Dreadnought

by Robert K. Massie

  In the autumn of 1895, rumors of an Uitlander rising spread to Europe. Malet, about to retire, used a final call on Marschall to warn of the danger of further encouragement of Boer aspirations. Marschall replied that, at the very least, the status quo must be maintained; any attempt to achieve Rhodes’ dream of uniting the Transvaal, economically or politically, into British South Africa would be “contrary to German interest.”26 The British and German press became belligerent. “The status27 [of the Transvaal to Great Britain] is one of vassal to suzerain,” proclaimed The Times. “We will wash28 our own dirty linen at home without the help of German laundresses,” growled the Daily Telegraph. Germany “needed no instruction29 as to the extent of her interests in South Africa,” declared the Vossische Zeitung. “The Transvaal has a right to turn to Germany for support. The republic is in no sense an English vassal.” When William II received Marschall’s report of his talk with Malet, he flared with indignation. At a diplomatic reception, he snagged the British military attaché and complained that Malet “had gone so far30 as to mention the astounding word ‘war.’... For a few square miles full of niggers and palm trees, England had threatened her one true friend, the German Emperor, grandson of Her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, with war.”

  Then, on December 30, Herr von Herff telegraphed the Wilhelmstrasse that the raid had begun. He urged that a naval landing party from the ships in Delagoa Bay be brought by rail to Johannesburg to protect German citizens and property. On December 31, Hatzfeldt was instructed to ask officially whether the British government approved of the raid. If the answer were yes, he was to demand his passport and sever diplomatic relations. When Hatzfeldt called on Salisbury, he was assured that the government had nothing to do with the raid, was doing everything possible to suppress it, and recognized the dangers posed to the interests of other European powers in the Transvaal. Hatzfeldt returned to his embassy and cabled Berlin that the British government was not only not responsible for the raid, but was hugely embarrassed by it. In Berlin, Sir Frank Lascelles, the new British ambassador, delivered the same message, declaring that the raiders were “rebels” and that Jameson had been sternly commanded to withdraw.

  In Berlin, however, the Kaiser was in a state of frenzied excitement. The Jameson Raid, following what he perceived as Lord Salisbury’s rudeness the preceding summer, seemed evidence of a deliberate British policy of patronizing and ignoring German interests and the German Emperor. On January 1, General von Schweinitz described his Imperial master as “absolutely blazing31 and ready to fight England.” The following day, the Prussian War Minister, General von Schellendorf, had an interview with the Kaiser during which William became so hysterical and violent that the War Minister told Prince Hohenlohe that “if it had been anyone else,32 he would have drawn his sword.” That evening, still agitated, William wrote to the Russian Emperor, Nicholas II: “Now suddenly33 the Transvaal Republic has been attacked in a most foul way, as it seems without England’s knowledge. I have used very severe language in London... I hope all will come right, but, come what may, I shall never allow the British to stamp out the Transvaal.”

  Later that night, after the Kaiser’s message had been telegraphed to St. Petersburg, news of Jameson’s surrender reached Berlin. William, pleased, was still determined to strike a blow at England. At ten o’clock on the morning of January 3, the Emperor arrived at the Chancellor’s palace in the Wilhelmstrasse accompanied by Admirals Senden, Hollmann, and Knorr. Hohenlohe, the seventy-six-year-old Chancellor, and Marschall, the State Secretary, were there to receive them. Holstein and Kayser, Director of the Colonial Section, waited in a nearby room. “His Majesty,”34 Marschall wrote later, “developed some weird and wonderful plans. Protectorate over the Transvaal. Mobilization of the Marines. The sending of troops to the Transvaal. And, on the objection of the Chancellor, ‘That would mean war35 with England,’ H.M. says, ‘Yes, but only on land.’” The admirals doubted that Britain would be willing to fight Germany only on land in South Africa while observing peace in Europe and on the high seas. Discussion wandered. Someone suggested sending Colonel Schlee, Governor of German East Africa, disguised as a lion hunter, to Pretoria where he would offer himself as military Chief of Staff to President Kruger. Eventually Marschall, seeking to tone down the response, proposed that the Kaiser send a congratulatory telegram to President Kruger. William agreed and Marschall left the room to draft the message. Holstein, sensing danger, expressed misgivings, but Marschall silenced him quickly: “Oh, no, don’t you interfere.36 You have no idea of the suggestions being made in there. Everything else is even worse.” A telegram, actually drafted by Kayser, was sent back into the room, where it was approved. Couched as a personal message from the German Emperor to the Boer President, it read: “I express my sincere congratulations37 that, supported by your people without appealing for the help of friendly Powers, you have succeeded by your own energetic action against armed bands which invaded your country as disturbers of the peace and have thus been able to restore peace and safeguard the independence of the country against attacks from outside.” William made one change to stiffen the language: congratulating the President on safeguarding “the prestige of the country” was changed to “the independence” of the country. “I express to Your Majesty38 my deepest gratitude for Your Majesty’s congratulations. With God’s help we hope to continue to do everything possible for the existence of the Republic,” Kruger wrote back.

  In Germany, the telegram was acclaimed. “Nothing that the government has done39 for years has given as complete satisfaction,” declared the Allgemeine Zeitung. Marschall exalted over the “universal delight40 over the defeat of the English.... Our press is wonderful. All the parties are of one mind, and even Auntie Voss [the Radical Vossische Zeitung] wants to fight.” The euphoria was short-lived. Bismarck called it “tempestuous.”41 Bülow described it as “crude and vehement.”42 Hatzfeldt “tore his hair43 over the incomprehensible insanity” that had overtaken the Wilhelmstrasse and was on the verge of resignation. Holstein, writing in 1907 after his retirement, regarded the telegram as the real beginning of Anglo-German antagonism: “England, that rich and placid nation,44 was goaded into her present defensive attitude towards Germany by continuous threats and insults on the part of the Germans. The Kruger telegram began it all.”

  The English immediately wanted to know whether the telegram was merely an impulsive message from the Kaiser or an official statement by the German government. On January 4, the day after the telegram was sent, the Empress Frederick asked this question of Hohenlohe at lunch. The Chancellor “answered45 that it certainly was in accordance with German public feeling at this moment. From which,” the Empress wrote to her mother and brother in England, “I gather that the telegram was approved.” Subsequently, Marschall took the Times correspondent in Berlin aside and told him that the telegram was “eine Staats-Aktion”46 (an official act of state).

  In subsequent years, each of the participants in the January 3 meeting took pains to show that the action was forced upon him against his better judgment. Holstein supported Marschall, describing the telegram as “an expression of the Kaiser’s annoyance,47 the result of disagreements of a personal nature which had arisen between the Kaiser and Lord Salisbury a few months previously during a visit to England.... Seeking an outlet for his resentment, he [William] seized on the first opportunity which was the Jameson Raid.”48

  The Kaiser’s story changed over time. When the telegram was published and all Germany was shouting its approval, William spoke and acted as if he were the sole author. Later, in his memoirs, William attempted to shift responsibility: “The Jameson Raid caused great and increasing excitement in Germany.... One day, when I had gone to my uncle, the Imperial Chancellor, for a conference... Baron Marschall suddenly appeared in high excitement with a sheet of paper in his hand. He declared that the excitement among the people—in the Reichstag even—had grown to such proportions that it was absolutely necessary to give
it outward expression and that this could best be done by a telegram to Kruger, a rough draft of which he had in his hand.

  “I objected to this and was supported by Admiral Hollmann. At first the Imperial Chancellor remained passive in the debate. In view of the fact that I knew how ignorant Baron Marschall and the Foreign Office were of English national psychology, I sought to make clear to Baron Marschall the consequences which such a step would have among the English; in this, likewise, Admiral Hollmann seconded me. But Marschall was not to be dissuaded.

  “Then, finally, the Imperial Chancellor [Prince Hohenlohe] took a hand. He remarked that I, as a constitutional ruler, must not stand out against the national consciousness and against my constitutional advisers; otherwise there was danger that the excited attitude of the German people, deeply outraged in its sense of justice and also in its sympathy for the Dutch, might cause it to break down the barriers and turn against me personally. Already, he said, statements were flying about among the people; it was being said that the Emperor was, after all, half an Englishman, with secret English sympathies; that he was entirely under the influence of his grandmother, Queen Victoria, that the dictation emanating from England must cease once and for all.... In view of all this, he continued, it was his duty as Imperial Chancellor, notwithstanding the fact that he admitted the justification of my objections, to insist that I should sign the telegram in the general political interest and, above all else, in the interest of my relationship to my people. He and Herr von Marschall, he went on, in their capacity of my constitutional advisers would assume full responsibility for the telegram and its consequences.... Then I tried again to dissuade the ministers from their project; but the Imperial Chancellor and Marschall insisted that I should sign, reiterating that they would be responsible for the consequences. It seemed to me that I ought not to refuse after their presentation of the case. I signed.

  “After the Kruger dispatch was made public the storm broke in England as I had prophesied. I received from all circles of English society, especially from aristocratic ladies unknown to me, a veritable flood of letters containing every possible kind of reproach; some of the writers did not hesitate even at slandering me personally and insulting me....”

  England’s reaction to the Kruger Telegram was first amazement, then overwhelming hostility. The Kaiser implicitly had endorsed the Transvaal’s “independence” and, by congratulating Kruger on repelling the raid “without the help of friendly powers,” had seemed to suggest that such help would have been—or in the future might be—available. “The nation will never forget49 this telegram,” proclaimed the Morning Post. “England will concede nothing50 to menaces and will not lie down under insult,” said The Times. Windows of German shops were smashed and German sailors were attacked on the Thames docks. The 1st Royal Dragoons, of which the Kaiser was the Honorary Colonel, took down the Imperial portrait and rehung it with its face to the wall. Satirical and ribald songs about the German Emperor dominated the London music halls. A Times editorial on January 7 restated Britain’s position: “With respect to the intervention51 of Germany in the affairs of the Transvaal... we adhere to the Convention of 1884 and we shall permit no infraction of it by the Boers or anyone else.... Great Britain must be the leading power in South Africa. She will not suffer any policy calculated to lessen her predominance.” The following day the government announced the formation of a naval “Flying Squadron” of two battleships and four cruisers. The object, Parliament heard, was “to have an additional squadron52 ready to go anywhere either to reinforce a fleet already in commission or to constitute a separate force to be sent in any direction where danger may exist.” In fact, the “Flying Squadron” got no farther than a cruise in the Irish Sea. Later, Britain reinforced its point with three British cruisers, which arrived in Delagoa Bay to shadow the three German warships already in the harbor.

  The Royal Family disagreed as to how to react to “this most gratuitous act53 of unfriendliness,” as the Prince of Wales described the telegram to his mother. “The Prince would like to know what business the Emperor had to send any message at all. The South African Republic is not an independent state... it is under the Queen’s suzerainty.” The remedy the Prince urged on his mother was to give the Emperor “a good snubbing.” The Queen chose otherwise, deciding to deal with the Kaiser as an unruly grandson. “Those sharp, cutting answers54 and remarks only irritate and do harm, and in sovereigns and princes should be carefully guarded against,” she wrote to her son. “William’s faults come from impetuousness as well as conceit, and calmness and firmness are the most powerful weapons in such cases.” On January 5, from Osborne, Queen Victoria wrote a grandmotherly letter:

  “My dear William...55 I must now touch upon a subject which causes me much pain and astonishment. It is the telegram you sent to President Kruger which is considered very unfriendly towards this country, not that you intended it as such I am sure—but I grieve to say it has made a most unfortunate impression here. The action of Dr. Jameson was, of course, very wrong and totally unwarranted, but considering the very peculiar position in which the Transvaal stands towards Great Britain, I think it would have been far better to have said nothing.” Lord Salisbury, receiving a copy of the Queen’s letter, advised her that the letter “is entirely suited,56 in Lord Salisbury’s judgement, to the occasion and hopes it will produce a valuable effect.” At the same time, Queen Victoria asked the Prime Minister to “hint to our respectable papers57 not to write violent stories to excite the people. These newspaper wars often tend to provoke war, which would be too awful.”

  William’s reply to the Queen on January 8 was a blend of deference and evasion:

  Most beloved Grandmama:58

  Never was the Telegram intended as a step against England or your Government.... We knew that your Government had done everything in its power to stop the Freebooters, but that the latter had flatly refused to obey and, in a most unprecedented manner, went and surprised a neighboring country in deep peace.... The reasons for the Telegram were 3-fold. First, in the name of peace which had been suddenly violated, and which I always, following your glorious example, try to maintain everywhere. This course of action has till now so often carried your so valuable approval. Secondly, for our Germans in Transvaal and our Bondholders at home with our invested capital of 250–300 millions, which were in danger in case fighting broke out in the towns. Thirdly, as your Government and Ambassador had both made clear that the men were acting in open disobedience to your orders, they were rebels. I, of course, thought that they were a mixed mob of gold diggers quickly summoned together, who are generally known to be strongly mixed with the scum of all nations, never suspecting there were real English gentlemen or Officers among them.

  Now, to me, Rebels against the will of the most gracious Majesty the Queen, are to me the most execrable beings in the world, and I was so incensed at the idea of your orders having been disobeyed, and thereby Peace and the security also of my Fellow Countrymen endangered that I thought it necessary to show that publicly. It has, I am sorry to say, been totally misunderstood by the British Press. I was standing up for law, order, and obedience to a Sovereign whom I revere and adore.... These were my motives and I challenge anybody who is a Gentleman to point out where there is anything hostile to England in this....

  I hope and trust this will soon pass away, as it is simply nonsense that two great nations, nearly related in kinsmanship and religion, should stand aside and view each other askance with the rest of Europe as lookers-on. What would the Duke of Wellington and old Blücherfn2 say if they saw this?

  Salisbury favored letting the incident drop and advised the Queen to accept William’s explanations “without enquiring too narrowly59 into the truth of them.” From the perspective of British politics, the Emperor had done the Salisbury Cabinet a favor. Jameson’s caper had brought discredit on the government; many believed that the Colonial Secretary was personally involved. By bursting onstage in the middle of this drama, the Ger
man Emperor diverted attention to himself. Ironically, it was Rhodes who best explained this to the Kaiser. Visiting Berlin in 1899 in connection with the laying of a telegraph line through German East Africa, he was invited to lunch at the Castle. (The Empress had written to Bülow, “I should like to hear60 from you how I ought to treat Cecil Rhodes... whether rather coldly or whether one ought to be particularly friendly to him. My own choice would be for the former.”) William, impressed by the great conquistador, listened tolerantly as Rhodes described how the Kruger Telegram had saved him. “You see, I was a naughty boy61 and you tried to whip me. Now my people were quite ready to whip me for being a naughty boy, but directly you did it, they said, ‘No, if this is anybody’s business, it is ours.’ The result was that Your Majesty got yourself very much disliked by the English people and I never got whipped at all!”

  Rhodes may have considered himself unwhipped, but both he and Jameson were punished for the raid. Jameson and his five chief officers were brought to London and tried at the Old Bailey for infringement of the Foreign Enlistment Act. In the months before the trial and even during the nine-day process in July 1896, the defendants remained free and Jameson was the toast of the capital. Arthur Balfour, the Government Leader in the House of Commons, declared that he “should probably have joined Jameson62 had he lived there.” Margot Tennant Asquith, wife of the future Liberal Prime Minister, H. H. Asquith, sighed that “Dr. Jim had personal magnetism63 and could do what he liked with my sex.” Although The Times urged that Jameson’s sin was only “excess of zeal”64 and Lord Chief Justice Russell had to suppress pro-Jameson courtroom demonstrations during the trial, the verdict was guilty. Jameson was sentenced to fifteen months. (The officers, given shorter terms, were stripped of their commissions in the Regular Army.) Jameson went to a comfortable jail, but he moped, declined in health, and was sent home with a Queen’s Pardon after only four months. Eight years later, in 1904, he became Prime Minister of the Cape Colony. In 1911, King George V made him a baronet, and the following year, Sir Leander Starr Jameson came back to England for good. He lived with his brother for five years and died at sixty-four, in 1917. From his sentencing to his death, he refused to speak about the raid.