Next year, 1909, was the year of the famous finance reform measure which, though finally carried through, led to the resignation of Chancellor von Bülow. It had been obvious for some years that a reorganization of the imperial system of finance with a view to meeting the growing expenses of the Empire, and in especial those of the army and navy, was necessary if imperial bankruptcy was to be avoided. The practice of taking what were known as matricular contributions from the separate States to make up for deficits in the imperial budgets, and of burdening posterity by State loans, had one day to cease. At the beginning of the reign the National Debt was 884 million marks (£44,200,000), and in 1908 over 4,000 million marks (£200,000,000). A year before this Prince Bülow had made his first proposals for reform, including new taxes on beer, wine, tobacco, and succession duties on property.
All parties in Parliament, except of course the Social Democrats, admitted that fresh imposts were inevitable, but, very naturally, no party was willing to bear them. The Conservatives would not hear of an inheritance tax and the Liberals would not hear of duties on popular consumption. The result was to make the Centrum masters of the political field and place the Conservative-Liberal "bloc" at its mercy. After long discussion, the Government proposals were put to the vote on June 24th, and as the Centrum threw in its lot with the Conservatives, the proposals were rejected by 195 votes to 187. Prince Bülow thereupon went to Kiel and tendered his resignation to the Emperor, but at the latter's urgent request consented to remain in office until financial reform in one shape or another had been effected. This result was attained a month later, after much compromising and discussion. The Chancellor renewed his request for retirement, and the Emperor agreed. On the same day, July 14th, that the resignation took effect, it was officially announced that Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, who had hitherto been Minister of the Interior, was appointed to succeed Prince von Bülow as Imperial Chancellor.
An impression prevails widely in Germany that Prince Bülow's retirement was due to the loss of the Emperor's favour owing to the Prince's attitude towards the monarch during the "November storm." Prince Bülow, very properly, has always refused to say anything about his relations with his royal master, but a lengthy statement he made to a newspaper correspondent referring his resignation to the conduct of the Conservatives, and a letter from the Emperor gratefully thanking the Prince in the warmest terms for his "long and intimate co-operation," and conferring upon him at the same time the highest Order in the Empire, that of the Black Eagle, should be sufficient evidence to disprove the supposition. It is more probable that the Prince was weary of the cares of office and of the strife of party. Moreover, he had, in the state of his health, a strong private reason for retirement. Four years before, on April 5, 1906, he had fallen unconscious from his seat on the ministerial bench during the proceedings in the Reichstag, and although he was back again in Parliament, perfectly recovered, in the following November, the attack was an experience which warned him against too great a prolongation of such heavy work and responsibility as the Chancellorship entails.
The retirement of Prince Bülow meant the disappearance of the most notable figure in German political life since the beginning of the century. In ability, wit, and those graces of a refined and richly cultivated mind which have so often distinguished great English statesmen, he was a head and shoulders above any of his fellow-countrymen; while the mere fact that he was able to maintain his position for almost twelve years (he had been, as Foreign Secretary for over two years, the Emperor's most trusted counsellor and the real executive in foreign policy) is a convincing proof of his tact and diplomatic talent, as well as of his statesmanship.
His successor, the present Chancellor, Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, is a man of another and very different type. He incorporates the spirit of Prussian patriotism of the most orthodox kind in its worthiest and best manifestations, but as yet he has given no proofs of possessing the breadth of view, the oratorical talent, or the urbanity which distinguished his predecessor. Prince von Bülow's career as a German diplomatist in foreign capitals made him an acute and highly polished man of the world. The present Chancellor has spent all his life within the comparatively narrow confines of Prussian administrative service. It is, of course, too soon to pass final judgment on him as German Prime Minister.
The visit of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra to Berlin in February, 1909, disposed finally of the idea, which had prevailed in Germany as well as abroad for two or three years, that England was pursuing a policy aiming to bring about the "isolation" of Germany in world-politics. The visit was an official one, paid, of course, chiefly to the Emperor; but its most remarkable feature politics apart, was the friendly relations which King Edward established with the Berlin City Fathers at a reception in the Town Hall. It was not that he said anything out of the way to the assembled burghers; but his simple manner, genial remarks, and perhaps especially the sympathetic way in which he handled the loving-cup offered by his hosts, made an instantaneous and strong impression.
The controversy that raged round the so-called "Flora Bust" contributed not a little to the gaiety of nations towards the close of this year. The bust, an undraped wax figure, reproducing the features of Leonardo da Vinci's famous "La Joconde," was bought by Dr. Wilhelm Bode, Director of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin, for £8,000 from a London dealer as an authentic work of the celebrated Italian painter, dating from about the year 1500. It was brought with a great flourish of trumpets to Berlin, and a chorus of self-congratulation was raised in Germany on the successful carrying off of such a prize from England. The harmony, however, was rudely disturbed by the publication of a letter from Mr. F.C. Cooksey, art critic of the Times, stating that the bust was not by da Vinci at all, but was in reality the work of Mr. R.C. Lucas, an artist of some note forty or fifty years ago, and that it had for long occupied a pedestal in Lucas's suburban garden.
The Emperor, whose curiosity as well as patriotism was aroused, spent half an hour on November 11th discussing the bust with Dr. Bode and examining an album containing photographs of the works of Lucas. At the close of his inspection the Emperor expressed great delight at the acquisition, as to the genuineness of which he declared he "had not the slightest doubt," and said he did not regard the price paid as extremely high. Unfortunately for the Emperor's conviction, a letter now appeared in the Times from Mr. A.C. Lucas, a son of R.C. Lucas, who said he recollected the making of the bust, and suggested that there might be found in its interior a piece of cloth, probably a part of an old waistcoat of his father's, which had been used as a sort of filling. In the presence of such a statement there was only one thing left to be done: to examine the interior of the bust. First of all it was subjected to the Roentgen rays, the result being to show that the interior was not homogeneous. A few days after, there was a great gathering of experts at the Museum, a hole was cut in the wax at the back of the bust, a bent wire was introduced, and the search for the famous piece of waistcoat began. It was a dramatic moment as Professor Latghen with his wire explored the interior of the bust, and the tension reached its highest point when the Professor, drawing from the bust what was evidently a piece of cloth, exclaimed, "Hier ist die Veste!" On being further withdrawn the substance proved to be about two square inches of a grey, canvas-like material, feeling soft and velvety to the touch. It was a disagreeable discovery for the Germans, but it was got over by the suggestion that the original bust had been entrusted to Lucas for repair, and that in this way the waistcoat had got into it. The "poor English newspapers," Dr. Bode said, referring to the sarcastic comments on the discovery from the other side of the Channel, "had had, without any acquaintance with our bust or with the work of its alleged forger, to give this particular form of expression to their ill-humour at the sale." As a matter of fact, the bust, whoever made it, is a lovely work of art, as every one who has seen it readily admits.
The Emperor's friendship with Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, which was now to be confirmed by personal acquaintance, throws a side light on his own character, and testifies to his desire to keep in touch with the rulers of other countries—another illustration, by the way, of his consistency, since he laid down the policy of cultivating friendly relations with foreign rulers at the very commencement of his reign. Probably many letters in the large characteristic handwriting of both men have passed between them, and there probably always existed a desire on the part of the wielder of the mailed fist to make the personal acquaintance of the advocate of the big stick. The meeting occurred in May, 1910, after Mr. Roosevelt had shot wild beasts in Africa, visited Egypt, London, Vienna, Rome, and other continental cities, with a cohort of newspaper correspondents, and caused by his speeches political, if fortunately harmless, disturbance almost everywhere he went. When in Berlin he was to have lodged at the Emperor's palace; but the Emperor's hospitable intent was frustrated by the death of King Edward VII, which prevented all entertainment in the home of his German nephew.
The Roosevelt party, consisting of the ex-President, Mrs. Roosevelt, and Miss Ethel Roosevelt, arrived in Berlin on May 11th from Stockholm, and at noon the same day were taken by royal train to Potsdam. At the New Palace the party were heartily greeted by the Emperor, whom they found standing on the steps waiting to receive them. After shaking hands the Emperor led his guests into a small reception-room, where they were introduced to the Empress, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess, and other members of the imperial family. The Emperor then took them to the Shell Room, so called from its being inlaid with shells and rare stones, and here were found some of the Emperor's high officials, including Admiral von Müller, chief of the Marine Cabinet, and one of the most able and amiable of the Emperor's entourage, who had met Mr. Roosevelt when on his trip to America with Prince Henry several years before. Luncheon followed at six small tables in the Jasper Gallery, the Emperor taking his seat between Mrs. Roosevelt and the Crown Princess, while the Empress had Mr. Roosevelt on her left and her eldest son, the Crown Prince, on her right. Princess Victoria Louise, the Emperor's only daughter, occupied a seat on Mr. Roosevelt's left. After lunch was over the guests went back to the Shell Room, and here the Emperor, taking Mr. Roosevelt apart, began a conversation so long and animated that the shades of evening began to fall before it ended. The Roosevelts did not return to Berlin by train, but were first driven by the Emperor to inspect Sans Souci, and were afterwards whirled back to Berlin in the yellow imperial motors.