Dreadnought, Britain, Germany and the Coming of the Great War

by Robert K. Massie

  Behind Bismarck's aberrant excursion into colonialism-along with the demands of German pride and desire for overseas markets -lay a domestic political motive: he wished to attack and neutralize the authority of the Crown Prince before Frederick became Emperor. The new reign could not be long postponed; in 1884, Emperor William I was eighty-six years old. Once on the throne, the liberal Fritz and his English wife were certain to choose their ministers from the liberal bloc in the Reichstag, giving Germany what the Chancellor contemptuously called "a German Gladstone ministry." The colonial policy was a defensive stratagem. It stimulated patriotism and produced votes; it created an enemy whom Germans could blame for the shabbiness of their overseas possessions. Best of all, inflaming anti-British feeling in Germany weakened the liberals in the Reichstag and undermined the position of the Crown Prince. Frederick, as Emperor, would scarcely be able to follow a pro-British policy if, because of the colonial confrontation, most of his people hated England. Privately, Bismarck admitted his scheme. In the autumn of 1884, when the colonial dispute was at its height, Bismarck confided to Tsar Alexander III that "the sole object of German colonial policy was to drive a wedge between the Crown Prince and England." And in 1890, after the Chancellor had fallen, Herbert Bismarck was asked how his father could have wandered so far front his anti-colonialist views. Herbert replied, "When we entered upon our colonial policy we had to assume that the Crown Prince's reign would be a long one with English influence predominant. To prevent this we had to embark on a colonial policy because it was popular and also conveniently adapted to be able to provoke conflict with England at any given moment."

  In sheer expanse of territory, Bismarck's brief colonial adventure produced spectacular results: in scarcely more than a year, the Chancellor acquired new land surface five times the size of the Reich itself. South-West Africa (now Namibia), German East Africa (now Tanzania), Togo and the Cameroons in West Africa, a third of New Guinea, most of the Solomon Islands (renamed the Bismarck Archipelago), the Marshall and Caroline Islands in the central Pacific, and a share of the islands of Samoa came under the German flag. But by every measure other than size, the new German colonial empire was a disappointment. South-West Africa and German: East Africa were mostly deserts and dry riverbeds, containing few raw materials to tempt even the hardiest explorers or entrepreneur. In the end, they proved an embarrassment. By 1914, fewer than twenty-five thousand German citizens, including soldiers and naval detachments, were to be found in all the German colonies combined. The cost to the homeland was many times the profits. In 1889, Bismarck even tried to persuade the British government to assume 'sovereignty over South-West Africa because of the expense to Berlin. A large volume of German trade continued to flow overseas, but not to and from German colonies. In the twenty-five years before ihe Great War, millions of Germans emigrated, but they went not to the deserts of German Africa, but to Milwaukee, Minneapolis, and other cities and towns in the American Middle West.

  In his last two years of power, Bismarck again suggested an Anglo-German alliance. In November 1887, soon after concluding the secret Reinsurance Treaty with Russia, the Chancellor wrote privately to Lord Salisbury. He described Britain, Germany, and Austria as satiated states; the danger to peace, he said, came from Russia and France. If Britain were to join Germany and Austria in a defensive alliance, peace would be permanently secured. Holstein was surprised and impressed by Bismarck's move. "I know of no other case in which Bismarck addressed himself to a foreign premier in this direct form," he said. "And that he should have taken this most unusual step when at the height of his power shows what crucial importance he attached to Lord Salisbury's response." Salisbury politely declined. Again, in January 1889, Bismarck sent Herbert to London to propose a formal defensive alliance among Germany, Austria, and England. Salisbury, understanding that the alliance was aimed primarily at France and that Britain would be required to prop up Austria in the event of war with Russia, again declined. Future Parliaments would not be bound by the acts of present Parliaments, he told Herbert, and therefore England did not enter into peacetime treaties of alliance. "Meanwhile," he said politely of the offer, "we leave it on the table without saying yes or no. That is unfortunately all I can do at the present."

  Although stymied, Bismarck displayed rare good humor. "The preservation of Anglo-German goodwill is, after all, the most important thing," he said on January 26, 1889. "I see in England an old and traditional ally. No differences exist between England and Germany. I am not using a diplomatic term if I speak of England as our ally. We have no alliance with England. However, I wish to remain in close contact with England."

  On February 6, 1888, the Chancellor introduced a new Army Bill into the Reichstag. By raising the age limit for reservists from thirty-two to thirty-nine, the Bill would add 750,000 men to the wartime strength of the German Army. Bismarck, standing before the hall packed with deputies, foreign ambassadors, and visitors, delivered an emotional, patriotic speech. Germany, despite her alliances, must ultimately rely on herself: "We no longer ask for love, either from France or Russia. We run after nobody. We Germans fear God and

  nothing else on earth!" The Reichstag erupted in cheering. Moltke burst into tears; Prince William of Hohenzollern, soon to be Kaiser, sitting in the gallery with his wife, applauded wildly. Four weeks later, on March 3, Bismarck appeared again at the Reichstag podium to announce the death of Kaiser William I. As he spoke of the sovereign whom he had made the most powerful monarch in Europe, the "Old Gentleman" whom he had served for twenty-five years, the Chancellor broke down. He attempted to continue, failed, and took his seat. To those watching, Bismarck's breakdown was a more impressive tribute than anything he might have said.

  Despite; the tears shed at the old Kaiser's death, Bismarck in 1888 was enjoying the rich fruits of a lifetime of achievement. His health was better than it had been for years. Herbert stood at his right hand, ably fulfilling a senior office. The Chancellor himself had finally managed to merge his own opposing desires: unchallenged power in the state and the life of a country gentleman. After Kaiser William; II’s accession, Bismarck left Berlin in July, not to return until January. At Varzin, he slept late, rose and swallowed two raw eggs, and set out for a walk. Wearing a long black coat and black, broad-brimmed hat, he resembled a venerable clergyman. After dinner-if he felt inclined-he would look over state documents forwarded I from Berlin. Everything must await the Chancellor's approval-whenever he chose to give it. But why hurry? Everything -Germany, Europe, the young Emperor-all were fixed in a grand design, revolving with majestic precision in the balanced orbits he himself had long ago arranged. A lifetime of work and thought had gone into its creation. It should not be disturbed; certainly, not hurried.

  Forty-four years' difference in age separated the old Chancellor and the new Kaiser: William II was twenty-nine in 1888, Bismarck seventy-three. To Bismarck, accustomed to rule behind a screen of deferential references to a passive sovereign, the possibility of trouble with a man almost young enough to be his grandson never occurred. William II, like William I, would become an honored figurehead. Bismarck had known the young Kaiser all his life. He was aware of William's impulsive self-confidence, his frenetic energy, his craving for flattery and applause. These could be managed. He also knew that William had an elevated view of his station in life and grandiose opinions as to his own qualities. These qualities in William, Bismarck had understood, could be not only tolerated but exploited. Through most of the reign of William I, the Chancellor had assumed that the threat to his power would come from Frederick. He had been prepared. A few years earlier, he had told the Crown Prince that he would remain in office under an Emperor Frederick on two conditions: the power of the Reichstag would remain limited and there would be no English influence on foreign policy. Frederick had agreed. To bolster his position, Bismarck had deliberately widened the breach between Prince William and his parents. William, born and bred in the authoritarian, militarist traditions of the Prussian Court,
had been encouraged in his inclination towards autocracy. The Bismarcks, father and son, had drawn Prince William into their conservative fold, encouraged William's rebelliousness, and attempted to sharpen, not soften, the antagonism between the restless, ambitious son and his liberal parents. When Frederick unexpectedly died, the Bismarcks had on their hands a personality for which they themselves were partially responsible.

  During the first year of the new reign, the young Kaiser and the elderly Chancellor remained on good terms. William was delightedly preoccupied with the ceremonial pleasures of his new rank. Bismarck's first complaints were minor and were not that his master was intruding on management of the state, but that, on the contrary, William was avoiding sustained and serious work. In February 1889, the Chancellor was heard to grumble that the Kaiser would rather attend a regimental dinner in Potsdam than a meeting with his ministers. General Count Alfred von Waldersee, Moltke's successor as Chief of the Army General Staff, noted in his diary that when William was required to sit and listen to oral reports by his generals or ministers, the Kaiser could not hide his boredom and sometimes yawned openly. William immediately began to travel: to all parts of Germany, to St. Petersburg, to Vienna, London, Constantinople, and Athens. Bismarck resented these journeys and worried that the impetuous young ruler would disturb his carefully balanced diplomatic arrangements. "The Kaiser is like a balloon," he said contemptuously. "If you don't hold fast to the string, you never know where he'll be off to."* William, for his part, let it be known that on these journeys he had listened to "too much talk of the Chancellor" and had heard the German Empire described as "the firm of Bismarck and Son."

  * Bismarck also correctly judged these early journeys as lacking in benefit to William II's reputation. After the young Kaiser's visit to St. Petersburg in the summer of 1888, Tsar Alexander III told an aide that his guest was "a rascally young fop who throws his weight around, thinks too much of himself, and fancies that others worship him."

  Gradually, the Chancellor realized that the new Emperor was no loi)ger the fawning young Prince who had lit his pipe and complained about his parents. William was a versatile, ambitious, complicated man of considerable insecurity. This would require a relationship between Kaiser and Chancellor very different from that which had existed between William I and Bismarck. William II had grown' up imbued with the lesson that Bismarck had taught: that although the German Empire was a constitutional state, he was also King of Prussia and had been granted this role-and that of German Emperor-by the Almighty. If God had put him in these places, no human, not even the founder of the Empire, should stand in his way. His education had stressed that ultimate political decisions-the decision for war or peace, the choosing of a Chancellor and Imperial and Prussian ministers-lay with the Emperor-King. William's belief had been buttressed by a growing Hohenzollern mystique, taught in thousands of schools, preached from hundreds of university lecterns throughout the Empire. Bismarck, too, had encouraged William to believe in his own special genius and divine mission.

  William was not a fool; he had understood that he was being used in the Chancellor's game while his father was alive. He, in turn, had used Bismarck, extravagantly praising the Chancellor when he was at odds with his father and mother. But once he came to the throne, after his initial pleasure in dressing himself in glorious uniforms, hearing new forms of flattering address, inspecting troops, and riding in parades, he began to want more of the substance of power. He had no intention of playing only the passive role his grandfather had played. Soon enough, those opposed to the Chancellor found their way to the Emperor's ear. Bismarck's own subordinates, most prominently Holstein, leaked information in order to sabotage the Chancellor's policies or his standing with the Kaiser. Years df resentment found distillation in poisonous remarks. William would never be a real emperor, he was told, so long as he was only a tool in the hands of the Imperial Chancellor. Count Waldersee, no friend to Bismarck, said pointedly that "if Frederick the Great had had such a Chancellor, he would not have been Frederick the Great."

  Sooner or later, a change was inevitable. Because Bismarck had no desire for change, it would be initiated by the Kaiser. The Prince would gladly have remained in office until his death; he loved power and genuinely believed that without him, Germany would be ruined. There was always Herbert, but Herbert still was young and unready. And Kaiser William, ten years younger than Herbert, had no experience at all. In fact, William felt his own inexperience and did not intend to dismiss Bismarck immediately. Rather, as the Chancellor aged, he meant gradually to take on more and more of Bismarck's powers.

  William's relative lack of interest in politics during the first year of his reign lulled the Chancellor into underrating his former protege. Instead of summoning his strength to solidify his control over the government and the Reichstag, Bismarck, sublimely overconfident, turned his back on Berlin, leaving Herbert to manage William. From Friedrichsruh or Varzin, the Chancellor conducted the government with little reference to the sovereign: if William asked a question or made a suggestion, Bismarck replied curtly, usually to observe how unwise or dangerous the Kaiser's suggestions were.

  William, although offended by the Chancellor's prolonged absence and by his patronizing messages, did not challenge Bismarck on policy until May 1889. The first disagreement was over labor legislation. Bismarck, attempting to cope with the social repercussions of the rapid industrialization of Germany, already had given the German working class the most advanced social legislation in the world, including comprehensive social insurance and contributory old-age pensions. But he balked at restrictions on the age or sex of workers and on limiting the days and hours of work; forbidding a working man "to earn money on certain days and during certain hours" was "an encroachment upon personal freedom," Bismarck said. William had personal reasons for opposing the Chancellor's view. Although tutored in absolutism, the young Kaiser at the beginning of his reign craved the kind of popularity enjoyed by his father and grandfather. The means to achieve it, he decided, was to show that he was the Kaiser of all the German people. He would bind the workers to the crown with enlightened, cautiously liberal social and labor legislation; in this respect, laws protecting women and children from overwork and regulations on the hours and conditions of labor would be particularly popular and therefore useful.

  The clash between these philosophies was precipitated by a strike of 170,000 Westphalian coal miners in May 1889. William, against the Chancellor's advice, received a deputation of the striking miners and appeared unexpectedly at a Cabinet meeting to announce (in Bismarck's words): "The employers and shareholders must give way; the workers were his subjects for whom it was his place to care; if the industrial millionaires would not do as he wished, he would withdraw his troops. If the villas of the wealthy mine owners and directors were then set on fire and their gardens trampled underfoot, they would soon sing small." Bismarck argued that the mine owners were also subjects who had a right to their sovereign's protection. The dispute festered and became a part of a larger crisis. In 1889, the seventy-four-year-old Chancellor was disincline^ to make concessions to coal miners, factory workers, or Socialist deputies in the Reichstag. He believed that the time had come to deal forcefully with industrial turmoil and parliamentary upheaval. If the workers made trouble, the army would repress them; if the Reichstag misbehaved, he would simply dismiss it and turn the deputies into the street. To those who said that this coup d'etat was unconstitutional, he would reply that he had created the constitution and could create another. Nor should anyone forget that he, had begun his long service to the Prussian crown by ruling illegally for four years without the Prussian Landtag.

  By January 1890, all parties in the Reichstag were in favor of legislation to restrict child labor, female labor, and work on Sundays. Bismarck refused to give way and William decided to act. On January 23, the Chancellor and all Prussian ministers were informed that the Kaiser had summoned a Crown Council (a session of the Prussian Ministry of State under t
he personal presidency of the King) for six p.m. on the following day. Herbert, charged by his father with learning the purpose of the Council, went to William and learned; that the Kaiser intended to place his labor-reform plan before the ministers. Bismarck left Friedrichsruh, arrived in Berlin at two p.m., and summoned all Prussian ministers to meet in his office at three p.m. There, he told them what he knew of the Emperor's intentions and asked them to neither accept nor reject the plan but to ask for time to think it over. Without exception, the ministers agreed.

  At six p.m. the Crown Council assembled. William, unaware of the earlier meeting, explained his proposals. Instead of repressing socialists, he wanted to win them over. He had nothing extravagant in mind; simply limitations on hours, restriction of labor by women and children, inspection of factories to check on working conditions. He complained that German employers were squeezing their workers like; lemons and letting old people rot on a dunghill. Unless something was done, he said, he would become the king of the beggars. William pointed out that the day of the meeting, January 24, was the birthday of Frederick the Great; three days later, January 27, his own birthday followed. If the ministers agreed quickly, the Kajser could issue a dramatic birthday proclamation which would bring glory to the crown. Bismarck listened and later condemned "the practical aimlessness of the scheme and its pretentious and exalted tone." In Council, he warned that "the increased expectations and the insatiable covetousness of the Socialist classes would destroy the kingdom… His Majesty and the Reichstag were speaking of the protection of labor, but as a matter of fact it was a question of the compulsion of labor, the compulsion to work less." The ministers spoke one by one. All, as they had promised the Chancellor they would do, said that the Kaiser's proposals needed more time for consideration.