No account of the emperor’s private life can be properly written without including a brief sketch of General Count von Hahnke, and of Baron von Lucanus.  The former is the chief of the military cabinet of the emperor, and the other is at the head of his civil cabinet, that is to say, he occupies the post of principal private secretary.  Both of them accompany the emperor wherever he goes, and in fact constitute his very shadow, enjoying by reason of their proximity to the sovereign, and by their close association with him, a far greater degree of power and influence than any cabinet minister.

Baron Lucanus is an extremely good-looking man, whose popular nickname at Berlin, namely, “the emperor’s Blackie Man,” is in nowise due to any swarthiness of complexion, but to the fact that among the great dignitaries in attendance on the emperor, he is the only one in civilian attire, while moreover he is invariably selected by the sovereign to convey to any cabinet minister, whose resignation is required, the imperial intimation “that he has ceased to please.”

It was Baron von Lucanus who communicated to Prince Bismarck the emperor’s request and subsequent peremptory command for the surrender of the chancellorship of the empire, and it was he, too, who was sent to ask Bismarck’s successor, General Count Caprivi, for his resignation; in fact, there has not been a single ministerial head to fall during the last ten years—­and they have been very numerous during the present reign—­where Herr von Lucanus has not been the imperial emissary of these evil tidings.  This is so well known in Berlin that the moment the baron is seen to be calling at the residence of any distinguished statesman who happens to be in office, it is at once taken for granted that the axe has once more fallen, and that it is another case of a ministerial downfall.

The Berliners declare that Emperor William pitches upon Lucanus for these particular jobs in consequence of his being the son of a Halberstadt druggist, and as such, more likely to be proficient in the art of sugar-coating the bitter pills than any mere military officer!  He owes his patent of nobility to the late Emperor Frederick, who entertained a very high opinion of his intelligence, and it is worthy of note that he first came to the fore in the entourage of the emperor when Prince Bismarck’s power as chancellor commenced to wane.  He is a man of about fifty, and served for a quarter of a century in the Department of Public Worship.  It was, however, as an expert in art matters, and as an intelligent assistant in the organization of the Imperial Museum of Science and Art at Berlin, that he first attracted the notice and good-will of the late emperor, and particularly of the Empress Frederick.