The Kaiser’s visit and absorption into his English family also worried Bülow and Holstein. Chamberlain had just made his new alliance proposal at Chatsworth; now, they worried, the Kaiser was being exposed to the wiles of the English just at the moment when his emotional guard was down. To avert this danger, Eckardstein had been instructed to meet the Kaiser when he landed in England and ride with him to London in his private railway car. Along the way, the Baron informed William of his conversations with Chamberlain and Devonshire at Chatsworth. The Kaiser responded as he always did to Eckardstein, saying that he was delighted, that he completely favored an Anglo-German alliance which would protect mutual interests and serve world peace. Here, Eckardstein was forced to urge caution; before leaving London he had received urgent instructions from Holstein not to let the Kaiser discuss an alliance or any other political questions with British ministers during this private trip. “Accordingly, I told the Kaiser52 that I thought it would be best not to discuss the alliance and even to act as though he had no knowledge of what the Duke of Devonshire and Chamberlain had said,” wrote Eckardstein. “He replied that he quite understood.”
The shared death watch at Osborne had warmed the hearts of all participants. After investing the German Crown Prince with the Garter, the new King Edward had spoken of the close family ties between himself and the House of Hohenzollern and expressed the hope that the relationship might extend to the people of both countries. By hurrying to his grandmother’s side, the King declared, the Emperor had aroused a profound feeling of gratitude, not only within the family but among the British people. William himself was moved by the outpouring of goodwill he felt from within the family and from the hushed British crowds who lined the streets. His inclination was to overrule Bülow and Holstein and to grasp the hand offered by Chamberlain. “Baron von Eckardstein tells me53 of Chamberlain’s confidential intimation that it is all over with ‘splendid isolation,’” he telegraphed to Bülow. “Britain must choose between the Triple Alliance and France-Russia. He [Chamberlain] is completely for the former.... Only if we are not willing, then the swing to the Dual Alliance.... So ‘they come’ it seems. This is what we have been waiting for.”
The Kaiser’s telegram dismayed the Wilhelmstrasse. Holstein urgently telegraphed Metternich, the senior diplomat in the Kaiser’s party, and ordered him to pour cold water on the Emperor’s enthusiasm. “Chamberlain’s threatened understanding54 with France and Russia is a patent fraud,” he asserted. “...We can wait. Time is on our side. As I see it, a rational agreement with England... will only come within reach when England feels the pinch more acutely than she does today.” To Bülow, with his special talents for flattery, was assigned the task of communicating the Wilhelmstrasse’s philosophy to the Kaiser:
“Your Majesty is quite right55 in the feeling that the English must come to us,” wrote the new Chancellor on January 21. “South Africa has cost them dear; America shows herself uncertain; Japan unreliable; France full of hatred; Russia faithless; public opinion hostile in all countries. At the Diamond Jubilee English self-conceit reached its highest point. The English peacock spread its proudest display and preened itself in splendid isolation.... Now it begins to dawn gradually on the consciousness of the English that, by their own strength alone, they will not be able to maintain their world empire against so many antagonists....
“Everything now depends on neither discouraging the English nor allowing ourselves to be prematurely tied to them. English troubles will increase in the next few months and with them the price that we can demand will rise....
“Your Majesty will execute a very master coup if your All-Highness can succeed in leaving leading English personages with the hope of a future firm relationship with us, but without your All-Highness being at present prematurely bound or committed. The understanding threatened with the Dual Alliance is nothing but a scarecrow made up to intimidate us in the way the English have already practiced for years.... Your Majesty will of course know just how to rub their noses gently but firmly in this truth.”
The Kaiser took the cue and did his best to suppress his feelings. When Lord Lansdowne, the new Foreign Secretary, called on him at Osborne for a general discussion of foreign affairs, there was no mention of an Anglo-German alliance. Instead, William lectured Lansdowne on the perfidy of the Russians, declaring that “the Russian Emperor56 [was] only fit to live in a country house and grow turnips” and that every “Russian Grand Duke57 likes Paris and a girl on each knee.” Russia, he continued, “is really Asiatic,” while Britain was European and should join in a general concert of Germany and France. When Lansdowne happened to mention the traditional balance of power in Europe, seeming to suggest that it still lay with Britain and the British Fleet, the Kaiser vehemently retorted, “It is not the British Fleet,58 but the twenty-two German Army Corps that are the Balance of Power in Europe.”
William continued to be deeply troubled by his conflicting roles as the Queen’s grandson and the German Emperor. He was respected by the family and was the hero of the British crowds; this was the acceptance and adulation in England he had always craved. The hand of permanent friendship was stretched across the old Queen’s deathbed. William was anxious to take it, but the frantic messages from the Wilhelmstrasse restrained him. He expressed his dilemma when he turned to Metternich on the way to the Queen’s funeral at Windsor and observed petulantly, “I cannot wobble forever59 between England and Russia. I would find myself forever trying to sit between two stools.” Metternich replied as he had been briefed to: the choice of England was correct, but the time was not ripe; England could be made to pay a higher price. To illustrate the depths to which England was sinking, he reminded the Kaiser of what they had just witnessed during the funeral procession in London: “The military ranks60 stretched for miles. A muster of troops, morally degraded, idiots and undersized, pitiable human beings, the dregs of the population... the English have reached the end of their military capacity.” (Metternich ignored the fact that over 250,000 British troops were in South Africa.)
Throughout his fortnight-long visit, William was torn by his divided impulses. As urged by his counselors, he made no move to see Chamberlain. Nevertheless, at a Marlborough House luncheon given in his honor by the King on the day of his departure, the Kaiser thanked everyone present for his “magnificent” reception in England and then gave them a glimpse of his own vision of the future:
“I believe there is a Providence61 which has decreed that two nations which have produced such men as Shakespeare, Schiller, Luther, and Goethe must have a great future before them; I believe that the two Teutonic nations will, bit by bit, learn to know each other better, and that they will stand together to help in keeping the peace of the world. We ought to form an Anglo-German alliance, you to keep the seas while we would be responsible for the land; with such an alliance, not a mouse could stir in Europe without our permission, and the nations would, in time, come to see the necessity of reducing their armaments.”
Caught up in this glow, William returned to Germany. Bülow found him at his mother’s bedside in Homburg “completely under the spell62 of his English impressions. As a rule, he could not change his military uniforms often enough, but now he wore civilian clothes as he had done in England, including a tie-pin with his grandmother’s initials on it. The officers who were summoned from Frankfurt to dine with him were surprised to find their Supreme War Lord wearing civilian clothes... [and to hear] his constant enthusiastic allusions to England and everything English that, in his own words, ‘ranked far above German habits and customs.’”
fn1 With Alfred’s death, the Queen had lost two of her five sons and one of her four daughters. Princess Alice, who married the Grand Duke of Hesse, died of diphtheria in 1878. Prince Leopold, Duke of Albany, was a hemophiliac and died of complications from that disease in 1884. Now came Prince Alfred in 1900. And her eldest daughter, the Empress Frederick, would follow in 1901, seven months after her mother.
fn2 Only
two European monarchs have reigned longer than Queen Victoria: Louis XIV, who ruled for seventy-one years (1644–1715) and the Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria, who ruled for sixty-eight years (1848–1916).
Chapter 17
The End of Anglo-German Alliance Negotiations
Great Britain and Germany pursued alliance discussions through the spring of 1901. Salisbury played no part and was ignored, even scorned, by the Wilhelmstrasse. “Everything from London1 of late makes an impression of the most hopeless sloppiness as though Lord Salisbury’s spirit breathed through it all,” Holstein wrote to Eckardstein on March 9. Chamberlain had largely withdrawn. When Eckardstein called on him on March 18, the Colonial Secretary reaffirmed his view of the value of an Anglo-German alliance, expressed at Leicester sixteen months before, but had “no desire to burn2 his fingers again.” It was, therefore, to Lansdowne that Eckardstein and—when he was well enough—Hatzfeldt brought a succession of messages from Berlin.
First came a proposal initiated by Bülow for an Anglo-German defensive alliance, good for five years, to be ratified by both the House of Commons and the Reichstag. Each power was to remain benevolently neutral if the other was attacked by one foreign state; if it was attacked by two, the ally would intervene. Thus, Britain could fight either France or Russia alone without drawing Germany in, while Germany also could fight either partner in the Dual Alliance without demanding British assistance. “The alliance is moving3 again,” Eckardstein wrote to Holstein on May 23. “Lansdowne, Devonshire and Chamberlain are fully determined.... Salisbury, who no longer has the same animus against us, still raises small objections now and then, as is his way; but is, as I learn from Devonshire and Lansdowne, quite satisfied that the policy of ‘Splendid Isolation’ is over and that something must be done. Anyway, these ministers hold so fast to their point of view that Salisbury cannot help himself. Lansdowne seems to manage him quite cleverly.”
There was some disarray on the German side. Bülow decided that he wished to take the conduct of the negotiations “out of the hands of Eckardstein4 who was dominated by the English point of view and who was dependent upon English money.” Accordingly, Holstein announced to Eckardstein that he was dispatching a more senior diplomat from Berlin to conduct the negotiations. Eckardstein promptly resigned. Although Holstein suspended the resignation, the British developed a sense of Eckardstein’s eroding position: Lansdowne began to refer to him as “that person.”5 The Kaiser intruded with an unfortunate turn of phrase. In a conversation with Sir Frank Lascelles, he referred to the ministers of the British government as “unmitigated noodles.”6 He then repeated the phrase in a private letter to King Edward. The King summoned Eckardstein to his private study, read the Kaiser’s letter aloud, and added, “There, what do you7 think of that?” Eckardstein thought for a moment and replied, “Wouldn’t it be best if your Majesty treated that whole thing as a joke?” The King laughed and said, “Yes, you are quite right. I must treat the thing as a joke. But unluckily I have already had to put up with many of these jokes of the Kaiser.”
When Hatzfeldt had sufficiently recovered his health, he resumed responsibility for the alliance negotiations. To Lansdowne’s surprise, the ambassador brought another new German proposal to the table. The offer of a simple defensive alliance between the two countries vanished and in its place appeared a German invitation for Britain to join the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria, and Italy. Berlin’s logic, Hatzfeldt explained, was that if the British Empire, including India, Canada, and South Africa, was to be treated as a whole, then the Triple Alliance should be treated as a whole. If, for example, Germany was to be required to march against Russia because of a Russian attack on India, then Britain must fight Russia if the Russian army attacked Austria.
When news of this offer reached Lord Salisbury, the Prime Minister—thought by Holstein to guilty of “hopeless sloppiness,”8 described by Eckardstein as “cleverly managed”9 by Lansdowne—wrote a memorandum so persuasively negative that it had the effect of vetoing any treaty on the spot. Salisbury restated that he was strongly averse to entangling his country in alliances with European countries. He pointed out that Great Britain was required to join the Triple Alliance as, in effect, a junior partner, subordinate to Germany; and guarantee the interests and frontiers of all three of the current members of the Alliance—Germany, Austria, and Italy—against threats from Russia and France. Salisbury was particularly opposed to any commitment of support to the shaky Hapsburg monarchy, “since the liability10 of having to defend the German and Austrian frontiers against Russia was heavier than that of having to defend the British Isles against France.”
Further, he noted that an alliance with Germany would be certain to incur the bitter hostility of France, even if Britain could somehow avoid a German demand that Britain guarantee Germany’s right to permanent possession of Alsace-Lorraine. Any peaceful resolution of the colonial disputes between Britain and France, especially the feud over Egypt, would be made impossible. Finally, the Cabinet would be unlikely to recommend such a treaty to the House; the Commons would be unlikely to approve the treaty if it did. No incumbent British government could commit a future government to declare war over an issue which was not supported by British public opinion at the moment of crisis. In such an instance, the treaty would be repudiated and the government would fall.
Salisbury’s memorandum made any alliance agreement unlikely. In June, Alfred Rothschild, a friend of Chamberlain and Devonshire, wrote to Eckardstein: “Nobody here in England11 has any more use for the fine empty phrases of Bülow. Joe, who dined with me, is quite disheartened. He will have nothing more to do with the people in Berlin. If they are so short-sighted, says he, as not to be able to see that the whole new world system depends upon it, then there is nothing to be done for them.” It was months, even years, before Bülow and Holstein understood that the alliance negotiations were over conclusively. “We ought not12 to show any uneasiness or anxious haste,” Bülow commented to Holstein in October 1901. “We must just let hope shimmer on the horizon.”
Originally, Joseph Chamberlain had sought an alliance with Imperial Germany because British markets in China were threatened by Russian expansionism in Asia. British sea power alone could not counter this threat; Chamberlain believed that only Germany, which could put military pressure on the Tsar’s frontier in Europe, could moderate Russian penetration of China. Chamberlain’s eagerness for an alliance became more urgent when the Boer War revealed the strength of hostility to Britain and the resulting weakness of Britain’s diplomatic position in the world. From these specific needs, the Colonial Secretary molded an Anglo-German alliance, dominating the world, guaranteeing peace and prosperity, perhaps reaching out one day to include the United States.
With all its grandeur, Joseph Chamberlain’s vision of the future was ill informed by history. Had Great Britain and Germany each overcome their hesitations and entered into alliance, then Russia and France inevitably would have been forced to come to terms with the Triple (now Quadruple) Alliance. Germany, the senior, dominant power, would have ruled over Europe. Britain, on all future issues, would have been forced to defer to Berlin. England would have had no choice: the Royal Navy would have been helpless against the aggregation of military and naval power arrayed against it.
In reaching out to Germany, Chamberlain ignored a centuries-old precept of English history: to survive and prosper, England must always ally herself with the weaker power or powers in Europe. Otherwise, allied to the strongest power, England finds herself in a subordinate role, her interests and independence subject to the dictates of the strongest power. Only by rallying the weaker states into a coalition to oppose the strongest power can England prevent Continental hegemony and preserve her own security. This was the lesson taught when England created alliances against Philip II of Spain, Louis XIV of France, and Napoleon Bonaparte. It was a lesson Joseph Chamberlain failed to apply.
Chamberlain’s relationship with Bülow ended in persona
l bad blood. Their final quarrel had nothing to do with the alliance proposal, now moribund. In Edinburgh, on October 25, 1901, Chamberlain, the Cabinet minister chiefly responsible for prosecuting the war in South Africa, defended the tactics of the British Army fighting the Boer commandos on the veldt. These tactics—rounding up Boer women and children and placing them in concentration camps, burning Boer farms which sheltered the commandos—had set off a storm in England. Chamberlain acknowledged that the foreign press as well as English newspapers had criticized these tactics; he said that the methods might become even more harsh; in justification, he cited the practices of the armies of other countries in fighting irregular resistance. Condemnation of England was unacceptable, he said, from “nations who now criticize13 our ‘barbarity’ and ‘cruelty’ but whose example in Poland, in the Caucasus, in Algeria, in the Tonkin, in Bosnia, and in the Franco-Prussian War, we have never even approached.” Implicit in this list were accusations against Russia, France, Austria, and Germany, but it was from Germany alone that a roar of indignation was heard. German newspapers vilified Chamberlain, “the bloodhound of the Transvaal,”14 for presuming to compare the Prussian heroes of the Franco-Prussian War with Kitchener’s “butchers”15 in South Africa.
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