every sphere, in every department of public and, as far as possible, of private life. Regis voluntas suprema lex. The king's will, and nothing else, is the law of the land; this maxim forms the guiding principle of all his actions. Omniscience he claims as one of the attributes of his kingly majesty; popular wit expresses this in the words, "God knows everything, but the emperor William knows everything better."

A jury of experts decides which drama ought to receive the Schiller prize for the finest play; the emperor annuls their decision, for his judgment is more competent than theirs. The pope claims infallibility only in matters of faith or religion; but the German emperor claims that he is infallible in everything and anything, and not only in his judgment about the works of others, but also in his own acts and doings, in his private as well as in his public capacity. What he, the emperor, does not know is not worth knowing, and when one of his sisters, the present Duchess of Sparta, ventured to express the opinion that English men-of-war looked finer than the German ironclads, his Omniscience, in quite a loud voice, and before some ladies of the court, called her a stupid goose for her pains.

Things must have come to a pretty pass in Germany when the Cologne Gazette, one of the most loyal and patriotic of German newspapers, writes that the emperor is surrounded exclusively by men who belong to the Junker class, and that the statesmen on whom falls the responsibility are not in personal touch with his Majesty, and, like the ministers of the sultan, have to combat the permanent influence of his entourage. There is the rub. The Rhenish Gazette has touched the real sore point. It is supposed that Germany possesses an imperial constitution, that Prussia also has such a document, that there is an Imperial Diet, and that a Prussian Chamber is also at work. True, quite true. But only in theory do all these fine institutions exist, just as the law about duel

ling is upon the pages of the statutebook, or the paragraph in the constitution, that "all Prussians possess the same political rights." The will of the emperor is the real law of the land. He commands, and a duel must take place, whatever the law may say; he declares that the Adeligen are the better, the higher men in the Fatherland, whatever musty paragraphs may declare to the contrary. The nobleman alone is of full weight; all the other citizens must consider themselves under a kind of capitis diminutio, as only second-best. The lowest Herr von is by birth, or becomes by being ennobled, a far superior being to the most illustrious commoner; the younger sub-lieutenant, by wearing the king's uniform-the Koenigsrock-and therefore participating in, or representing, the king's majesty, rises immediately above all merely civilian citizens, be they the best and worthiest of the land. Not once, but many times, on various occasions and in numberless public speeches, has the emperor expressed these views. What can the constitution, the charter, mean to such a monarch?

The National Zeitung of Berlin, a very mildly liberal bourgeois paper, is compelled to say that it is clear enough that the rights of Prussians are to be reduced to what they were at the end of the last century, when civil liberty, in a constitutional sense, simply did not exist.

The hatred of the present German emperor against the very slightest approach to freedom and liberty shows itself in his unfilial contempt for his father, the good Emperor Frederic. It is a well-known fact that during the too short reign of that unfortunate martyr, expressions were used by the immediate friends of the then crown prince with reference to the Emperor Frederic, which, if uttered to-day concerning the present monarch, would be most severely punished, as lèsemajesté, with long terms of imprisonment. And in all the hundreds of his speeches, addresses, and toasts, William II. has hardly ever, if at all, men

tioned the name of his father. For Frederic II. was supposed to lean towards "Liberalism," and to admire the institutions of England, the home of his wife.

The present emperor's ideal of a prince is his grandfather Wilhelm I., whom his grandson has officially "advanced" to the title of "the Great." Woe betide the poor German subject who should dare to criticise his emperor's command concerning that title. Lèse-majesté and years in prison can alone atone for such a crime. Political spies, like the delatores of corrupt imperial Rome, prowl about in all parts of the Fatherland, and denounce the unwary citizen. Sycophantic Byzantine public prosecutors indict him with the greatest zeal and official fury for some lèse-majesté, which was very often nothing but the hasty expression of an ill-bred person, or the remark of a sharp tongue. These pushing young king's attorneys demean themselves by taking up cases in which, perhaps years ago, a man in the presence of his own family made an unguarded remark about the emperor; it is now denounced to the police by a servant or a bad relation from spite or other infamous motive. Well these Staatsan waelte know that by such zeal they ingratiate themselves in the highest quarters. They are sure to "arrive," as the French put it. Their lord and master has a good memory for such magistrates. And the poor wretches, who in a moment of excitement, perhaps in a drunken fit, have used bad language concerning the emperor -for in nine cases out of ten it comes to nothing more are sure to be punished severely, without the slightest hope of pardon. Whereas the nobleman, the officer, who killed a private citizen is let off after a short imprison ment.

or,

Thus the middle classes see, with sullen discontent, that the administration of justice, formerly the brightest spot in Prussian public life, is tarnished as soon as the slightest question arises be tween the feudal nobility and the mem bers of the citizen-class. Equality of

the Prussian before the law no longer exists. A feudal baron, though a convict and sentenced to penal servitude for the most degrading crime, is addressed by the president of a court of justice, before whom the prisoner has to appear as a witness, in the most obsequious manner as Herr Baron. An editor of a newspaper, on the contrary, who is sent to prison for some imaginary insult offered to a railway guard or other civil service employé, is treated before the court of justice with the grossest rudeness. The magistrates who behave in this manner are wise men. They know the time of

day.

But there is another class of men in Germany who also know, and who bide their time. The Social Democrats, twenty-five years ago a mere handful, without leaders and without discipline, are now the thorn in the flesh of the emperor. At first he tried, or rather it looked as if he tried, to propitiate them; he gave out that the aspirations and aims of the Socialists had no better friend, no greater protector than the emperor. But that was at the time when Bismarck was to be got rid of, and when William II. wanted to pose as the arbeiter freund, while the old chancellor was to be considered as their implacable enemy. The Socialists took what they could get; but they never were misled as to what were the real motives of this behavior towards them. When the emperor saw that he was found out, he abandoned the sugar method and took to the whip again. And from that moment commenced the struggle, which is not a party fight in the English sense of the word, but the battle between despotism and liberty, between the theory of the divine right king, and the self-government of the people through Parliament. In the eyes of the emperor the Socialists are the enemies of his kingdom and his crown; they are Vaterlandslose Gesellen (a cosmopolitan crew), who are impudent enough to oppose his will, his imperial commands. As a red rag provokes a bull, the "impudence" of the Social Demo

crats provokes the furious wrath of the emperor. He will exterminate them, he will sweep them from the earth; his soldiers shall shoot them whenever the occasion arrives. And the Social Democrats regard the emperor in the same light in which James II. was looked upon by English patriots, as a man who cannot be trusted; as a monarch who loathes the constitution of his country. Add to these general reasons, on public grounds, the hatred of the Socialists against the emperor, as man against man on account of all the tracasseries, the petty persecution, and the innumerable wrongs done to them, as they believe, by his special order and command.

and

The situation is getting more more dangerous, the feeling of discontent increases in intensity every day; even very moderate and loyal men are beginning to see in the new legislation against political associations many striking utterances, which enable them to infer how powerfully in the highest circles the idea is gaining ground, that one day it will be necessary to crush a Social Democratic rising of the whole people by force of arms. When that day comes it will be an evil day for Germany and for the emperor. The Germans have not yet had their 1688, nor their 1789; and we cannot believe that they will be spared the experience of England and of France. The literary Golden Age in Germany also arrived a century later than the similar epochs in the two Western European countries. Notwithstanding Sadowa and Sedan, notwithstanding their superior chemical industry and their Röntgen rays, the Germans, as a political body, are a hundred years behind the English or the French nation. They boast of a constitution, a parliament, and all the other paraphernalia of modern government. But the emperor nevertheless considers himself the master, just as James II. did.

This discontent is not limited to the Social Democrats; the middle classes also grumble, and complain that the emperor fosters and favors the pretensions of the feudal nobility, that even

em

the administration of justice is tainted, wherever there is a condict between feudal pretensions and the rights of the citizen. Thousands are thus driven into the ranks of the Social Democratic party; every election shows this more clearly, and the emperor thinks that reactionary laws, repression and violence will stem the tide, which they can no more do than Mrs. Partington's broom. One would think that the military class at least would unreservedly admire the emperor. But even this does not happen to be the case. The highest military circles are continually in a state of trepidation, lest the peror in one of his unaccountable fits of energy should plunge the country into war, and then insist on taking command of the army, being his own general-in-chief, chief of staff and commander of everything under heaven. A catastrophe would then be unavoidable, say the most experienced generals. There is no science, no art, no profession, in which the emperor does not consider himself a master. But even more. He will lay down the law, he will rush in with conceited step where the wisest men would not dare to tread. To his insane craving for self advertising urbi et orbi nothing is too small, nothing too remote. A boat-race which does not concern him in the least yields just as good grist to his mill, furnishes as good an opportunity for a telegram signed "Wilhelm I. & R.," as Jameson's raid into the Transvaal. So far, the emperor's conceit has only pleased him without doing much hurt to other people-though once he came very near overdoing the thing. But far more dangerous than his mere vanity are his belief that he is almighty, his inability to brook contradiction, his contempt for the parliamentary institutions of his own country as well as of other lands.

A violent conflict between this autocratic, headstrong monarch and the people seems unavoidable. The Social Democratic party is gradually approaching the point when it will be eager to measure swords with the "di

vine right" king, and to fight for the people's rights against the monarch by the grace of God. The army, as a machine for the purpose of mowing down "rebellious subjects" is expected to do its duty, should the occasion arrive and the order be given to shoot. But suppose the soldiers, the sons and brothers of Social Democrats, should hesitate to obey? Preparations are already made by express order of the emperor to amend the laws against associations, and the situation must have become very critical when a Berlin journal comments thus on the proposed new bill: "The emperor demanded the incorporation in the bill of provisions for the protection of the public safety and the public peace, because he is entirely governed by the idea that security and peace are menaced, and that the possibility of a rising on the part of the Vaterlandslose Gesellen (unpatriotic fellows) must be taken into account." The emperor, the captain and pilot of the ship of State, sees that there are rocks ahead, and his proposed way of getting out of danger consists in screwing down the safety valve. Whether by this method the port can be reached is somewhat doubtful. Prudent people in Germany, men who have rendered service to their country, look with grave anxiety upon the present state of affairs. They know that the headstrong monarch who at this moment guides the destinies of the Fatherland constitutes a danger to their country, that what he considers to be energy is generally only fussiness, that he possesses neither wisdom nor patience, and that his efforts to put back the clock Germany to the time of the dark ages can but end in ruin for the crown and for the country.

GERMANICUS.

From Cosmopolis. GIUSEPPE MAZZINI.

of

I well remember some great and good men whom it has been my privilege and my good fortune to know, but none do I

see so plainly before me as Giuseppe Mazzini. His features, his expression, and his every gesture, all are indelibly engraven on my memory. Is it because thirty-four years ago I painted a portrait of him that hangs here just opposite me, and I reverently look up at it as I am about to speak of him? Or is it not rather that, to have known Mazzini, means ever to remember him-to hear his voice, to feel his influence, and to recall his outward form?

The portrait was painted in the little studio of my bachelor days, which measured about twenty feet by ten, and had no other appendage but a good-sized cupboard, by courtesy called a bedroom. But it was situated right in the middle of six or eight acres of ground in the heart of London, which for many years went by the name of "Cadogan Gardens," till one day it was "improved" away, and its good name was transferred to a new row of Philistine stone houses. Such as it was in 1862, Mazzini liked it, and would often look in on me and my brother-in-law, Antonin Roche, the only other occupant of those square gardens.

Roche, who is now of a ripe old age, and is enjoying a well-earned rest, was an old friend of Mazzini. The two took very opposite views in politics, for Roche was a "Légitimiste," warmly attached to the direct line of the Bourbons, and true to their white flag; whilst in the eyes of Mazzini, as we know, all kings were pretty equally black, and no flag acceptable but the white, green, and red one of a united Italy. A long experience had taught him to place no faith in princes, but to centre his hopes in the people, and in the ultimate triumph of Republican institutions. So he and Roche had right royal word-fights when they met, and they were not badly matched; for Roche was quite a living encyclopædia of knowledge, and had the history of mankind, from the days of Adam up to date, at his fingers' ends. And he had every opportunity of keeping his knowledge fresh, for during a period of forty-five years he regularly held his French "Cours" on history, literature, and a

variety of other subjects; and before he retired he had educated three generations of England's fairest and most aristocratic daughters.

Mazzini and he, then, would often discuss politics and political economy of the past, present, and future, and I sometimes ventured to join in their conversation. To-day I see the presumption of my ways, but then I was younger, and whilst reverencing the master-mind, and feeling infinitesimally small next to the great man, I yet was bold enough to advance where many besides angels would have feared to tread. I had lived in France for some years under the Second Empire, and had, perhaps, more respect for the successful than I have now. I had witnessed the rebuilding of Paris, the revival of art, and many evidences of increasing prosperity, and-always allowing for the needs of France and the French of that day-I looked upon Louis Napoleon as rather the right man in the right place.

But Mazzini reviled him, and at the mention of his name would burst forth into a passionate philippic, crushing "the adventurer, the perjurer, the tyrant" with all the weight of his glowing indignation. "But apart from all that," he would say, "we hate each other personally.".

He was certainly the most uncompromising enemy of royalty, disdaining threats and blandishments alike, and preferring exile to the acceptance of such favors as the amnesty that at a later period recalled him and his friends to their native land. "He who can debase himself,” he said, “by accepting the royal clemency will some day stand in need of the people's clemency."

If he was grand in his wrath he was grand also in his ideal aspirations. Whether he thundered with the withering eloquence of a Cicero, or pleaded for the Brotherhood of Man with the accents of love; whether he bowed his head humbly before the power of one great God, or rose fanatically to preach the new Gospel, "Dio è il popolo," the conviction that spoke from that man's lips was so intense, that iɩ kindled con

viction; his soul so stirred, that one's soul could not but vibrate responsively. To be sure, at the time I am speaking of, every conversation seemed to lead up to the one all-absorbing topic, the unification of Italy. She must be freed from the yoke of the Austrian or the Frenchman; the dungeons of King Bomba must be opened and the fetters forged at the Vatican shaken off. His eyes sparkled as he spoke, and reflected the ever-glowing and illuminating fire within; he held you magnetically. He would penetrate into some innermost recess of your conscience and kindle a spark where all had been darkness. Whilst under the influence of that eye, tnat voice, you felt as if you could leave father and mother and follow him, the Elect of Providence, who had come to overthrow the whole wretched fabric of falsehoods holding mankind in bondage. He gave you eyes to see, and ears to hear, and you too were stirred to rise and go forth to propagate the new Gospel: "The Duties of Man."

There was another side of his nature that many a time deeply impressed me. The enthusiast, the conspirator, would give way to the poet, the dreamer, as he would speak of God's nature and of its loveliest creation, woman; of innocent childhood, of sunshine and flowers.

I have heard much said about woman and Woman's Rights since the days of Mazzini, from pulpit and platform, from easy-chair and office-stool. It often seemed to me to be said in beautiful prose; but still in prose. Mazzini spoke the language of poetry; not in hexameters or blank verse, but still, it was poetry. We of to-day look forward, create a new ideal, a new woman; he looked backward to the days of his childhood, and conjured up a vision of Maria Mazzini, his mother.

He loved children, too, and they him. There were boys and girls of all ages in the Roche family, clever and active, and, consequently, what wise and sapient parents call naughty. Some of these now ex-children tell me they have a distinct recollection of having been on more than one occasion turned out and sent to bed prematurely. "We often