their privileges to have that feeling. To suffer from ennui implies so deep a knowledge of life, and a corresponding satiety of its pleasures, that all the ordinary routine events of existence have no longer any power to interest the mind. Ennui is not weariness nor tediousness, as described in the dictionary; neither is it boredom, for the latter differs therefrom in its not necessarily being the outcome of a high degree of civilization, which ennui certainly is.
An untutored savage of Central Africa, or of the wilds of Australia may be bored; so are many of the ignorant houris of Oriental harems and zenanas. Nay, even an energetic business man may feel temporarily bored by enforced bodily or mental inaction, or by dreary associations; but that can scarcely be described as ennui, a feeling which in the true sense of the word means being thoroughly blasé and oppressed by moral and physical satiety. You must know everything, have tried everything, have had all your personal wishes and desires satisfied, all obstacles removed from your path, and pass your way through life with the firm conviction that there remains nothing to interest or arouse your ambition in order to be a victim of ennui. The greatest sufferers from this disagreeable sensation are, as I have just remarked, the royal and imperial personages of Europe, and although the emperors of Germany and Austria have the greater portion of their time taken up by the business of the State, and the administration of the government of their respective countries, yet neither of them is exempt from ennui. Indeed, there are no princes whose features betray to such an extent unmistakable evidence of ennui, as those of the imperial house of Hapsburg, while Emperor William's choice of many of his friends is guided by the powers which they may possess to entertain him, and to deliver him in his hours of leisure from that dreaded complaint. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, and there are several of Emperor William's cronies who owe the friendship of their sovereign to kindnesses which they rendered, and devotion which they displayed to him, in the days prior to his accession to the throne. But in the majority of instances, the sometimes strange selection of friends made by the emperor is attributable to the fact that the personages to whom he accords his favor succeed in amusing and entertaining him during the time that he is not occupied with the cares of his empire.
Conspicuous among friends of this particular character, is Baron von Kiderlen-Waechter, who holds the rank of minister plenipotentiary in the diplomatic service of Germany, and who was recently, and possibly still remains, Prussian envoy to the Court of Denmark, but who is known in the imperial circle at Berlin by the nickname of "August," that being the "sobriquet" given to the clowns belonging to variety-shows and circuses in England, Austria, and France. In fact, he certainly occupies among William's immediate circle of cronies and associates the position of court jester, and the emperor makes a point of taking the baron along with him whenever he goes on his annual yachting trips along the coast of Sweden and Norway. The latter is the life and soul of these imperial yachting parties, his witticisms, his antics, and, above all, his inimitable talent for mimicry keeping even the sailors of the Hohenzollern in continual roars of laughter. Yet he can be grave and dignified on state occasions, and when one sees him at the Court of Berlin arrayed in full uniform, his breast covered with decorations, it is difficult to realize that this imposing-looking diplomat is the principal partner of the autocrat of Germany in such juvenile games as "Hot Cockles," which is a very favorite game on board the Hohenzollern, and in which the kneeling and blindfolded victim receives a terrific spank or smack, and then has to guess, under the penalty of ridiculous forfeits, who it is that struck him!