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The Kaiser

Page 49

by Virginia Cowles


  The Kaiser not only worked to destroy the “war-guilt clause” of the Versailles Treaty but to re-establish himself with the German people. His anger at von Hindenburg had turned to a deep hatred and he now privately accused the Field Marshal deliberately of having betrayed his imperial master in order to transfer the affections of the German people to himself. The old soldier’s gesture of offering himself for trial in place of the Kaiser was dismissed by William II as a theatrical gesture to win popularity — an act reeking of the basest hypocrisy. It could not be denied that Hindenburg had replaced the Emperor as the father-figure of Germany; that wherever he went he was honoured for the great battles he had won, and for his services in leading the German armies home in the bitter hour of defeat. When the Peace Treaty was signed he retired and went to live in Hanover with his wife, but he still remained the greatest man in Germany. His massive frame seemed to breathe an air of confidence and strength but it was misleading; at heart he had no courage. His failure to speak up for the Kaiser sprang from moral cowardice, not disloyalty. He was a fervent monarchist and on the fateful November 9th had proffered William II advice which any soldier might have given. He could not allow his Emperor to be captured by the Communists and “dragged to Berlin” therefore he had begged him to leave. The Field Marshal, however, was shocked by the reaction of the German people at the news of the Kaiser’s flight; he was abashed by the fury and contempt of the monarchists and suddenly saw the action in a different light. In the storm of universal condemnation he feared that he might be accused of treason for the part he had played. It was not a creditable performance, and William II was not alone in condemning the reticence of the Field Marshal. “But what should one think,” wrote the Crown Prince’s Chief of Staff, Count von der Schulenburg, to Count Westrarp, “of the individual gentlemen who preferred to desert their King and Master, rather than admit the truth which freed the Kaiser from guilt but incriminated them heavily?”[468] The Kaiser was determined to force von Hindenburg into the open, and soon after moving to Doom, in the spring of 1921, wrote to the Field Marshal that his exclusion from Germany was the cause of “burning anguish in my soul,” and added: “As you know, I forced myself to the difficult and terrible decision to leave the country only upon the urgent declaration of yourself… that only by my doing so would it be possible to obtain more favourable armistice terms for our people and spare them a bloody civil war.” This last assertion was not strictly accurate, as the Kaiser’s departure had not affected the armistice terms; he had left in order to save himself from falling into the hands of the Communists.

  Hindenburg did not refer to William II’s pointed observation for many months; but finally, perhaps under pressure from von der Schulenburg, was prevailed upon to shoulder the responsibility. In a letter written in July 1922, beginning “Most Serene Highness, Great and Mighty Kaiser! Most Gracious Kaiser, King and Lord!” Hindenburg wrote: “I take the responsibility for Your Majesty’s resolve to go into exile, a step taken on that unhappy ninth of November as a result of the united demand of all your advisers. I have already given as the reason the menace of the danger that Your Majesty sooner or later might have been arrested by mutinous troops and might be surrendered to the enemy at home or abroad. The Fatherland had at all costs to be spared such insult and disgrace.”[469]

  The Kaiser did not reply for two months, then wrote acidly that he had been compelled to wait a long time before the persons involved could be persuaded to come forward and declare publicly “that I was forced to depart from Spa on the urgent advice of my political advisers and against my own conviction. I thank you for having now taken this step, which is necessary not only in the interests of historical truth, but equally for my personal reputation and the honour of my House… Convinced that you were loyally discharging a difficult task, you gave to your Kaiser and King counsel which you thought it your duty to give… Whether that view was correct cannot be finally decided until all the facts of those unhappy days are known.”[470]

  William II was disappointed to find that Hindenburg’s statement aroused little interest. 1918 seemed a long way back; furthermore most people felt that whatever advice the Kaiser had received the final responsibility for his flight must remain his and his alone.

  However, the correspondence is important for other reasons; for the Emperor’s unconcealed disapproval of von Hindenburg, and his dream of regaining his throne, produced a curious situation in 1930/31 which facilitated Herr Hitler’s climb to power. The seventy-seven-year-old Field Marshal was recalled from retirement in 1925, much against his will, and elected President of the German Republic. Germany had been through seven years of upheaval, but Hindenburg’s re-emergence coincided with a turn of the tide. For the next four years things improved steadily until in 1929 the New York stock-market collapsed and dealt the economy a savage blow. Once again there was unemployment and widespread suffering; and at last the dangerous, hate-laden voice of Corporal Hitler began to gain followers. He not only struck a resonant chord by blaming the Versailles Treaty for all Germany’s woes, but excited his audiences by declaring that the German Army had been undefeated, and that the Fatherland would not have been vanquished if it had not been stabbed in the back by the “Jews and Socialists” who had organised the revolution. He referred to Ebert’s Government — the men who had signed the armistice — as “the November Criminals.” In 1928 Hitler’s National Socialist Party won only 12 seats in the Reichstag; but in 1930 the number had swollen to 132.

  The note that Hitler sounded did not displease the Kaiser. He had always loathed the Socialists for forcing him off the throne and he was glad that someone was reminding the people of the iniquitous war-guilt clause. However, in 1930 William II was faced by a dilemma. The new Chancellor, the Catholic leader Doctor Heinrich Brüning, was strongly in favour of restoring the monarchy as a means of preventing Hitler from capturing the support of the right wing. Did the Kaiser’s best chance lie with Brüning and Hindenburg, or with the rising star, Hitler?

  It is not surprising that the Kaiser made the wrong choice, for he still lived in a world distorted by false premises and illusory hopes. It would have been possible for Brüning to restore the monarchy, but not to bring back William II. The Socialists and Trade Unions would not tolerate either the ex-Kaiser or the Crown Prince, but they were perfectly willing to support a Regency in the name of one of the Kaiser’s grandsons. Hindenburg, however, still smarted from the rebuke that William II had administered in his letter of 1922; still was sensitive to whispered taunts that he had not served his Emperor loyally. When Brüning raised the question of the monarchy Hindenburg flatly refused to consider a restoration unless his “Lord and Master,” William II, was recalled to the throne. “A re-introduction of the monarchy in the struggle against the Nazis might well have been possible,” wrote Brüning in 1957, “but it broke up when Hindenburg declared to me he would champion a restoration of the monarchy only if William II were to become Kaiser. That was naturally out of the question and because of that everything was doomed to failure.”[471] Thus the last chance of bringing back the Hohenzollerns was lost; also the last possibility of stopping Hitler.

  Only William II could have broken the impasse. If he had written to the Field Marshal and asked him to declare a Regency in favour of his grandson von Hindenburg almost certainly would have responded. But William II did not see the situation in this light. He believed that he could retrieve the throne for himself under Hitler. In 1931-32 the leading Nazis were loud in their praise of the Hohenzollerns. The Crown Prince, who had returned to Germany in 1923, had known Goering during the war, and in the early thirties made the acquaintance of Goebbels, Roehm, and Hitler. “My goal,” the Führer assured him in a private conversation, “is the restoration of the Empire under a Hohenzollern.” With William II, however, the Nazis were more explicit. Goering visited the Kaiser at Doom in 1932 and assured both the Emperor and his wife that Hitler’s most ardent desire was to reinstate the exiled monarch.

 
Consequently, the Empress Hermine became one of Hitler’s most fervent supporters and encouraged her husband in his wild aspirations. William allowed two of his sons, Prince August William and Prince Oskar, to join the National Socialist Party, thereby making an exception to the principle of non-participation in politics by members of his House. He also raised no objection when the Crown Prince came out openly in support of Hitler; and when his grandson, Prince Louis Ferdinand, wrote to him asking his opinion of the new movement he made his attitude clear. “In Hitler he sees the leader of a strong Nationalist movement which is the embodiment of the national energy. He does not yet know what will come of it, or claim that the movement pleases him in all its details, but he is firmly convinced that only national forces will lead Germany forward again.”[472]

  In the Reichstag elections of July 1932 the Nazis won 240 seats and became the largest single political party. The following year von Hindenburg, who was now practically senile, decided that he had no option but to invite Hitler to become Chancellor. The Fuhrer soon showed his hand as far as the Hohenzollerns were concerned. In the autumn of 1933 Goering, the new Prussian Minister-President, informed the Kaiser that he could not continue to draw revenue from his German estates. Instead the new Government would grant the Kaiser and his sons a generous annual allowance; but if they criticised the Nationalist Socialists the payments would stop immediately. An even more ominous indication of Hitler’s views was demonstrated in January 1934 when the Nazis broke up celebrations in Berlin in honour of the ex-Kaiser’s 75th birthday.

  Despite these occurrences the Empress Hermine continued to believe in Hitler’s good intentions for another year. On June 27th, 1934, she wrote to Mr. Poultenay Bigelow, of Boston, Massachusetts, a boyhood friend of the Kaiser, and told him that young Randolph Churchill had visited Doom. Churchill hoped to interview the Kaiser on Hitler, but the Emperor switched the conversation to the Chinese-Japanese war, reverting to the well-worn theme of the “Yellow Peril.” His twenty-three-year-old visitor, however, did not allow His Majesty’s reticence to prevent him from stating his own views on Germany’s leader; and the Empress Hermine told Bigelow that “young Churchill knew nothing of the new Germany which she admired so much and she was shocked when he referred to Hitler as ‘a danger and an enemy.’

  However, the Empress Hermine could no longer mistake Hitler’s attitude when, in January 1935, the Kaiser requested the Crown Prince to call on the Chancellor and discuss with him the possibility of William II’s return to Germany. The son did as he was bidden but Hitler stated categorically that there could be no question of His Majesty’s return.

  The Kaiser’s dream was shattered; yet, strangely enough, the last six years of his life were the most tranquil of his long existence. For the first time he was free of the tempting and tormenting vision of personal glory; for the first time he could look at events with a measure of detachment. Although he still referred to himself as “the most mis-used man on earth” the phrase had an empty ring as his emotions no longer were involved. Of course he now loathed the Nazis. He not only resented Hitler’s broken promises and his references to “the Hohenzollern parasites,” but he was shocked to find that members of his own entourage — gentlemen who were hand-picked in Berlin and sent to Doom on tours of duty — were spying on him.[473] Did he remember, one wonders, his mother’s bitter complaints about the spies that Prince Bismark infiltrated into her household?

  There is no doubt that as the political scene darkened the Kaiser’s thoughts turned with ever increasing frequency towards his mother’s country. He seemed to delight in all things English: in speaking the language, in reading English books, and in receiving English visitors. In 1937 he took an almost pathetic interest in the details of George VI’s coronation ceremony. Like other old men he dwelt nostalgically on the scenes of his childhood. He talked constantly of his beloved grandpapa and grandmama, but it was a bit confusing because grandpapa was William I of Germany, and grandmama was Queen Victoria of England. When he gave dinner parties he frequently showed his guests one of the first documentaries ever made — the film of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee.

  It would be wrong to suggest that the Kaiser’s dislike of Hitler was only due to pique. William II was deeply, almost obsessively, religious, and as the dictator’s pathological hatreds and racial prejudices became increasingly pronounced he undoubtedly experienced a genuine revulsion. Although like all Germans he regarded the Versailles Treaty as an abomination, he was appalled by the thought of another European war. He had always had a very personal, almost childish, conception of God and he now turned to his Bible more frequently than ever in order to discover an explanation for the new punishment that seemed to be awaiting mankind.

  In 1938, when Mr. Chamberlain prevented war by flying to Munich, the Kaiser was so relieved that he wrote impulsively to the widowed Queen Mary — the same Princess May who so many years ago, after a dinner at Cowes, had written in her diary, “fancy me, little me, sitting next to William!!!” It was the Kaiser’s first communication to any member of the British royal family since the war. “May I,” he wrote, “with a grateful heart relieved from a sickening anxiety by the intercession of Heaven unite my warmest sincerest thanks to the Lord with yours and those of the German and British People that He saved us from a most fearful catastrophe by helping the responsible statesmen to preserve Peace! I have not the slightest doubt that Mr. N. Chamberlain was inspired by Heaven and guided by God who took pity on His children on Earth by crowning his mission with such relieving success. God bless him. I kiss your hand in respectful devotion as ever.”[474] The letter was signed “Your affte. cousin — William.” Queen Mary promptly replied thanking him for his letter and saying that she had sent it to her son George VI asking him to show it to the Prime Minister and then to place it among the royal archives.

  The Kaiser’s figure suddenly seemed to be thrown into bright relief by the monstrous and darkening shadow of Hitler. He seemed to be acquiring a strange new prestige. For the first time since 1914 he received favourable references in the English press. Many people both inside and outside Germany began to look back wistfully to the days when he sat upon the throne; and some even referred to him as an elder statesman — a man of dignity and restraint. “Time,” wrote Winston Churchill in 1937, “has brought him a surprising and paradoxical revenge on his conquerors. He has reached a phase when the greater part of Europe, particularly his most powerful enemies, Great Britain and France, would regard the Hohenzollern restoration they formerly abhorred beyond expression as a comparatively hopeful event and as a sign that dangers were abating… — ”[475]

  In 1939, a fortnight before the second world war broke out, the Kaiser received two distinguished British writers who were in close touch with the Foreign Office — Mr. Robert Bruce Lockhart and Mr. John Wheeler-Bennett. The eighty-year-old Kaiser dressed for the occasion in grey-blue English tweed with a white waistcoat and lavender topped boots. In his tie he wore a huge cameo of Queen Victoria. He talked incessantly and with great animation. As Sir John Wheeler-Bennett was contemplating a life of him, his conversation centred mainly on the past. William II still considered himself cruelly misjudged. He spoke scathingly of official historians, accusing them of gross misrepresentation; and he asserted, as he had done so often before, that he alone had prevented a Franco-Russian-German war against England at the time of the Boer War. “For that,” he said, “I got 1918.” He told his guests that the 1914 war would never have happened if he had not been deceived by England’s attitude. Then he added, rather disconcertingly, that he had only wanted to fight the Russians! “Yet if he felt bitterness,” wrote Sir Robert Bruce Lockhart, “the Kaiser made a brave effort to conceal it. Probably he was too interested in his own conversation, for he talked not only with his tongue, but with all the physical force left in him. His eyes danced and sparkled; his good arm was freely moved to point a warning finger or to make a broad sweep to far distant menaces like Russia and Japan. And when he made a
sly hit at the English, a foxy smile lit up his whole face. He talked much, too, of the imperialist greed which had been the downfall of all great nations and told us that in his years of trial he had evolved a new theory. No nation should occupy more land than Providence intended for it. Providence in its own good time would punish those who sinned against this law.

 

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