The Kaiser

by Virginia Cowles

  The conversation was enlivened by abuse of Edward VII. “He [the Czar] was uncommonly pleased with our Moroccan agreement, for a conference in Algeciras which would open the way for permanent good relations with France,” the Kaiser wrote Bülow. “When I pointed out that in spite of egging on by England, France had downright refused to take up our challenge and therefore no longer wanted to fight, he said quickly: ‘Yes, that I saw; it is quite clear that the Alsace-Lorraine question is closed once for all, thank God!’ Our talk then turned on England, and it very soon appeared that the Czar feels a deep personal anger at England and the King. He called Edward VII the greatest ‘mischief-maker’ and the most dangerous and deceptive intriguer in the world. I could only agree with him, adding that I especially had had to suffer from his intrigues in recent years… He has a passion for plotting against every power, of making ‘a little agreement,’ whereupon the Czar interrupted me, striking the table with his fist: ‘Well, I can only say he shall not get one from me and never in my life against Germany or you, my word of honour upon it! ’”[232]

  The Kaiser did not mention the treaty that night, but the next morning “it came about easily, because it was God’s will.” William rose early and prepared himself for his task by prayer. He opened his Bible at random and read, prophetically: “He shall reward every man according to his works.” Then as he walked the deck with Nicky he mentioned the treaty. “Oh yes, to be sure, I remember it well, but I forget the contents of it. What a pity I haven’t got it here.” William patted his pocket triumphantly and replied that he had it with him. “He seized me by the arm,” William wrote Bülow, “and drew me out of the saloon and into his father’s cabin and shut all the doors himself. ‘Show it me, please!’; his dreamy eyes shone with a brilliant light.

  “I drew the envelope out of my pocket, spread out the paper on the writing table of Alexander ÜI before the picture of the Dowager Empress, among a lot of photos from Fredensborg and Copenhagen, and laid it before the Czar. Once, twice, three times he read the text I have sent you. I prayed a hasty prayer to God that He would be with us now and guide the young ruler. It was still as death; only the sea whispered, and the sun shone gaily into the dark cabin, and just in front of me lay the Hohenzollern, gleaming white, and the imperial standard on her fluttered high in the morning breeze; I was just reading on its black cross the letters God with us, when the Czar’s voice said beside me: ‘That is quite excellent. I quite agree!’

  “My heart beat so loud that I could hear it; I pulled myself together and said quite casually: ‘Should you like to sign it? It would be a very nice souvenir of our interview.’ He glanced over the paper again. Then he said: ‘Yes I will.’ I opened the inkpot, gave him the pen and he wrote ‘NICHOLAS’ in a firm hand, then he gave me the pen, I signed, and when I stood up he clasped me in his arms and said: ‘I thank God and I thank you; it will be of most beneficial consequences for my country and yours; you are Russia’s only real friend in the whole world, I have felt that through the whole war and I know it.’ The water stood in my eyes for joy — indeed it was running down my forehead and my back — and I thought, Frederick William III, Queen Louise, Grandpapa and Nicholas I were near at that moment!

  “When I pointed out to the Czar that it would be well to have say two counter-signatures, it was usual with such documents, he assented and sent for Tschirschky to come over and for Admiral Birileff to come down… We gave them both a resume of the treaty, and the old sailor mutely caught my hand and kissed it reverently. And so the morning of June 24th, 1905, at Bjorko is a turning-point in the history of Europe, by the grace of God; and a great relief to my dear Fatherland, which will now be freed at last from the frightful vulture-talons of Galia-Russia.”[233]

  The Kaiser was not well served. However melodramatic his words, however doubtful his attempts to foil France by rushing the Czar into action, there can be no doubt that if such a treaty had become operative it would have “turned over a new leaf,” as the Kaiser put it, “in the history of the world.”[234] However, William had made an alteration in the text of the principal article, which declared: “If any European State attacks one of the two Empires the allied party will employ all its naval and military forces to assist its ally.” After the word “ally” William had inserted “in Europe.” He did not want to find himself fighting for Russia in the Far East.

  The events that took place when Bülow and Holstein studied the document give the reader a penetrating glimpse of the hopeless confusion in which Germany was led. Holstein told Bülow that the words “in Europe” impaired the treaty. If Britain attacked Germany, Germany must be sure that Russia would counter-attack in Afghanistan and India. Indeed, where else could Russia help Germany against Britain? Certainly not in Europe! What escaped Holstein’s attention was the fact that Britain was most unlikely to attack a German-Russian combine, and even less likely a German-Russo-Franco combine!

  Bülow cynically adopted Holstein’s doubts for the simple reason that they happened to suit his book. He had decided that the Kaiser’s “in Europe” clause would serve as the grand climacteric of his career. For years he had been subservient and sycophantic to the Emperor, not because of admiration but fear. Here was a golden opportunity to gather the sort of power that Bismarck had wielded. If he refused to countersign the treaty and proffered his resignation he would give the Kaiser a real fright and teach him that when he went off to meet the Czar it would be wiser not to exclude his Chancellor. Bülow knew his resignation would not be accepted. Basking in the triumph of his Moroccan policy he was safe; William had just shown the world his esteem for his Chancellor by making him a prince; he could scarcely drop him now without making himself ridiculous. Holstein also favoured the move. He not only disliked the Kaiser and was always ready to strike a blow at him, but for years had been urging ministers to use the threat of resignation to put an end to the exasperating interferences. So Bülow sent the Emperor a long, badly argued letter relinquishing the Chancellorship.

  Chapter 10: Vendetta

  The Kaiser became hysterical when he received Bülow’s resignation. He sat down at his writing table and covered sheet after sheet of paper with wild exhortations. “If Bismarck had succeeded in securing the Bjorko Treaty,” he declared, “he would have made all the nations acclaim him.” Then he broke into a flood of lamentation and self-pity, ending with a threat to commit suicide. “To be treated like this by my best and most intimate friend… has dealt me such a terrible blow that I have completely collapsed, and fear that I may have a major break-down. You say the situation since the addition of ‘in Europe’ to the Treaty has become so serious that you cannot take the responsibility. Serious to whom? And in the same breath you believe you can be responsible to God for leaving in the lurch, in a situation which you yourself describe as peculiarly serious, your Emperor and Master to whom you have sworn fealty, who has showered affection and distinctions upon you, as I believe your most faithful friend, and your Fatherland?

  “My dear Bülow, you can’t do that to either of us! We have both been called by God and made for one another to work and to achieve for our German Fatherland! If it is true — which I do not think possible — that through a fault of mine, according to your opinion, a still more serious situation has been brought about, it happened with the best of intentions! You know me well enough to believe that! Your personality is worth a hundred thousand times more to me and our Fatherland than all the treaties in the world… Remember that you, personally, sent me to Tangier against my will, to win a success in your Moroccan policy. I landed because you wanted me to in the interests of the Fatherland, mounted a strange horse in spite of the handicap of my bad arm, and if the ride came within an inch of costing me my life, you were responsible. I had to ride between Spanish anarchists because you wished it, and your policy was to profit by it! And now, after I have done all this, and much more for you, you want to desert me simply because a situation appears to you to be serious!

  “No, Bülow, I h
ave not deserved it of you!… You cannot and must not repudiate me; it would be disavowal of your own policy this year and I should be a laughing-stock for the rest of my life. This I could not survive. Let me have a few days’ rest and concentration before you come, because the agitation your letter has caused me is too great; I am incapable of any calm discussion at present. Your faithful friend, William R.

  “P.S. I appeal to your friendship for me, and do not let me hear any more of your intention to retire. Wire me after this letter the word ‘All right’ and I shall know that you will stay! For the day after I receive your resignation, your Emperor will no longer be alive! Think of my poor wife and children! W.”[235]

  Bülow declares in his memoirs that he was so overcome by the letter that he agreed to stay and to put his counter-signature on the treaty. The truth was that he now felt himself the master. William was so relieved by the outcome that he was as obedient as a small child. “Since Bjorko,” the Chancellor crowed to Holstein, “His Majesty will write to the Czar… exactly what we suggest to him.”[236] Now he was ready to try and make the treaty operative. Nicholas had promised not to show the document to his ministers until after the Russo-Japanese peace terms had been signed, which was still a month in the offing. The reaction of the Foreign Minister, Count Lamsdorff, would be important, for he would advise the Czar on the possibility of bringing France into the agreement.

  Everything depended on not allowing the Czar’s enthusiasm to wane. So William sent him letters of encouragement which were screened by Bülow who apparently approved of the mixture of schoolboy fervour and malice. “The ‘arch-intriguer and mischief-maker in Europe’ as you so rightly called King Edward has been hard at work in the last months;” “the Continental Combine flanked by America is the only way to prevent the whole world from becoming John Bull’s private property;” “Britain only wants to make France her ‘catspaw’ against us, as she used Japan against you.” As for the British Navy’s visit to Swinemunde: “I have ordered my fleet to shadow the British and when they have anchored to lay themselves near the British Fleet, to give them dinner and make them as drunk as possible to find out what they are about.”[237]

  However, the Kaiser’s efforts were to no avail. When the Czar showed his ministers the Bjorko Treaty in September 1905 Count Lamsdorff was appalled and “could not believe his eyes or ears.” “Has His Majesty forgotten that we have a Treaty with France?” he asked, remarking later to a colleague: “This detail no doubt escaped His Majesty in the flood of the Emperor William’s eloquence.” Ironically enough, Count Witte, the Finance Minister, declared that the words “in Europe” gave Germany a “monstrous advantage.”

  The Czar finally was obliged to telegraph the Kaiser that the treaty was felt to be incompatible with the terms of the Dual Alliance. On September 29th William replied: “The working of the treaty, as we agreed at Bjorko, does not collide with the Franco-Russian alliance, provided, of course, the latter is not aimed directly at my country… Your Ally notoriously left you in the lurch during the whole war, whereas Germany helped you in every way as far as it could, without infringing the law of neutrality. That puts Russia morally under obligation to us… I fully agree with you that it will cost time, labour and patience to induce France to join us both Our treaty is a very good base to build upon. We joined hands and signed before God, who heard our vows. I therefore think that the treaty can well come into existence. What is signed is signed; God is our testator.”[238] But the Czar buried Bjorko under an oppressive silence, and refused to allude to it again.

  The Kaiser did not give up hope, for he had one more string to his bow. He decided to woo France at the Algeciras Conference, scheduled to meet in the middle of January 1906, to settle the future of Morocco. His plan was to give her such a smooth passage that the pro-German element in the French Government would be strengthened. If Paris could be made to see the advantages of friendship with Germany the entente which had cracked so badly after Tangier might shatter altogether and the Bjorko Treaty spring to life in its place.

  Baron Holstein, however, had a very peculiar idea of how to conduct a courtship. He, too, wished to draw closer to the French, but he insisted that this could only be achieved by making it clear that British support was not powerful enough to ensure France the seizure of Morocco. He favoured the bludgeoning tactics that had secured the dismissal of M. Delcasse. Consequently he dispatched two very unpleasant delegates to the Conference who spent their time whispering menacingly that if the talks broke down because of French intransigence Germany would be compelled to use force.

  The Conference therefore proceeded in an atmosphere heavy with threat and foreboding. All the signatories of the Madrid Pact were present: Morocco, the three members of the Triple Alliance, the two members of the Dual Alliance, Great Britain, Spain, Portugal, Holland, Belgium, Sweden, and the United States. The English delegation was well aware that Germany’s aim was to smash up the entente and wondered how the hand would be played. As the champion of Morocco’s economic independence, Berlin held very strong cards, and there was considerable fear that she might command a majority following. Indeed, Bülow had instructed his two delegates, Count Tattenbach and Count von Radowitz, that whatever happened they were not to allow themselves to be shown at a disadvantage. Prestige was all-important, and they must prevent any issue being put to a vote unless they could command a majority. “If any question on which we have once taken a stand finds all the others, or a majority of them, against us,” wrote Bülow, “then neither forcefulness nor threats will be of any use, as our position, after all that has passed, would be rather ridiculous.”[239]

  Bülow, however, had reckoned without the personality of his representatives. Count Tattenbach was hated by everyone. “Really a horrid fellow,” wrote Sir Arthur Nicolson, the British delegate, “blustering, rude and mendacious. The worst type of German I have met.” Although Count von Radowitz was not so aggressive, he scarcely endeared himself by declaring mournfully: “We have no wish to fight, but if we are forced to it we will crush them like flies.” Therefore, when an innocent question of procedure arose on March 3rd, and the Germans asked for an adjournment, Sir Arthur Nicolson saw his opportunity. Quick as a flash he suggested putting the matter to a vote. Too late the Germans realised their mistake. Every nation, except for the Austrians and the Moors, ranged itself against Germany.

  Panic gripped the Wilhelmstrasse. Germany had been isolated; clearly she had no friends. The fact that even Italy, one of her partners in the Triple Alliance, had voted against her was thought to be indicative of how far feeling had swung against her.[240] The humiliation was complete. There was nothing for her to do but swallow her pride and adopt a conciliatory attitude. In the end she won enough concessions over issues involving the State Bank, customs, and port control to save her face to some extent. At any rate she impressed the Americans, who did not seem to understand the issues. They took the Conference at its face value and thought it merely involved economic questions. The fact that all the powers, including France, signed the Act of Algeciras, solemnly pledging to uphold the Sultan of Morocco’s independence, and to maintain an open-door policy, deeply impressed the White House. The German Ambassador in Washington wired to Berlin that President Roosevelt had asked him “to inform His Majesty the Emperor of my heartiest congratulations on this epoch-making political success at Algeciras.” “Even though the foregoing does not appear to agree with the facts,” commented the Ambassador ruefully, “I am convinced that the words spoken by the President come from the heart.”[241]

  The Kaiser was bitterly disappointed. He stormed against the handling of the Conference and told Bülow that Algeciras had reversed his Moroccan success. This was true enough, for the entente not only had been repaired but visibly strengthened.[242] Bülow was determined not to lose the Emperor’s confidence, and decided that the time had come to sacrifice his friend, Baron Holstein. He told William that Holstein had deliberately disobeyed the instructions given to him, and
was wholly responsible for the failure. The Emperor accepted this explanation and on April 17th wrote a minute at the bottom of a dispatch. “Herr von Holstein in his clever way twisted my perfectly definite orders and arrangements with the Chancellor in such a manner that the exact opposite was the final outcome. He constantly stirred up poison against France anew and pressed so heavily on the Chancellor that the latter in his garden to my great astonishment repeatedly asked me the same question — whether I wished or desired war with France! Whereas my instructions… said expressly: ‘Algeciras is to be the stepping stone of the beginning of the agreement between France and Germany.’”

  If the Kaiser had understood the power that Bülow had allowed Holstein to exercise, he would not have accepted this excuse; as it was, he exonerated his Chancellor but said that he would not be sorry to see Holstein dropped from the Foreign Office. Bülow welcomed the idea, for he had begun to doubt Holstein’s judgement; furthermore, Holstein was becoming almost impossible to work with. He made endless scenes and was always threatening to resign. Count Tschirschky, who had been appointed Secretary of State when Baron von Richthofen died in January, did not like the way he walked into his room unannounced, and had begun to lock his door. Holstein had taken umbrage, and placed one of his many letters of resignation on Bülow’s desk. He had also quarrelled with Otto Hamman, the Head of the Foreign Office Press Bureau, demanding that the department should be brought under his authority. “I perfectly understand your moral prejudices against that blackmailer,” Bülow told Hamman. “When the Conference is over I will get rid of him, but I must keep him on now, for he might seriously injure the national interests by getting up wrangles in the press.”[243]