The Secret Memoirs of the Courts of Europe, Volume I. | Page 4

his side to lead him on the way. The mental,
as well as the physical optic has to gradually become accustomed to so
complete a change, and this fact was not sufficiently taken into
consideration by all the detractors of the young monarch, when he, to
speak very familiarly, leaped over the saddle in his anxiety to secure for
himself a firm seat on the throne of his forefathers.
It is well to mention also that Emperor Frederick III., who reigned alas!
but for a few weeks, was positively worshipped by the German people,
and not without cause, for he was undoubtedly one of the finest
personalities of this century. His appearance, his demeanor, his
unaffected dignity, kindness of heart, and loftiness of purpose were
difficult to surpass, and it was a bitter disappointment to his subjects
when death snatched him away before he had had time to carry out the
grand plans and ideas which he had long cherished and reserved for the
time when he would have the reins of government in his own hands.
Speaking with all kindness and good-will, one cannot but after a
fashion understand the disappointment of the Germans when this
towering military figure, this magnificent specimen of perfect physical
and mental manhood, vanished from their ken, to be replaced by the
slender, pale-faced, somewhat arrogant and despotic young man, who
resembled this father so little.
Emperor William II. is an extremely intelligent personage, in spite of
all that may have been said to the contrary. He thinks for himself when
he has a mind to do so, and, what is more, thinks logically, and is quite
capable of following a thus logically-attained conclusion to its
furthermost point. He feels keenly his enormous responsibilities, and
the tremendous international importance of his position as the ruler of
over 50,000,000 people, for he well knows that any man wearing on his

head the double crown of King of Prussia, and of German Emperor, is a
being endowed with powers which are bound to compel attention from
every point of the European Continent. Being given, as I have just
remarked, that his health and his physique are neither of them of a kind
to aid him in the tremendous task which belongs to him by right of
birth, it is easily explainable that his self-assertive ways and imperious
manners should often be mistaken for posing and posturing. Moreover,
his imperfect left arm--a misfortune which has been a source of great
distress to him ever since his birth--is but another one of those physical
troubles which his pride makes him anxious to conceal, this only
adding to his stilted and repellent attitude. In spite of all these
drawbacks, the emperor fences exceedingly well, rides with pluck, and
even skill, managing to hold his reins with his poor withered left hand
when in uniform, in order to keep his sword-arm free, and during his
visit to Austrian Poland, which I referred to at the beginning of this
chapter, I more than once saw him with my own eyes, whilst we were
riding across country, take obstacles which would have made a far
older and more experienced hunter pause and reflect on.
Nobody, even the best-intentioned, can deny that Emperor William has
many faults; those are, however, either ignored altogether, or else
exaggerated to an extent that eclipses all his good qualities, by his
various biographers. Very few pen-portraits of royal personages that
pass through the hands of the publishers can be said to present a true
picture of their subject. Either the writer holds up the object of his
literary effort as a person so blameless as to suggest the idea that he is
an impossible prig, or else every piece of malevolent gossip is
construed into a positive fact, his shortcomings magnified until they
lose all touch of resemblance, while every word and action capable of
misrepresentation is construed in the manner most detrimental to his
reputation. In one word, he is either glorified as a preposterous saint, or
else held up to public execration as an equally impossible villain. Now,
in pictorial art, a portrait, in order to present a satisfactory and
successful resemblance to its subject, must contain lights and shadows.
You cannot have all light, or all shadow, but it is necessary to have a
judicious mixture of both. So it is with the art of biography. If one
wishes to give in print a true, and above all, a human picture of one's

subject, it is necessary to mingle the shadows with the lights. In fact,
the former may be said to set off the latter, and there are many
shortcomings, especially those which the French, so graphically
describe as petits vices,--small vices--which, resulting from a generous
and impulsive temperament, serve, like the Rembrandt shadow of