"He who after careful self-examination finds himself compelled to fight a duel, and whose conscience is clear of sentiments of hatred and of vengeance, may do so in the conviction that he is in no wise acting contrary to the Word of God, to the obligations of honor, or to the accepted customs of society. As in battle, so also in the duel, which has been forced upon him in one way or another, he may say to himself: If we live, we live in the Lord, and if we die, we die in the Lord, Amen."
It must be borne in mind that Emperor William delivered himself of these utterances, not merely in his capacity of Emperor of Germany, King of Prussia, and commander-in-chief of the entire German army, but also in his self-assumed rôle of Summus-Episcopus, or spiritual as well as temporal chief of the Lutheran Church throughout the empire. Such a speech was delivered on the occasion of the endeavor made by certain members of the court circles to induce the Lutheran synod to institute disciplinary measures against the Potsdam pastor who had declined to accord the rites of Christian burial to Baron von Schrader, killed in a duel by Baron Kotze, the encounter being the outcome of the anonymous letter scandal already described. The synod, however, thoroughly endorsed the attitude of the Lutheran minister in question, and availed itself of the opportunity to pass a resolution to the effect that no person killed in a combat of this kind, or even dying from wounds received in a duel, could be regarded as having met his death as a Christian, and as such entitled to Christian burial.
Curiously enough this view was endorsed by the gallant old General Bronsart von Schellendorf, at that time minister of war, who, in expressing his approval of the resolution, called upon the emperor as commander-in-chief to take more radical steps for checking the phenomenal growth of the practice of duelling.
William, however, declined to comply with the request, dismissed the general shortly afterwards from office, and, on the contrary, proceeded to condemn both the action of the synod and of the Potsdam pastor who had declined to officiate at Baron Schrader's obsequies, giving as the reason for his position in the matter the argument from which I have just given some extracts.
This was by no means the first time that William found himself in conflict with the provincial synods of the Lutheran Church in his dominions. On one occasion the consistory of the Lutheran Church of the Province of East Prussia, in which the imperial game preserves of Rominten are situated, passed a unanimous vote of censure upon the kaiser for having desecrated the Sabbath, and violated the secular laws with regard to its observance, by giving a big hunting-party on Sunday at Rominten. It was understood at the time that the consistory would have abstained from taking this extreme step had it not been for the comment excited throughout Germany by the somewhat malicious juxtaposition in most of the newspapers of two articles, one of which gave an elaborate description of the Sunday shooting-party of the emperor at Rominten, while in a parallel column was a proclamation just issued by the civil governor of the province of Westphalia, calling attention to the lax observance of the Sunday laws, and reiterating the pains and penalties that are prescribed by statute for those who shoot, sing, dance, play skittles or indulge in any recreation, whether in public or in private, that is inconsistent with repose on Sunday.
Of course, the vote of the consistory of Eastern Prussia was eventually quashed, and its members disciplined. But the publicity given to the affair served to call the attention of the people at large to the emperor's disregard of the laws which he himself had caused to be enacted. Previous to his reign, Sunday had been looked upon as a day of recreation, revelry, and festivity throughout Germany.
In the days of the old emperor all the finest performances of the court theatres were reserved for Sunday, the principal state banquets took place on that day, as well as the imperial hunting parties and battues. Among the bourgeoisie, dances, balls and picnics were the order of the Lord's Day, while the lower classes thronged the beer gardens and the beer halls that constitute so important a feature of German life. Regattas, parades, race-meetings, and popular entertainments and festivals of one kind or another, were, in fact, all reserved for Sunday.
All this was changed when the emperor came to the throne, and among the earliest laws enacted on his initiative, were those to which the Governor of Westphalia called attention in the proclamation just described, and which prohibited every form of revelry on the Sabbath. For instance, a few months after William's accession he was invited by the Berlin Yacht Club to attend the annual regatta, which was to take place on the following Sunday morning, but he declined on the ground that it would prevent his going to church, and when the committee offered to postpone the races until the afternoon he declared that his principles would not permit him to regard Sunday as a day to be devoted to regattas, and analogous forms of popular entertainment. It must be explained that he was at the time strongly imbued with the evangelistic views which he had derived from his wife's aunt, the American Countess of Waldersee, and from her protégé, ex-Court Chaplain Stoecker, who combined with his strict and Puritanical views on the subject of the Sabbath, the most intense animosity towards the Jews, and a virulent hatred for the late Emperor Frederick.
This strange divine, so famous for many years as the leader of the so-called "Jüdenhetz" movement, is one of the most displeasing figures in German public life, and Emperor William, who has long since turned his back upon him, and dismissed him from his court chaplaincy, must bitterly regret that he ever accorded him any favor or intimacy, and permitted himself to be influenced by his views. How is it possible to speak with any patience of a minister of the Church who, in a weekly paper, "The Ecclesiastical Review," of December 10, 1887, actually had the audacity to write in an editorial article signed with his name the following cruel sentence? "Let us pray every day and every hour for our royal family, and in particular for the Old Man (the old kaiser) and for the Young Man (the present emperor) of this race of heroes. May God in His mercy grant that the terrible punishment which has overtaken the sick Prince Frederick (the late Emperor Frederick) bear fruit, and may it bring resignation to his mind, and peace to his conscience."
At the moment when the article appeared, in which it was publicly intimated that the crown prince's malady was a just and well-merited punishment for his sins, the imperial patient, so sorely afflicted, whose life had been so blameless, was at death's door, a fact over which the court chaplain openly rejoiced, proclaiming that "a brilliant future is about to open up before us."