one
another as in the days, late in the tenth century, when they
complained in England that men learned fierceness from the Saxon of
Germany, effeminacy from the Fleming, and drunkenness from the Dane.

As probably the outstanding figure and best-known, superficially
known, man in the world, the German Emperor has escaped the notice of
very few people who notice anything. His likeness is everywhere, and
gossip about him is on every tongue. He is as familiar to the American
as Roosevelt, to the Englishman as Lloyd-George, to the Frenchman as
Dreyfus, to the Russian as his Czar, and to the Chinese and Japanese
as their most prominent political figure. And yet I should say that he
is comparatively little known, either externally or internally, as he
is.

It is perhaps the fate of those of most influence to be misunderstood.
Of this, I fancy, the Emperor does not complain. Indeed, those feeble
folk who complain of being misunderstood, ought to console themselves
with the thought that practically all our imperishable monuments, are
erected to the glory of those whom we condemned and criticised;
starved and stoned; burned and crucified, when we had them with us.

William II, German Emperor and King of Prussia, was born January 27,
1859, and became German Emperor June 15, 1888. He is, therefore, in
the prime of life, and looks it. His complexion and eyes are as clear
as those of an athlete, and his eyes, and his movements, and his talk
are vibrating with energy. He stands, I should guess, about five feet
eight or nine, has the figure and activity of an athletic youth of
thirty, and in his hours of friendliness is as careless in speech, as
unaffected in manner, as lacking in any suspicion of self-
consciousness, or of any desire to impress you with his importance, as
the simplest gentleman in the land.

Alas, how often this courageous and gentlemanly attitude has been
taken advantage of! I have headed this chapter The Indiscreet, and I
propose to examine these so-called indiscretions in some detail, but
for the moment I must ask: Is there any excuse for, or any social
punishment too severe for, the man who, introduced into a gentleman's
house in the guise of a gentleman, often by his own ambassador, leaves
it, to blab every detail of the conversation of his host, with the
gesticulations and exclamation points added by himself? To add a
little to his own importance, he will steal out with the
conversational forks and spoon