The Kaiser

by Virginia Cowles

  William did not visit Cowes solely for pleasure. Although Holstein had dropped Bismarck’s Reinsurance Treaty, he had tried to maintain Bismarck’s equilibrium in the Balkans by refusing to back Austria in a preventive war against Russia, or to help Russia in an occupation of Bulgaria. However, the exchange of goodwill visits between Russia and France in 1891 and 1893, which presaged the Dual Alliance, prompted the Kaiser to concentrate his efforts on trying to persuade Britain to join the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy. This plainly was the right course for Germany, for not only would it tip the balance in favour of the Central Powers but it would ensure that England did not join the opposite camp — a remote contingency in the nineties, nevertheless a permanent nightmare of the German Foreign Office.

  Germany’s difficulty was to convince England of the wisdom of abandoning her traditional isolationism. Although England and Germany shared common enemies in France and Russia, Britain had not been mixed up in European coalitions since the Crimean war. Her main concern was to protect and enlarge her scattered empire, which she did by skilfully playing off one country against another. When William sailed up the Solent each July the German Embassy moved from London to Cowes and arranged conversations between the Emperor and the Queen’s first minister. William seized every opportunity to stress the advantages that Britain, the foremost naval power, would reap from partnership with Germany, the foremost military power. He also talked about his colonial ambitions in the hope of inducing England to part with some of her territories in exchange for German diplomatic backing, which, he declared, had been successful in restraining France from attacking Egypt, and Russia from becoming too adventurous in Persia and India. His main task, however, was to promote friendly relations, and to wait patiently until events played into his hands.

  This happened, unexpectedly, in 1893. The Kaiser arrived in Cowes in the middle of a crisis precipitated by the threat of French aggression in Siam. Britain saw Russia’s hand in France’s territorial demands and suspected ultimate designs against India. She announced that she could not remain impassive if a conflict broke out and sent several gunboats up the river that flowed past Bangkok to strengthen her protest. The Queen telegraphed her Foreign Secretary, Lord Rosebery, and emphasised that “the honour of my Empire” depended on remaining firm, adding: “Germany, Austria and above all Italy should be urged to support us.”[127]

  The Kaiser sailed into Cowes on the 29th of July and the next evening, accompanied by Count Philip Eulenburg, dined with the Prince on board the Britannia. He was in an aggressive mood and spent the evening telling his uncle that Germany was determined to expand its colonial possessions, particularly in Africa, and to increase its navy as a natural sequence, suggesting, not quite truthfully, that the fleet expansion had already begun. At midnight the conversation was interrupted by a message from the Queen’s secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, with a startling communication for the Kaiser. It was a copy of a telegram which the Queen had received from Lord Rosebery. “French Government demand withdrawal of our gunboats from before Bangkok. I have refused this. Desire to see Count Hatzfeldt in London immediately.”[128]

  War was a possibility and it was obvious that Britain wished to sound German support. Germany now had the opportunity to draw Britain closer to the Triple Alliance in return for her backing. The Kaiser reacted in a curious way; he was filled with consternation. In order to conceal his panic from his uncle he laughed loudly and slapped the Prince on the back (some say on the front) and cried: “So, then, thou’lt soon be off to India to show what thou’rt good for as a soldier.”[129] Then he departed for the Hohenzollern to find Hatzfeldt and send him to London.[130]

  According to Count Eulenburg: “The Emperor took me into his cabin and completely broke down. I really have never seen him so overcome, and I had to bring the whole force of my mind to The Emperor exclaimed that England’s fleets were weaker than the Russian and French fleets in combination. Even with the aid of our little fleet, England would still be the weaker. The French (he said) wanted to drive Russia to some action — which, considering the Czar’s hostile attitude towards us, they might succeed in doing. Our army was not strong enough to fight simultaneously against France and Russia. The French had chosen their moment very cleverly. It was impossible to sit still and let the tempest break on our heads. All Germany’s prestige was gone, if we could not take a prominent part; and not to be a world-power was to cut a deplorable figure. What were we to do…?”[131]

  Eulenburg soothed him by saying that England would temporise, and called in Metternich and Kiderlen to support his view. “When they went out the Emperor seemed calmer, but he looked very wretched — pale, and biting his lips nervously. I felt dreadfully sorry for him. He, coming here with his big talk about our ships, felt driven into a corner as it were, and politically put in his place. And to be put in one’s place is always a bitter pill for one’s poor dear vanity.”

  It was obvious that the Kaiser had bad nerves. A curious sidelight on his despair was the fact that his Chancellor, General Caprivi, did not share his pessimism about Germany’s weakness or unreadiness. The following morning Count Hatzfeldt telegraphed to Berlin and asked categorically: “Does it at all suit our political and military policy for a European conflict to break out now, from which we could not hold aloof in the long run?” and Caprivi replied in a marginal note: “From the military point of view it is just as good now as later.”[132]

  Another strange aspect of the Kaiser’s depressions was that they vanished for no apparent reason, as quickly as they came. The next morning, although the war threat was just as menacing as the night before, he emerged from his cabin in high spirits. Accompanied by Eulenburg he spent the day racing with his uncle on the Britannia. William remained on deck to take charge of the sailing himself, while the Prince and “Phili” retreated to the cabin. Eulenburg was not favourably impressed by his host. As the Prince “went on breakfasting steadily from ten to four,” he wrote, “I had to sit tete-a-tete with him for hours on end. I learnt to know him thoroughly — a capable, amiable, but very crafty man, with a remarkably sinister look in his eye — not our friend.”[133]

  This opinion was formed largely because the Prince could not refrain from taking digs at his nephew. Considering that England was hoping to enlist the Kaiser’s support in the event of war, it reveals a tactlessness on the part of Edward which shows that the friction between the two men was not always instigated by William. Edward attributed France’s hostility towards Siam to Russia, declaring rather fatuously that it was “explicable by the antipathy of the Czar to my nephew Willy.” Then he went on to criticize Willy’s “colonial game,” saying that he could understand anyone wanting to buy diamonds, but if one was not in a position to buy big ones he would have thought the effort not worthwhile. Lastly, he touched on the German Navy. “It is all very well for my nephew to be interested in ships. But when one sees him with his disabled arm, going on as he is now doing on deck, one cannot help being a little afraid he may do himself some damage.” “This remark,” declared Eulenburg, “was no less subtle than malicious, and his look was more malicious still.”

  When the Britannia returned to harbour in the afternoon the Kaiser was informed that the crisis was over. The French and Siamese had reached agreement over the territorial dispute; and apparently the ultimatum about the British gunboats had been a mistake.

  Just as Bismarck had predicted, Germany’s pressure for colonies began to create trouble with England and vitiate the Kaiser’s plan to draw her into the Triple Alliance. Although in November 1893 the two countries concluded an arrangement which opened the way for Germany from the Cameroons to Lake Chad, England showed no inclination to part with anything that belonged to her. William was particularly indignant that she would not allow him to gain control of the Samoan Islands over which Germany, Britain, and America exercised a joint suzerainty. America was willing to relinquish her rights, but England refused. In September 1893 Count Hatzfeldt tol
d Lord Rosebery that Germany would be obliged to maintain “greater reserve” unless England became more obliging, and the following year hinted that “the advocacy of English interests must not be expected of us any longer.”

  Nevertheless the grievances continued to multiply. Germany accused England of making difficulties in Singapore over the recruitment of Chinese coolies for German New Guinea, and at Walfish Bay over the unloading of German guns, needed for the suppression of a revolt in German South-west Africa. After that came a quarrel over a British attempt to transfer Sudan territory to the Congo, which, the Germans said with justice, she had no right to do. This led to sharp practices on both sides and increased the general acrimony.

  Despite the friction, the Kaiser kept his sights securely fixed on partnership with England. When France and Russia concluded the Dual Alliance in 1894 he felt that his mission was more important than ever, and worked closely for an advantageous opening. It seemed to come in the summer of 1895. The situation looked more promising than it had for many months, for the African quarrels had temporarily subsided, and a conservative government had returned to power in England, which tended to favour Germany more than Mr. Gladstone’s radical, “pro-French” Liberals. And for once, even the personal relations of the Kaiser and the Prince of Wales were undisturbed. They could almost be described as being on good terms, for William II had made a gesture which delighted his uncle. He had appointed him an honorary officer of the Prussian Dragoon Guards. One of the few things that the Kaiser and the Prince shared was a love of royal trappings. They adored public occasions, medals, ribbons, and above all, uniforms. Neither minded changing clothes a dozen times a day, indeed they looked upon it as a treat. The Prince was so enchanted with William’s offer he did not mind when he learned that his nephew hoped for a quid pro quo.

  William told the British military attache in Berlin that he would “immensely like to have an English uniform, in order that, should he attend a review, he would not be obliged to mount a horse in an Admiral’s garb.”[134] Victoria said it was quite impossible; she had made William an admiral, that was enough. The Prince, still flushed with gratitude, weighed in. William was the Queen’s eldest grandson and an Emperor; besides it was British policy to keep in well with Germany. The Queen retorted that William was too spoilt already, and she was under the impression that he had been made an admiral expressly to prevent him from interfering with the army. The whole thing annoyed her. “This fishing for uniforms on both sides is regrettable,” she wrote her secretary. Lord Salisbury settled the argument. Although he was not in power he advised the Queen to humour the Emperor; so in the end she gave in and William was made Colonel-in-Chief of the 1st Royal Dragoons.

  This, then, was the agreeable atmosphere which prevailed in early August while the Kaiser, aboard the Hohenzollern, was making his way to Cowes. English newspapers, disturbed by the Franco-Russian alliance, remarked on the visit with pleasure, and more than one journal commented critically on England’s policy of isolation. For the first time people were advancing the arguments so often used by the Kaiser; that Germany and England were natural partners for the simple reason that France and Russia were common enemies — threatening Germany in Europe and Britain in the East. If the two “cousins” spoke with one voice, the world would be forced to live in peaceful co-existence.

  At the end of July, just before the Kaiser’s arrival, Lord Salisbury made a proposal to the German Ambassador, Count Hatzfeldt, which was received with delight. Salisbury had returned to office a month earlier and during the interval had been deeply immersed in the problem of Turkey. Turkey not only sprawled across part of North Africa and the Middle East, but reached into Europe with possessions which to-day constitute Albania and large parts of Greece and Yugoslavia. Although the great Powers had agreed in the Treaty of Berlin in 1878 to guarantee the Ottoman Empire, in order not to squabble over its spoils, the Balkans remained explosive because of the unhappy minorities under both Turkish and Austrian rule, and the sharp conflicting ambitions of Russia and Austria. Lately, the situation had grown more perilous than ever, as the Sultan was resorting to such barbarous measures that Salisbury did not see how Britain, for one, could continue to support him. The previous autumn his Kurdish troops had carried out a wholesale massacre of Armenians, cutting them down with knives and burning them alive in their churches. Reports coming from Constantinople predicted that more outrages were imminent.[135]

  Lord Salisbury, therefore, sounded Count Hatzfeldt about a possible partition of European Turkey. He told the Count that England would like Egypt, that he was prepared to give Russia Constantinople, and to distribute the other European spoils as Germany saw fit between her Triple Alliance partners, Austria and Italy. Hadzfeldt was dazzled. If Lord Salisbury’s suggestion was taken up all friction between Austria and Russia would disappear which was the cause of Russia’s antagonism towards Germany. Germany would secure a rapprochement with Russia which would bring to an end the Franco-Russian alliance; and at the same time England and Germany would establish a working partnership which would open the way for England’s accession to the Triple Alliance. From Germany’s point of view it was too good to be true.

  But they reckoned without Baron Holstein. The moment he received Hatzfeldt’s dispatch telling him of his talk with Salisbury, he decided that it was a British plot “to relieve the unpleasant position in which England finds herself with France and Russia about Egypt, by producing complications in Asia Minor and the Balkans, into which all the continental powers, including ourselves, would be dragged, rather than England.”[136] It was also a plot to break up the Triple Alliance by creating deadly enmity between Austria and Italy in the redistribution of Turkish territories. He instructed Hatzfeldt to turn it down, and sent a similar message to Herr von Kiderlen, the Foreign Office representative attached to the Imperial Suite aboard the Hohenzollern. “I do not think,” he concluded, “that Lord Salisbury will pursue for the present his scheme for a flare-up in the Balkans — for that is what his proposals amount to — if he comes up against determined opposition from the Emperor and realises that His Majesty sees through him.”

  Hatzfeldt was bitterly disappointed. Here was the opportunity for which Germany had been waiting dissolving in thin air. He wired Holstein on August 5th: “I must not deceive either you or myself. If we withdraw entirely, that is, if I can offer neither views nor advice, I can expect no further influence worth mentioning over Lord Salisbury’s decisions in the matter… Lord Salisbury’s plan frankly contemplated very rich satisfaction for Russia in the East… The one cheated evidently was to be France… I think it would scarcely be to our disadvantage if Russia, once satisfied saw no reason for keeping up the French friendship at our expense…”

  William II was always attracted by dramatic interpretations, and found Holstein’s arguments more stimulating than Hatzfeldt’s. Moreover, he liked to pride himself in “not having the wool pulled over his eyes” and more than once had boasted that being “half-English” had given him special insight into the soul of perfidious Albion.

  When he read about Lord Salisbury’s scheme as depicted by Holstein he described it as “truly English” and said that he would have nothing to do with it. He saw Lord Salisbury on the day of his arrival, August 5th. Baron Eckardstein declares that the Kaiser was rude to the Prime Minister, but since his account is incorrect regarding the time, date, and circumstances of the meeting, it is impossible to give it credence. Only one thing is clear: the Kaiser discussed the Turkish problem and told Lord Salisbury flatly that Germany would have nothing to do with a partition of the Ottoman Empire. However, it is likely from remarks made later by the Emperor that he also hinted at the question of Britain joining the Triple Alliance; and that Lord Salisbury, nettled by his refusal to consider the Turkish problem, was more discouraging than usual.

  There was a sequel to this interview. The next morning Salisbury obeyed etiquette by writing his name in the Kaiser’s book. At 3.30 that afternoon he received
a message that the Emperor would receive him at four. As he had already talked with the Kaiser he assumed that this was merely a courtesy in return for writing his name and replied that he had an audience with the Queen: and at four o’clock he left for London. The next day he received a letter from Victoria: “William is a little sore at your not coming to see him, having waited some time for you, thinking you would come after seeing me.” William made great capital of the incident, declaring that since he would not fall in with Salisbury’s plans the Prime Minister had slighted him. For years the German Foreign Office spoke of Salisbury’s “insulting behaviour.” Salisbury remarked acidly to Baron von Eckardstein some time later: “Your Kaiser seems to forget that ‘I do not work for the King of Prussia,’ but for the Queen of England.”[137]

  August 6th, the day that Salisbury missed his appointment, was a disastrous day all round. The Kaiser was supposed to race his yacht Meteor I against the Prince’s Britannia, but when he was informed of the handicaps he said they were too high and refused to take part; and the Prince was obliged to sail the course alone. This was bad enough, but with the day’s routine upset, William

  went aboard one of the ships that had escorted him from Germany and made a speech that upset the whole of Britain. He had included in his naval escort two battle-cruisers, the Worth and the Weissenburg, named after important victories in the Franco-Prussian war. August 4th and 6th marked the 25th anniversaries of the battles and he seized the opportunity to address the officers and crew of the Worth on the invincibility of the German Army in terms that did not spare French feelings. The next day the British press deplored his taste in insulting a foreign power from English soil; and the Standard told him bluntly to return to his own dominions before making any more such inflammatory pronouncements.