Abroad, like a great octopus, she was
fastening the tentacles of permeation and penetration in every corner of
the globe, honeycombing Russia and Belgium, France, England and America
with secret agents, spying and intriguing and abusing our hospitality. For
twenty-five years the Kaiser was our frequent and honoured, if somewhat
embarrassing, guest, professing friendship for England and admiration of
her ways, shooting at Sandringham, competing at Cowes, sending telegrams of
congratulation to the University boat-race winners, ingratiating himself
with all he met by his social gifts, his vivacious conversation, his
prodigious versatility and energy.
[Illustration:
THE REWARD OF (DE)MERIT
King Punch presenteth Prussia with the Order of "St. Gibbet."
(_May 7_, 1864)]
Mr. Punch was no enemy of Germany. He remembered--none better--the debt we
owe to her learning and her art; to Bach and Beethoven, to Handel, the
"dear Saxon" who adopted our citizenship; to Mendelssohn, who regarded
England as his second home; to her fairy tales and folk-lore; to the
Brothers Grimm and the _Struwwelpeter_; to the old kindly Germany
which has been driven mad by War Lords and Pan-Germans. If Mr. Punch's
awakening was gradual he at least recognised the dangerous elements in the
Kaiser's character as far back as October, 1888, when he underlined
Bismarck's warning against Caesarism.
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