The Emperor stood with Herr Reitschel and the shaggy old Professor, straining his eyes with keenest interest. It was the first time His Majesty had seen an aeroplane in flight. Much had been promised of old Von Zeppelin's invention, yet the German public had, until those demonstrations by the American aviator, taken but little heed of the heavier-than-air machine. At that time, indeed, the Emperor had not taken up Von Zeppelin, and it was only after seeing Orville Wright's demonstrations that he entered with any enthusiasm into aeronautical problems.
High above us against the clear evening sky, wherein the stars had already begun to twinkle, the daring American rose, dipped, and banked, his machine droning like a huge gad-fly, much to the interest and astonishment of the Emperor.
"Marvellous!" he exclaimed, as I stood beside him, with the Empress on his right. "How is it done?"
The crowds went wild with enthusiasm. The sight of a man flying in the air, manœuvring his machine at will, rising swiftly, and then planing down with the engine cut off, was one of the most amazing spectacles the loyal Potsdamers had ever seen. Even the Emperor, with all his wild dreams of world-power, could never for a moment have foreseen what a great factor aeroplanes would be in the war which he was so carefully plotting.
At last Wright came down in a spiral, banked slightly, steadied himself, and then came lightly to earth within a few yards of where we stood, having been the first to exhibit to the great War-Lord how completely the air had been conquered.
Then, quiet, rather unassuming man that he was, he advanced to receive the Imperial congratulations, and to be handed the signed photograph which, at the proper moment, I produced like a conjurer from my dispatch-box. Afterwards, though it had now grown dark, the Emperor, by the powerful headlamps of the three cars, thoroughly examined the American's aeroplane, the aviator explaining every detail.
From that moment for months afterwards the Kaiser was constantly talking of aviation. He commanded photographs of various types of aeroplanes, together with all literature on the subject, to be placed before him. Indeed, he sent over to Britain, in secret, two officers to attend the aeroplane meetings held at Doncaster and Blackpool, where a large number of photographs were secretly taken, and duly found their way to his table.
Indeed, it would greatly surprise your English friends, my dear Le Queux, if they had only seen the many secret reports and secret photographs of all kinds regarding Britain's military, naval, and social life, which I have found upon the Emperor's table.
During my appointment I had through my hands many amazing reports concerning the financial and social position of well-known English politicians and officials, reports made with one ulterior motive—that of attempted bribery. The Emperor meant war, and he knew that before he could hope for success he must thoroughly "Germanize" Great Britain—with what result we all now know.
I have recalled the Emperor's first sight of an aeroplane in flight, in company with Herr Anton Reitschel and Professor Vambéry, because of an incident which occurred that same day. Just before midnight the Emperor, seated in his room in the Berlin Schloss, was giving me certain instructions to be sent to Carlton House Terrace, when the door opened without any knock of permission, and upon the threshold there stood that arch-intriguer, Frau Kleist, in her stiff black silk gown, and wearing a gleaming diamond brooch, the glitter of which was cold as her own steely eyes.