generation, that the race of people to which he belonged (with any other race he could include by conquest in it) has been handed over by Heaven for all eternity to his family, naturally predisposes him to take a religious, a patriarchal, one might say an Hebraic, view of government; but in addition we find the warrior spirit at all times going hand in hand with the religious spirit, almost as strongly as in the case of Mahomet with the Koran in one hand and the sword in the other.

There was nothing in the Emperor’s youth to show the existence of deeply religious conviction, but as soon as he mounted the throne, and all through the reign up to the close of the century, indeed some years beyond it, his speeches, especially when he was addressing his soldiery, were filled with expressions of religious fervour.  “Von Gotten Gnaden,” he writes as a preface for a Leipzig publication appearing on January 1, 1900,

“is the King; therefore to God alone is he responsible.  He must choose his way and conduct himself solely from this standpoint.  This fearfully heavy responsibility which the King bears for his folk gives him a claim on the faithful co-operation of his subjects.  Accordingly, every man among the people must be thoroughly persuaded that he is, along with the King, responsible for the general welfare.”

It may be noted in passing that Cromwell and the Emperor are alike in being the founders of the great war navies of their respective countries.

On the date mentioned (New Year’s Day), in the Berlin arsenal when consecrating some flags, he addressed the garrison on the turn of the year: 

“The first day of the new century finds our army, that is our folk in arms, gathered round its standards, kneeling before the Lord of Hosts—­and certainly if anyone has reason to bend the knee before God, it is our army.”

“A glance at our standards,” the Emperor continued,

“is sufficient explanation, for they incorporate our history.  What was the state of our army at the beginning of the century?  The glorious army of Frederick the Great had gone to sleep on its laurels, ossified in pipeclay details, led by old, incapable generals, its officers shy of work, sunk in luxury, good living, and foolish self-satisfaction.  In a word, the army was no longer not only not equal to its task, but had forgotten it.  Heavy was the punishment of Heaven, which overtook it and our folk.  They were flung into the dust, Frederick’s glory faded, the standards were cast down.  In seven years of painful servitude God taught our folk to bethink itself of itself, and under the pressure of the feet of an arrogant usurper (Napoleon) was born the thought that it is the highest honour to devote in arms one’s life and property to the Fatherland—­the thought, in short, of universal conscription.”

The word for conscription, it may be here remarked, is in German Wehrpflicht, the duty of defence.