The Kaiser

by Virginia Cowles

  William II wavered about England. Occasionally he echoed his Chancellor’s reassuring views, but far more often talked of London’s hostile machinations. When Colonel House came to Europe in May 1914, as President Wilson’s representative, to see if America could lessen the tension accentuated by the feverish arms race, the Kaiser told him that Germany had been “encircled” by England; that she was menaced on every side; “that the bayonets of Europe were directed against her.” He was in such a state of tension that he poured scorn on any optimistic utterances. When one of his ambassadors told him that he did not believe that war with Russia was inevitable, remarking cheerfully that no one could see three or four years into the future, the Kaiser commented drily: “The gift sometimes occurs. Among Sovereigns frequently, among Statesmen seldom, among Diplomats almost never!”

  Alas, the Kaiser not only lacked the second sight of which he boasted, but within a matter of days cast to the winds the prudence which until now had been his shield.

  Chapter 14. Sarajevo

  In June 1914 the weather was unusually fine. On the continent thousands of holiday-makers warmed themselves in the sun and forgot their anxieties about war. Only in London was the atmosphere grim and troubled, and this had nothing to do with the arms race in Europe. The Government had drawn up the Irish Home Rule Bill, bitter divisions had arisen in Parliament, and Ireland was on the verge of a civil war. Complications with Germany had been driven into the background.

  On the twelfth of June the Kaiser travelled to Konopischt to spend a few days with the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne, to see his wonderful roses. William always enjoyed his trips to Austria; he had first visited Vienna as a small boy with his mother, and could never forget his delight at the marvellous Schonbrunn Palace, or his first sight of the Empress Elizabeth whom he always regarded as the most beautiful woman in the world. The old Emperor, now in his eighty-fifth year, had always been a firm friend to William; never had Austria’s loyalty for her German ally flagged, never had a harsh word passed between the two sovereigns. William not only revered the Emperor but admired the fortitude with which he had borne the heavy trials of his life. His brother Maximilian had been shot on a hillside in Mexico; his only son and heir, Crown Prince Rudolf, had been found dead with his mistress, presumably as the result of a love-pact, at the shooting lodge at Mayerling, the year after William came to the throne; his wife, the Empress Elizabeth, had been struck down by an Italian assassin’s knife in Geneva, in 1898.

  The present heir to the Austrian throne was the Emperor’s nephew, a morose, shy, middle-aged man whom nobody liked. Indeed, Franz Ferdinand had deeply offended his relations by marrying a commoner, Countess Sophie Chotek. Austrian society was the most exclusive and snobbish in Europe, and although the Archduke’s wife came from an ancient Czech family, the union was regarded as a shocking mesalliance. “Was I not to be spared even this?” the Emperor sighed, when he was told of the engagement.

  The marriage could only take place morganatically, and the Archduke was forced to renounce the throne for his heirs. Although the Countess was granted the title of Duchess of Hohenberg, she was regarded as inferior in rank to the youngest archduchess. At Court functions she was always placed at the end of the table and made to enter the room last. She was a proud, self-willed woman who found the humiliations heaped upon her unbearable. Franz Ferdinand made violent scenes with his family, but their attitude remained severe and unyielding. Gradually the couple absented themselves from the Court.

  The Kaiser won the Archduke’s gratitude by making a point of showing his esteem for the Duchess. Whenever the couple came to Berlin the banqueting table was moved out of the dining room and small tables put in its place. The Archduke and his wife dined at a table a quatre with the Kaiser and Kaiserin; thus no royal princess could complain of her placement vis-a-vis the Duchess.

  During the Kaiser’s visit to Konopischt, the Archduke told him that he and his wife were planning a visit to Sarajevo, the chief city in the province of Bosnia, to attend the military manoeuvres of the Austrian Army. Since Vienna’s high-handed annexation six years earlier there had been much unrest in the area. Politically Franz Ferdinand was an enlightened man who realised that Slav nationalism could not be held down indefinitely and favoured the idea that Austro-Hungarian “dualism” should expand into a form of “trialism,” in which German, Magyar, and Slav nationalities would all have equal representation.

  The Kaiser returned to Berlin on the 16th, and eight days later arrived at Kiel for the Regatta, which this year was attended by a British naval squadron. The Kaiser, as an admiral, directed the proceedings under the ensign of the Hohenzollern. On the afternoon of Sunday, June 28th, he put to sea in the Meteor to take part in a race. Suddenly a motor launch approached the yacht, and the Emperor saw his Chief of Naval Cabinet, Admiral Müller, waving a slip of paper. The Kaiser leaned over the stern and Müller called out that he was “the bearer of grave news” and would throw the communication aboard. But the Emperor insisted on knowing immediately what it was about; so Müller shouted out his message; three hours earlier the Archduke and his wife had been killed by the bullets of a Serbian assassin while riding in an open car through the streets of Sarajevo.

  The Kaiser was appalled. “The cowardly detestable crime… has shaken me to the depths of my soul,” he wired to Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg. And to the Grand Duchess Louise: “The unutterable misfortune has shaken me to the very depths. Only fourteen days ago I was with him and saw him in his happy family circle. God comfort the unfortunate children and the poor old Emperor.”[345]

  It was not only that William II had lost a friend under shocking circumstances, not only that Germany’s ally, Austria-Hungary, had been delivered a blow, but above all that a prince of the blood royal had been struck down; through his person the monarchical principle had been attacked, representing all that the Kaiser held most sacred. To him, regicide was the most heinous and unpardonable of all crimes.

  He abandoned the Regatta and hurried back to Berlin. He was still in a highly emotional state when, on June 30th, he read a dispatch from his Ambassador in Vienna, Count von Tschirschky, who reported that he was trying to keep the authorities in Vienna from acting too impulsively vis-a-vis Serbia. Tschirschky, of course, was only carrying out the policy of restraint which had been laid down and followed by the Kaiser in the handling of Austro-Serbian affairs for the past two years. But now William II had changed. He seemed to have lost all control. He threw caution to the winds, and allowed a sense of outrage to direct everything he thought and said. “I frequently hear expressed,” wrote Tschirschky, “…the wish that a last and final reckoning should be had with the Serbs. The Serbs should first be presented with a number of demands, and in case they should not accept these, energetic measures should be taken. I take the opportunity on every such occasion to advise quietly but very impressively and seriously against too hasty steps… the chances of every kind of action should be carefully weighed, and it should be kept in mind that Austria-Hungary does not stand alone in the world, that it is her duty to think not only of her allies, but to take into consideration the entire European situation…” “Now or never,” the Kaiser scribbled furiously on the margin. “Who authorised him to act that way? That is very stupid! It is none of his business, as it is solely the affair of Austria what she plans to do in this case. Later, if plans go wrong it will be said that Germany did not want it! Let Tschirschky be good enough to drop this nonsense. The Serbs must be disposed of, and that right soon!”[346] The Kaiser’s interjections were telegraphed to Count von Tschirschky, who was forced to alter his tone. Until now he had supported Count Tisza, the powerful Minister-President of Hungary, who was having a hard battle with Count Berchtold, the Foreign Secretary. Berchtold was in favour of a military invasion of Serbia, while Tisza declared that it would be “a fatal mistake” to make “the horrible Sarajevo crime the occasion of a final reckoning with Serbia.” It would, he said, “pillory Austrian
s before the whole world as disturbers of the peace, besides beginning a great war under unfavourable circumstances.”[347] Berchtold was delighted by Tschirschky’s change of attitude. As Austria could do nothing without German support, he decided to drop the argument with Tisza and before pressing his views any further to find out exactly how far the Kaiser was prepared to go. He drafted a letter for the Emperor Franz Joseph to send to William II. It was dispatched to Berlin by messenger and delivered to the Austrian Ambassador, Count Szogyeny. Szogyeny took it to the Kaiser at Potsdam on Sunday morning, July 5th.

  The communication opened sedately. “The attack on my poor nephew,” it began, “is the direct result of the agitation of the Russian and Serbian Pan-Slavs, whose single aim is the weakening of the Triple Alliance and the disruption of my Empire… According to all indications, the crime of Sarajevo is not the deed of a single individual, but the result of a well-arranged plot whose threads reach to Belgrade;[348] and though presumably it will be impossible to prove the complicity of the Serbian Government, there can be no doubt that its policy of uniting all the South Slavs under the Serbian flag promotes such crimes, and that a continuation of this situation spells lasting danger for my dynasty and for my territories.” The dynamite was reserved for the last paragraph. As Serbia was “the pivot of the Pan-Slav policy,” the Emperor concluded, she “must be eliminated as a political factor in the Balkans.”[349]

  The significance of this observation did not escape the Kaiser. By now he was beginning to recover a modicum of balance, and responded guardedly. Since the proposed “action” raised “the prospect of serious complications,” he could not reply until he had consulted his Chancellor. Poor William II! His character was so unstable that within an hour Count Szogyeny, who remained for luncheon, had managed to rekindle his moral indignation and rash resolves. “After luncheon, when I again emphasised the seriousness of the situation,” Szogyeny wired to Vienna, “His Majesty authorised me to report that in this case also we could reckon on Germany’s full support… His Majesty said he understood how hard Francis Joseph, with his well-known love of peace, would find it to invade Serbia; but if we had really decided that military action against Serbia was necessary, he would be sorry if we left unused the present moment which was so favourable to us.”[350]

  Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg arrived in the afternoon and, as the Kaiser had predicted, offered no opposition to William’s “blank cheque.” “Austria must judge what is to be done to clear up her relations with Seibia,” Szogyeny informed Vienna in his confirmatory telegram. “Whatever Austria’s decision may turn out to be, Austria can count with certainty upon it that Germany will stand by her friend and ally.”[351]

  What influenced the Kaiser to take this reckless plunge? First of all, both he and Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg allowed themselves to be persuaded that Germany’s vital interests were concerned. Unless Serbia was subjugated, the Slav minorities under the rule of the Emperor Franz Joseph would become too strong and irrepressible that the Austro-Hungarian Empire would fall to pieces. As Austria was Germany’s only sure ally he could not allow this to happen. Secondly he decided that the odds were against a Russian declaration of war.

  William II had a distressing habit of believing what he wanted to believe. With scarcely a moment’s hesitation he managed to shed his anxieties of the past two years. He forgot his preoccupation with the perilous balance of Europe, forgot his theory of encirclement, forgot his suspicion that Russia was arming for an encounter with Germany, forgot his warning that Austria must not come into headlong collision with the Czardom’s protege, Serbia. Russia was unlikely to fight, he argued, because her military preparations would not be complete for two years; and even more significant, because the Czar would not care to condone regicide any more than did the German Emperor. William II’s views were supported by Bethmann-Hollweg, who put forward the belief that Germany’s harmonious relations with England would induce London to damp down any bellicosity that might emanate from St. Petersburg. He also pointed out that Nicolas II would hesitate before offending European opinion, which was firmly on the side of Austria and expected Serbia to be punished.

  Germany’s incomprehension invariably stemmed from a lack of sensitivity. What neither the Kaiser nor the Chancellor appreciated was that Europe might draw a line between punishing Serbia and annihilating Serbia. Although this idea apparently did not occur to Bethmann-Hollweg, William II had a slight twinge of uneasiness. War was most improbable, but he could not wholly rule out the possibility. No matter how small the risk, he admitted that a risk was involved. Consequently on Sunday afternoon, after Szogyeny had departed, he summoned to Potsdam his Minister of War, General Falkenhayn, and Captain Zenker of the Navy Staff. He told Zenker that Austria was planning to take decisive action against Serbia but “that the Czar would refrain from supporting the Serbian regicides because he was surrounded by regicides himself.”[352] He instructed both men to inform their chiefs, but did not think it necessary for them to curtail their holidays. General Falkenhayn wrote that evening to General von Moltke, the Chief of the General Staff, who was taking a cure at Karlsruhe. “This afternoon His Majesty commanded me to the New Palace to inform me that Austria-Hungary appeared determined to tolerate no longer the intrigues stirred up against Austria in the Balkans, and with this in view to invade Serbia soon in case it should be necessary; should Russia not be willing to consent to this, even then Austria would not be willing to give in. His Majesty believed this was the view to be gathered from what the Austro Ambassador had said when he delivered to-day at noon a memorandum from the Government at Vienna and a letter from Francis Joseph.”[353]

  For months the Kaiser had planned to leave on his annual Scandinavian cruise on Monday July 6th. He wished to cancel it but Bethmann-Hollweg begged him not to do so. The Emperor protested hotly and several hours of argument followed; in the end Bethmann-Hollweg got his way on the grounds that Germany must at all costs avoid the impression of collusion. She must insist that Austria would have to deal with Serbia as she saw fit, and that Berlin could not interfere, as Austria’s vital interests were at stake. Chiefs of Staff must continue their holidays and the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Herr Jagow, must not be summoned home from his honeymoon. And if an Austro-Serbian military conflict began, Germany then would be in a strong position to localise it.

  So at 9.15 a.m. on July 6th, William II reluctantly left for his cruise, with instructions that all dispatches be relayed to the Hohenzollern.

  On July 10th Count von Tschirschky, the German Ambassador in Vienna, telegraphed to Berlin that Count Berchtold planned to send Serbia an ultimatum so harsh that she could not possibly accept it, thus providing Austria-Hungary with an excuse to invade. The time limit for Serbia’s reply would be limited to forty-eight hours so that she would not have time to get advice from St. Petersburg. Count Berchtold told Tschirschky that if the Serbs should accept all the demands made on them, it would prove a solution which would be “very disagreeable to him,” and he was still considering what demands could be put that would be wholly impossible for the Serbs to accept. “Finally,” wired Tschirschky, “the Minister complained again about the attitude of Count Tisza, which made energetic procedure against Serbia difficult for him. Count Tisza asserted that they must proceed ‘like gentlemen,’ but that this was scarcely possible when such important national interests were concerned and especially against such an opponent as Serbia.” When this telegram reached the Hohenzollern the Kaiser wrote on the margin: “To act like a gentleman to murderers, after what has happened! Idiocy!” And at the bottom he appended: “I am against all councils of war and conferences, since the more timid party always has the upper hand… Frederick the Great.”[354]

  Until now Count Tisza had fought a gallant battle. He had remained impervious to Berchtold’s insistence that as “the Emperor William had given emphatic assurances of unconditional German support” Austria must seize the moment to strike. “It was not Germany’s affair,�
� he said tartly, “to decide whether we should attack Serbia now or not.” Austria-Hungary should not aim for war but be content with a notable diplomatic success. Of course demands must be made on Serbia, but they should be the sort of demands that could be complied with; not the impossible demands favoured by Count Berchtold that would deliberately provoke war.

  We do not know who persuaded Count Tisza to change his mind, but at the Council of Ministers on July 14th he withdrew his opposition. The Kaiser was delighted when he read Tschirschky’s report, quoting Tisza as saying: “It was very hard for me to come to the decision to give my advice for war, but I am now firmly convinced of its necessity and I shall stand up for the greatness of the Monarchy to the best of my ability.” “Fortunately,” the German Ambassador continued, “full agreement and determination prevail among the authorities here. His Majesty Franz Joseph judges very calmly of the situation, as Baron Burian, too, who has talked with His Majesty at Ischl during the last day or two, reports, and will certainly hold out to the bitter end. Count Tisza added that Germany's unconditional assumption of a stand by the side of the Monarchy had a great influence on the firm attitude of the Emperor.

  “The note to be forwarded to Serbia has not yet been completed to-day in its final wording. This will not be done before Sunday. With regard to the time of its delivery to Serbia, it was decided to-day that it would be better to wait until Poincare’s departure from Petersburg, that is until the twenty-fifth.” (“Too bad” commented the Kaiser.) “Then, however, immediately upon the expiration of the respite granted Serbia, in case the latter should not submit to all the demands, mobilization would follow. The note is being composed so that the possibility of its acceptance is practically excluded…” (‘Excluded’ twice underlined by the Kaiser.)