note requesting the return of the unused portion of Bismarck's monthly salary. The Chancellor, who had run Germany for twenty years, showed no disposition for taking orders. Much has been said regarding who influenced this dismissal (Waldersee and Holstein did ). Philip Eulenberg, our protagonist, was later blamed, unfairly. (Bismarck, perhaps at Baron Holstein's suggestion, came to believe he had been his secret enemy since the Chancellor forced the resignation of cousin Botho Eulenberg by calling him a liar in the House of Lords.) Philip had, in fact, strongly advised the Emperor against removing Bismarck.

At 27, Prince William had met the Count, twelve years his senior, and they both were captivated. For the first fifteen years of his reign, "my dearest Phili," "my only friend," was Wilhelm's most trusted adviser and the only man able to occasionally change the Imperial mind. At the time, Eulenberg was partly under Fritz von Holstein's wing, and was used by the privy counsellor (who did not "have access" to the Emperor) for getting his ideas across to the highly unpredictable young sovereign.

Bismarck's departure left a terrible vacuum in German politics. His successors were aging yes-men, crushed between Emperor and Reichstag. The "Constitution" and the complex parliamentary system were hazily defined and openly defied. The Reichstag, with little exact power, other than budget approval, was splintered into innumerable parties. The General Staff, the Military Cabinet and the War Ministry three distinct and feuding heads for the all-powerful Army talking openly of coupd'etat. And the navy, grown fat under Wilhelm's favor and von Tirpitz' aggressive leadership.

And all the little kings and grand dukes of the semi-independent countries now part of the Empire.

Like the bureaucracy generally, the Foreign Office (headed by a State Secretary who seldom ran things) operated independently of Emperor, Chancellor or Reichstag, though it always had the unwelcome task of patching up Wilhelm's meddling blunders. He was forever dispatching half-baked telegrams to other monarchs, often ensnarling Wilhelmstrasse policies. In public speeches, he tended to redouble any statement which drew applause, complicating foreign affairs horribly by wild unpremeditated statements which often became policy by default. And in foreign capitals the German military attaches often undermined or overshadowed the ambassadors they despised as mere "pen pushers."

The Kaiser naively assumed that there was a natural enmity between France and England (for centuries) and between England and Russia, so that allies Austria and Italy could be taken for granted, while Cousin Nicky and Uncle Edward would never attack him. He hoped (with privy counsellor Holstein's encouragement) to isolate England, ally with France (impossible at that date) and Russia, develop Turkey and expand a bit in Africa and Asia, But within a dozen years, and more after Eulenberg's downfall, he blunderingly accomplished what enemy diplomats could not have hoped for, forcing Britain, Russia and France into unwritten alliance with Italy and Japan on the fence. Even Austria and Turkey were dependable only as trouble makers, THE KAISER'S FRIEND

Count (later Prince) Philip zu Eulenberg-Hertefeld was the son of a stiff East Prussian count and an artistic mother whom he worshipped. Delicate and emotional as a child, he early developed the witty conversational talent that was to endear him to the Emperor. His early desire was to be an architect. When he inherited the great estate and Liebenberg (from the Great Elector to the first Hertefeld in 1652) he designed and built a number of houses, pavilions and temples on the grounds. He was a fine, though unschooled singer, and composed songs which were long popular, notably his Rosenlieder (half million copies sold) and his Skaldengesange, ballads from the Nordic sagas, favorites with concert singers. He had a great talent for entertaining and brilliant improvisation, in prose, verse or song, and was an ac-

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