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

by Robert K. Massie

  The new Imperial Chancellor, Theobald von Bethmann-Hollweg, was a tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered man of fifty-two with a high forehead, a Vandyke beard, and a pensive, professorial air. To relax he read Plato and played Beethoven sonatas on the piano. His life had been spent in the Civil Service of Prussia and the Empire, where he was known for thoroughness, fairness, pragmatism, and perseverance. His rise through the bureaucracy had made him few enemies. He benefitted from a close family connection with Kaiser William II, nourished by his own respect for the Crown and Prussian traditions and his enthusiasm for German unity. Unlike his clever, ambitious predecessor, Bethmann was regarded as a man unconcerned with advancement; his moves up the ladder were attributed to obedience to duty.

  Bethmann lacked Bulow's cleverness, adroitness, and facility as a speaker. He had no experience in foreign affairs. Because of his tendency to brood and procrastinate, his decisions were often delayed. Bulow, in recommending him to the Kaiser for an earlier promotion, had said that Bethmann was neither a thoroughbred nor a jumper, but a good plowhorse who would proceed steadily and slowly. Albert Ballin, the shipowner who was the Kaiser's friend, said that Bethmann had "all the qualities which honor a man and ruin a statesman." For this reason, Ballin also sometimes referred to the new Chancellor, whose appointment had been endorsed by his predecessor, as "Bulow's revenge."

  Bethmann-Hollweg's father, Felix, was a maverick. Descended from a wealthy Frankfurt banking family ennobled in 1840, as a young man he abandoned his urban Rhineland origins and became a gentleman farmer in Prussia. With his inheritance he purchased Hohenfinow, a run-down 7,500-acre estate of forests, meadows, and ponds thirty miles from Berlin. For thirty-five years, he poured his energy into restoring the estate to prosperity. He planted wheat fields, imported cattle, installed a sawmill and a trout hatchery. He tried but abandoned operating his own small steel mill. A three-story seventeenth-century brick manor house at the end of an avenue of majestic linden trees was refurbished with tapestries and hand-carved furniture. Gruff and headstrong, Felix Bethmann-Hollweg ruled the countryside as District Magistrate. His opinions were Conservative, pro-Bismarck, and antidemocratic. In 1865, he deplored the fall of Richmond and the defeat of the Confederacy in the American Civil War. "I do not know whether I am more repelled by the depravity of slavery or that of the Northern democracy," he said. He married a French-speaking Swiss, Isabella de Rougemont, an elegant and sophisticated woman who secretly longed for the life of her sister in Paris. Together, they had two sons and three daughters. Theobald, the second son, was born in 1856.

  Felix's sons were awakened at five a.m. and plunged into cold baths. They were educated by tutors and rigorously trained to ride. Theobald, intense and idealistic, absorbed his father's passionate belief in the splendor and destiny of the Prussian monarchy. In Berlin, at ten, he witnessed the spectacular torchlight homecoming parade of the victorious Prussian Army after its defeat of Austria. "I cannot believe that our beloved German people is incapable of being one people and one state," he wrote in adolescence. A few years later, he stood "late at night, at the open window, looking from the castle to the river flowing majestically in the moonlight" and decided that "my whole being and life are more and more determined and uplifted by my Germanness and by my desire to be a true and brave son of Germany."

  In 1877, eighteen-year-old Prince William of Hohenzollern, a lieutenant in a Guards regiment quartered near Hohenfinow, was invited to shoot deer in the Bethmann-Hollweg park. William arrived in uniform and was forced to borrow a shooting jacket from Theobald, who was three years older and six inches taller. "[The jacket] looked like a summer overcoat," William recalled. William, because his left arm was useless, had never shot a deer. "Are the bucks close enough for me to shoot?" he asked anxiously. Though semi-tame deer had been provided, William missed his first three shots. Finally, as dusk approached, William rested his rifle on Felix's shoulder, fired, and brought down a buck. "This little episode provided the impetus for a lasting friendship," the elder Bethmann-Hollweg recorded. Felix marked the spot where the buck had fallen with a boulder and a newly planted tree. William frequently returned. "I spent many happy hours in their congenial, happy circle," he said. And this contact led to his "esteem for the diligence, ability and noble character of Bethmann… These qualities clung to him throughout his career."

  The elder brother, Max, was a disappointment. Handsome and affable, he plunged so deeply into the pleasures of riding and drinking that he did poorly on his first law exam. Rather than face a second, he fled to America. Provided with 150,000 marks by his father, Max failed on Wall Street and moved to Texas, where he speculated in land which he hoped to sell to German immigrants. Too few immigrants arrived. In 1897, in his mid-forties, the future Chancellor's brother died of stomach cancer.

  Theobald's rise, although unspectacular, was steady. He did brief service in an elite cavalry regiment, studied at Bonn University and took a doctorate in law from Leipzig, then returned to Hohenfinow and succeeded his father as district magistrate. In 1889, at thirty-three, he married a tall, cheerful young woman from the Prussian aristocracy. Four years later, in recognition of Theobald's services as magistrate, the Kaiser presented him with the Order of the Red Eagle, Fourth Class. "One day I'll make a minister out of your son," William told Felix. Two years later, Theobald became a Provincial Counselor and in 1899 he was installed as Oberprasident (Governor) of the Mark Brandenburg. Bulow promoted him in 1905 to Prussian Minister of the Interior. He had begun to be mentioned as a possible successor to Bulow despite his wife's protests: "It disconcerts me whenever I hear it, since at the bottom of his heart, Theobald does not aim for it at all." Bethmann-Hollweg continued to be promoted. When in 1907 he was named Imperial Secretary of the Interior and Vice Chancellor, the usually critical Die Zukunft called him "a man of strong gifts." In the spring of 1909, rumors of Bethmann's succession were everywhere. At first, the Kaiser resisted. "I know him well," he said of Bethmann. "He is always lecturing me and pretends to know everything." Besides, Bethmann's loyal support of Bulow during the November Reichstag debate appeared to have soured the Kaiser. "I cannot work with him," William announced. Nevertheless, when Bulow failed in the death-duties vote and offered his resignation, the Kaiser seized the opportunity. On July 8, 1909, Bethmann was told that he would be appointed. With "grave doubts" he accepted. "Dear Theo, you cannot do that," his wife exclaimed. Bethmann-Hollweg explained to a friend: "Only a genius or a man driven by ambition and lust for power can covet this post and I am neither. An ordinary man can only assume it when compelled by his sense of duty."

  During the Daily Telegraph crisis, as the Reichstag had demanded that the Kaiser abide by the constitution and leave foreign policy to the Chancellor, Bethmann-Hollweg had urged Bulow to defend the authority of his office. "Your Excellency is not only the Kaiser's Chancellor," he had told Bulow, "but also the Chancellor of the empire." Now Chancellor himself, Bethmann hoped to implement this view. He faced an uphill battle. The office had been weakened since Bismarck, enjoying the silent, unquestioning support of Emperor William I, had wielded unchallenged power. Bulow, spinning out nine years of sycophancy, had dissipated the Chancellor's powers in favor of the Crown. The Reichstag had gained in relative strength. Although constitutionally a Chancellor was responsible only to the Emperor, to be successful he needed money from the Reichstag. When Bulow lost the Kaiser's confidence, he quickly lost control of the Reichstag. The Kaiser in 1909 was a diminished figure, but he retained, independent of the Reichstag, the power to appoint and dismiss chancellors and ministers. Bethmann therefore had to be wary of William's volatile tendency to barge into delicate political and diplomatic arrangements. The Daily Telegraph affair had somewhat curtailed these tendencies, but the Kaiser still required constant vigilance.

  At first, Bethmann and the Kaiser behaved politely towards each other. William resumed his daily visits to the Chancellor's Palace, walking in the garden, discussing political events and issues as he had wi
th Bulow. He dined frequently with the Chancellor. "It was a pleasure for me to visit Bethmann's house since Bethmann's spouse was the very model of a genuine German wife," he said. William sometimes complained about the Chancellor's pedagogical manner-"He laid down the law as dogmatically as a schoolteacher"-but Bethmann always gave William the deference due a German Emperor and King of Prussia. Behind the Kaiser's back, the Chancellor complained: "The idea that he will ally himself with the [other German] princes in order to chastise the Reichstag and eventually to abolish it, or that he will send one of his Adjutant Generals [with soldiers] into the Reichstag if I am not tough enough constantly crops up in conversations with me. I do not take these things too seriously, although they increasingly prevent mutual trust and agreement on the policies to be followed. They personally demand much strength or nerve."

  Bethmann was handicapped in dealing with other ministers within the government. He was a civilian who had worked his way up through the domestic civil service. His lack of experience in foreign affairs meant that he did not personally know either Germany's ambassadors in other countries or foreign ambassadors in Berlin. He was unable thoroughly to control the Foreign Office; it was not Bethmann-Hollweg who provoked the 1911 crisis at Agadir. The other ministry partially beyond Bethmann's reach was the Navy Ministry. Under the constitution, the armed forces were the Kaiser's to command. Tirpitz, as Navy Minister, had only to please this single constituent. As long as William stood behind him, Tirpitz was more or less independent of both Chancellor and Reichstag. Bethmann's communications with Tirpitz took the form not of instructions, but of irritated appeals: "If you cannot avoid conversations with foreign diplomats, I would appreciate your making sure that your statements do not go beyond the outlines of the foreign policy of the empire, directed by me."

  But in one area of foreign policy, relations with England, Bethmann moved immediately to take control. In his memoirs, the new Chancellor described the circumstances in the summer of 1909: "England had firmly taken its stand on the side of France and Russia in pursuit of its traditional policy of opposing whatever continental power for the time being was the strongest;… Germany held fast to its naval program… If Germany saw a formidable aggravation of all the aggressive tendencies of Franco-Russian policy in England's pronounced friendship with this Dual Alliance, England on its side had grown to see a menace in the strengthening of the German Fleet… Words had already passed on both sides. The atmosphere was chilly with distrust." On July 26, less than two weeks after Bethmann-Hollweg became Chancellor, the British government announced that the second four dreadnoughts of the 1909 Estimates would be laid down. The Danger Zone which Tirpitz had said would last until 1915 was now extended. Bethmann concluded that with three Great Powers united against Germany, and the main irritant to Britain the German Fleet, his duty was to negotiate with England and, if he could obtain firm commitments, attempt to limit the Fleet.

  Bethmann acted authoritatively. He had been in office only three weeks when, on August 3, he heard Albert Ballin propose a meeting on naval matters between admirals Tirpitz and Fisher. "I respectfully protest," Bethmann said to the Emperor, who had just returned from his annual cruise to Norway. "I consider as my particular province and the principal object of all my efforts, the establishment of confidential and really friendly relations with England. In Your Majesty's absence, I have been studying the matter in depth with all the documents. It is my special field and I cannot allow it to be encroached upon." The Chancellor was so vehement that, after he left, William turned to Ballin and said, "Your proposal won't work. You see how vexed he was. I cannot afford a Chancellor crisis just a few weeks after appointing him." On August 17, Bethmann circulated a directive to all department heads, including Tirpitz, that naval discussions with England would be supervised by him.

  On August 21, Bethmann informed Sir Edward Goschen, the British Ambassador, that he was prepared to open naval talks with Britain. On October 15, the Chancellor gave Goschen his plan. The basic German Navy Law would have to be carried out, he said; the Kaiser, Admiral Tirpitz, the Reichstag, and the German people would not permit a reduction in the ultimate number of ships. But for two or three years, to gratify England, the government was prepared to build fewer ships annually. The new supplementary program of four dreadnoughts a year might, he suggested, be reduced to three. But this concession by Germany would require something from Britain. Pressed by Goschen, the Chancellor specified that, in return for a naval agreement, Germany wanted assurance of British neutrality if Germany became involved in war.

  Alfred von Kiderlen-Waechter, whom Bethmann had chosen as his new Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, supported the Chancellor's proposal: If British sea power were neutralized, Germany would not need as large a navy. "It would be almost incomprehensible to serious opinion in Germany that we should lose the advantage of a friendly rapprochement with England for the sake of a few ships more or less, as long as the defense of our coasts is assured," Kiderlen said. On October 20, Metternich was instructed to emphasize to Sir Edward Grey that a general assurance of friendship would be insufficient; there must be an explicit pledge of British neutrality. Germany further insisted, Metternich was told, that Britain give this pledge before Germany would agree to slow the building of her fleet.

  Grey was skeptical. From the beginning, he had been wary of Bethmann-Hollweg's "political agreement." "I want a good understanding with Germany," Grey said, "but it must be one which will not imperil those we have with France and Russia." Foreign Office professionals worried that Britain might be asked to accept the status quo in Europe, including recognition of Germany's annexation of Alsace-Lorraine. Although the 1904 Entente agreement had said nothing about Alsace-Lorraine, these diplomats realized that a formal guarantee to Germany on this politically charged issue would have powerful repercussions in France and could mean the end of the Entente. Grey had a deeper concern. In his view, a British guarantee of absolute neutrality would ultimately lead to German hegemony in Europe. France and Russia, estranged from Britain, would face Germany alone. Either they would come to terms with her and swing into her orbit or, if war were declared, they would be defeated. In either case, an isolated England would face a German-dominated Continent. Faced with a choice between even a crushingly expensive naval race or a pledge of neutrality that would lead to German hegemony, Grey, Asquith, and their Liberal colleagues chose the first course. Metternich understood this. "The English friendship with France would be almost worthless," he told Berlin, "if England were to say plainly that under no circumstances would she help France against us." Grey also refused to negotiate any political agreement, even a vague one, unless naval limitation had first been accepted. How could he defend a political agreement before the House of Commons, he asked Metternich, when British taxpayers still were being asked to pay enormous sums for dreadnoughts?

  The issue was never resolved. For the remainder of 1909, all of 1910, and part of 1911, the two powers sparred with each other. In Bethmann-Hollweg's mind, naval concessions depended upon a binding political agreement. British statesmen, eager though they were to limit the German Fleet and reduce their own shipbuilding costs, refused any agreement that made it impossible to assist a beleaguered France and prevent German dominance. The armaments race continued. In the spring of 1910, the First Division of the High Seas Fleet, made up of the four latest German dreadnoughts, shifted home port from Kiel on the Baltic to Wilhelmshaven on the North Sea. Simultaneously, the Reichstag voted funds for four additional dreadnoughts, bringing the total ordered to seventeen. The German Navy League warned against the "siren song" of a naval agreement with England which "represents a policy of diminishing our forces at sea… in the vain hope of composing an antagonism which lies in the conditions of existence of the two peoples." In Britain, First Lord Reginald McKenna asked Parliament for five new dreadnoughts, raising the Naval Estimates by £5.5 million pounds to over £40 million. Within little over a year, the Admiralty had been given fifteen dreadnough
ts: eight from the four-plus-four; two colonial ships; and now five more. The Liberal press was dismayed. "The appetite of this monster of armaments grows by what it feeds on," warned the Daily News. "Give it four dreadnoughts and it asks for eight, eight and it asks for sixteen, sixteen and it would still be undiminished. It is an appetite without relation to needs or facts. It is the creation of irrational hates and craven fears." Within the Cabinet and in the House of Commons the point was made by Lloyd George. In July, Asquith replied to his colleagues: "I see quite as clearly as my Right Hon. friend the Chancellor of the Exchequer that every new dreadnought that you build postpones the achievement of some urgent work of social reform; but national security, national insurance, after all, is the first condition of social reform. You may say 'Is it not possible to come to some kind of arrangement between the nations of the world, particularly between ourselves and the great friendly Empire of Germany, by which this kind of thing might be brought to a close?' I wish it were. The German Government told us-I cannot complain, I have no answer to make-their procedure in this matter is governed by an act of the Reichstag under which the program automatically proceeds year by year… If it were possible even now to reduce the rate of construction, no one would be more delighted than His Majesty's Government. We have approached the German Government on the subject. They have found themselves unable to do anything. They cannot do it without an Act of Parliament repealing their Navy Law. They tell us, and, no doubt, with great truth, they would not have the support of public opinion in Germany to a modified program. These are the governing and unalterable facts of the situation for the moment."