The Emperor, King of Prussia, insists on continually reminding the German peoples that he is the commander-in-chief of the armies of the Empire, and he never misses an opportunity of emphasising the fact.  At the presentation of flags to the 132 new battalions created by the new military law, (and doubtless with a view to peace, as usual) the Emperor with his own hand hammered 132 nails, fixing the standards to their flag-staffs.  This sort of thing fills me with admiration, and if it were not for my stupid obstinacy, it might convert me to share the opinion of M. Jules Simon, who holds that we should entertain the King of Prussia at the Exhibition in 1900, and welcome him as the great clou[6] on that occasion.  But I should not jest about those feelings which transcend all others in the heart of the French people.  Germany owes us Alsace-Lorraine; she has every interest in trying to make us forget the debt.  What would one think of a creditor who allowed the debtor to persuade him that the debt no longer existed?  A nation which reserves its rights against the victor, and maintains its claims to conquered territory, may be despoiled but is not vanquished.  Would Italy have recovered Lombardy and Venice had she not unceasingly protested against the Austrian occupation?  Excessive politeness towards those who have inflicted upon us the unforgettable outrage of defeat is not a sign of good manners, but of culpable weakness, for it inflicts suffering upon those who have to put up with the material consequences of Germany’s conquest, and might end in separating them from their old and unforgotten mother country.

When William II conducted the Prince of Naples to Metz he was only acting in accordance with his usual ideas as an insolent conqueror.  But if we were to receive the German Emperor at the Exhibition of 1900—­if at that time he is still master of Alsace-Lorraine—­we should be committing the base act of a people defeated beyond all hope of recovery.

December 12, 1894. [7]

As day by day one follows the proceedings of William II, one gradually experiences a feeling of weariness and of numbness, such as one gets from watching the spectacle of waves in motion.

Before his speech from the throne, and in order to prepare his public for a surprise, William II had directed the King of Saxony, on the occasion of a presentation of standards, to tell France to her face that she had better behave, that the Saxon heroes of 1870 had sons worthy of them, and that the glorious, triumphant march from Metz to Paris might very easily begin all over again.  Whereupon, general alarm and feverish expectation of the speech of William II, which of course, turned out to be pacific.  The following sentence should suffice to prove it: 

“Our confidence in the maintenance of peace has again been strengthened.  Faithful to the spirit of our alliances, we maintain good and friendly relations with all the powers.”