XIII

On the night of the second of October, the German Emperor sat in the Imperial box at the Berlin Schauspielhaus. They were playing Wilhelm Tell. William II looked-on at the mummer portraying the audacious genius who, by skill and courage, delivered a people from tyranny. He looked on the presented incident with a humorous sense of its coincidence with his present intention: for, in the imperial mind⁠—that agile predominant mind at which inferior minds (led by the Pall Mall Gazette) were used to mock⁠—was stored certain knowledge of another scene yet to be enacted in which he himself would play the part of the deliverer. An aide-de-camp entered during the interval, while the house gave itself up to conversation, apples, nuts, pfefferkuchen. He handed a locked portfolio to the Kaiser.

“The papers are all here?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“The manager attends?”

“He is at the door, Sire.”

“He has received my commands?”

“Your Majesty’s commands have been executed.”

“Good. I will follow him. Go now to the newspaper-offices; and bring the specials to me after supper. Mahlzeit!”

The curtain went up for the last act. The audience was stricken with sudden paralyzed amazement. On the stage, actors, scene-shifters, the whole theatre staff, were grouped in an immense semicircle. In the chord of the semicircle, one figure stood alone, grimly dominant. At first, it was taken for a daringly realistic caricature of the Emperor; and fear of the penalties of lèse-majesté dawned in the minds of the beholders. But the figure spoke, and doubt fled. It was the Emperor. Everyone knew that vigorous vocative “Germans!” The said Germans were used to manifestations of their ruler’s omniscience and omnipresence; and they automatically stood to listen. He quoted the assertion of Herr Bebmarck in the Reichstag, that every speech by the Kaiser against Socialists meant a socialist gain of 100,000 votes at the elections. Then he flung out a challenge. He said that the insuing elections meant war to the knife, not between him and his people but, between him and the handful of venal demagogues unworthy to bear the sacred name of Germans who led his people astray. He opened his portfolio. Socialism, he said, commanded four million votes. One-third of the German Army was Socialist. Socialism was the largest political party in the Empire; and increased each year at the expense of every other party. It was a vast and important body. A body needed a brain to direct its functions. Who, after all, was the head? The demagogues, or the Kaiser? At a moment like the present, when the Fatherland was menaced on both sides by anarchy and hereditary enemies, the glorious German nation must not be harassed by intestine feuds. Hitherto, a great part of his people had been taught to obstruct his schemes for German welfare. Thereby they had hurt themselves. They had had the pleasure of opposing him: but they had delayed their own betterment: for his alone was the will which should rule Germany. Yet, he would not blame his people. They had been betrayed by liars, deceived by treacherous pseudophilanthropists. He would not blame the tempted, but the tempters. The names of the tempters, the human Satans, were August Bebmarck, turner: Grillerbergen, locksmith: Raue, Bulermolken, Reistem, saddlers: Varmol, ex-post-official: Steinbern, lawyer: Volkenberg, territorial-magnate: Singenmann, capitalist. He arraigned these men on a charge of having deluded the good heart of four million German people by professions of disinterestedness, of benevolence, by promises of universal betterment. He denounced their professions and their promises as false, and their practices as corrupt enough to have obtained the attention of the police. The socialist demagogues were traitors to the very cause which they professed to serve. Their object was not the improvement of the social conditions of the people: it was personal aggrandisement. He brought proofs from his portfolio. Bebmarck, Grillenberger, Varmol had accepted bribes of M. 100,000, M. 45,000, M. 40,000 respectively from the communist government of France. Raue, Bulermolken, Reistem had accepted the post of saddlery contractors to the French army. Each of the foregoing had given a written promise to influence the Socialist vote. The Kaiser read and exhibited the promises; and continued. Steinbern had sold the minute books of various Socialist committees in Hanover for M. 300,000. (The books were produced by an imperial aide.) Volkenberg had scouted the proposal to municipalize his own vast possessions: Singenmann was proved to have derived his riches from ill-paid sweated labour.

“These be thy gods, O Socialism,” the Emperor cried: “the mere possession of important private property, of what is called a stake in the country, has revealed their brazen faces and feet of clay. The mere offer of the price of blood has revealed the Iscariots of the Fatherland.”

He commanded his hearers to remember that in 1890 he himself had abrogated the laws against socialism and had dismissed the persecutor Bismarck, saying Die Social Democratie überlassen sie mir; mit der werde ich ganz alleine fertig. He said that his method had been to leave them free to work out their own salvation: but in vain. A bad tree does not bring forth good fruit. It had not been socialism, nor parliamentary majorities and resolutions, which had welded together the German Empire: but the army and he, the Emperor, the representative of that power in the state which, not only created German unity in the teeth of those who pretended to represent the people but, thereby carried into every German home the sense of national power. Finally, he demanded, did the innocent industrious greathearted dupes of the socialist demagogues intend in this crisis of German history to follow and obey the behests of lowborn traitors, never-sufficiently-to-be-damned-and-despised sweaters, infamous Rabagases: or would they give loyal allegiance to him, their divinely appointed and legitimate Kaiser, the heir of Friedrich the Noble and of Wilhelm the Good and of Friedrich the Great⁠—to him, the Father of the fatherland, whose whole life and energy was devoted and consecrated to Deutschland Deutschland über alles.

With that, he left the stage and the theatre. The audience, a typically middle-class one, the very class of all others to which such an oration would appeal, was stirred down to the depths of its phlegmatic Teutonic soul. As the Kaiser departed, not a “Hoch” was uttered: but multitudes of stem-faced converts poured out, silently saluting him with the fire of loyalty lighted in their eyes. Germans are logical by nature. Display indefeasible premises; and it is not a German who will err from the just conclusion. All night long, all the newspapers except the Vorwaerts issued special editions containing the Emperor’s speech. During the next few days William II himself repeated it in the great cities of his empire. At Essen and Breslau his reception partook of the nature of an ovation. Everywhere the press spread his epoch-making words to all who actually did not hear them. German good sense preferred honesty, vigorous masterly honesty, even harebrained honesty, to the base treachery which is actuated by no motive except personal gain. German good sense could see that the Kaiser himself was the hardest-working man in the Empire: that his simply amazing diligence and toil were absolutely unselfish, absolutely impersonal: that he gained no tangible reward whatever: that his life, which quite easily might have been one of irresponsible pleasure and ease, was an incessant round of mental and physical exertion for the good of others. German honour admired and German generosity repaid. The fascinating personality of William II at last was recognized as the chief element of the nation’s power. His splendid and unique confidence in himself and his imperial vocation inspired his subjects with confidence in him. The device of the secret ballot, and the now-unfettered ability of every German to vote according to his conscience, had the calculated effect. The elections showed that the enormous prestige of the Emperor had won the Socialist vote, and the Catholic vote, and the votes of the Right and the Left, in support of his paramount authority. The English newspapers ceased from jeering; and the Pall Mall Gazette split subjunctives as well as infinitives in applause of success.

The lay-Majordomo of the Apostolic Palace found occasion to invite Cardinals Talacryn and Semphill to inspect certain accounts. “I feel it my duty to call Your Eminencies’ attention to the fact,” said he, “that our Most Holy Lord consumes about seven and sixpence worth, of food and drink a week upon the average. It is shocking. Also it is ridiculous. Kindly cast your eyes over these documents. They are the accounts covering the past six months. Note how many times His dinner consists of three raw carrots and two poached eggs. Meat, you see, He eats not more than twice a week. Fish, He refuses. I understand that He will take the lean of beef, the fat of pork, the breast of a bird, and chew them for an hour.”

“That accounts for His magnificent digestion,” said Talacryn; “and I know that He eats raw carrots for the sake of His white skin. But fat pork! Semphill, could you digest fat pork when you were His age? I can’t even now.”

“Condescend to consider the wine,” Count Piccino added. “His Holiness quite fails to appreciate fine wine⁠—”

“All I can say is I can remember seeing Him thoroughly enjoy a teaspoonful of my peach-brandy sometimes after dinner. That was twenty years ago though,” said Semphill.

“He used to enjoy peach-brandy! Eminency, a thousand thanks. He shall have a bottle. I never thought of it. Until now, He has taken what we give Him: but He has no palate whatever for superior brands. He’s quite content with a plain red wine from Citta Lavinia or Cinthyanum; and He drinks about as much of it in a week as another man would drink at a meal. But cream, and goat’s milk⁠—I believe He bathes in those.”

“No, no,” said Semphill; “He drinks them day and night, that’s all. He’s got the digestion of a baby for milk. Shall I ever forget seeing Him drink a pint of thick cream⁠—a whole pint⁠—at a farmhouse once when we were out walking? I thought He’d die there. I begged Him to take some of my pills. I offered to make Him free of my collection. No. He laughed at me; and goes on rejoicing.”

“But, Eminencies, do you think His Holiness can live on this meagre diet?”

“Chi lo sa? I couldn’t. He may.”

“He’s a most incomprehensible creature whatever:” Talacryn concluded.

Armed with the allegiance of an united empire, the Kaiser scoured away across the continent to Rome. He travelled incognito as the Duke of Königsberg and put up at the Palazzo Caffarelli. The world looked on and wondered. No news of his intentions were vouchsafed; and, as a rule, journalists had the decency to refrain themselves from suppositions. The exception to the rule was French, of course. “Religion is the great preoccupation of William II. Beneath the spangled uniform of this Emperor there is the soul of a clergyman, or rather the visionary soul of an initiate of even vaguer mysteries. The Kaiser only waits for an opportunity to achieve in Rome what he has already achieved in the east, that is to say, to oust France,” shrieked M. Jean de Bonnefon in the Paris Éclair. La Patrie instantly yelled in comment, “Let Germany take the Holy See. It will be the end of Germany and the beginning of revenge for Sedan. The Paparchy is an acid which will dissolve the badly cemented parts of an empire which is still too new.”

But it was not precisely religion which dictated the Kaiser’s movement. He had the sense to know that religion is personal; and, though he never lost an opportunity of asserting his personal religious opinions, the idea of making them the rule for all men never entered his eminently practical mind. No: he had other plans; and he was seeking material wherewith to build. He conferred long and secretly with the King of Italy, a man after his own heart, a born ruler, a natural autocrat, who himself had been a slave. They discussed needs. William II wanted room for a population which had increased by twenty millions in thirty years. Victor Emanuel III wanted money and time⁠—money to make easier the life of his people⁠—time to mature improvements⁠—give him those and he could laugh at Italy’s enemies, the secret societies, and the clergy⁠—

“Clergy?” the Kaiser demurred. “Now are you really sure that the clergy are your enemies?”

“Yes, in their heart of hearts. Don’t you understand that we robbed them? Don’t you know that this very palace of the Quirinale, in which I am receiving Your Imperial Majesty, is stolen property?”

“Yes, yes. But this Englishman? Surely He makes a difference?”

“To some extent. But He cannot extirpate in a moment the hatred and envy with which my House and I are regarded by the clergy whom we dispossessed. For nearly forty years, to hate us has been part of the clerical education. A weed of that kind cannot be rooted up at once. It is ingrained. Perhaps in another generation⁠—Basta!”

“Meanwhile?”

“Meanwhile what?”

“Well, hasn’t the Pope made things easier for you?”

“Yes, in a way. But what is His object? What concession, for example⁠—”

“He doesn’t seem to have left Himself any opening for extorting concessions.”

“But did Your Imperial Majesty ever hear of a priest who gave something for nothing?”

“One of my cardinals tells me that this is a madman, whose pose is to be primitive, apostolic.”

“Ha! For a primitive apostle He has a singularly dictatorial method. Have you read His ‘Epistles,’ and His denunciations of the socialists, for example?”

“I have. I entirely approve of them. They have assisted me greatly in dealing with some rebels of my own.”

“Oh no one could find fault with His sentiments⁠—so far. But they are so unusual, so extra-pontifical, that one wonders what they are concealing.”

“Is Your Majesty sure that they conceal something?”

“No, I’m not. Of course I have no means of arriving at certainty. That could only be obtained from the Pope Himself; and only from Him if He were willing to give it.”

“Has Your Majesty asked Him?”

“Certainly not. We continue to misunderstand one another. Your Imperial Majesty knows that there is no means of communication between my government and the Vatican. All we get is hearsay; and all they get is gossip.”

“Why do you not request Hadrian to receive you⁠—you yourself? I imagine that He would not refuse.”

“Perhaps not. I believe that He has been preparing for me some such trap as that. But I distrust the Greeks even when they bear gifts. They say He says His prayers in Greek, by the by.”

“I am about to request His Holiness to receive me.”

“Your Imperial Majesty’s case is different. You are not likely to have fresh insults and fresh humiliations offered to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I cherish the memory of all ecclesiastical pinpricks which formerly were administered to my father and grandfather.”

“Pinpricks? What do you call pinpricks?”

“For example, in 1878, Pio Nono, from His Own deathbed, sent to reconcile my excommunicated grandfather, who was enabled to die in the Embrace of The Lord. A little later, died also Pio Nono. My father voluntarily returned the courtesy, sending his adjutant to offer condolence to the Conclave. Leone, who then was Chamberlain, ordered the Swiss Guard to refuse entrance to the royal envoy at the bronze gates⁠—to refuse the message even.”

“Very clerical!” the Emperor said; and pondered a moment. Then “Will Your Majesty go to the Vatican with me?”

“No, Sire: I never will go to the Vatican,” the King replied.

A telegram signed “Wilhelm I.R.” addressed to the Prince-Bishop of Breslau brought Cardinal Popk to his sovereign at the German Embassy in Rome. On hearing the Kaiser’s intention, he did his very best to persuade him away from it; and curtly was required to explain himself.

“Majesty,” said His Eminency, “no good can come of such a meeting, and much harm may. Our Most Holy Father is English; and, being English, He has the English quality of cynicism. With Him it is ‘Et Petro et Nobis’ in the highest degree. He is a man of strong likes and dislikes, fervently patriotic and therefore fervently anti-German⁠—”

“Your Eminency knows that?”

“I have no explicit information: but, seeing the estimation in which those islanders hold us, I judge so. Sire, I beseech you to pause. I beseech you, I beseech you on behalf of your loyal Catholic subjects, that you will not expose your imperial person to the risk of an affront.”

“An affront, indeed!”

“Majesty, remember what happened when you first visited Pope Leo.”

William II laughed. “Cardinal, you are a very good German, and a⁠—well, queer Roman.”

“Sire, I distinguish. I implicitly obey Hadrian as Vicar of Christ: I dislike Him as a cynical Englishman. I am anxious that Your Majesty may not have occasion to dislike this Englishman who is the spiritual director of your loyal Catholic subjects.”

“Your Eminency’s solicitude is most creditable. But I have met Englishmen whom I immensely admire for certain qualities which they possess and which we Germans lack. What you have said piques my curiosity. I wish to meet this particular Englishman; and I wish Your Eminency to arrange it. I promise you that, whether He affronts me or not, I will not afflict my Catholic subjects with another Kulturkampf⁠—if that is what you fear. However, if you still hesitate to oblige your Kaiser, I will apply through my legation: or, better, I will apply through the Cardinal-bishop of Albano who used to be at Munich.”

The Cardinal-Prince-Bishop of Breslau went to the Vatican without any more ado; and the Supreme Pontiff consented to receive.

Hadrian endured an hour of terror. The task of dealing with an emperor⁠—He was inclined to put it from Him as being too great a thing for Him. But He felt inquisitive to know what the Kaiser wanted. He Who sits upon the throne of Peter looks at all the world, knowing that He will see either enemies⁠—or suitors. Hadrian also was inquisitive to see the person and the mind of the man whom He invariably had defended as being the only sovereign in Europe whose conduct indicated belief in his own divine right to sovereignty, and as being one of the few delightful persons in the world who can contemplate their own minds and behold they are very good. Hadrian was interested in William II as an extremely fine specimen of the absolute type. Yet⁠—He hesitated to come to close relations with him, because⁠—well, for one thing, because He disliked being domineered over, and this military Michael from the high Hohenzollem hilltop was certain to smack of the barracks. All the same, popes had received emperors before now; and it had not always been the emperors who had domineered. But could He love him? Well, at any rate, He could try to save him trouble. Then what was the Kaiser’s object? He knew that something or other was wanted of Him; and He feared⁠—feared lest He should say, as usual, more than He meant to say, and give, as usual, more than He need give. That, though, could be prevented. He would make this rule for the occasion:⁠—Listen little, inquire less, affirm least, and concede nothing now. Good! It should be done. He had a couple of easy chairs placed in the throne-room, and a small table with cigarettes, cigarette-papers and tobacco, the Crab Mixture which George Arthur Rose had invented. He sat-down in one of the chairs by the window: took out the little gold pyx from His bosom; and held it in His hands while He awaited the Emperor’s arrival. His eyes became still and grave. His lips moved swiftly. A singular serenity inspired Him.⁠ ⁠… The introducer-of-sovereigns announced “The Duke of Königsberg.”

“Your Majesty’s visit gives Us great pleasure,” was the Apostle’s greeting to the Kaiser, uttered in that clear young minor voice which was so well known in Rome. The two potentates took each the other’s measure in a glance. The Emperor, smartly groomed in plain evening-dress with ribbon, cross, and star, had that slightly conical head which marks the thinker and the single-minded obstinate man. The Pope, a year his junior, gave an impression of clean simplicity with His white habit and His keen white face. There was a distance, a reticence, in His gaze. He had remembered William’s Teutonic osculation of His indignant predecessor; and, as the Kaiser approached Him, He took the imperial hand and shook it in the glad-to-see-you-but-keep-off English fashion. Spring-dumb-bells had given the Pope a grip like a vice and an arm like a steel piston-rod. The Emperor blinked once.

“I am grateful to Your Holiness for receiving me in this informal manner.”

The Pope inclined His head: motioned His guest to a chair; and offered cigarettes. He Himself rolled one: lighted it; and sat down.

“I have the pleasure of personally congratulating Your Holiness on Your election; and I trust that God will grant You many years in which to rule Your section of His people wisely and well.”

“It is Our sincere hope that Our endeavour to feed Christ’s flock may be acceptable.”

“I have many Catholics in my empire; and I may say that their virtues merit my fullest approbation.”

The Pope again inclined His head.

“I understand that Your Holiness has never been in Germany?”

“No. Our life hitherto has been an unimportant one. We are almost ignorant of the world and of men, except perhaps from the viewpoint of the outside observer and student.”

“My sainted mother used to quote an English proverb which says that Onlookers see most of the game.”

“All English proverbs, which are positive, have their correspondent negative⁠—‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’⁠—‘Out of sight out of mind.’⁠—Your Majesty’s proverb is contradicted by ‘Only the toad under the harrow has counted the spikes.’ We mean that We have learned much of what is done, but very little of the details of the doing.”

“Ah, that of course comes by heredity or by practice⁠—”

“Or by occession.”

“I fear that I do not quite follow.”

The Pope suddenly was afraid that He had been guilty of a sort of appeal for this mighty emperor’s pity and consideration toward His plebeian origin and inexperience. Was this keeping His troubles to Himself? He hastened to divert the conversation from Himself.

“Our predecessor St. Peter was an illiterate plebeian of no importance: but, by the occession of Divine Grace, His Holiness was enabled to wield the keys of the kingdom of Heaven, and to win the unfading palm down there by the obelisk.”

“Ah yes. And I trust that Your Holiness may be similarly enabled. I have very little doubt but that You will be. The favour of the Almighty seems to be with men of our nation in a preeminent degree.”

“Our nation?”

“Yes. Surely Your Holiness remembers that, by birth, I am half-English?”

“Oh indeed yes. But, Majesty, in England you are thought of as being wholly German.”

“I am much misunderstood in England.” Again the head inclined in silence led the Emperor on. “And also I have been much misunderstood in Germany. The English suspect me of plotting mischief against England; and my empire has been suspecting me of such leanings toward England as to interfere with my proper duty of attending to the interests of Germany!”

“And both suspicions are equally gratuitous.”

“Both. As a matter of duty, I think first of the interests of Germany: but, for the sake of those very interests, I am anxious to cultivate the friendship of England. Personally I have a great appreciation of many English qualities, as my many English friends know. And of course, although she was a somewhat terrible person, I had an immense and genuine admiration for my never-sufficiently-to-be-lauded grandmother, your great Queen Victoria. Now there was a Woman, a Queen⁠—”

“In that matter Your Majesty’s behaviour was magnificent. We Ourself saw you at her exsequies: We noted the signs of your countenance and your comportment; and We honoured your splendid piety. There only was one feeling in England toward Your Majesty then.”

The Kaiser was moved: his left arm twitched once or twice. “Your Holiness’s words”⁠—he shook his ferocious eyes⁠—“are very grateful to me. But what have I done since⁠—to lose⁠—”

“Majesty, in the English mind, you are incarnate Germany.”

“I am Germany.”

“It is not Your Majesty whom England distrusts, but the Germans.”

“But why, but why?”

“Englishmen say ‘It is all very well to dissemble your love but why did you kick me downstairs?’ They don’t believe in Your Majesty’s friendliness because they commit the common error of confounding the particular with the universal. Your Majesty is the scapegoat. They lay upon you the sins of execrable taste on the part of your journalists and of shady diplomacy on the part of your statesmen; and they drive you out into the wilderness.”

“Is Your Holiness cognizant of the difficulties which I have to contend with?”

“We are perfectly astounded at the inertia, the stolidity, the volatility, the inconstancy of the material which rulers have to direct, to curb, to shape. We entirely sympathize with Your Majesty in the matter of the difficulties which fill your life. Also, to descend to particulars, We know and approve of your masterly method of dealing with demagogues.”

“I am very glad to hear this. I am pleased to know that there is one point on which I can agree with Your Holiness.”

“We trust that there are many points on which We cannot agree with Your Majesty.”

The Kaiser was taken aback. “I do not understand,” he said.

“Complete agreement signifies complete stagnation. Disagreement at least postulates activity; and only by activity is The Best made manifest and approved.”

“Holiness, I beg Your pardon. I see the point. That is a very grand and at-all-times-to-be-remembered doctrine. I must try to remember Your beautiful words: for it is The Best which I am seeking for Germany.”

“And Germany never will find it in the socialism which aims at that ridiculous impossibility called Equality, meaning the acquisition by lazy B of that which active A has won. All history shows that Aristos only emerges from conflict. That is a truth which must be insisted-on. At the same time, We rejoice to see that Your Majesty has been inspired to distinguish between the charlatans and their dupes. Much unrighteousness is done to suffering humanity by those who will not take the trouble to remember that, when the natural man is hurt, he howls and seizes the salve which is nearest. The wise ruler works to benefit his subjects by going directly to the root of the matter, removing the cause of injury. But We are not to preach to Your Majesty. You, no doubt, had some definite object in coming to Us.”

“Yes: I certainly had a definite object: but I had no idea that I was to discuss it with a Pontiff Who had so complete an intuition of my own imperial sentiments.”

“Our office is to become in sympathy with all who strive for The Best.”

“The kindness with which Your Holiness has received me, and the never-to-be-forgotten truths which You so nobly have enunciated make my task much easier. I desired to consult Your Holiness, to obtain knowledge of Your feelings, in certain matters. At the present moment, You are aware, my eastern frontier is menaced by Russia, my western frontier by France; and, on my southern frontier there is a third and a more miscellaneous difficulty. The Germans of Austria have petitioned for admission to the Germanic Empire.”

“Can you admit⁠—annex⁠—them? Will it be well for you to do that?”

“Holiness, I must:⁠—as German Emperor, I must protect Germans. While Francis Joseph lived, his German subjects were content to live in Austria as Austrians. Now that Bohemia and Hungary are separating themselves from Austria, they no longer are content. Austria is no more. The fragments which composed her are forever disunited; and⁠—”

“Poland?”

“Holiness, in my empire there is no Poland.”

“No? Your Majesty believes that the German Austrians would be happier under your rule. Are you likely to meet with opposition if you annex them?”

“With tremendous opposition. France and Russia instantly will declare war.”

“With what chance of success?”

“With no chance of success. My glorious German navy and army will conquer France and Russia.”

“Majesty! Majesty! And yet⁠—you have endeared yourself to hundreds of thousands of French refugees.”

“Thanks to Your Holiness’s gracious initiative, You may take it that all Christian France is willing to become German⁠—or English⁠—out of sheer gratitude.”

“But Russia⁠—Russia is immense⁠—immensely powerful.”

“Pardon me, Holiness, but do You read the English newspapers?”

“Nineteen, studiously: thirty-seven, from which cuts are selected for Our perusal.”

“The English newspapers are well-informed, trustworthy?”

“Penny and threepenny dailies, threepenny weeklies, shilling and half-crown monthlies, generally are well-informed, generally are trustworthy.”

“So. Then I shall tell Your Holiness, from an English penny daily, that Russia is not powerful in a military sense. The large majority of her officers are abjectly incapable. The ranks are recruited entirely from the peasantry; and are, on the admission of their own generals, entirely unreliable. They have neither intelligence nor initiative; and they no more know how to obey than their officers know how to command. Russia’s defeat by Japan taught her nothing. Also there has been for years among patriotic Russians, north, south, east, and west, a singular yearning for an overwhelming defeat by a European power. That way only, they say, can they be delivered from the crushing anarchic tyranny under which the whole country labours. Even supposing Russia to be united⁠—which she is not⁠—I say that she has no chance of ultimate success against the German navy and army. I say that her numbers have inspired a wholly unfounded and exaggerated apprehension of her military power. I say that bounce⁠—Bounce, if Your Holiness will permit me to say it⁠—bounce alone has served her purpose well. She will continue to use bounce until she is opposed by a resolute determination which there is no possibility of mistaking. Fear of Russia resembles the fear of a child at an ugly mask. If Russia were to cross my frontiers, she would march to her final overthrow. And, best of all, the Russians know that as well as I do.”

“Your Majesty appears to have made out a case. Well: you will conquer France and Russia. And then?”

“I shall annex them to my empire.”

“Are you likely to meet with any opposition then?”

“I do not know. I am about to proceed to discuss the point with my uncle. Meanwhile my ambassadors are consulting Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Roosevelt; and I myself am consulting my royal cousin the King of Italy.”

“Ah⁠—the King of Italy!⁠—And what does Your Majesty desire from Us?”

“I should be glad to know the attitude which Your Holiness will prescribe for the Catholics of my empire, as well as for other Catholics, in the event of my engaging in these schemes.”

“Why?”

“Because at present my Catholic subjects are loyal. I should not permit any of my subjects to be disloyal. I wish to give them all freedom in religious matters: but I should not tolerate opposition to my state-policy.”

“Touching the matter of Poland⁠—”

“There is no Poland.”

The Pope put His hand on the table⁠—pontifically. “Will Your Majesty, for the purposes of argument, consent to imagine a place called Poland, partly Russian, partly German, inhabited by a race which is neither German nor Russian, a race very tenacious of its traditions. In the event of your annexation of France, and Russia, for example⁠—and Austria which is composed of sixteen distinct races speaking thirty-two distinct languages, the various Slavonic nationalities of Parthians, Medes, and Elamites⁠—”

“Parthians, Medes, and Elamites?”

“Well: Croats, Slovenes, Dalmatians, and the dwellers in Bosnia and Herzegovina, to say nothing of the Czechs and the Magyars⁠—in the event of your annexation of all these, you would be obliged to have regard unto the racial characteristics of your new subjects. Now, at the same time, would you not be well advised to regard the racial characteristics of Poland?”

“In what way?”

“For example, would you concede to Poland, the Polish language, and a Polish king and constitution under your imperial suzerainty?”

“Your Holiness means something of the nature of federation, such as Your Own country so successfully has adopted?”

“Concisely.”

“I had not thought of it. It merits my profound consideration.”

“And what would happen to the other fragments of Austria, and to the Balkan States?”

“I do not know. The Sultan would have something to say.”

“And what will he say?”

“I must tell Your Holiness that I am much disappointed in Turkey. I looked upon it as the military power, whose ability to hold back Russia, and to prevent the political strangulation of Germany in Europe by keeping-open the gates of the East, must be strengthened at all costs. Hence I practically rearmed the Sultan’s forces; and passed numbers of young Turkish officers through my military schools. You may say that I made the Turkish Army. All to no purpose. The new Sultan has played me false. I am afraid now that Turkey will be more influenced by England and by Italy than by me.”

“Is that king blind?”

“My uncle?”

“No. Italy.”

“Not that I am aware of. Why does Your Holiness ask?”

The Supreme Pontiff stood up. “We thank Your Majesty for the sincerity of Your conversation; and assure you of Our goodwill. We will ponder the matters which you have laid before Us.”

“I hoped to have had⁠—” But there was no mistaking the sealed face. And William II was one of the cleverest men in the world; and he also was half an Englishman. “I should be greatly obliged if Your Holiness would write down that doctrine of Aristos. I should prize it greatly.”

The Pope went to a writing table and produced a couple of lines in His wonderful fifteenth-century script.

“I will make this one of the heirlooms of Hohenzollern” said the Kaiser.

“May God guide you, well-beloved son.”

Hadrian walked that afternoon with Cardinal Semphill on Nomentana, as far as St. Agnes beyond-the-Walls. It was one of those deliberately lovely Roman autumn afternoons, when walking is a climax of crisp joy with the thought of a cup of tea as the fine finial. They talked of books, especially of novels; and His Eminency asserted that the novels of Anthony Trollope gave him on the whole the keenest satisfaction. There was a great deal more in them than generally was supposed, he said. The Pope agreed that they were very pleasant easy reading, deliciously anodynic. His Own preference was for Thackeray’s Esmond. He, however, would not commit Himself to approval of all the works of any one writer, simply because no man was capable of being always at his best. As they passed through Porta Pia into Venti Settembre, Hadrian pointed to the palace on the left of the gate, saying, “Have you ever been there?”

“No, Holiness. At least, not since I’ve been wearing this.” He indicated his vermilion ferraiuola.

“Don’t you think if we asked them very nicely they would give us a cup of tea?”

The cardinal mischievously chuckled. “I am of opinion that the English Ambassador would be very pleased to make Your Holiness’s acquaintance over a cup of tea.”

Hadrian rang the bell. “Semphill,” He said as they waited at the gate, “if there be any ladies about, will you kindly talk to them and leave the Ambassador to Us.”

Sir Francis was at home. And much honoured. So were two secretaries. And no ladies. And there was tea. Cardinal Semphill devoted himself to the secretaries; and told them funny stories about clergymen. They laughed hugely at the tales, (which were witty), and at the wittier clergyman who told them. The Pope mentioned to the Ambassador that He had had a call from the Duke of Königsberg that morning; and drifted-off into an inquiry as to where reliable maps were to be procured. Sir Francis named Stanford of Longacre; and was much interested. Was there any map in particular which His Holiness desired to consult. They were fairly well-off for maps at the embassy. Perhaps the Holy Father would condescend⁠—

“No thank you, Sir Francis. They would ask questions about you in parliament if We were to borrow your maps. Why, Lady Wimborne will have a fit as it is, when she hears that you have entertained the Ten-horned Beast with tea.”

“I am not afraid of that, Holiness.”

“No, of course not. But Stanford will give Us all the information which We need⁠—unless you will tell Us” (the interest concentrated) “what England is going to do in the present crisis?”

“I can tell Your Holiness one thing which She has done; and which will appear in tomorrow morning’s Times. England and Turkey, the two great Muhammedan Powers, have entered into an offensive and defensive alliance today.”

“Which means that England’s interests lie in Asia and Africa; and not in Europe.”

The Ambassador slightly started. “May I know why Your Holiness thinks that?”

Hadrian rose and shook hands. “Because of England’s previous alliance with Japan: because of Her conscious sympathy with the barbaric. Read ‘success’ for ‘sympathy’ in the last sentence, if you prefer it. And please remember that this is not an infallible utterance.”

“It’s an astonishingly smart one, all the same,” said the Ambassador with a genial grin.

“Thank you very much for your tea. Stanford, you said? Goodbye. And, Sir Francis⁠—there are no closed doors in the Vatican.”

Hadrian chattered at large during the remainder of the evening; and industriously dreamed all night, first of certain portents connected with emperors’ knuckles: then of tremendous maps on which one crawled: and finally His usual and favourite dream of being invisible and stark-naked and fitted with great white feathery wings, flying with the movement of swimming among and above men, seeing and seeing and seeing, easily and enormously swooping. In the morning reaction supervened. He was listless: He wanted to be alone. They left Him alone; and during several days He was inaccessible, writing, and burning much writing. The palace, with its fifty separate buildings, its eleven thousand rooms, its fourteen courtyards hummed with the life of a population of a small town. Up in the series of small chambers under the eaves, in the large and lovely pleasaunce on the slopes of the Vatican hill, He found quiet and peace. He thought for hours at a stretch, smoking cigarette after cigarette, gazing out of the window or across autumnal lawns. Sometimes He remained rapt in contemplation of the perfect beauty of His new cross, gently stroking it with delicate finger. A portfolio of vast maps arrived from London. He pinned them on His blank brown walls and pored over them. In the night He often would rise and stand before them till His breast ached and His arms were stiff with the weight of the lamp. He sent a holograph letter to the King of Spain; and received a reply which lightened His brow. He concentrated His mind on the future. He began to form His plans.

At the beginning of November, He signed the decree of canonization of Madame Jehane de Lys, commonly called Joan of Arc; and simultaneously issued the “Epistle to the Germans.” Very few perceived the true inwardness of the paradox. Those Frenchmen who remained Christian were so overjoyed, at the honour accorded to their national heroine, that they failed to appreciate the significance of the “Epistle.” The Germans were so occupied with the contents of the “Epistle,” that the glorification of a Frenchwoman passed unnoted. In England, it was thought that the Pontiff was feeling his way. The Worldly Christian asked what you would expect of a Jesuit; and the Daily Anagraph compared Him to Machiavelli. Certainly The “Epistle to the Germans” was remarkable not so much for its matter as for its suggestion. It was a masterpiece of what Walt Whitman calls revelation by faint indirections. The Kaiser did not know whether to be satisfied or dissatisfied with it. Hadrian praised the Teutonic race for its poetic (in the Greek sense of “creative”) and diligent habits. He dwelled with admiration upon the many benefits which civilization owes to the German constructive faculty. But He indicated the want of the “open air and fresh water” element in all departments, physical and intellectual, of German life. “Scope is what ye need, free movement of mind and body. Stagnation breeds purulence, rancorous, suffocating, sour. Brooding never can bring satisfaction, nor can iron, nor can blood: but only the gold of Love. Wherefore, well-beloved sons, seek your salvation in Love. Love one another first: be patient, knowing that Love is manifest in obedience, and hath exceeding great reward.”