The retirement of Prince Buelow meant the disappearance of the most notable figure in German political life since the beginning of the century.  In ability, wit, and those graces of a refined and richly cultivated mind which have so often distinguished great English statesmen, he was a head and shoulders above any of his fellow-countrymen; while the mere fact that he was able to maintain his position for almost twelve years (he had been, as Foreign Secretary for over two years, the Emperor’s most trusted counsellor and the real executive in foreign policy) is a convincing proof of his tact and diplomatic talent, as well as of his statesmanship.

His successor, the present Chancellor, Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg, is a man of another and very different type.  He incorporates the spirit of Prussian patriotism of the most orthodox kind in its worthiest and best manifestations, but as yet he has given no proofs of possessing the breadth of view, the oratorical talent, or the urbanity which distinguished his predecessor.  Prince von Buelow’s career as a German diplomatist in foreign capitals made him an acute and highly polished man of the world.  The present Chancellor has spent all his life within the comparatively narrow confines of Prussian administrative service.  It is, of course, too soon to pass final judgment on him as German Prime Minister.

The visit of King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra to Berlin in February, 1909, disposed finally of the idea, which had prevailed in Germany as well as abroad for two or three years, that England was pursuing a policy aiming to bring about the “isolation” of Germany in world-politics.  The visit was an official one, paid, of course, chiefly to the Emperor; but its most remarkable feature politics apart, was the friendly relations which King Edward established with the Berlin City Fathers at a reception in the Town Hall.  It was not that he said anything out of the way to the assembled burghers; but his simple manner, genial remarks, and perhaps especially the sympathetic way in which he handled the loving-cup offered by his hosts, made an instantaneous and strong impression.

The controversy that raged round the so-called “Flora Bust” contributed not a little to the gaiety of nations towards the close of this year.  The bust, an undraped wax figure, reproducing the features of Leonardo da Vinci’s famous “La Joconde,” was bought by Dr. Wilhelm Bode, Director of the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin, for L8,000 from a London dealer as an authentic work of the celebrated Italian painter, dating from about the year 1500.  It was brought with a great flourish of trumpets to Berlin, and a chorus of self-congratulation was raised in Germany on the successful carrying off of such a prize from England.  The harmony, however, was rudely disturbed by the publication of a letter from Mr. F.C.  Cooksey, art critic of the Times, stating that the bust was not by da Vinci at all, but was in reality the work of Mr. R.C.  Lucas, an artist of some note forty or fifty years ago, and that it had for long occupied a pedestal in Lucas’s suburban garden.