Chapter XV “Auntie Majesty” and Bertha
A Royal “Commercial”
—Blood and Benevolence
“My dear child,” continued Auntie Majesty, “you ought to thank God on your knees for permitting you those grand opportunities to do good.”
“I hope I am duly grateful, Auntie Majesty.”
“And, of course, next to God, it is your Uncle Majesty to whom you are most indebted.”
Bertha curtsied with the readiness peculiar to German girls, whose left knee seems always on the point of “knixing,” which word signifies an arrested attempt at kneeling. Since Napoleonic times kneeling before royalty has gone out of fashion, even in Spain, where the Prime Minister was formerly obliged to play chess with the King while down on his knees, and woe to the excellency who attempted to sit on his haunches.
Bertha assured Auntie Majesty how much she appreciated the War Lord’s efforts on behalf of the Krupp works. Her own father could not have done more. Truly wonderful orders are coming in, the Herr Director-General had informed her this very morning. East, west, north and south—everybody seemed to want Krupp guns now.
“All your Uncle Majesty’s doings,” insisted the “crowned auntie.” “His ambassadors and consuls in all parts of the world have orders to drum up trade for you, and those that do not succeed pretty soon find themselves A.D. (retired), they say.”
“I hope not!” cried Bertha, emphasising the last word. “I don’t care for people to lose their positions on my account, and will speak to Uncle about it.”
To say that Her Majesty was amazed at the outburst is putting it mildly. She had been given to understand that Bertha was tractability personified, and here she was talking in “Majesty’s” own vein, a thing Augusta had never dreamt of doing in all the years of her married life.
“Fraulein Krupp,” she said very seriously, “shall have to report to your mother what you have said.”
“Mamma has nothing to do with affairs of that sort. They rest entirely with Uncle Majesty and myself!” said Bertha.
What language, and to her! And from a mere child, too! Auntie Majesty opened her mouth for a sharp rebuke, when she remembered what the War Lord had said about a certain lady.
“Vulgar,” had been Her Majesty’s estimate.
“Non olet,” corrected Wilhelm. “If her words are offensive, let the jingle of her millions drown them; if she insists upon eating peas with her knife—why, remember that Croesus ate with his fingers.”
And Count Wedell (Minister of the Royal House) had only recently told her (with a thousand apologies, to be sure) that Bertha’s income was larger than the War Lord’s.
Besides, “Auntie Imperial” had promised a portion of Bertha’s vast income to “her God.” She uses the personal pronoun in connection with the Deity without blasphemous intention, of course, nor does she allow herself to speculate on the War Lord’s theory that the Hohenzollerns control a god of their own, and that another god is keeping a benevolent eye on Prussian baby-killers.
Augusta Victoria decided, after reflection, to give the subject a turn favouring her pious schemes.
“Remember what the fathers of the Church have said: ‘Women have no voice’—they certainly should not meddle in administrative matters.” Her Majesty affected a smile. “Leave these to your guardian, and, when at times his measures seem harsh or incomprehensible, acquiesce nevertheless, for in the end it’s results that count.”
The Queen of Prussia is a good woman at heart. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, but a million men put under the sod roused no squeamish sentiments; for, of course, if the War Lord makes war, it is for God’s greater glory, and did he not tell the recruits the other day that it was inexpressibly sweet to die for him? So let the million perish.
Auntie Majesty was careful not to mix blood and iron with her arguments in favour of gun-making and explosives. If Essen manufactured Nuremberg toys or Munich honey cake, she could not have used more innocuous terms referring to its death-dealing industry. At any rate, it must be kept up—nay more, its output must be doubled and trebled to continue the charities and works of benevolence inaugurated by the Krupp family on the present grand scale and to extend them farther, as Bertha had planned.
It all sounded good to the young War Lady. With Zara’s perturbing admonitions still fresh in her mind, she welcomed justification of the course mapped out by Uncle Majesty, and the conference closed to mutual satisfaction.
Augusta Victoria received the promise of an annual subscription of 50,000 marks for her church-building schemes, and Bertha that of Her Majesty’s hearty co-operation in Essen’s social-work campaign. More than that, Her Majesty would come to inspect Bertha’s hospitals, schools, old people’s homes and asylums.