Many stories are current in Germany relating to the early part of the Emperor’s boyhood.  Some are true, others partially so, while others again are wholly apochryphal.  All, however, are more or less characteristic of the boy and his surroundings, and for this reason a selection of them may be given.  Apropos of his birth, the following story is told.  An artillery officer went to receive orders for the salute to be discharged when the birth occurred.  They were given him by the then Prince Regent, afterwards Emperor William I. The officer showed signs of perplexity.  “Well, is there anything else?” inquired the Regent.  “Yes, Royal Highness; I have instructions for the birth of a prince and for that of a princess (which would be 30 guns); but what if it should be twins?” The Regent laughed.  “In that case,” he said, “follow the Prussian rule—­suum cuique.”

When the child was born the news ran like wildfire through Berlin, and all the high civil and military officials drove off in any vehicle they could find to offer their congratulations.  The Regent, who was at the Foreign Office, jumped into a common cab.  Immediately after him appeared tough old Field-Marshal Wrangel, the hero of the Danish wars.  He wrote his name in the callers’ book, and on issuing from the palace shouted to the assembled crowd, “Children, it’s all right:  a fine stout recruit.”  On the evening of the birth a telegram came from Queen Victoria, “Is it a fine boy?” and the answer went back, “Yes, a very fine boy.”

Another story describes how the child was brought to submit cheerfully to the ordeal of the tub.  He was “water-shy,” like the vast majority of Germans at that time, and the nurses had to complain to his father, Crown Prince Frederick, of his resistance.  The Crown Prince thereupon directed the sentry at the palace gate not to salute the boy when he was taken out for his customary airing.  The boy remarked the neglect and complained to his father, who explained that “sentries were not allowed to present arms to an unwashed prince.”  The stratagem succeeded, and thereafter the lad submitted to the bathing with a good grace.

Like all boys, the lad was fond of the water, though now in another sense.  At the age of two, nursery chroniclers relate, he had a toy boat, the Fortuna, in which he sat and see-sawed—­and learned not to be sea-sick!  At three he was put into sailor’s costume, with the bell-shaped trousers so dear to the hearts of English mothers fifty years ago.

At the age of four he had a memorable experience, though it is hardly likely that now, after the lapse of half a century, he remembers much about it.  This was his first visit to England in 1863, when he was taken by his parents to be present at the marriage of his uncle, King Edward VII, then Prince of Wales.  The boy, in pretty Highland costume, was an object of general attention, and occupies a prominent place in the well-known picture of the wedding scene by