“The French have no right to be offensive towards the august head of the German Empire and his noble mother, by insulting them after the manner of blackguards (polissons).  Every German who has the very least regard for the dignity of the nation must feel mortally insulted in the person of the Emperor.”

“The German people have the right to expect that the French Government and the French nation will give them ample satisfaction, and will wipe out this stain on the honour of France, by sternly calling to order the wretches in question, creatures whom we Germans consider to be the refuse of human society.”

And we who belong to this “refuse,” who flatter ourselves that we have made extraordinary efforts of self-control when we refrained from saying to the Empress Frederick:  “Madame, spare us; let it not be said that you went one day to Saint-Cloud, and on the next to Versailles, lest our resolution to be calm should forsake us”—­we, I say, now perceive, that all our prudence has been wasted, and that we are still “refuse,” the refuse of human society.

The character of William II continues to develop its series of eccentricities.  With him, one may be sure of incurring displeasure, but his favours are shortlived.  His mania for change is manifested to a degree unexampled since the days of the decay of the Roman Empire.  His freakishness, the suddenness of his impulses, are becoming enough to create dismay amongst all those who approach him.  One day he will suddenly start off to take by surprise the garrisons of Potsdam and of Rinfueld; he gives the order for boots and saddles, which naturally leads to innumerable accidents.  Next day you will find him issuing a decree that, a play written by one of his proteges, entitled The New Saviour, is a masterpiece, which he would compel the public to applaud.  The best he can do with it is to prevent its being hissed off the stage.  Another day he has a room prepared for himself at the Headquarters of the General Staff, where he interferes in the preparation of strategic plans, without paying the least attention to the new chief who has replaced Count Waldersee.  Then, again, he connects his private office with the entire Press organisation, so as to be able to manipulate the reptile fund himself, and to dictate in person the notices he requires, concerning all his proceedings, in the newspapers which he pays in Germany and in those which he buys abroad.

All of a sudden it occurs to him that six more war-ships would round off the German Fleet; and so he demands that they be built on the spot.  His Minister resists, pointing out that the approval of the Reichstag is required, William II flies into a passion, and the wretched Minister obeys.  Suddenly it occurs to him also to remember the existence of a certain Count Vedel, greatly favoured by the Grand Duke of Saxe-Weimar.  He summons him by telegraph, and makes him his favourite of an hour.  When it pleases