From Pole to Pole | Page 5

glittering with electric light. Pictures of the kings of Prussia stand out against the gilt leather tapestry. At last we reach the great throne-room, which takes its name from the black eagles on the ceiling.
[Illustration: PLATE I. BERLIN.
On the right is the Royal Palace, on the left the Cathedral, with the Lustgarten in front. In the foreground is the River Spree.]
What a varied scene awaits us here! Great ladies in costly dresses adorned with precious stones of great value, diamonds flashing and sparkling wherever we look, generals and admirals in full dress, high officials, ambassadors from foreign lands, including those of China and Japan. Here comes a great man to whom all bow; it is the Imperial Chancellor.
Chamberlains now request the guests to range themselves along the walls of the throne-room. A herald enters and strikes his silver staff against the floor, calling out aloud "His Majesty the Emperor!" All is silent as the grave. Followed by the Empress, the princes and princesses, William II. passes through the room and greets his guests with a manly handshake. He begins with the ladies and then passes on to the gentlemen and speaks to every one. The Swedish Minister presents me, and the Emperor begins immediately to ask about Asia. He speaks of Alexander's great campaign through the whole of western Asia, and expresses his astonishment that a man's name can live with undiminished renown through two thousand years. He points to the eagles on the ceiling, and asks if I do not see a resemblance to the Chinese dragon. He talks of Tibet and the Dalai Lama, and of the great stillness in the heart of the desert.
Soon the orchestra strikes up and the guests begin to dance. The only one who seems unconcerned is the Emperor himself. An expression of deep seriousness lies like a mask on his powerful face. Is it not enough to be the Emperor of the German federation, with its four kingdoms, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, and W��rtemberg, its six grand duchies, its many duchies and electorates, its imperial territory, Alsace-Lorraine, and its three free towns, Hamburg, L��beck, and Bremen? Does he not rule over sixty-five million people, over 207 towns of more than 25,000 inhabitants, and seven of more than half a million, namely Berlin, Hamburg, Munich, Dresden, Leipzig, Breslau, and Cologne? Has he not by the force of his own will created a fleet so powerful as to arouse uneasiness in England, the country which has the sole command of the sea? And is he not the commander-in-chief of an army which, on a war footing, is as large as the whole population of Scotland? All this might well make him serious.
BERLIN TO CONSTANTINOPLE
The next stage of our journey is from Berlin to Vienna, the capital of Austria. The express train carries us rapidly southward through Brandenburg. To the west we have the Elbe, which flows into the North Sea at Hamburg; while to the east streams the Oder, which enters the Baltic Sea at Stettin. But we make closer acquaintance only with the Elbe, first when we pass Dresden, the capital of Saxony, and again when we have crossed the Austrian frontier into Bohemia, where in a beautiful and densely-peopled valley clothed with trees the railway follows the windings of the stream. When the guard calls out at a large and busy station "Prague," we are sorry that we have no time to stay a few days and stroll through the streets and squares of one of the finest and oldest towns of Europe. The engine's whistle sounds again and the train carries us swiftly onwards to Vienna, the capital of the Emperor Francis Joseph, who alone is more remarkable than all the sights of the city.
Vienna is a fine and wealthy city, the fourth in Europe, and, like Berlin, is full of centres of human civilisation, science and art. Here are found relics of ancient times beside the grand palaces of the present day, the "Ring" is one of the finest streets in the world, and the tower of St. Stephen's Church rises up to the sky above the two million inhabitants of the town. Vienna to a greater extent than Berlin is a town of pleasure and merry genial life, a grand old aristocratic town, a town of theatres, concerts, balls, and caf��s. The Danube canal, with its twelve bridges, passes right through Vienna, and outside the eastern outskirts the Danube itself, in an artificial bed, rolls its dark blue waters with a melodious murmur, providing an accompaniment to the famous Viennese waltzes.
If Vienna is, then, one of the centres of human knowledge and refinement, and if there are a thousand wonderful things to behold within its walls, yet it contains nothing more remarkable than the old Emperor. Not because he is