What were the arguments in favour of the U-boats? The British blockade had been tightly maintained for over two years and the cumulative effect was producing widespread suffering among the civilian population. The winter of 1916-17 was known as “the ruben winter” for there was almost nothing to eat but swedes, and bread riots had become a common occurrence. “We are all gaunt and bony now,” wrote the English-born Princess Blucher, “and have dark shadows around our eyes, and our thoughts are chiefly taken up with wondering what our next meal will be…”
The hunger was bad enough, but the bitterly cold weather increased the misery. There was no coal to be had, and “a perfect epidemic of burst water pipes all over Berlin.” “And as there are no plumbers to repair the damage,” wrote the Princess, “people are beginning to think that the torments of Dante’s inferno are capped by the hardships of this deadly winter… There are practically no motors to be had, and the few antediluvian droshkies are being dragged wearily along by half-starved beasts who, if they happen to fall, don’t even attempt to rise, but He still, humbly grateful for the respite from work on the cold, frozen ground. As for the mood of the people the heroic attitude has entirely disappeared. Now one sees faces like masks, blue with cold and drawn by hunger, with the harassed expression common to all those who are continually speculating about the possibility of another meal.”[432]
Hindenburg believed that unless measures were taken to strike against the hated English, he would not be able to maintain the morale of his army. Furthermore, the navy had convinced him that the submarine was a winning card. Britain imported nearly seventy per cent of her food, and as she already was on strict rationing, the German Admiralty estimated that if they sank even twenty-five per cent of the merchant ships supplying her needs, they would bring her to starvation point in a few months. As the United States scarcely possessed an army it would take at least eighteen months for the Americans to assemble, train, and equip sufficient soldiers to be of use, and by that time the war would be over; furthermore, if Germany sank the shipping how would America get her troops across the Atlantic?
The critical decision was taken at a Crown Council held at Pless on January 9th. Those present were the Emperor, the Chancellor, Hindenburg and Ludendorff, and the three Cabinet chiefs. The Chancellor and Rudolf von Valentini, the Civil Chief, were the only two opposed to the submarine campaign. But Admiral Müller tells us that although Bethmann-Hollweg was “agitated and depressed” he did not defend his convictions. “…The crux of the Chancellor’s speech,” wrote Müller, “was that in view of the opinions of the General Staff and the Admiralty he could not oppose unrestricted U-boat warfare… Holtzendorff then spoke very enthusiastically on the subject, and was followed by the Field Marshal who stated that the soldier in the trenches was waiting for the U-boat war… Then His Majesty replied, giving statistics of corn and shipping markets from a newspaper article by Newman, very much in favour of unrestricted U-boat warfare, and upon this signed the decree laid before him. He remarked in passing that he expected a declaration of war from America. If it came — and the Chancellor should if necessary make concessions to American passenger liners to avoid it — so much the better”[433]
President Wilson did not know of the German decision to start U-boat warfare on February 1st, and on January 22nd made a speech to the Senate emphasising his belief in “peace without victory” and stressing the rights of “self-determination,” ideas which were to form the basis of his famous Fourteen Points. Four days later he sent a message to the belligerents offering to act as a mediator. Meanwhile the German Ambassador in Washington, Count Bernstorff, like many other German Ambassadors before him, was frantic. He had been instructed by the Wilhelmstrasse to inform the President of the resolve to begin unrestricted U-boat warfare. He sent agitated telegrams begging for a postponement. “Wilson thinks the Entente terms impossible… if we only have confidence in him, the President is convinced that he could bring about both peace conferences… If submarine war is now begun without further ado, the President would regard this as a further slap in the face, and war with the United States is inevitable… On the other hand, if we accept Wilson’s proposal and plans come to grief on the obstinacy of our opponents, it will become very difficult for the President to enter the war against us even if we then begin unrestricted submarine war. What is in question, is, therefore, only a postponement of short duration.”
Nevertheless, Wilson’s services were scorned. German writers frequently declare that since 21 U-boats had already gone to their stations, the offer came too late. This is a foolish argument, for Germany was to send 200 U-boats into the seas to take part in the operation. It would have been perfectly easy to inform the President that the 21 submarines had been dispatched before his offer had been received, and would be recalled as quickly as possible. But William II had deserted Bethmann-Hollweg and thrown in his lot with the military in order to avoid a crisis; and the military did not want peace but victory. Surely this of all moments was the time for a Crown Council, where the political considerations at least could have been placed before the High Command.
If the Kaiser had rescinded the submarine decree at the eleventh hour would his throne have been in danger? He would have had the Chancellor and the Foreign Office with him, and judging from reports on the temper of his people, not only would have commanded wide popular support among the civilian population but ordinary soldiers as well. Furthermore, the army was an imperial institution; and Field Marshal von Hindenburg, like every member of the Officer Corps, was a fervent supporter of the monarchical principle. It would have been unthinkable for the High Command to remove the dynasty: and who was there to replace William II? Not the Crown Prince, for he had put himself beyond the pale by his feckless behaviour and amorous proclivities. There is little doubt, therefore, but what the Sovereign’s will would have prevailed. It was the Kaiser’s tragedy that he always succumbed to the loudest voice; and it was Germany’s tragedy that she never knew when to strike a bargain. “If she had accepted the Wilson policy,” wrote Sir Edward Grey after the war,… the allies could not have refused. They were dependent on American supplies; they could not have risked the ill-will of the Government of the United States, still less a rapprochement between the United States and Germany.”[434]
Instead, the Kaiser approved Secretary of State Zimmermann’s reply: “Delay impracticable.” “The Kaiser thinks,” wrote Müller, “that Wilson only asked for a postponement in the interest of England, knowing of the hardship resulting from her serious food shortage. He is confirmed in his view by a letter received to-day from the Hamburg corn merchant Newman to his aide… who had shown it to His Majesty.”
Thus William II took the most crucial decision of the war. Like a drowning man Bethmann-Hollweg sent Germany’s peace aims to Washington for the private information of the President. They were fairly moderate, promising to restore occupied territory, but insisting on “colonial territory commensurate with Germany’s population and economic interest,” and compensation for damage to “German undertakings.” However when the German Ambassador informed Wilson that the U-boat campaign would begin on the following day, the President no longer was interested. He broke off diplomatic relations with Germany, and two months later America entered the war.[435]
Chapter 17. King of Prussia
The Kaiser realised too late that by failing to support his Chancellor over the U-boat war he had weakened his hand still further with the army. He became consumed with anxiety about his own position, for General Ludendorff drove the lesson home by treating him in a patronising manner that was entirely new to him. In February, when William II was at the New Palace, and the High Command visited Berlin, Ludendorff informed His Majesty that Field Marshal von Hindenburg would not be able to spare the time to make daily trips to Potsdam to report to him. The Kaiser suggested that Ludendorff come instead, but the latter replied that he, also, was “too busy.” Finally it was agreed that a staff officer would make the journey.
William’s perturbation increased when he learned that an “anti-Chancellor” meeting had taken place at the Hotel Adlon, organised by big industrialists who claimed that they had the support of the High Command. It was perfectly true that the generals had no use for Bethmann-Hollweg. Although the Chancellor had been instrumental in persuading the Kaiser to give Hindenburg and Ludendorff control of the army, they branded him as a defeatist. The fact that he had not even summoned sufficient spirit to resign on the submarine war only increased their contempt and strengthened their determination to get rid of him at the earliest opportunity. “I prefer a man with a little more strength,” Hindenburg remarked.
William II feared that Ludendorff was trying to impose Tirpitz on him as Chancellor, and told his entourage excitedly that he would never give his consent. “His Majesty is very angry at the treacherous baiting of the Chancellor which he sees as a threat to the right of monarchs to choose their own ministers…” Yet he still declined to take charge of the home front, still clung to military headquarters. Although he knew that his role as Supreme Commander was illusory, he did not know that his subjects knew it, fondly imagining that the public looked upon him as a great war lord. This was far from the case, for by January 1917 criticism of the Sovereign had swollen to new proportions. “I think people in England hardly realise the covert scorn with which people speak of him here,” wrote Princess Blücher. “The remarks often made astonish me. ‘Let him talk as if he had won these victories, and let him believe he is running the whole army.’ ‘Send him to the East where there are some prisoners to march past and he will be pleased; and again to the West when there is a little success to show him and he will be as pleased as ever.’”[436]
The Kaiser was so pitifully inadequate that he verges on tragedy. Although as a Prussian prince he had been taught that in time of war his duty lay with his soldiers, the fundamental truth was that the army, no matter how high-handed, offered him a haven, cushioning him against the problems of the outside world. He had no real faith in the U-boat campaign. Indeed he had no real faith that Germany could win the war. He struggled bravely against his defeatism but lacked any conception of what was required of him. In place of the leadership that was demanded, all he could give was showmanship.
Yet he presented a paradox, for he clung feverishly to every scrap of power, refusing to delegate the authority rusting under his control and bewailing any infringement of the imperial prerogative. Admiral Tirpitz put his finger on the Sovereign’s dilemma when he wrote that 44 His Majesty prays for a release by the shifting of his responsibilities to others: then he comes up against the wall with which he has surrounded himself, and against his self-conceit.”[437]
The Kaiser’s advisers marvelled at his lonely isolation. However, he showed no desire to shed his dynastic personality, or to lower the barriers that made intimacy impossible. The only visible change in him was his dependence on the Kaiserin. The Empress devoted herself tirelessly to works of charity and displayed a strength of character that seemed to breathe confidence into William II when he was with her. In March 1917 he came more nearly to breaking point than at any time in the two and a half years of war, and retreated to his castle at Homburg where the Empress joined him. Despite the protests of the Cabinet chiefs he refused to move for a month. It was here that he heard the stupendous news that a revolution had broken out in Russia and that the Czar had been forced to abdicate. He was too dejected to rejoice, and put the most pessimistic interpretation on it. “His Majesty is convinced that this will prolong the war because it was engineered by the Entente and England in particular,” wrote Müller. For several months no one knew what to make of the situation. The new Russian Government was a coalition of Conservatives, Liberals, and Socialists, and also included the first Soviet, a committee of workers and soldiers. The Conservative Prince Lvov was Prime Minister and the Socialist Kerensky Minister of Justice. Gradually it emerged that the Government intended carrying on the war, and was planning a new offensive in the direction of Lemburg.
Meanwhile on April 3rd the new Emperor of Austria arrived at Homburg, accompanied by his Foreign Secretary, Count Czernin. Old Franz Joseph had died in November 1916, and had been succeeded by the Archduke Karl, a nephew of Franz Ferdinand whose assassination had sparked off the holocaust. This young man had no stomach for the war, and told William II bluntly that Austria was on its last legs and could not hold out beyond the autumn; that if peace negotiations revolved around the cession of Alsace-Lorraine to the French, Austria would balance the German sacrifice by ceding Galicia to the part of Poland that would come under German jurisdiction. The Kaiser, however, replied that as the Allies had rejected his offer of negotiations in December there was nothing he could do. “I long for peace,” he told Czernin, “but I cannot beg for it.” Czernin prophesied to Müller that unless the war ended within three months the people would end it without their governments. “I can’t have a wager with you,” he said to the Admiral, “because should this happen it will be impossible to pay the bet.”
Count Czernin’s hint of revolutionary action was not entirely a flight of fancy. In January one of Germany’s socialist deputies had shouted out to the Reichstag: “The people don’t want war; what they want is peace and bread and work;’ in February and March there were food riots and scuffles with the police in which people were killed; and in April a protest strike of half a million men in Berlin. Behind the agitation there was mounting resentment of the Junkers whose estates cushioned them against starvation. Even soldiers returning from the front complained of the superior food given to officers. “Everywhere,” wrote Princess Blucher, “you hear it murmured: ‘We are forced to keep silent now: but wait until after the war is over then our turn will come.’” The fact that America entered the world struggle on April 6th was scarcely noticed.
The Kaiser was disconcerted by Czernin’s statements, and on April 5th told Müller that the people “must be given assurance of His Majesty’s liberal sentiments.” He intended to announce a reform of the Prussian Lower Chamber without delay. This body was elected by a three-tiered voting system which always enabled the largest tax-payers — or the richest men — to elect a majority. A plan of reform, said the Kaiser, had been drawn up some years before, and was favoured by Bethmann-Hollweg. Three days later, on Easter Sunday, April 8th, the Kaiser announced his concessions as “an Easter egg” to his people, and told them that they would come into effect at the end of the war.
This gesture, however, did little to raise morale, and throughout May and June the Emperor’s advisers begged him to take up residence in Berlin. By this time even the navy had become disillusioned about the submarine campaign, for England had introduced a convoy system that seemed to be triumphing over the torpedo attacks. On June 20th, Herr Ballin wrote Müller a despairing letter in which “he cursed the Chancellor for weakening on the question of unrestricted U-boat warfare, cursed Holtzendorff who, by waging this type of warfare, had alienated more and more of the neutrals, cursed Helffrich who could not get away from the shipping compensation law, and finally cursed the Kaiser who was always in Cloud Cuckoo Land…” A week later William II continued to insist that his place was at the front, and assailed Müller for having “twice forced him” to visit the capital. “And what did we get out of it? He had no intention of going to that place again. When I replied that everyone in Berlin was very gratified by his visit he merely said: ‘Not a soul is grateful to me.’”[438] But in the end he gave in, and agreed to arrive in Berlin on July 7th. As chance would have it, this turned out to be the day after the Catholic Reichstag deputy, Erzberger, had made a sensational speech to his Centre Party behind closed doors. Erzberger had got hold of the despairing memorandum which Count Czernin had sent to the Kaiser upon his return to Austria, and he read it out to his Committee. “Our military resources,” said Czernin, “are coming to an end. We must begin negotiations before our enemies are fully conscious of our exhaustion. Another winter campaign is absolutely out of the
question. The basis of my argument is the danger of revolution. The burden on our people is intolerable. The bow is so taut that it may snap at any moment. It is no good telling me that the monarchical idea is too firmly rooted in Berlin and Vienna for the monarchy to be overthrown. This war has no precedent. If the monarchs do not make peace in the next few months their people will make it over their heads, and then the waves of revolution will sweep over everything for which our sons are fighting to-day.”
It was obvious that there was no hope of peace unless a policy of “no annexations” was proclaimed. For months the Social Democrats had been advocating this course, and the fact that Erzberger, a bourgeois deputy, now was prepared to forgo all conquests had a profound effect on the Reichstag. It also made a deep impression on Hindenburg and Ludendorff, who decided that the defeatists were getting dangerously out of hand. They blamed Bethmann-Hollweg for not maintaining a tighter control; first the democratisation of the Prussian Lower House and now this. They decided that only drastic action could save the situation, hurried to Berlin and informed the Kaiser that unless he dismissed his Chancellor they would hand in their resignations. William II had no choice but to comply. He told Müller indignantly that “this behaviour on the part of Prussian generals had never been heard of before in the history of Prussia.”
He was so piqued by the audacity of his High Command that he refused to take any interest in the selection of a new Chancellor. It did not much matter who was chosen, anyway, as it was obvious to the Sovereign’s advisers that from now on pressure from the generals would decide important issues. The Kaiser’s Cabinet chiefs spent several hours thumbing through the Gotha Almanack and the Official Directory looking for a suitable candidate. But there seemed to be no one talented enough to please everyone and at the same time innocuous enough to avoid offence. They were in despair when General Plessen, the Kaiser’s Adjutant-General, burst into the room and suggested Michaelis, who was not even an imperial minister, only a Prussian minister in charge of agriculture. The Cabinet chiefs were relieved, and presented his name to the Kaiser who observed laconically that he was “a rather insignificant little man,” but at the same time assented. He was so insignificant, however, that in three months’ time everyone agreed that he would not do, and the seventy-three-year-old Count Herding, Minister-President of Bavaria, was appointed in his place Michaelis did not stem the tide that Erzberger had set in motion. On July 19th the Reichstag passed a “Peace Resolution,” renouncing all conquests, by 212 votes to 126. However, by this time the opinions of the Reichstag had ceased to be of much importance.
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