The Kaiser

by Virginia Cowles

  William was delighted by this state of affairs for he saw himself in the balancing position, courted by both sides, able to throw his weight first one way, then another, according to what concessions were promised him. His eastern flank was free of trouble and he claimed that his relationship with the Czar was closer than Bismarck’s had been; and now Britain was beginning to woo him with a gentle persistence that was entirely new. Bülow wrote his master a letter, studded with the usual adroit flattery, ending: “Your Majesty, on the eightieth birthday of Her Exalted Majesty, Queen Victoria, will be present as arbiter mundi.”

  This was a new and intoxicating position but it was not a policy. Indeed, during the year 1898 the Kaiser’s diplomatic activity was so childishly excitable and so patently opportunist that it bordered on pantomime. England’s first approach to Germany came in the spring. Mr. Joseph Chamberlain, the Colonial Secretary, told Count Hatzfeldt that he believed Britain’s natural alliance was with Germany as both countries had reason to fear French and Russian aggression. He recognised Germany’s right to colonial expansion, and pledged himself to use his influence to meet her legitimate aspirations. He did not pretend that his views represented those of the government but he was confident that before long he could persuade them to his way of thinking. “So they have come off their high horse, have they?” the Kaiser wrote delightedly on Hatzfeldt’s dispatch. “No grabbing at them though — let them wait.” However, after a talk with Bülow, who had been convinced by Holstein that it was all “English devilry,” the Emperor became less enthusiastic. At the foot of another dispatch he wrote: “The gist of the matter is: by occupying Wei-hai-wei in a temper and so shaking her fist in front of Russia’s nose, England suddenly finds herself in a very uncomfortable position. Russia has not so far struck at the fist, but is keeping that for later on; this is beginning to dawn on John Bull, and he wants someone to get him out of his dilemma. I shall certainly not do this on Chamberlain’s promises! We shall see what happens later on.”[167]

  Chamberlain’s nibble, however, gave the Kaiser the bright idea of playing off England against Russia and auctioning Germany to the highest bidder. So he sat down and wrote a letter to Nicky telling him that England had sounded Berlin for an alliance — and here he gave his imagination full play — “with enormous offers, showing a wide and great future opening for my country, that I think it my duty to Germany to reflect deeply before I answer. And before I do, I frankly and openly come to you, my esteemed friend and cousin, to inform you, as I feel it is, so to speak, a matter of life and death… Now as my old and trusted friend I beg you to tell me what you can and will offer me if I refuse. Your proposals must be clear and frank and free from mental reservations so that before I give my final answer I can consider them in my heart and lay them before God, as I am bound to do, since the blessing of peace for my country and the world is at stake. By this letter, dearest Nicky, I show you that I put my entire faith in your absolute secrecy — not a word to anyone — the next generation is in our hands!”[168] But it all proved to be a damp squib. Nicky did not care to expose himself in so naive a manner, and merely wrote back that England had also approached Russia and made him, too, unprecedented offers. “Without thinking twice over it,” he added mischievously, “their proposals were refused.”

  William was now in an awkward position, for he would have to produce something to show Nicholas that his talk was not mere invention. Yet Bülow had dampened Chamberlain’s ardour by replying airily that the British Navy would not be much use if Germany was attacked on two fronts; furthermore, that the feeling between the two countries had been so bad ever since the Jameson Raid that German public opinion would not welcome an agreement, unless, of course, England demonstrated her goodwill by generosity in the colonial field. But Chamberlain did not respond, and as the weeks passed William began to fret. Finally, he turned to his mother and asked her to broach the subject to Queen Victoria. “I do know for a fact,” she wrote on July 15, 1898, “that William is most anxious for a rapprochement with England and hopes with all his heart that England will COME forward in some sort of way, and meet him half way. [169]

  At the same time that the Empress wrote the letter, William put forward a proposal that Germany should surrender her claims on Tonga Islands and the Samoan Archipelago in the Pacific in return for which Britain would cede her Nyasaland in Africa and Walfish Bay, a strong strategic position in South West Africa. But Lord Salisbury politely replied that “the territorial demands were too extensive to be acceptable.” William flew into a rage, and this time wrote Queen Victoria himself, saying that his overture had been treated “with something between a joke and a snub.” Then he dashed off a letter to Nicky: “Since I communicated to you this June, England has still now and then reopened negotiations with us but has never quite uncovered its hand; they are trying hard, as far as I can make out, to find a continental army to fight for their interests! But I fancy they won’t easily find one, at least not mine! Their newest move is to wish to gain France over from you, and they in consequence have suddenly decided to send the Duke of Connaught to the French Army Manoeuvres…”[170]

  The Kaiser was out of sorts. Neither England nor Russia seemed inclined to offer him any advantages so he decided to try his hand in the Middle East. For months he had talked about a trip to Constantinople, and the Holy Land, which was under Turkish rule, and on October 12, 1898, he finally set forth, accompanied by the Empress and a suite of fifty. He sailed on the Hohenzollern to Constantinople and spent several days as the Sultan’s guest. The English were indignant that he should consort with “the bloodstained” monster who had slain all the Armenians, but he left the capital with a contract to build a harbour in Haidar Pasha, a concession for a German cable between Constanza and Constantinople, and a plan for carrying the German-built Anatolian Railway to Baghdad.

  He then took ship to Haifa, from which the imperial party proceeded to Jerusalem by horse, camping each night by the roadside. Despite the splendid tents and the many servants, the heat was so overpowering, and the flies so bad, that most of the entourage regarded the pilgrimage as a severe ordeal. The Emperor, however, remained enthusiastic, and his entrance into Jerusalem on October 29th was staged as a magnificent spectacle. Mounted on a black charger, dressed in gleaming white, with a gold eagle at the top of his helmet, William led his brilliantly arrayed Court through the gates of the Holy City. He had brought Herr Knackfuss on the journey to the Middle East, and the artist later reproduced the scene for the benefit of those at home.

  The Kaiser was thrilled by everything he saw, and sent many ecstatic wires to the Turkish sultan thanking him for the arrangements. When he reached Damascus, his last stop, he was so delighted to walk on the same ground as the famous Saladin that he made a warm and eloquent speech ending with the words: “Let me assure His Majesty the Sultan and the three hundred millions of Moslems who, in whatever corner of the globe they may live, revere in him their Kalif, that the German Emperor will ever be their friend.”[171] This did not please either London or St. Petersburg as both countries had a good many Moslems under their rule, and wondered what new mischief William was about. Furthermore, Russia had always regarded access to the Turkish straits as her “historic mission” and the Kaiser’s interest in the Near East aroused deep misgivings. “And how did you like the German Emperor’s speeches during his visit to Palestine?” the Czar wrote drily to his mother. The Empress Marie left him in no doubt about her feelings. “The pictures of the journey through the Holy Land would have made me laugh if the whole thing were not so revolting,” she wrote to Nicholas. “All done out of sheer vanity, so as to be talked about! That pilgrim’s cloak, that pose of Ober-pastor, preaching peace on earth in a thunderous voice as though he were commanding troops, and she wearing the Grand Cross in Jerusalem, all this is perfectly ridiculous and has no trace of religious feeling — disgusting! And further, what a pretty sight when they are both kneeling on Mount Sinai and are being blessed by their children’s
tutor, expressly brought along for the purpose!… But enough of it — it makes me too angry — it even gives me palpitations as I write about it, and it is not really worth it.”[172]

  Once the Kaiser returned to Berlin his malaise overtook him again, and he remembered how angry he was with England and Russia for not putting a proper value on his friendship by generous offers. Although Chamberlain had tried to placate Berlin by signing an agreement with Germany over Portugal’s African colonies (an extraordinary document by which the two countries prematurely divided up Angola and Mozambique in case Lisbon had to apply for a loan and could not meet the mortgage payments) his temper did not improve. In the spring of 1899 he became so annoyed by Lord Salisbury’s handling of the Anglo-German dispute over Samoa that he snapped out to the British Ambassador: “Tell your people to behave themselves properly.” He made excited speeches hinting that England might have to face the German fleet one day, then wrote an irritable letter to his grandmother criticising Lord Salisbury, and describing Samoa as “a stupid island which is a hairpin to England compared to the thousands of square miles she is amassing right and left unopposed every year.” The Queen replied calmly, saying that he must be a victim of a “temporary irritation,” “for I do not think you otherwise would have written in such a strain, which I doubt whether any sovereign ever employed in writing to another sovereign — and that sovereign his own grandmother — about her Prime Minister.”[173]

  He was also offended by Nicholas’s long silence and abused Russia so roundly to the British Ambassador in Berlin, accusing her of plots against England, that Queen Victoria wondered if he was abusing England in the same way to Russia. In order to protect her ministers, she wrote to Nicholas on March 2, 1899, that there was “something which you ought to know and perhaps do not. It is, I am sorry to say, that William takes every opportunity of impressing upon Sir F. Lascelles that Russia is doing all in her power to work against us… I need not say that I do not believe a word of this, neither do Lord Salisbury or Sir F. Lascelles. But I am afraid William may go and tell things against us to you, just as he does about you to us. If so, pray tell me openly and confidentially. It is so important that we should understand each other, and that such mischievous and unstraightforward proceedings should be put a stop to. You are so true yourself, that I am sure you will be shocked at this.”[174]

  Queen Victoria’s allusion to Russia’s trustworthiness was diplomatic but scarcely true. All the great powers regarded Russia as a universal trouble-maker, stealthy and unpredictable. Because of her immense size her effectiveness was always over-estimated and she was watched with anxiety and deep suspicion. Her tactics were invariably the same; with one hand she stirred up trouble and with the other swore that idealism prompted her to intervene to put things right. She had employed these methods in the Balkans, encouraging the Slav minorities to rebel against Austrian rule; and now was threatening to do the same thing in China. Soon she would move into Manchuria to maintain order, then refuse to move out again. These tricks prompted Joseph Chamberlain to make a speech pointing out that it was wise to use a long spoon when supping with the devil.

  And now in May 1899 the devil, disguised as “charming Nicky” who governed his country with harsh absolutism, was summoning the world’s first disarmament conference at The Hague. What was it all about? Most of the powers came to the conclusion that Russia was in severe financial straits; that if she could persuade her neighbours to limit their arms she would be able to maintain her relative strength and at the same time lessen the strain on her economy. This undoubtedly was so, but it was also true that Nicholas II genuinely believed in peace, and would always prefer to gain an advantage by diplomatic manoeuvre rather than war. Although the disarmament proposal was rejected, a Court of Arbitration was set up for disputes, “not affecting national honour or vital interests,” which still exists today. Neither Queen Victoria nor the Kaiser thought much of the conference, but both decided that it was politic to try and humour Nicky. “I promised the Czar at Wiesbaden,” wrote William sulkily, “to help him to a satisfactory result! So that he shan’t make a fool of himself before Europe, I have to agree to nonsense! But for my part I’ll go on trusting and appealing to God and my sharp sword! And the whole concern!”[175]

  William had been at odds with both Russia and England for many months. Quite suddenly the clouds lifted and once again he was in harmony with the world. This was because Queen Victoria, who celebrated her eightieth birthday in May, wrote her grandson a charming letter and suggested that he should mark the occasion by paying a visit to Windsor in the autumn — his first visit since the summer of 1895 at Cowes. He accepted the invitation and asked if he might bring the Empress. On top of this came news that Bülow had completed negotiations with Spain, which gave Germany the Caroline and Marianne Islands in the western Pacific. William thanked him joyfully for acquiring “this pearl for my crown” and gave him the rank of Count.

  A month before the visit to England, scheduled for November 1899, the Boer war broke out. All over the continent there was a strong reaction against British “high-handedness,” and nowhere was the feeling stronger than in Germany. This was partly due to the fact that it was the policy of the German Foreign Office to encourage the periodic waves of Anglophobia which swept the country, as it was believed to add to Germany’s bargaining power, but also to a genuine sympathy for the Boer Government. The Kaiser’s consort, the Empress Augusta Victoria, hated England and saw a chance of avoiding the visit which she dreaded — “We really cannot go there,” she wrote to Bülow. “I have done as you wished and said nothing to the Kaiser so far — but very soon now our ships will be burned. I am afraid it will do the Kaiser any amount of harm in the country if we really go. Britain is only out to make use of us. Of course, it is frightfully difficult for the Kaiser, but at bottom I think he would be glad to get out of it. I am anxiously awaiting your reply.”[176]

  The Empress was wrong. The Kaiser wanted to go, and go they did. His visit was immensely unpopular with his own people, and before leaving he tried to allay their passions by making a strong anti-British speech. However, for once, everyone in England was glad to have his moral support, and politely ignored the outburst.

  Nothing was left undone for the comfort and entertainment of the royal visitors, who were treated to all the pomp and ceremony at the Queen’s command. The Kaiser loved Windsor Castle. He had always been fascinated by the great battlements whose foundations had been laid nine hundred years before, and from the moment he arrived was deeply emotional. He called Bülow to him and said solemnly: “This is the finest reception and the most aweinspiring impression of my life. Here, where as a child I went along holding my mother’s hand and marvelling, modestly and timidly, at the splendour, I am now staying as King-Emperor.” Every morning he annoyed the gentlemen of his military entourage by pointing to Windsor Tower and saying: “From this Tower the world is ruled.”[177]

  The Kaiser’s silky, smiling Foreign Secretary was sympathetic to his mood, but he did nothing to clarify his royal master’s conflicting ideas, nor to guide him along a path of logic. The truth was that at the turn of the century only one course was open to Germany: an alliance with England. William’s spasmodic dreams of a continental combine were not within the realm of practical politics, for no matter how friendly the relations between Czar and Kaiser Russia’s agreement with France precluded any worthwhile arrangement with Germany. It was also plain that if Germany came to an understanding with England, William would have difficulty in getting his navy bills through the Reichstag, for the deputies scarcely could be expected to vote huge sums for Germany’s defence against the British Fleet if the two countries were partners.

  These were matters that Bülow should have thrashed out with William II but he shrank from doing so. His eye was on the Chancellorship and he avoided anything that might upset his emotional sovereign. Equally important he was determined not to run foul of Baron Holstein. He was frightened of this dangerous unscrup
ulous man and had no wish to incur his disfavour as Philip Eulenburg had done. Indeed, he followed his advice so assiduously that the Baron dropped his vendetta against the Emperor and no longer complained of the imperial “absolutism.” Although Holstein pretended to be in favour of an alliance with England he was incapable of taking a decisive step; he was so saturated with suspicion, so fearful lest Britain get the best of a bargain, that he could only conjure up the reasons for doing nothing at all. This negative policy suited Bülow for it enabled him to keep in with both Tirpitz and the Kaiser. He could champion the fleet and at the same time dazzle William with assurances that if he played a waiting game England would come forward with far more extensive offers.

  It was a disaster of the first magnitude for Germany that Count Bülow should have been more interested in ingratiating himself with the powerful men who surrounded him than in selecting a prudent course for his country. The years between 1898 and 1902 marked a climacteric in European history, for during this period Britain approached Germany three times for an alliance and three times was rebuffed. If William II had been encouraged by Bülow in the autumn of 1899 there is little doubt but that he would have set in motion the machinery for an agreement. Instead, Bülow followed Holstein’s advice, and insisted that England, with her troops committed in South Africa, was merely angling for the German Army to protect her scattered possessions from Russian and French threats. He even went so far as to draw up a memorandum advising the Kaiser how to behave towards his English relations!

  It is interesting that Count Bülow dared to hand his master a document so insulting in its puerile instructions, so bare-faced in its flattery. “Beyond question,” it began, “Your Majesty is more gifted than any of your relations, male or female. Your relations, however, do not extend to you a respect commensurate with the brilliance of your qualities — quite apart from the powerful position held by the German Kaiser. The reason is that Your Majesty has always met your relatives openly and honourably, has initiated them into your plans and hopes, and has thus provided them with the opportunity of putting obstacles in your way. For the most adroit of thrusts, if announced in advance, can be parried even by a weaker fencer. This English journey offers Your Majesty the opportunity of righting this topsy-turvy situation and winning for Your Majesty at a stroke the authority which is properly due to Your Majesty’s high qualities and great power. All that Your Majesty need do to secure this is to avoid all political conversations.”[178]