On ascending the throne the Emperor was naturally most occupied with the internal situation of his new inheritance, and spent a good deal of his time railing at Social Democracy and the press, explaining the nature of his Heaven-appointed kingship, and rousing his somewhat lethargic people to a sense of their power and possibilities; but he found a moment in 1891 to write under a photograph he gave the retiring Postmaster-General Stephan:
"The world, at the end of the nineteenth century, stands under the star of commerce; commerce breaks down the barriers which separate the peoples and creates new relations between the nations."
Then the idea slumbered in his mind for a few years, while he continued to make his own people restless with criticism, perhaps deserved, of their sluggishness, their pessimism, their party strife, and foreign peoples equally restless with phrases like "nemo me impune lacessit"; until the idea came suddenly to utterance in 1897, when, on seeing the figure of Neptune on a monument to the Emperor William, he broke out: "The trident should be in our grip!" From this time, and for the next few years, the growth of the navy may be said to have never long been far from his thoughts. In sending Prince Henry to Kiautschau at the close of 1898 he made the remark that "imperial power means sea power, and sea power and imperial power are dependent on each other." Nine months afterwards at Stettin he used a phrase alone sufficient to keep his name alive in history: "Our future lies on the water!"
At Hamburg, in 1899, he laid emphasis on the changes in the world which justify a naval policy one can see now was almost inevitable.
"A strong German fleet," he said, "is a thing of which we stand in bitter need." And he continued:
"In Hamburg especially one can understand how necessary is a powerful protection for German interests abroad. If we look around us we see how greatly the aspect of the world has altered in recent years. Old-world empires pass away and new ones begin to arise. Nations suddenly appear before the peoples and compete with them, nations of whom a little before the ordinary man had been hardly aware. Products which bring about radical changes in the domain of international relations, as well as in the political economy of the people, and which in old times took hundreds of years to ripen, come to maturity in a few months. The result is that the tasks of our German Empire and people have grown to enormous proportions and demand of me and my Government unusual and great efforts, which can then only be crowned with success when, united and decided, without respect to party, Germans stand behind us. Our people, moreover, must resolve to make some sacrifice. Above all they must put aside their endeavour to seek the excellent through the ever more-sharply contrasted party factions. They must cease to put party above the welfare of the whole. They must put a curb on their ancient and inherited weakness—to subject everything to the most unlicensed criticism; and they must stop at the point where their most vital interests become concerned. For it is precisely these political sins which revenge themselves so deeply on our sea interests and our fleet. Had the strengthening of the fleet not been refused me during the past eight years of my Government, notwithstanding all appeals and warnings—and not without contumely and abuse for my person—how differently could we not have promoted our growing trade and our interests beyond the sea!"
Perhaps; but perhaps, too, it was as well for the peace of the world that Germany had no great war fleet during those eight years of troubled international relations, and that the gentle and adjusting hand of Providence, not the mailed fist of the Emperor, was guiding the destinies of nations.
Previous to the opening of the reign a German navy can hardly be said to have existed. Yet it should not be forgotten that Germany also has maritime traditions of no small interest, if of no great importance, to the world. The Great Elector, the ancestor of the Emperor who ruled Brandenburg from 1640 to 1688, was fully conscious of the profit his people might acquire by sea commerce, and the little navy of high-sea frigates which he built stood manfully, and often successfully, up to the more powerful navies of Sweden and Spain. This fleet was known, too, far away from Brandenburg, for the records tell how the Pope and the Maltese Knights and Louis XIV willingly admitted it to their harbours.
But there was lacking what until lately has always hemmed German progress—money; and the commercially-minded Dutch, a people themselves with many German characteristics, kept the Germans from the sea. Then came Frederick the Great, who ruled from 1740 to 1786, and those Germans who are fond of claiming Shakespeare for their own will also tell you that the plan drawn up by Frederick for Pitt's seven years' struggle with France—that plan so unfortunately imitated afterwards by the Emperor in his correspondence with Queen Victoria during the Boer War—was the foundation-stone of British naval supremacy! Frederick, too, saw the advantage of possessing a fleet, but he had his hands full with France and Russia, and reluctantly had to decline the offer of the French naval hero, Labourdonnais, to build him a battle-fleet. At this period, and in the Great Elector's time, Emden was the Plymouth of Prussia. When Frederick died, there followed that time of which Germans themselves are ashamed—the hole-and-corner time, the time when the parochial spirit was abroad and no German burgher saw beyond the village church and the village pump; the Biedermeier time (that comic figure of the German Punch), the time of genuine German philistinism, when the people were lapped in an idyllic repose and were content, as many are to-day, with the smallest and simplest pleasures.
This spirit continued until the early quarter of the nineteenth century, when Professor Frederick List roused the attention of his countrymen, and notably that of Bismarck, to the necessity of an independent national existence and a national economic policy. In 1836 a committee recommended naval coast protection, but it was not until 1848, when Denmark blockaded the German coast, that anything was done to provide for it. In that year the National Assembly of delegates from various German Diets, which met at Frankfort, voted for the marine a million sterling to be levied on the German States, but only one-half of the money could be collected. Still, three steam frigates, one large and six small steam corvettes, and two sailing corvettes were got together, but in 1852, owing to the poverty of the States, two of the ships were sold to Prussia for £60,000 and the rest disposed of by auction at less than a fourth of their value. The officers and men were disbanded with a year's pay.