The man who had long held the destinies of Europe in his hand sat in the retirement of Schönhausen, complacently smoking and waiting for the catastrophe, and the recall which would surely come. But he was not needed. Was the Zeit Geist penetrating the iron-encrusted empire? William had forgotten his toys and was inaugurating reforms—industrial, educational, social, which touched the lowest stratum of his people.
We cannot yet forget those visits to San Remo, the cruel intriguing over his father's death-bed; but greatness lies in the path he has taken. His intelligence, quicker than his sympathies, sees, perhaps, that the forces of the future are industrial, not militant. His hand has grown less nervous, but steadier in its grasp, more human in its touch. The figure is filling out in stronger lines, with unexpected promise that it may become heroic.
He was not a pleasant youth, not a nice boy; but we can forgive much to a sovereign who desires to bring about a general disarmament of Europe! The early chapters of his biography will never be pleasant reading, but we will not linger over them if the concluding ones tell of a Germany brought into line with the world's highest and best development.
Europe to-day is like a field closely packed with explosives, with a plentiful sprinkling throughout the mass of that giant powder, nihilism. People step carefully, lest they jar the hostile elements, and "let loose the dogs of war." The slightest change in position of the little package marked Bulgaria, and it may be too late.
This province, which ten or twelve years ago was set up by the Great Powers with an autonomy of its own, lying athwart the coveted pathway to the Mediterranean, has, like Schleswig-Holstein, greatness thrust upon it. The plaything of diplomacy, with only a semblance of self-government, its rôle in European politics is both tragic and comic. Its king must await not alone confirmation by Turkey, but ratification by the Great Powers, and little care they who ascends its slippery little throne, except as he will further or obstruct the private political ends of each; and Russia, thinking only of expansion toward the sea, is especially paternal toward the forlorn little state.
While this diplomatic game is enacting, there is a pause. Is it the hush which precedes the storm?
All eyes are fixed upon the Russian bear, cautiously and stealthily prowling toward the south and east.—Austria hungrily watches the Balkan provinces, over which the paw of the bear already hovers.—Italy, with hate and suspicion, has eyes riveted upon her hereditary enemy, Austria.—France, never for a moment forgetting Alsace and Lorraine, watches her opportunity with Germany, and draws into closer affinity with Russia—England, with gaze fixed upon an open pathway to India, suspects them all—and Germany, conscious that disaster is always imminent while the French thirst for revenge, and the Russian thirst for the waters of the Mediterranean are unabated, strengthens her defences and sleeps with hand upon her sword.