WILLIAM II
1
The Emperor William has been for so long the centre of historic
events, so much has been written about him, that apparently he should
be known to all the world; and yet I believe he has often been
misrepresented.
It is well known that the scarlet thread running through the whole
character of William II. was his firm conviction that he was the
"elect of God," and that the dynasty was inextricably bound to the
German people. Bismarck also believed in the dynastic fidelity of the
Germans. It seems to me that there is just as little dynastic as
republican spirit in nations--just as little in the Germans as in
others. There is merely a feeling of content or discontent which
manifests itself either for or against the dynasty and the form of
government. Bismarck himself was a proof of the justice of this
argument. As he himself always maintained, he was thoroughly
dynastic--but only during the lifetime of the Emperor William I. He
had no love for William II., who had treated him badly, and made no
secret of his feelings. He hung the picture of the "young man" in the
scullery and wrote a book about him which, owing to its contents,
could not be published.
The Monarchists who derive benefit from their attachment to the
reigning monarch deceive themselves as to their true feelings. They
are Monarchists because they consider that form of government the most
satisfactory one. The Republicans, who apparently glorify the majesty
of the people, really mean themselves. But in the long run a people
will always recognise that form of government which soonest can give
it order, work, prosperity and contentment. In ninety-nine per cent.
of the population the patriotism and enthusiasm for one or other form
of government is nothing but a matter of material considerations. They
prefer a good king to a bad republic, and vice versa; the form of
government is the means to the end, but the end is the contentment of
the people governed. Nor has the liberty of those governed anything to
do with the form of government. Monarchical England is just as free as
Republican America, and the Bolshevists have demonstrated _ad oculus_
to the whole world that the proletariat exercises the greatest
tyranny.
The war that was lost swept away the monarchs, but the Republics will
only be maintained if they can convince the people that they are more
successful in satisfying the masses than the monarchs were, a proof
which--it seems to me--the German-Austrian Republic, at any rate, has
hitherto failed to give.
The conviction that these questionable statements not only are false
but also objectionable and criminal errors; that the Divine Will has
placed the monarch at his post and keeps him there--this conviction
was systematically imprinted in the German people, and formed an
integral part of the views attributed to the Emperor. All his
pretensions are based on this; they all breathe the same idea. Every
individual, however, is the product of his birth, his education and
his experience. In judging William II. it must be borne in mind that
from his youth upwards he was deceived and shown a world which never
existed. All monarchs should be taught that their people do not love
them; that they are quite indifferent to them; that it is not love
that makes them follow them and look up to them, but merely curiosity;
that they do not acclaim them from enthusiasm, but for their own
amusement, and would as soon hiss at them as cheer them. The loyalty
of subjects can never be depended on; it is not their intention to be
loyal, but only contented; they only tolerate the monarchs as long as
they themselves are contented, or as long as they have not enough
strength to abolish them. That is the truth, a knowledge of which
would prevent monarchs from arriving at unavoidably false
conclusions.
The Emperor William is an example of this. I do not think there is
another ruler who had better intentions than he had. He lived only for
his calling--as he viewed it. All his thoughts and longings were
centred round Germany. His relations, pleasures and amusements were
all subservient to the one idea of making and keeping the German
people great and happy, and if good will were sufficient to achieve
great things William II. would have achieved them. From the very
beginning he was misunderstood. He made statements and gestures
intended not only to win his listeners but the whole world, which had
just the contrary effect. But he never was conscious of the practical
effect of his actions, because he was systematically misled, not only
by those in his immediate presence, but by the entire German people.
How many millions, who to-day fling curses at him, could not bow low
enough when he appeared on the horizon in all his splendour; how many
felt overjoyed if the Imperial glance fell on them!--and none of them
realise that they themselves are to blame for having shown the Emperor
a world which never existed, and driven him into a course which he
otherwise would never have taken. It certainly cannot be denied that
the whole nature of the Emperor was peculiarly susceptible to this
characteristically German attitude, and that monarchs less talented,
less keen, less ready, and above all, less impregnated with the idea
of self-sufficiency, are not so exposed to the poison of popularity as
he was.
I once had the opportunity of studying the Emperor William in a very
important phase of his life. I met him at the house of a friend in the
celebrated days of November, 1908, when great demonstrations against
the Emperor occurred in the Reichstag, and when the then Imperial
Chancellor, Prince Bülow, exposed him. Although he did not allude to
the matter to us with whom he was not familiar, the powerful
impression made upon him by these events in Berlin was very obvious,
and I felt that in William II. I saw a man who, for the first time in
his life, with horror-stricken eyes, looked upon the world as it
really was. He saw brutal reality in close proximity. For the first
time in his life, perhaps, he felt his position on his throne to be a
little insecure. He forgot his lesson too quickly. Had the
overwhelming impression which prevailed for several days been a
lasting one it might perhaps have induced him to descend from the
clouds to which his courtiers and his people had raised him, and once
more feel firm ground beneath his feet. On the other hand, had the
German people often treated the German Emperor as they did then it
might have cured him.
A remarkable incident which occurred on this occasion is
characteristic of the way in which the Emperor was treated by many of
the gentlemen of his suite. I had opportunity, while waiting at a
German station restaurant for the arrival of the next train, to watch
and study the excitement of the population at the events in Berlin,
which bore signs of a revolutionary character. The densely crowded
restaurant re-echoed with discussion and criticisms of the Emperor,
when suddenly one of the men stood up on a table and delivered a fiery
speech against the head of the Government. With the impression of this
scene fresh in my mind, I described it to the members of the Emperor's
suite, who were just as disagreeably affected by the episode, and it
was suggested that nothing should be said about it to the Emperor. One
of them, however, protested most energetically and declared that, on
the contrary, every detail should be told to the Emperor, and, so far
as I know, he himself probably undertook this disagreeable task. This
case is characteristic of the desire to keep all unpleasantness from
the Emperor and to spare him even the most well-founded criticisms; to
praise and exalt him, but never to show that he was being blamed. This
systematic putting forward of the Emperor's divine attributes, which
in reality was neither due to love of his personality nor any other
dynastic cause, but to the purely egotistical wish not to get into
disfavour themselves or expose themselves to unpleasantness; this
unwholesome state must in the long run act on mind and body as an
enervating poison. I readily believe that the Emperor William,
unaccustomed to so great an extent to all criticism, did not make it
easy for those about him to be open and frank. It was, nevertheless,
true that the enervating atmosphere by which he was surrounded was the
cause of all the evil at his court. In his youth the Emperor William
did not always adhere strictly to the laws of the Constitution; he
subsequently cured himself of this failing and never acted
independently of his counsellors. At the time when I had official
dealings with him he might have served as a model of constitutional
conduct.
In the case of so young and inexperienced a man as the Emperor Charles
it was doubly necessary to uphold the principle of ministerial
responsibility to the fullest extent. As according to our Constitution
the Emperor is not responsible to the law, it was of the greatest
importance to carry out the principle that he could undertake no
administrative act without the cognisance and sanction of the
responsible Ministers, and the Emperor Francis Joseph adhered to this
principle as though it were gospel.
The Emperor Charles, though full of good intentions, was devoid of all
political training and experience, and ought to have been brought up
to understand the principles of the Constitution. This, however, had
never been taken into consideration.
After my resignation in April, 1918, a deputation from the
Constitutional and Central Party in the Herrenhaus waited on the Prime
Minister, Dr. von Seidler, and pointed out the importance of a
severely constitutional régime, whereupon Dr. von Seidler declared
that he took upon himself the full responsibility of the "letter
incident."
This was quite preposterous. Dr. von Seidler could not be responsible
for events that had occurred a year before--at a time when he was not
Minister--apart from its being an established fact that during his
tenure of office he was not aware of what had happened, and not until
after my resignation did he learn the Imperial views on the situation.
He might just as well have accepted responsibility for the Seven Years
War or for the battle of Königgrätz.
In 1917 and '18, when I had certain official dealings with the Emperor
William, his horror of an unpleasant discussion was so great that it
was a matter of extreme difficulty to impart the necessary information
to him. I recollect how once, at the cost of the consideration due to
an Emperor, I was compelled to extract a direct statement from him. I
was with the Emperor Charles on the Eastern front, but left him at
Lemberg and, joining the Emperor William in his train, travelled with
him for a couple of hours. I had certain things to submit to him, none
of which was of an unpleasant nature. I do not know why it was, but it
was obvious that the Emperor was expecting to hear some disagreeable
statements, and offered a passive resistance to the request for a
private interview. He invited me to breakfast with him in his
dining-car, where he sat in the company of ten other gentlemen, and
there was no possibility of beginning the desired conversation.
Breakfast had been over some time, but the Emperor made no sign of
moving. I was several times obliged to request him to grant me a
private interview before he rose from the table, and even then he took
with him an official from the Foreign Ministry to be present at our
conversation as though to have some protection against anticipated
troubles. The Emperor William was never rude to strangers, though he
often was so to his own people.
With regard to the Emperor Charles, the situation was very different.
He was never anything but friendly; in fact I never saw him angry or
vexed. There was no need for any special courage in making an
unpleasant statement to him, as there was no danger of receiving a
violent answer or any other disagreeable consequences. And yet the
desire to believe only what was agreeable and to put from him anything
disagreeable was very strong in the Emperor Charles, and neither
criticism nor blame made any lasting impression on him. But in his
case, too, the atmosphere that surrounded him rendered it impossible
to convince him of the brutal realities prevailing. On one occasion,
when I returned from the front, I had a long conversation with him. I
reproached him for some act of administration and asserted that not
only on me but on the whole Monarchy his action had made a most
unfavourable impression. I told him in the course of the conversation
that he must remember how, when he came to the throne, the whole
Monarchy had looked to him with great hopes, but that now he had
already lost 80 per cent. of his popularity. The interview ended
without incident; the Emperor preserved, as usual, a friendly
demeanour, though my remarks must have affected him unpleasantly. Some
hours later we passed through a town where not only the station but
all buildings were black with people, standing even on the roofs,
waving handkerchiefs and loudly welcoming the Imperial train as it
passed through. The same scenes were repeated again and again at other
stations that we passed. The Emperor turned to me with a smile and a
look that showed me he was firmly convinced everything I had told him
as to his dwindling popularity was false, the living picture before
our eyes proving the contrary.
When I was at Brest-Litovsk disturbances began in Vienna owing to the
lack of food. In view of the whole situation, we did not know what
dimensions they would assume, and it was considered that they were of
a threatening nature. When discussing the situation with the Emperor,
he remarked with a smile: "The only person who has nothing to fear is
myself. If it happens again I will go out among the people and you
will see the welcome they will give me." Some few months later this
same Emperor disappeared silently and utterly out of the picture, and
among all the thousands who had acclaimed him, and whose enthusiasm he
had thought genuine, not one would have lifted a little finger on his
behalf. I have witnessed scenes of enthusiasm which would have
deceived the boldest and most sceptical judge of the populace. I saw
the Emperor and the Empress surrounded by weeping women and men
wellnigh smothered in a rain of flowers; I saw the people on their
knees with uplifted hands, as though worshipping a Divinity; and I
cannot wonder that the objects of such enthusiastic homage should have
taken dross for pure gold in the firm belief that they _personally_
were beloved of the people, even as children love their own parents.
It is easy to understand that after such scenes the Emperor and
Empress looked upon all the criticism of themselves and the discontent
among the people as idle talk, and held firmly to the belief that
grave disturbances might occur elsewhere but not in their own country.
Any simple citizen who has held for a time a higher position
experiences something of the kind, though in a lesser degree. I could
mention names of many men who could not bow low enough as long as I
was in power, but after my resignation would cross the street to avoid
a bow, fearing that Imperial disfavour might react on them. But years
before his rise the simple citizen has an opportunity of learning to
know the world, and, if he be a man of normal temperament, will feel
the same contempt for the servility shown during his time in office as
for the behaviour he meets with afterwards. Monarchs are without
training in the school of life, and therefore usually make a false
estimate of the psychology of humanity. But in this tragi-comedy it is
they who are led astray.
It is less easy, however, to understand that responsible advisers, who
are bound to distinguish between reality and comedy, should also allow
themselves to be deceived and draw false political conclusions from
such events. In 1918 the Emperor, accompanied by the Prime Minister,
Dr. von Seidler, went to the South Slav provinces to investigate
matters there. He found, of course, the same welcome there as
everywhere, curiosity brought the people out to see him; pressure from
the authorities on the one hand, and hope of Imperial favours on the
other, brought about ovations similar to those in the undoubtedly
dynastic provinces. And not only the Emperor, but von Seidler returned
in triumph, firmly convinced that everything stated in Parliament or
written in the papers respecting the separatist tendencies of the
South Slavs was pure invention and nonsense, and that they would never
agree to a separation from the Habsburg Empire.
The objects of these demonstrations of enthusiasm and dynastic
loyalty were deceived by them, but I repeat that those who were to
blame were not the monarchs, but those who were the instigators and
organisers of such scenes and who omitted to enlighten the monarchs on
the matter. But any such explanation could only be effectual if all
those in the immediate neighbourhood of the ruler concurred in a
similar reckless disregard of truth. For if one out of ten people
declares such scenes to be not genuine and the others contradict him
and assert that the demonstrations of the "love of the people" are
overwhelming, the monarch will always be more inclined to listen to
the many pleasant rather than to the few unpleasant counsels.
Willingly or unwillingly, all monarchs try, very humanly, to resist
awakening out of this hypnotic complacency. Naturally, there were men
in the entourage of the German Emperor whose pride kept them from
making too large an offering to the throne, but as a rule their
suffering in the Byzantine atmosphere of Germany was greater than
their enjoyment. I always considered that the greatest sycophants were
not those living at court, but generals, admirals, professors,
officials, representatives of the people and men of learning--people
whom the Emperor met infrequently.
During the second half of the war, however, the leading men around the
Kaiser were not Byzantine--Ludendorff certainly was not. His whole
nature was devoid of Byzantine characteristics. Energetic, brave, sure
of himself and his aims, he brooked no opposition and was not
fastidious in his choice of language. To him it was a matter of
indifference whether he was confronted by his Emperor or anyone
else--he spoke unrestrainedly to all who came in his way.
The numerous burgomasters, town councillors, professors of the
universities, deputies--in short, men of the people and of
science--had for years prostrated themselves before the Emperor
William; a word from him intoxicated them--but how many of them are
there now amongst those who condemn the former régime with its abuses
and, above all, the Emperor himself!
His political advisers experienced great difficulty in their business
dealings with the Emperor William during the war, as he was generally
at Headquarters and seldom in Berlin. The Emperor Charles's absence
from Vienna was also at times most inconvenient.
In the summer of 1917, for instance, he was at Reichenau, which
necessitated a two hours' motor drive; I had to go there twice or
three times a week, thus losing five or six hours which had to be made
good by prolonged night work. On no account would he come to Vienna,
in spite of the efforts made by his advisers to persuade him to do so.
From certain remarks the Emperor let fall I gathered that the reason
of this persistent refusal was anxiety concerning the health of the
children. He himself was so entirely free from pretensions that it
cannot have been a question of his own comfort that prevented his
coming.
The Emperor's desire to restore the Archduke Joseph Ferdinand to a
post of command was for me a source of much unpleasantness. The
Archduke is said to have been to blame for the Luck failure. I cannot
judge whether wrongly--as the Emperor maintained--or rightly; but the
fact remains that the public no longer had confidence in him. Quite
accidentally I learnt that his reinstatement was imminent. As a matter
of fact, this purely military proceeding in no way concerned me, but I
had to reckon with the feeling of the populace, who were in no mood
for further burdens, and also with the fact that, since Conrad had
gone, none of those in the Emperor's entourage showed the slightest
disposition to acquaint him with the truth. The only general who, to
my personal knowledge, was in the habit of speaking frankly to the
Emperor, was Alvis Schonburg, and he was at this time somewhere on the
Italian front. I therefore told the Emperor that the reinstatement was
an impossibility, giving as my reason the fact that the Archduke had
forfeited the confidence of the country, and that no mother could be
expected to give up her son to serve under a general whom everyone
held to be guilty of the Luck catastrophe. The Emperor insisted that
this view was unjust, and that the Archduke was not culpable. I
replied that, even so, the Archduke would have to submit. Everyone had
lost confidence in him, and the most strenuous exertions of the people
could neither be expected nor obtained if the command were handed to
generals who were unanimously regarded as unworthy of the confidence
placed in them.
My efforts were vain.
I then adopted another course. I sent an official from the Department
of Foreign Affairs to the Archduke with the request that he would
resign voluntarily.
It must be admitted that Joseph Ferdinand took both a loyal and a
dignified attitude, as he himself notified the Emperor that he would
relinquish his command at the front. A short correspondence followed
between the Archduke and myself, which on his side was couched in an
indignant and not over-polite tone; this, however, I did not take
amiss, as my interference had been successful in preventing his
resuming the command.
His subsequent appointment as Chief of the Air Force was made without
my knowledge; but this was of no importance when compared to the
previous plans.
* * * * *
There is no doubt that the Byzantine atmosphere of Berlin took a more
objectionable form than ever was the case in Vienna. The very idea of
high dignitaries kissing the Emperor's hand, as they did in Berlin,
would have been impossible in Vienna. I never heard of anyone, even
among the keenest sycophants, who demeaned themselves by such an act,
which in Berlin, as I know from personal observation, was an everyday
occurrence. For instance, after a trip on the _Meteor_, during the
"Kiel Week," the Emperor presented two German officials with
scarf-pins as a souvenir. He handed the pins to them himself, and
great was my surprise to see them kiss his hand as they thanked him.
Many foreigners were in the habit of coming for the Kiel Week:
Americans, French, and English. The Emperor paid them much attention,
and they nearly always succumbed to the charm of his personality.
Apparently William II. had a preference for America; on the subject
of his feelings regarding England it is difficult to express an
opinion. My impression always was that the Emperor resented the scant
sympathy shown him in England; he strove to make himself beloved, and
the failure of his efforts caused him a certain annoyance. He was
quite aware that the extent of his popularity in England would
proportionately influence Anglo-German relations, and his desire to
find favour in England did not proceed from personal vanity, but from
political interests.
King Edward was known to be one of the best judges of men in all
Europe, and his interest in foreign policy was predominant. He would
have been an ideal ambassador. There was never a very good
understanding between uncle and nephew. When the nephew was already
Emperor, and his much older uncle still only a prince, the difference
in their positions was characterised by the satirical Kiderlen-Waechter
in the following terms: "The Prince of Wales cannot forgive his nephew,
eighteen years younger than himself, for making a more brilliant career
than has fallen to his lot."
Personal sympathy and personal differences in leading circles are
capable of influencing the world's history. Politics are, and always
will be, made by men, and individual personal relations will always
play a certain part in their development. Who can to-day assert that
the course of the world might not have been different had the monarchs
of Germany and England been more alike in temperament? The encircling
policy of King Edward was not brought into play until he was persuaded
that an understanding with the Emperor William was impossible.
The difficulty the Emperor experienced in adapting himself to the
ideas and views of others increased as the years went by, a state of
things largely the fault of his entourage.
The atmosphere in which he lived would have killed the hardiest plant.
Whatever the Emperor said or did, whether it was right or wrong, was
received with enthusiastic praise and admiration. Dozens of people
were always at hand to laud him to the skies.
For instance, a book was published during the war entitled, "Der
Kaiser im Felde," by Dr. Bogdan Kriegen. The Emperor presented me with
a copy when at Kreuznach in May, 1917, and wrote a suitable
inscription inside. The book contained an accurate account of all the
Emperor had done during the campaign--but it was entirely superficial
matter; where he had driven to, where breakfasted, with whom he had
spoken, the jokes he had made, what clothes he wore, the shining light
in his eyes, etc., etc. It also recorded his speeches to the troops;
dull and uninteresting words that he addressed to individual soldiers,
and much more in the same strain. The whole book is impregnated and
permeated with boundless admiration and unqualified praise. The
Emperor gave me the book when I was leaving, and I read it through
when in the train.
I was asked a few weeks later by a German officer what I thought of
the book. I replied that it was trash and could only harm the Emperor,
and that it should be confiscated. The officer shared my opinion, but
said that the Emperor had been assured on all sides that the book was
a splendid work and helped to fire the spirit of the army; he
therefore had it widely distributed. Once, at a dinner at Count
Hertling's, I called his attention to the book and advised him to
suppress it, as such a production could only be detrimental to the
Emperor. The old gentleman was very angry, and declared: "That was
always the way; people who wished to ingratiate themselves with the
Emperor invariably presented him with such things." A professor from
the University had warmly praised the book to me, but he went on to
say: "The Emperor had, of course, no time to read such stuff and
repudiate the flattery; neither had he himself found time to read it,
but would make a point of doing so now." I did not know much of that
professor, but he certainly was not in frequent touch with the
Emperor, nor was the author of the book.
In this instance, as in many others, I concluded that many of the
members of the Emperor's suite were far from being in sympathy with
such tendencies. The court was not the principal offender, but was
carried away by the current of sycophancy.
During my period of office Prince Hohenlohe, the ambassador, had
numerous interviews with the Emperor William, and invariably spoke
most freely and openly to him, and yet always was on the best footing
with him. This was, of course, an easier matter for a foreign
ambassador than for a German of the Empire, but it proves that the
Emperor accepted it when done in proper form.
In his own country the Emperor was either glorified and exalted to the
skies or else scorned and scoffed at by a minority of the Press in a
prejudicial manner. In the latter case it bore so evidently the stamp
of personal enmity that it was discredited _a priori_. Had there
existed earnest papers and organs that would, in dignified fashion,
have discussed and criticised the Emperor's faults and failings, while
recognising all his great and good qualities, it would have been much
more satisfactory. Had there been more books written about him showing
that the real man is quite different from what he is made to appear to
be; that he is full of the best intentions and inspired with a
passionate love of Germany; that in a true and profound religious
sense he often wrestles with himself and his God, asking himself if he
has chosen the right way; that his love for his people is far more
genuine than that of many of the Germans for him; that he never has
deceived them, but was constantly deceived by them--such literature
would have been more efficacious and, above all, nearer the truth.
Undoubtedly the German Emperor's gifts and talents were above the
average, and had he been an ordinary mortal would certainly have
become a very competent officer, architect, engineer, or politician.
But for lack of criticism he lost his bearings, and it caused his
undoing. According to all the records the Emperor William I. was of a
very different nature. Yet Bismarck often had a hard task in dealing
with him, though Bismarck's loyalty and subservience to the dynastic
idea made him curb his characteristically ruthless frankness. But
William I. was a self-made man. When he came to the throne and began
to govern his kingdom was tottering. Assisted by the very capable men
he was able to find and to retain, he upheld it, and by means of
Königgrätz and Sedan created the great German Empire. William II. came
to the throne when Germany had reached the zenith of her power. He had
not acquired what he possessed by his own work, as his grandfather
had; it came to him without any effort on his part; a fact which had a
great and far from favourable influence on his whole mental
development.
The Emperor William was an entertaining and interesting _causeur_. One
could listen to him for hours without wearying. Emperors usually enjoy
the privilege of finding a ready audience, but even had the Emperor
William been an ordinary citizen he would always have spoken to a
crowded house. He could discourse on art, science, politics, music,
religion, and astronomy in a most animated manner. What he said was
not always quite correct; indeed, he often lost himself in very
questionable conclusions; but the fault of boring others, the greatest
of social faults, was not his.
Although the Emperor was always very powerful in speech and gesture,
still, during the war he was much less independent in his actions than
is usually assumed, and, in my opinion, this is one of the principal
reasons that gave rise to a mistaken understanding of all the
Emperor's administrative activities. Far more than the public imagine
he was a driven rather than a driving factor, and if the Entente
to-day claims the right of being prosecutor and judge combined in
order to bring the Emperor to his trial, it is unjust and an error,
as, both preceding and during the war, the Emperor William never
played the part attributed to him by the Entente.
The unfortunate man has gone through much, and more is, perhaps, in
store for him. He has been carried too high and cannot escape a
terrible fall. Fate seems to have chosen him to expiate a sin which,
if it exists at all, is not so much his as that of his country and his
times. The Byzantine atmosphere in Germany was the ruin of Emperor
William; it enveloped him and clung to him like a creeper to a tree; a
vast crowd of flatterers and fortune-seekers who deserted him in the
hour of trial. The Emperor William was merely a particularly
distinctive representative of his class. All modern monarchs suffer
from the disease; but it was more highly developed in the Emperor
William and, therefore, more obvious than in others. Accustomed from
his youth to the subtle poison of flattery, at the head of one of the
greatest and mightiest states in the world, possessing almost
unlimited power, he succumbed to the fatal lot that awaits men who
feel the earth recede from under their feet, and who begin to believe
in their Divine semblance.
He is expiating a crime which was not of his making. He can take with
him in his solitude the consolation that his only desire was for the
best. And notwithstanding all that is said and written about William
II. in these days, the beautiful words of the text may be applied to
him: "Peace on earth to men of goodwill."[4]
In his retirement from the world his good conscience will be his most
precious possession.
Perhaps in the evening of his days William II. will acknowledge that
there is neither happiness nor unhappiness in mortal life, but only a
difference in the strength to endure one's fate.
2
War was never in William II.'s programme. I am not able to say where,
in his own mind, he had fixed the limits he proposed for Germany and
whether it was justifiable to reproach him with having gone too far in
his ambition for the Fatherland. He certainly never thought of a
_unified_ German world dominion; he was not so simple as to think he
could achieve that without a war, but his plan undoubtedly was
permanently to establish Germany among the first Powers of the world.
I know for certain that the Emperor's ideal plan was to come to a
world agreement with England and, in a certain sense, to divide the
world with her. In this projected division of the world a certain
part was to be played by Russia and Japan, but he paid little heed to
the other states, especially to France, convinced that they were all
nations of declining power. To maintain that William intentionally
prepared and started this war is in direct opposition to his long
years of peaceful government. Helfferich, in his work "Die
Vorgeschichte des Weltkrieges," speaks of the Emperor's attitude
during the Balkan troubles, and says:
A telegram sent by William II. at that time to the Imperial
Chancellor explains the attitude of the German Emperor in this
critical position for German politics, being similar to the
situation in July, 1914. The contents of the telegram are as
follows: "The Alliance with Austria-Hungary compels us to take
action should Austria-Hungary be attacked by Russia. In that case
France would also be involved, and in those circumstances England
would not long remain quiescent. The present prevailing questions
of dispute cannot be compared with that danger. It cannot be the
intention of the Alliance that we, the life interest of our ally
not being endangered, should enter upon a life-and-death conflict
for a caprice of that ally. Should it become evident that the
other side intend to attack, the danger must then be faced."
This calm and decided standpoint which alone could maintain peace
was also the German policy observed in further developments. It
was upheld when confronted by strong pressure from Russia, as also
against other tendencies and a certain transitory ill-feeling in
Vienna.
Whether such feeling did exist in Vienna or not I cannot say, but I
believe the account is correct.
It has already been mentioned that all the warlike speeches flung into
the world by the Emperor were due to a mistaken understanding of their
effect. I allow that the Emperor wished to create a sensation, even to
terrify people, but he also wished to act on the principle of _si vis
pacem para bellum_, and by emphasising the military power of Germany
he endeavoured to prevent the many envious enemies of his Empire from
declaring war on him.
It cannot be denied that this attitude was often both unfortunate and
mistaken, and that it contributed to the outbreak of war; but it is
asserted that the Emperor was devoid of the _dolus_ of making war;
that he said and did things by which he unintentionally stirred up
war.
Had there been men in Germany ready to point out to the Emperor the
injurious effects of his behaviour and to make him feel the growing
mistrust of him throughout the world, had there been not one or two
but dozens of such men, it would assuredly have made an impression on
the Emperor. It is quite true that of all the inhabitants of the
earth, the German is the one the least capable of adapting himself to
the mentality of other people, and, as a matter of fact, there were
perhaps but few in the immediate entourage of the Emperor who
recognised the growing anxiety of the world. Perhaps many of those who
so continuously extolled the Emperor were really honestly of opinion
that his behaviour was quite correct. It is, nevertheless, impossible
not to believe that among the many clever German politicians of the
last decade there were some who had a clear grasp of the situation,
and the fact remains that, in order to spare the Emperor and
themselves, they had not the courage to be harsh with him and tell him
the truth to his face. These are not reproaches, but reminiscences
which should not be superfluous at a time when the Emperor is to be
made the scapegoat of the whole world. Certainly, the Emperor, being
such as he is, the experiment would not have passed off without there
being opposition to encounter and overcome. The first among his
subjects to attempt the task of enlightening the Emperor would have
been looked upon with the greatest surprise; hence no one would
undertake it. Had there, however, been men who, regardless of
themselves, would have undertaken to do it, it would certainly have
succeeded, as not only was the Emperor full of good intentions, but he
was also impressionable, and consistent purposefulness on a basis of
fearless honesty would have impressed him. Besides, the Emperor was a
thoroughly kind and good man. It was a genuine pleasure for him to be
able to do good, neither did he hate his enemies. In the summer of
1917 he spoke to me about the fate of the deposed Tsar and of his
desire to help him and subsequently bring him to Germany, a desire due
not to dynastic but to human motives. He stated repeatedly that he had
no desire for revenge, but "only to succour his fallen adversary."
I firmly believe that the Emperor clearly saw the clouds grow blacker
and blacker on the political horizon, but he was sincerely and
honestly persuaded that it was not through any fault of his that they
had accumulated, that they were caused by envy and jealousy, and that
there was no other way of keeping the threatening war danger at bay
than by an ostentatious attitude of strength and fearlessness.
"Germany's power and might must daily be proclaimed to the world, for
as long as they fear us they will do us no harm"--that was the
doctrine that obtained on the Spree. And the echo came back from the
world, "This continued boasting of German power and the perpetual
attempts at intimidation prove that Germany seeks to tyrannise the
world."
When war broke out the Emperor was firmly convinced that a war of
defence was being forced on him, which conviction was shared by the
great majority of the German people. I draw these conclusions solely
from my knowledge of the Emperor and his entourage and from other
information obtained indirectly. As I have already mentioned, I had
not had the slightest connection with Berlin for some years previous
to the war, and certainly not for two years after it broke out.
In the winter of 1917, when I met the Emperor again in my capacity as
Minister for Foreign Affairs, I thought he had aged, but was still
full of his former vivacity. In spite of marked demonstrations of the
certainty of victory, I believe that William II. even then had begun
to doubt the result of the war and that his earnest wish was to bring
it to an honourable end. When in the course of one of our first
conversations I urged him to spare no sacrifice to bring it to an end,
he interrupted me, exclaiming: "What would you have me do? Nobody
longs for peace more intensely than I do. But every day we are told
that the others will not hear a word about peace until Germany has
been crushed." It was a true answer, for all statements made by
England culminated in the one sentence _Germanium esse delendam_. I
endeavoured, nevertheless, to induce the Emperor to consent to the
sacrifice of Alsace-Lorraine, persuaded that if France had obtained
all that she looked upon in the light of a national idea she would not
be inclined to continue the war. I think that, had the Emperor been
positively certain that it would have ended the war, and had he not
been afraid that so distressing an offer would have been considered
unbearable by Germany, he would personally have agreed to it. But he
was dominated by the fear that a peace involving such a loss, and
after the sacrifices already made, would have driven the German people
to despair. Whether he was justified in this fear or not cannot now be
confirmed. In 1917, and 1918 as well, the belief in a victorious end
was still so strong in Germany that it is at least doubtful whether
the German people would have consented to give up Alsace-Lorraine. All
the parties in the Reichstag were opposed to it, including the Social
Democrats.
A German official of high standing said to me in the spring of 1918:
"I had two sons; one of them fell on the field of battle, but I would
rather part with the other one too than give up Alsace-Lorraine," and
many were of the same opinion.
In the course of the year and a half when I had frequent opportunities
of meeting the Emperor, his frame of mind had naturally gone through
many different phases. Following on any great military success, and
after the collapse of Russia and Roumania, his generals were always
able to enrol him on their programme of victory, and it is quite a
mistake to imagine that William II. unceasingly clung to the idea of
"Peace above all." He wavered, was sometimes pessimistic, sometimes
optimistic, and his peace aims changed in like manner. Humanly
speaking, it is very comprehensible that the varying situation in the
theatre of war must have influenced the individual mind, and everyone
in Europe experienced such fluctuations.
Early in September, 1917, he wrote to the Emperor Charles on the
subject of an impending attack on the Italian front, and in this
letter was the following passage: "I trust that the possibility of a
common offensive of our allied armies will raise the spirits of your
Foreign Minister. In my opinion, and in view of the general situation,
there is no reason to be anything but confident." Other letters and
statements prove the Emperor's fluctuating frame of mind. He, as well
as the diplomats in the Wilhelmstrasse, made use, with regard to the
"war-weary Austria-Hungary," of such tactics as demonstrated a
pronounced certainty of victory in order to strengthen our powers of
resistance.
* * * * *
The Archduke Friedrich deserves the greatest praise for having kept up
the friendly relations between Vienna and Berlin. It was not always
easy to settle the delicate questions relating to the conduct of the
war without giving offence. The honest and straightforward nature of
the Archduke and his ever friendly and modest behaviour saved many a
difficult situation.
After our collapse and overthrow, and when the Imperial family could
be abused with impunity, certain newspapers took a delight in covering
the Archduke Friedrich with contumely. It left him quite indifferent.
The Prince is a distinguished character, of faultless integrity and
always ready to put down abuse. He prevented many disasters, and it
was not his fault if he did not succeed every time.
When I saw the Crown Prince Wilhelm again after several years, in the
summer of 1917, I found him very tired of war and most anxious for
peace. I had gone to the French front on purpose to meet him and to
try if it were possible through him to exercise some conciliatory
pressure, above all, on the military leaders. A long conversation that
I had with him showed me very clearly that he--if he had ever been of
warlike nature--was then a pronounced pacifist.
_Extract from my Diary._
"On the Western front, 1917. We drove to the Camp des Romains, but in
detachments in order not to attract the attention of the enemy
artillery to our cars, for in some places the road was visible to the
enemy. I drove together with Bethmann. When discussing the military
leaders, he remarked: 'The generals will probably throw hand grenades
at me when they see me.'
"An enemy flier cruised high up in the clouds over our heads. He
circled around, paying little heed to the shrapnel bursting on all
sides. The firing ceased, and the human bird soared into
unapproachable heights. The artillery fire a long way off sounded like
distant thunder.
"The French lines are not more than a couple of hundred metres distant
from the camp. A shot fell here and there and a shell was heard to
whistle; otherwise all was quiet. It was still early. The firing
usually begins at ten and ceases at noon--interval for lunch--and
begins again in the afternoon.
"Poincaré's villa is visible on the horizon in the green landscape. A
gun has been brought to bear on the house--they mean to destroy it
before leaving--they call this the extreme unction.
"The daily artillery duel began on our return drive, and kept up an
incessant roar.
"_St. Mihiel._
"We stopped at St. Mihiel, where many French people still remain. They
were detained as hostages to prevent the town from being fired at.
People were standing about in the streets watching the cars go by.
"I spoke to an old woman, who sat by herself on her house-steps. She
said: 'This disaster can never be made good, and it cannot well be
worse than it is now. It is quite the same to me what happens. I do
not belong here; my only son has been killed and my house is burnt.
Nothing is left me but my hatred of the Germans, and I bequeath that
to France.' And she gazed past me into vacancy. She spoke quite
without passion, but was terribly sad.
"This terrible hatred! Generations will go to their graves before the
flood of hatred is abated. Would a settlement, a peace of
understanding, be possible with this spirit of the nations? Will it
not end by one of them being felled to earth and annihilated?
"_St. Privat._
"We passed through St. Privat on our way to Metz. Monuments that tell
the tale of 1870 stand along the road. Everywhere the soil is
historic, soaked in blood. Every spot, every stone, is reminiscent of
past great times. It was here that the seed was sown that brought
forth the plan of revenge that is being fought for now.
"Bethmann seemed to divine my thoughts. 'Yes,' he said, 'that
sacrifice would be easier for Germany to bear than to part with
Alsace-Lorraine, which would close one of the most brilliant episodes
in her history.'
"_Sedan._
"On the way to the Crown Prince's quarters. There stands the little
house where the historic meeting between Napoleon III. and Bismarck
took place. The woman who lived there at the time died only a few
weeks ago. For the second time she saw the Germans arrive, bringing a
Moltke but no Bismarck with them, a detail, however, that cannot
deeply have interested the old lady.
"_With the Crown Prince._
"A pretty little house outside the town. I found a message from the
Crown Prince asking me to proceed there immediately, where I had
almost an hour's private conversation with him before supper.
"I do not know if the Crown Prince ever was of a warlike disposition,
as people say, but he is so no longer. He longs for peace, but does
not know how to secure it. He spoke very quietly and sensibly. He was
also in favour of territorial sacrifices, but seemed to think that
Germany would not allow it. The great difficulty lay in the contrast
between the actual military situation, the confident expectations of
the generals, and the fears entertained by the military laymen.
Besides, it is not only Alsace-Lorraine. The suppression of German
militarism spoken of in London means the one-sided disarmament of
Germany. Can an army far advanced on enemy soil whose generals are
confident of final victory, can a people still undefeated tolerate
that?
"I advised the Crown Prince to speak to his father on the question of
abdication, in which he fully agreed. I then invited him to come to
Vienna on behalf of the Emperor, which he promised to do as soon as he
could get leave."
On my return the Emperor wrote him a letter, drawn up by me, which
contained the following passage:
My Minister for Foreign Affairs has informed me of the interesting
conversation he had the honour to have with you, and it has been a
great pleasure to me to hear all your statements, which so exactly
reflect my own views of the situation. Notwithstanding the
superhuman exertions of our troops, the situation throughout the
country demands that a stop be put to the war before winter, in
Germany as well as here. Turkey will not be with us much longer,
and with her we shall also lose Bulgaria; we two will then be
alone, and next spring will bring America and a still stronger
Entente. From other sources there are distinct signs that we could
win over France if Germany could make up her mind to certain
territorial sacrifices in Alsace-Lorraine. With France secured to
us we are the conquerors, and Germany will obtain elsewhere ample
compensation. But I cannot allow Germany to be the only one to
make a sacrifice. I too will take the lion's share of sacrifice,
and have informed His Majesty your father that under the above
conditions I am prepared not only to dispense with the whole of
Poland, but to cede Galicia to her and to assist in combining that
state with Germany, who would thus acquire a state in the East
while yielding up a portion of her soil in the West. In 1915, at
the request of Germany and in the interests of our Alliance, we
offered the Trentino to faithless Italy without asking for
compensation in order to avert war. Germany is now in a similar
situation, though with far better prospects. You, as heir to the
German Imperial crown, are privileged to have a say in the matter,
and I know that His Majesty your father entirely shares this view
respecting your co-operation. I beg of you, therefore, in this
decisive hour for Germany and Austria-Hungary, to consider the
whole situation and to unite your efforts with mine to bring the
war to a rapid and honourable end. If Germany persists in her
standpoint of refusal and thus wrecks the hope of a possible peace
the situation in Austria-Hungary will become extremely critical.
I should be very glad to have a talk with you as soon as possible,
and your promise conveyed through Count Czernin soon to pay us a
visit gives me the greatest pleasure.
The Crown Prince's answer was very friendly and full of anxiety to
help, though it was also obvious that the German military leaders had
succeeded in nipping his efforts in the bud. When I met Ludendorff
some time afterwards in Berlin this was fully confirmed by the words
he flung at me: "What have you been doing to our Crown Prince? He had
turned very slack, but we have stiffened him up again."
The game remained the same. The last war period in Germany was
controlled by one will only, and that was Ludendorff's. His thoughts
were centred on fighting, his soul on victory.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] This is a literal rendering of the famous text from the German.