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<h3> CHAPTER XLIII A PERSONAL REMINISCENCE OF THE LATE EMPEROR FREDERICK </h3> It used to be said that English sympathies were given to Austria and not to Prussia in the war of 1866 because the Austrian railway officials were so much more polite than the Prussian. Of the fact that the English wished Austria and not Prussia to win there is no doubt. The railway reason was perhaps a reason, if not the reason. The organization of Prussia was at that time, as the organization of Germany, civil and military, now is, the finest in the world. But flexibility is not one of its merits; still less is it distinguished by consideration for the rights of the non-military and non-official German world. The English were then, as now, a travelling people; and their authority, if I may use such a word, on the Continent was greater, or seemed greater, then than now, because the competition was less. Americans had not then begun to swarm across the Atlantic as tourists, nor was the American language heard on every hill-side of the Tyrol and on the battlefields of Silesia. It was all English, and the English beyond question found Austria a more agreeable pleasure-ground {403} than the wind-swept plateaus of her grim neighbour to the north. In those days and for many years to come the English had taken and kept possession of Homburg, the pretty watering-place near Frankfort. As in so many other matters, the fashion was set by the late King, then Prince of Wales, whom his fellow-subjects, and presently not a few Americans, followed in a loyal spirit. They followed him not less loyally when he forsook Homburg and journeyed further afield to Marienbad. For the truth is the Germans, and especially the North Germans, had rediscovered Homburg, and the streets where for so many years the English accent had been heard, and almost no other, grew suddenly hoarse with Teutonic gutturals. I don't say that this invasion drove him elsewhere. He was himself as much German as English. But when his yearly visits in August ceased the English surrendered Homburg to its real owners, albeit they rather resented what they called their usurpation. There was, however, one English woman who clung to it, the Empress Frederick, the late King's eldest sister and Princess Royal of the United Kingdom. Her Royal Highness had married the Crown Prince of Prussia, afterward the Emperor Frederick, in 1858, being then just over seventeen years of age. For many years she spent part of each summer in the old Schloss, just outside the little town; then later built herself a showy villa on the other flank, and died there in August, 1901. {404} I don't think the late King had ever revisited Homburg after that date. She liked the place; liked its pure air, its scenery, the hills, and woods amid which it lay embosomed; its pleasant walks and the pleasant life its visitors led, and some of its residents, though, except the Princess herself, and the hotel-keepers and the garrison for the time being, I hardly know who the residents were. It was, moreover, a great resort of invalids who were not ill enough to be sent to a serious cure. Many a doctor, in London and elsewhere, had for a maxim: "When in doubt, choose Homburg." Its waters could do you no harm. Its climate was sure to do you good. And its animation, its gaiety, its brilliancy even, during the six weeks' season were all so many tonics for the malade imaginaire. Such acquaintance as I had with the Crown Princess I owed to the late King, who one day asked me if I knew his sister. When I said no he answered, "Oh, but you should; I must arrange it," and proposed that I should come to tea the next afternoon at his villa, then the Villa Imperiale, when the Crown Princess would be there. Arriving, I found myself the only guest. I was presented to the Princess. In figure, in face and manner, she was very like her mother, the late Queen. The figure was not so stout, the face not so rubicund, the manner less simple, and therefore with less authority; but the resemblance in each particular was marked. There was even a resemblance in dress; or it might be truer to say that both the late {405} Queen and her eldest daughter showed an indifference to the art of personal adornment. Certain terms have become stereotyped in various worlds of art. Early Victorian, mid-Victorian, or merely Victorian—are these labels now used by way of compliment or even of mere description? I am afraid they are one and all terms of disparagement. But it was said truly of the late Queen that it did not matter what she wore. Robes did not make the Queen. Whatever she wore she was Queen, and looked the Queen. The Princess had, however, a much greater vivacity than her mother. At moments it became restlessness, and the mind, I thought, could never be in repose. There was no beauty but there was distinction; and in this again she resembled the Queen. After her marriage and down to the day when the Emperor Frederick's death extinguished her ambitions, the Princess had lived in a dream-world of her own creation, of which I will say more in a moment. Her beliefs were so strong, her conviction that she knew what was best for those about her was so complete, that to these beliefs and this conviction the facts had to adjust themselves as best they could. Even for the purpose of this audience that necessity became evident. I had been presented, of course, as an American. Almost at once Her Royal Highness plunged into American affairs. She was keenly interested in educational and social problems, and explained to me the position of women in the United States with reference to these {406} problems. It appeared she had a correspondent in Chicago, as I understood, a lady who had been presented to Her Royal Highness in Berlin, and from this lady had derived a whole budget of impressions. They were extremely interesting, if only because they were, to me, altogether novel. But as I was not asked to confirm them, I of course, said nothing. Now and then a question was put which I answered as well as I could, but for the most part the Princess's talk flowed on smoothly and swiftly during the better part of an hour. She talked with clearness, with energy, with an almost apostolic fervour, the voice penetrating rather than melodious. I said to myself: "All this may be true of Chicago, but of what else is it true?" The Princess had indeed given Chicago as the source of her information, but it seemed to me that she generalized from the Windy City to the rest of the United States, and of such part as I knew I did not think it a good account. After a time Chicago was dismissed and the talk drifted away into less difficult channels. But the position was always much the same. The Princess talked and I listened; the most interesting of all positions. I had heard—everybody had heard—a great deal about her views on politics and on Anglo-German relations and on the internal affairs of Germany. On some of these matters she touched briefly; on all she threw a bright light, for no matter what the immediate topic of her discourse, her attitude of mind toward other topics and toward higher matters of State became visible. {407} Never for a moment did this stream of talk stop or grow sluggish. Carlyle summed up Macaulay, for whom he had no great respect, in the phrase: "Flow on, thou shining river." He might, in a sardonic mood, have done the same for this Princess. After a time I found myself in a dilemma. An hour and a half had passed; agreeably and brilliantly, but it had passed, and I had been for some time expecting the signal which would indicate that my audience was at an end. It did not come. The Princess talked on. I knew Her Royal Highness had a dinner engagement, and I knew I had, and it was already half-past six, and Homburg dinners are early. Finally I said I was afraid I had abused Her Royal Highness's kindness, and might I be permitted to withdraw. The permission was given, the Princess held out her hand, and I went. It was an illuminating interview. It threw light on events to come as well as on those of the past. Here was a great lady, full of intelligence and gifts, yet taking views of great public questions which she held almost alone. She had made many enemies. She was to make many more. In Berlin I had heard much. Prince Bismarck's distrust of the Crown Princess, and of the Crown Prince on her account, was known. It was shared by multitudes of Germans. They believed, rightly or wrongly, that she wanted to Anglicize Germany. Her ascendancy over her husband was believed to be complete, and because it was complete the day of the Crown Prince's accession to the throne was expected with dread. During his short reign of {408} three months—March 9th to June 15th, 1888—these gloomy forecasts could be neither confirmed nor dispelled. But they existed, they were general, and they modified the grief of the German people at the melancholy ending of what had promised to be a great career. I suppose it must be said that the Crown Princess had furnished some material for German forebodings as to a German future shaped by her or by her influence. She talked openly. She told all comers that what Germany needed was parliamentary government as it was understood and practised in England. Against that the German face was set as flint. In little things, as in great, she made no secret of her preference for what was English over what was German. When the rooms the Crown Prince and Crown Princess were to occupy in the Palace of Charlottenburg, outside Berlin, were to be refurnished, she insisted on bringing upholsterers from London to do the work. Naturally the Berlin people did not like that. Judgment was not her strong point, nor was tact. If I am to say what was her strong point I suppose it would be sincerity. Her gifts of mind were dazzling rather than sound. Her impulses were not always under control. Her animosities, once roused, never slept, as Prince Bismarck well knew. Her will was so vehement as sometimes to obscure her perceptions. But hers was a loyal nature and whatever one may think of her politics, it is impossible not to regret that the promise of a great ambition should have come to so tragic an end. {409} <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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