THE REICHSTAG AND POLITICAL PARTIES.
I.
It is difficult for a foreigner to form any proper notion of the
political groups represented in the Reichstag, if he yields to the
temptation of looking for parallels with the party-system of his own
country, and if he confuses the political institutions of Germany with
those of a nation possessing a parliamentary government.
In the first place, perhaps, it will be desirable briefly to sketch
the mechanism of the 1871 constitution, which, apart from slight
changes needed for the Imperial framework, is merely a replica of the
constitution drawn up by Bismarck for the North German Confederation.
The Empire is a federal and constitutional State, with a sovereign who
not merely reigns, but governs, his status being a modern evolution
from the old absolute monarchy of Prussia. The Emperor is the war-lord,
he commands the army and regulates its organization; he has the supreme
direction of foreign affairs, both diplomatic and commercial, and, at
home, appoints the Imperial functionaries; he sanctions the bills
approved by the Bundesrat (or Federal Council) and passed by the
Reichstag. He dispenses the executive power, and imposes his sovereign
will, through the medium of a Chancellor.
This ministerial figure represents the Emperor in the Reichstag and
assumes the responsibility for the acts of the Government. This nominal
responsibility is entirely unlike that of a minister in a parliamentary
country; for it does not bind him at all in relation to Parliament,
but only in relation to his master, and also, in a certain measure
(whatever some may allege), to public opinion. The Chancellor, however,
holds a plurality of dignities and functions. He is Jack-of-all-trades
to the monarchy: President of the Prussian Ministry, President of the
Bundesrat, and Imperial Minister for Foreign Affairs. These complex
duties might well prove too exacting for a genuine statesman; how
much more so for a mere politician! Owing to the difference of spirit
between the Prussian Chamber of Deputies and the Reichstag, he has to
appear before the former in the stern guise of a rigid Conservative,
while in the latter his face wears a more attractive mask, being set
off with a tinge of Liberalism. The Chancellor is thus compelled, by
the very nature of his functions, to be an opportunist in internal
politics.
The Bundesrat, composed of representatives sent to it by the individual
States, is a pliable tool in the hands of the Emperor and the other
German rulers, who themselves obey the Imperial will. It shares the
legislative power with the head of the Empire and with the Reichstag.
Bismarck held that the best way of uprooting the particularism of
the small States and clearing the ground for final unification was
to invite all citizens of twenty-five years and upwards to elect
representatives for the central Parliament. The Reichstag, chosen
by universal suffrage, is the popular assembly, the real mouthpiece
of public opinion. Its powers are limited to voting upon the budget
and upon laws for the Empire, which must be taken as meaning laws of
national interest.[6] This democratic Parliament, however, controls, so
far as it can, the administration of public affairs. Its best weapon of
defence against the arbitrary power of the Crown is the opposition it
can raise to any Government proposals for expenditure or taxation. It
has often used this weapon; but if it presses its opposition too far,
it runs the risk of being dissolved by a mere decree of the Emperor’s,
to make room for an assembly that will prove more open to compromise.
By the side of the Empire are the federal States and the three free
cities, which possess local executives and Diets. In order to furnish
these States with the means of a separate existence, Bismarck, while
instituting a special budget for the Empire, left to them the revenue
obtained from direct taxes. The Imperial budget draws its nutriment
from the customs, the excise, and the postal service. The amount
derived from these sources being insufficient, it also receives the
“matricular contributions” (_Matrikularbeiträge_), paid by each State
on a scale that keeps the balance of the budget properly adjusted.
II.
Prince von Bülow, in his _Imperial Germany_, asserts that the German
race, although richly endowed with great qualities, has no talent for
politics. This charge is quite unfair, the real motive for it being
the dread with which a Prussian statesman views the prospect of a
parliamentary system. The Germans are late-comers in the field of
political life. Those of the South entered it much earlier than the
Prussians; Bavaria received a written constitution from its ruler in
1818, Baden in the same year, Würtemberg in 1819, and Hesse-Darmstadt
in 1820. It was not till 1850 that Frederick William IV., impelled by
the sanguinary riots in Berlin two years earlier, granted his people
the constitution promised by his father a few weeks before Waterloo.
Even to-day, popular representation as it exists among the Germans
is in many ways incomplete. In this respect they are a backward
people—they, who pride themselves on marching in the forefront of
civilization. They look from afar at the little nations, which they
despise, boldly advancing on the road of parliamentarism, of progress
in the sphere of political institutions, the road that England, as
pioneer, has opened up for other countries. Yet there is nothing to
prove that, if they were given the chance, they would not shake off
their political torpor and set out upon that road with admirable
results.
Under the present constitution, the political parties in the Reichstag
have no hope of ever securing the reins of power. The Chancellor
and his underlings, the Secretaries of State, are functionaries who
cannot be removed, so long as it pleases the Emperor to keep them
in office. When the popular assembly formally records its lack of
confidence in them, the vote is like a harmless shower of rain, from
which they can shelter themselves under the cloak of the constitution.
If these hostile downpours came very often, indeed, the Emperor
would have to take notice of them and to effect a change in the high
executive staff, but he would not on that account draw his ministers
from the parliamentary majority. The party chiefs, never having the
responsibility of power, are far less keen for the interests of the
State than for those of their party. In a theoretical, doctrinaire
fashion, they defend the political programme comprising all the
demands which they and their predecessors have artistically put
together, a nosegay with whose delusive fragrance they charm their
electors from time to time; but they know perfectly well that this
ideal programme can never be carried out. Some, as skilled tacticians
and leaders of men, like Windthorst and Bebel, have displayed talents
of the first order. Why should it be impossible to find, among the
various party leaders, the stuff of which good parliamentary ministers
are made? We have never seen them put to the test, but we can very well
imagine Herr Bassermann at the head of a Liberal Ministry or Herr Spahn
in a coalition Conservative Cabinet, a “blue and black”[7] Cabinet,
such as has been tried in Holland.
A remark one cannot help making is that the Imperial Parliament
does not contain a Prussian majority, a fact which increases the
difficulties of the Government’s task in no small degree. Prussia
achieved German unity by the sword; it is by far the most populous of
the German States, for in 1913 its inhabitants numbered 40,000,000 out
of a total of 67,000,000. Nevertheless, Prussia proper is confined to
the right bank of the Elbe. The rest of the mighty Hohenzollern kingdom
is merely Prussianized, a group of provinces incorporated by conquest,
and in each province the old particularist spirit still survives. A
great national Prussian party will probably never come into being. It
has been said with justice that in the Reichstag the parties, generally
speaking, have remained separatist, in so far as they are identified
with separate regions. The Conservatives embody the reactionary
tendencies inherent in the Protestant population of the eastern
marches; the deputies of the Centre represent the Catholic masses of
the west, the Liberals the commercial and manufacturing towns. The
Socialists alone succeed in spreading, like a sheet of oil, all over
the domains of the older parties.
Other reflections occur to the mind of one who is confronted with
this motley Diet of federal partners. First of all, this: that the
Government, in its relations with the Reichstag, would gain in
prestige, in influence, and in freedom of action, if it were not so
liable to confuse the Imperial Diet with that of Prussia, if the
Prussian minister were not constantly peeping out behind the mask of
the Imperial Chancellor. Secondly, that the Reichstag seems inevitably
destined to play a more important part on a stage that is really
parliamentary. The structure reared by Bismarck, although it has been
in existence for forty-four years, still has a look of incompleteness.
It seems to need finishing touches from the hand of a workman more
Liberal than the Iron Chancellor, one who can adapt himself better to
modern requirements.
As regards the responsibility for the events of 1914, the Reichstag
must be saddled with its share. The spirit of Prussian militarism,
with its ideas of European domination, had made unmistakable headway
in that body during recent years. Whether this was primarily due to
the dispute with France over Morocco, or to colonial aspirations, or
to the world-policy inaugurated by Prince von Bülow, is of little
consequence. Up to 1907 the increases in the army had met with so
stubborn a resistance in Parliament that, in order to secure a majority
for each fresh army bill, the Imperial Government had to make prolonged
strategical efforts, like a general who tries to capture a fortress
with ill-disciplined troops under his command. But the opposition to
the army bill of 1913 was of a negligible character; it consisted only
of the nationalist malcontents and the Socialists, the former being
anti-German, the latter anti-militarist.
The Reichstag includes not less than ten parties and groups, each
having a special designation. The most sharply defined political
conceptions are to be found among the Conservatives, to whom we
must add—while regarding it as distinct, in view of its religious
character—the Catholic Centre; the Liberals; and the Socialists.
Thus we have three great monarchical or middle-class parties, and a
Social-Democratic party of apparently republican tendencies.
III.
I will not linger over the Conservative Imperialists, a group of great
manufacturers, landowners, and officials, all being, by their very
nature, supporters of the Government.
The Conservative party proper, consisting of only forty-three
members in the present Reichstag, is drawn almost entirely from the
agricultural population of the provinces to the east of the Elbe; it
is under the iron rule of the landed gentry. This is the genuinely
national Prussian party, indissolubly attached to the principles
inscribed on its flag: loyalty to the throne, to the Protestant faith,
and to monarchical institutions, the chief of which is the army. To
this we may add a rooted aversion for nations which Prussia and Germany
regarded with distrust, above all for France. I am speaking here of the
feelings prevalent among the Conservatives before the war; to-day the
first place in their hatred is presumably filled by England or by Italy.
The Prussian aristocrats who direct this party have behind them a long
past history of glory and devotion. Their ancestors played their part,
no less than Frederick the Great, in building up the greatness of the
monarchy. In no European country have the nobles rendered such splendid
services to the reigning dynasty or shed more blood to cement the
fabric of its power.
In the Prussian Diet, from 1862 to 1866, the Conservative party stood
alone in supporting the adventurous and unconstitutional policy of
Bismarck. It has never ceased supplying the Government with officers
and civil servants in such large numbers that it constitutes one
of the great driving forces of the German army and administration.
Its leaders, although inveterate foes of Socialism, have realized
the timeliness of the social legislation begun under William I. and
completed under William II. Accordingly they have voted for these laws
in docile fashion, though without enthusiasm. The weak joint in the
otherwise flawless armour of their patriotism is that they are apt to
put the interests of the agrarian section before those of the country
as a whole. The protection of agriculture, one of the vital sources
of a nation’s prosperity, ought to be, according to the Conservative
doctrines, the first duty of the Imperial Government.
The loyalty to the throne displayed by the Prussian squires, those
Junkers who are the real nobles in a kingdom where the feudal
aristocracy is almost extinct save in Silesia and on the banks of
the Rhine, shows no trace of servility. More royalist than the King,
they think fit to dictate to him the policy that he ought to pursue.
A satirical version of the Prussian national anthem “for the use of
Conservatives” contains the following distich:
“Unser König absolut,
Wenn er unseren Willen tut!”
“Let our King be absolute, if only he does what we want!”
The leader of the Conservative party, both in the Prussian Diet and in
the Reichstag, is Herr von Heydebrand, often called “the uncrowned King
of Prussia.” He is no Teuton giant, like some of the rough and boorish
gentleman-farmers of the eastern provinces, but a little old man, very
simple and retiring, whose usual posture is one of silent attention.
The Conservative chief does not speak very often: when he does, his
incisive eloquence and his terse, logical way of putting things produce
a sensational effect. His speech against the Convention of 4th November
1911 and the policy of an accommodation with France, is still fresh
in the memory of every German. In the caustic questions he addressed
to the Chancellor—asking what was the use of the colossal land and
sea armaments of the Empire, if Germany was forced to beat a retreat
at the critical moment, and why the German sword had been flourished
at Agadir, only to be ignominiously put back in its sheath from fear
of perfidious Albion—Herr von Heydebrand revealed to us the swelling
chorus that the war-song of his party had reached. After this speech
the Conservative party clamoured incessantly, both with tongue and with
pen, for revenge on France and her accomplices.
IV.
The Centre has almost as much claim as the Conservative party to be
ranged with the Right. It was formed in the Rhine provinces, where
many prince-bishops once held their court, in Bavaria, in Baden, and
in Silesia, with the object of counteracting, in the name of the
Catholic minority, the intolerant spirit of the Protestant majority,
and of securing for the Church the liberty that is her due. Although
some official party-writers have tried hard to make us believe the
contrary, the Centre is a religious party. It regards the interests of
the Church as paramount. Still, like the rest, it has been won over
to the nationalist idea, and it works towards maintaining the federal
character of the Empire.
The deputies of the Centre number eighty-nine. This figure is low, if
we consider that in 1911 Germany contained about 24,000,000 Catholics
as against 40,000,000 Lutherans and Evangelicals. The way in which the
electoral districts have been parcelled out is no doubt the reason
why this party has fewer representatives than it might fairly expect.
For all that, it seems to have reached its zenith, and while for the
time being it does not lose its principal seats at the battles of the
polls, on the other hand it no longer gains any from its rivals. Among
the working-classes its great enemy is Socialism. Hence, in order to
retain its adherents in the manufacturing centres, the Catholic Right
has considerably broadened its Conservative programme. It is feeling
the influence of that Christian Democracy which reigns supreme in
the southern States. As the Protestant journals have taken good care
to point out, it is quite obvious to-day that the party contains two
opposite currents, and that a certain antagonism exists between the
controlling bodies in Cologne and in Breslau, the latter being more
conservative and more amenable to the dictates of Rome, while the
former tries to shake off the Vatican leading-strings in internal
politics. This cleavage came to light in the discussion that arose
among German Catholics over the setting-up of mixed labour syndicates,
composed of Catholic and Protestant workmen.
For seventeen years, from 1890 to 1907, the Centre in the Reichstag
laid down its conditions and even issued its commands, as the price
of letting those bills pass which the Government considered of vital
importance. Defeated by Prince von Bülow’s _bloc_,[8] it took its
revenge two years later, by wrecking the Chancellor’s scheme for
financial reform. If after this the Centre did not hold undisputed sway
in divisions, it remained a doubtful ally for the Government, and in
momentous conflicts its desertion could still affect the issue.
No one can deny that the German Centre and the Belgian Catholic party
have many points in common. Both acknowledge the same ideal, and fight
with the same energy to protect the consciences of the faithful from
the inroads of advanced teachings and the ravages of free thought.
The electoral successes of the Belgian Clericals were greeted by the
Catholic Press of Germany with no less enthusiasm than their own. The
Belgians, who for the most part cling to the same beliefs as the German
Catholics, might have expected some sympathy from their brethren in
the faith, when their country was outraged in such dastardly fashion.
Yet no cry of Christian pity went up from the deputies of the Centre
when their Protestant Emperor pounced upon his victim; no plea for
mercy was uttered by them on behalf of our stricken people; no protest
against the murder of our priests or against the destruction of our old
churches, where many of them had knelt in pious reverence when they
came to visit our land. If they spoke of Belgium at all, it was only to
propose annexation as was done by the deputy Erzberger, one of their
leading men in the Reichstag, in a manifesto that was eagerly recorded
by the whole German Press. In vindicating his hateful suggestion,
this good Catholic appealed to no right but the brutal right of the
conqueror, to no interest but the interest which the German Empire
has in possessing the seaboard of Flanders with its splendid port on
the Scheldt. He thought to cover the nakedness of his greed by means
of those lying charges with which, like his Protestant colleagues, he
tried to sully the heroic resistance of the Belgians.
V.
As in most countries, the Liberal party falls into two divisions:
the moderate or “national” Liberals, and the progressive or “ultra”
Liberals. Their forces are of about equal strength in the Reichstag.
The former section stands for the manufacturing interests, the latter
for the commercial, and both for the monarchist middle class, which is
opposed to any interference by a religious authority, whatever creed it
may represent.
The National Liberals can point to a glorious past, for during the
first years of the Empire they formed the solid kernel of the majority
which faithfully voted for all the bills brought in by Bismarck.
Notwithstanding some passing fits of ill-humour and sulkiness, they
have continued to register their votes for laws of national interest
and for world-policy, for the increase of armaments and for colonial
expenditure. One might have imagined that a certain affinity of
thought, a similar leaning towards a secular régime which would
entirely prevent the clergy from directing moral education, a like
distaste for aristocratic influences, would have made them look with
a less unfriendly eye upon a foreign Liberal Government such as that
of the French Republic. One might have been tempted to believe that
they would make some effort, now and then, to bridge the gulf of hatred
that kept the two countries apart. As a matter of fact, they have bent
their energies towards widening that gulf. The German suspicions as to
the revengeful designs of the French Republic were never more strongly
encouraged than by the speeches of the National Liberal leader, Herr
Bassermann, on foreign affairs, a subject on which he was one of the
most popular speakers in the Reichstag. These utterances were a series
of indictments, no less unjust than spiteful, against a nation which he
had never taken the trouble to study, or which he had only seen through
the spectacles of an aggravated Germanism. Thus the war must have
satisfied the heartfelt desires of Herr Bassermann and his followers.
For a long time the Progressive Democrats, who opposed the spread
of militarism, voted against any increase of military burdens. It
was the triumph of Prince von Bülow’s tactical skill that he induced
these extremist representatives of the middle classes to change front
and to swell the ranks of the Conservatives and National Liberals,
so as to form a Governmental and militarist majority. Henceforth
the Progressives were always meek supporters of any increase in
the Imperial forces. That they adopted this course at first in the
interests of national defence is fairly obvious; but they cannot have
been blind to the aggressive character of the 1913 army bill. They
accepted in advance all the consequences of this measure, because they
too had rallied to the cause of world-policy and colonial expansion.
These ideas were floating in the atmosphere of the Reichstag, as well
as in the air that all who were concerned with statecraft breathed in
Berlin.
VI.
In 1884 the Socialist party comprised, in round numbers, 550,000
electors; in 1912 it had 4,250,000 out of a total of nearly 12,000,000
for the whole country. In 1884 the party was represented in the
Reichstag by 24 deputies, in 1912 by 110 out of 397. These figures tell
their own tale as to the progress made by Socialism in Germany.
Every German statesman looked upon the Socialists as a great danger,
and, taking his cue from the Emperor, expressed his fears somewhat
too loudly in speech and writing. What was the use of sounding the
fire-alarm, as if the house were already in flames, when as a matter of
fact it was not even threatened? Why all this scare, which seems to us
rather absurd to-day? German political science had tried every remedy
against the Socialist taint and found it wanting, from the repressive
system of Bismarck to the social reform policy of Posadowsky. In
reality, however, the microbe of Social Democracy was perfectly
harmless. Prince von Bülow, in his book, comes to the conclusion that
the danger would become serious if Socialism, after making havoc
among the proletariate, wormed its way into the middle classes, those
steadfast bulwarks against all change. In point of fact it had already
made considerable advance in this direction, and it drew its leaders
from the intellectuals of the struggling bourgeoisie. I have heard it
prophesied in Berlin that the Empire would be lost on the day that the
Socialist propaganda pierced the chain-armour of Prussian discipline
and found its way into the army. But some fifty per cent. of the
young soldiers were adherents of Socialism; have they fought any the
less sturdily on that account? This exaggerated fear, or rather this
annoyance, felt by the Emperor was surely due to the unceremonious
behaviour of Socialist deputies in the Reichstag and their refusal to
shout the traditional “Hoch!” in his honour—a mere piece of schoolboy
impertinence.
It needed no profound study of the movement to realize that Social
Democracy was becoming transformed from day to day. It had passed
through several phases since those heroic times when, in spite of the
threat of imprisonment, it had boldly declared war upon capitalist
society and the imperialist system. The generation of veteran
revolutionaries, of Liebknecht, Bebel, and Engels, had passed away.
Those who took their place, men like Franck, Bernstein, Heine, and
Sudekum, became opportunists or “revisionists.”[9] The change grew
more perceptible than ever when Bebel, the last apostle of the Marxian
gospel, was snatched away by a heart-attack from the benches of the
Reichstag and the leadership of the party. It was he who had been
its patient organizer, finding an invaluable ally in that spirit of
discipline for which the Germans are peculiarly noted. The heirs of
this great speaker and great fighter ostensibly retained the teachings
of Karl Marx: the class struggle, the acquisition of political power
in order to bring about a social revolution and establish a collective
ownership of the means of production. But their actual programme aimed
at more practical reforms, especially in the way of guarantees for the
worker against the employer, and of rates and taxes.
Social Democracy had become a wealthy middle-class institution, with
funds amounting to £5,000,000, several powerful unions, and 4,216 local
committees, paying subsidies, not merely to its numerous children, but
even to foreigners, on condition that they accepted its edicts. With
such resources, the battle against the rich employer class was far
from unequal, and the propaganda went on apace. No revolutionary step
was taken, no general strike was declared, no attack was made on the
sacrosanct person of the Emperor. The Socialist tactics consisted in
penetrating further and further into parliamentary life, not in order
to raise a futile opposition to the Government, but in order to use
the effective sounding-board of the Reichstag as a means of obtaining
a wider audience for the Socialist message. The uninterrupted climb
of Social Democracy, its remarkable gains at each general election,
gave its leaders every right to anticipate a glorious future. They saw
themselves, at no distant date, heading a parliamentary majority and
forcing the Imperial Government to come to terms.
Their conduct at the declaration of war, which they had done nothing
to prevent, was a source of profound amazement to the world outside
Germany. Not the least indignant were those foreign Socialists who
had been accustomed to revere their German colleagues as unfailing
oracles. Had not the latter held undisputed sway at all the
international congresses, imposing their theories and their decrees
with that masterful and uncompromising spirit that they showed in no
less degree than the capitalist classes whom they were fighting? As a
matter of fact, there was no reason to feel surprise or indignation.
The Reichstag deputies, like their electors, are Germans first and
Socialists afterwards. Before leaving school, they are fully convinced
that theirs is a superior race. Moreover, for the labouring masses of
Germany the war—a brief and triumphant war, such as they confidently
expected—was a good stroke of business, just as it was for their
masters. It would enable the products of German industry to flow more
abundantly into the conquered countries, it would win rich colonies for
the Empire, it would ensure the final supremacy of the German Labour
party in the sphere of international Socialism. It might have been
remembered that the disciples and successors of Marx had always turned
a deaf ear to the proposal of foreign comrades, that a declaration of
war should be answered by a general strike; and that when charged by
their opponents in the Reichstag with lack of patriotism, they had
replied that, if Germany were attacked, every German Socialist would
put a rifle to his shoulder as readily as his middle-class countryman.
It was quite in the nature of things, then, that the body of Socialist
deputies, instead of raising an outcry against the war, should have
voted as one man for the military credits demanded by the Chancellor on
the 4th of August, and that it should have accepted without a murmur
the Government’s statements as to an attack by Russia and by France.
In spite of some individual protests, it will continue to grant the
necessary milliards of marks, just as its electors, enrolled under the
Imperial banner, will continue to shed their proletarian blood like
water, in order to secure the triumph of imperialism and aristocracy.
Still, we have a right to be astonished when we read the pronouncements
made at Stuttgart last winter by one of the prominent Socialist members
of the Reichstag, Herr Wolfgang Heine. They reveal a new trend in the
party, a rallying to the Empire and to those great centralizing forces,
the clamps of the mighty German framework—the army and the monarchy.
Conservative writers had given us to understand that a yawning chasm
had always existed and always would exist between kingship and social
democracy. The Imperial Government would not disarm until its enemy
surrendered and swore allegiance to the monarchy and to the order of
things for which the monarchy stands. And now, through the agency of
war, the miracle has come to pass! Social democracy will no longer sap
the dynastic and military foundations of the State; it has declared
itself imperialistic.
Will the miracle last long? Will the old revolutionary demon never
again seize the soul of the new convert? When peace returns—we shall
see. There is every reason to think that the truce between the two
inveterate foes rests on an uncertain basis. As the price of its
assistance in the European conflict, Socialism will exact concessions
in the shape of political reforms, involving a change in the Imperial
constitution and in that of the Prussian State. The grant of universal
suffrage to Prussia is the least that it can ask for. Then will come
the day of reckoning for the Hohenzollern autocrat. Let us suppose
that William II., his position weakened by a disappointing war, should
find no strength to resist the clamours of the German proletariate.
The power would pass from his enfeebled hands to those of a Reichstag
brimming over with enthusiasm and consumed with ambition. And if, in
spite of the failure of his bold enterprises, he should reject the
popular demands, what a struggle we can foresee between a shrunken
Cæsar and a party swollen in numbers through all the mistakes, all the
suffering, all the ruin that the war has accumulated! Victory alone
(and even that for how long, and by what compromises?) could seal the
reconciliation between two such rivals as autocracy and Socialism.
Defeat, or merely a profitless peace, would have prolonged effects upon
the internal situation in Germany.
VII.
Since the creation of the Empire, the Chancellors have had to
govern the Reichstag with coalition majorities. This system has
great advantages, but still greater drawbacks. On the one hand, the
Government does not commit itself to the policy of any one party; on
the other hand, to carry the bills which it regards as important, it
is compelled to be eternally bargaining with parties and groups.
Bismarck at first relied upon the National Liberals, who were the
most numerous in the earlier assemblies of his ministry; they were
his allies in his campaign against Rome. After a time he became
dissatisfied with the Liberals, who were considerably reduced in
numbers at the general election following upon the attempts to
assassinate William I., and made overtures to the Conservatives, both
Protestant and Catholic. The latter having been defeated, together with
the Progressives, over the so-called “act for the military septennium,”
the Chancellor, with an eye to the 1887 elections, formed the famous
_Kartell_,[10] composed of Conservatives and National Liberals. This
was the first attempt to arrange a marriage of convenience between the
two opposite principles of government, immobility and progress. The
experiment was as quickly dropped in Germany as elsewhere.
Twenty years later Prince von Bülow, faced with the same difficulties,
and always compelled to reckon with the Centre, came to grief through
the latter’s stubborn refusal to grant the necessary credits for
additions to the colonial forces. He thought it a master-stroke to
confront the Centre and the Socialists with a majority composed this
time of Conservatives, National Liberals, and Progressives. This
combination was invested with the French name of “_bloc_.” The 1907
elections gave him a short-lived triumph over the Socialists alone,
for the Centre came out unscathed from the ordeal of the polls. But
the team of three which the Chancellor hoped to drive with a sure hand
was too ill-assorted to keep together for very long. The horse on the
right, summoned by the neigh of his stable-companion, the Centre, on
the Opposition meadows, was the first to kick over the traces and
escape. Protestant and Catholic Conservatives then formed a new _bloc_,
“blue” and “black,” against the financial reforms of the Government. It
was essential for Prince von Bülow to carry his bill in the Reichstag,
for this was the only way in which he could make himself appear
indispensable to the Emperor, whose feelings towards him were anything
but friendly after the affair of the _Daily Telegraph_ interview.
Accordingly, he treated the matter as a test case, as if he had been
a mere parliamentary minister, threatening to resign if his bill were
thrown out. The result of the voting made this threat a reality. He
handed in his resignation to the Emperor, who was graciously pleased to
accept it.
If the Centre, in accordance with its conventions, has so far been
the factor most capable of shifting the balance in the Reichstag, the
party which has had most influence on the trend of the Government’s
home policy is the Conservative party. A study of German history since
Bismarck’s dismissal teaches us that a Chancellor cannot retain his
power very long in the teeth of the agrarians, although they are less
numerous than the other parliamentary groups. Caprivi and Bülow, each
in his turn, attempted the impossible. The former injured the interests
of the eastern landowners by his concessions to foreign States, in that
he lowered the import duties on cereals, with a view to concluding
with them commercial treaties that would favour the development of
national industries. The latter tried to saddle the agrarians with a
proportional share of the burdens involved in his financial reforms—a
perfectly equitable scheme, supported by all the Liberal elements.
On the other hand, as we have seen, a Chancellor who is backed by the
Conservatives can defy public opinion and parliamentary opposition.
Such was the experience of Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg in the debate
over the Zabern affair, in which he championed (not very eloquently,
by the way) the inalienable right of the army to take the law into
its own hands. He received an overwhelming vote of censure with
philosophic calm, telling the majority that its vote did not affect
him, because he was responsible for his acts, not to Parliament, but to
the Emperor. What really made him feel proof against their attacks was
the similarity of his views to those of the Junkers and of all those
Prussian reactionaries who resisted tooth and nail whenever any one
dared to assail the privileges of the army.
This ambition on the part of the Conservative chiefs to act as the
power behind the political throne received a severe set-back two years
ago. The blow was all the more effective in that it wounded them in
their tenderest spot. Hitherto, they had managed to keep real estate,
above all when it passed to an heir, exempt from the new taxes. The
financial covering for the 1913 army bill, however, was passed by a
coalition of the Centre, the Socialists, and the Liberal groups, not
in accordance with the Government proposal, but with amendments which
brought landed property within the scope of the new taxation. The fact
that this vote had an influence on recent events compels me to enter
into some detail, in order to explain the mechanism of the financial
section of this important bill.
VIII.
“We must conduct affairs in such a way,” says the official German
secret report, published in the 1914 Yellow Book and dated March 19,
1913, the day after the army bill of that year was passed, “that, under
the weighty pressure of powerful armaments, enormous sacrifices, and
a strained political situation, an outbreak of hostilities would be
looked upon as a deliverance, because, like the war of 1870, it would
be followed by several decades of peace and prosperity.”
The new financial burdens were indeed heavy, even for a nation which,
like the German, was visibly growing richer and richer. The expenditure
involved in the new army bill was of two kinds. The one, amounting to
some £50,000,000, graduated over a period of three years, would not
be renewed; the other represented a permanent annual disbursement,
estimated at £24,510,000 until 1915, and £11,600,000 after that date.
Where were these vast sums to be found in a country already
overburdened with taxation? The Imperial Treasury had no more than
£5,000,000 left over from the receipts of preceding years. The
Chancellor could not resort to fresh taxes on food and drink. Moreover
his hands were tied by a motion, put forward by Herr Bassermann and
Herr Erzberger in the previous year, and passed by the Reichstag.
This motion bound the Government to frame, before March 31, 1913,
a scheme of taxation on property, in other words on wealth. “But a
general Imperial tax on property,” the Finance Minister, Herr Kühn, had
declared in the course of the debate, “would have been an encroachment
upon the financial sovereign rights of the federated States, and the
Imperial Government could not enter upon this path without injuring
the federal character of the Empire.” It must not be forgotten that
Prussia, being the most important of the federated States, would
have been the first to suffer from a blow directed at her fiscal
independence.
An internal loan of £50,000,000 was not feasible, in view of the
state of the market, in which even the most promising loans of German
municipalities found great difficulty in getting placed. It was out of
the question, on the other hand, to appeal to the foreign investor. He
would not have lent a penny for the increase of German armaments, which
were already causing a great deal of anxiety abroad.
The Finance Minister thought he had solved the problem by submitting to
the approval of the Reichstag a large batch of finance measures of the
most varied type.
First of all he proposed certain devices for the covering of permanent
expenditure. Then he moved an increase in the assessment of matricular
contributions paid by the federated States, on whose shoulders a fresh
share of the burden was thus thrown. Finally, to redeem the promise
made to the Reichstag in 1912 with regard to a property-tax, Herr Kühn
suggested imposing a tax on increments of wealth and capital in those
federated States which should not themselves have introduced such a tax
by 1916, and whose resources were not enough to pay the higher rate of
matricular contributions that was now demanded.
In order to meet the non-recurring expenses, the Government bill—this
is its truly original feature—proposed an extraordinary tax on property
and income, to be paid for the next two years. This _Wehrbeitrag_
(Defence Contribution) was really a special war levy, imposed on
capitalists in the midst of peace, when the political sky of Germany
was not in any way overcast. It was a tax on the patriotism of the
well-to-do classes, an urgent appeal to national sentiment. That the
response would be enthusiastic the Government did not doubt for a
moment. The assessment of property began at the very low minimum of
£500, that of income at the very high minimum of £2,500.
In the debate on the first reading the Finance Minister’s scheme was
coldly received by the Liberal elements. It soon became clear that the
vote for financial cover, which the Chancellor wished to obtain by the
beginning of July at the latest, would not be passed unless he resigned
himself to accepting drastic amendments. Herr von Bethmann-Hollweg,
anxious to push the matter through as quickly as possible, acknowledged
that the Government proposals might be modified.
The Budget Committee went to work with a vengeance. For the
_Wehrbeitrag_, it raised the minimum of taxable property to £2,500
with an income of over £100, and, making the tax progressive, it taxed
incomes of over £250, provided they exceeded by £50 a sum representing
five per cent. of the taxpayer’s capital. For the valuation of real
estate it adhered to the principle of fictitious capitalization,
multiplying the incomes by 25 instead of 20, a co-efficient proposed by
the Government and considered too favourable to the landed proprietors.
The Princes were subjected to the extraordinary tax in the same way
as private citizens; the assurance given by princely families, that
they would contribute of their own free will, was not regarded as
sufficient. On the other hand, against the advice of the Liberals,
estates held in mortmain were exempted. The tax was to be collected
in three instalments: the first, one month after the preliminary
assessment, _i.e._ on December 31, 1913, the second in 1915, and the
third on February 15, 1916.
A large number of the taxpayers were called upon to contribute to this
“Defence Levy,” within two years, a third or more of their income.
For manufacturers, bankers, commercial companies, and others who had
capital in reserve, this sacrifice was not very hard to make. A landed
proprietor, however, who lived on the income derived from his estate,
would be compelled either to cut down expenses or to raise money on a
mortgage. In the same way, a person who depended on the modest proceeds
of his investments would have to sell or mortgage a portion of his
holdings.
For permanent expenditure, the Committee rejected the increase in
matricular assessments proposed by the Government, on the pretext
that the Empire ought not to beg for alms from the federated States.
On the other hand, it accepted, with some modifications of detail,
the principle of taxing increments of wealth and capital. It exempted
princely families, but not limited companies.
At the second and third readings, the Reichstag adopted the resolutions
of its committee. On 30th June, the date recommended by the Government,
the bill for financial cover was passed, as I have said above, by a
notable majority, composed of the Liberal and Socialist groups, with
which the Centre had combined, the Conservatives forming the bulk of
the opposition.
It was a great victory for the more advanced elements, Progressive
and Socialist. The Centre and the National Liberals rallied to their
standard, being convinced that it was impossible to revive the
Bassermann-Erzberger proposal. In point of fact, the bill passed by
the Reichstag proceeded, to a great extent, upon the same lines as the
measure proposed by these two deputies. A series of direct taxes, on an
enormous scale, now swelled the resources of the Empire, while their
yield, in accordance with the Bismarckian policy, was almost entirely
reserved for the individual States. The Socialists would have liked to
go further and throw the whole weight of this burden upon the shoulders
of the privileged classes.
After all, the Reichstag vote was, in a way, a breach of the federal
compact, and an invasion by the Imperial Parliament of the rights
of individual States. It marked a stage in the journey towards
complete unification of the Empire by means of fiscal processes. This
encroachment by the central power was not accepted without a murmur by
Saxony and the southern States. Their deputies in the Reichstag were
forced to bow to the higher necessities pleaded by the Government,
and to ratify a measure which claimed to be in the interests of the
nation as a whole. It may be said that from this time onward the fiscal
independence of the federated States ceased to exist.
The anger of the Conservatives found vent in the columns of their
newspapers and the speeches of their leaders. Their representatives in
the Reichstag, clinging to the Government scheme, had voted in sheer
desperation against the new tax on increments of wealth and capital,
nominally because it infringed the autonomy of the individual States,
really because, in striking at increments in wealth due either to a
rise in site-values or to inheritance in direct line, it assailed their
position, privileged till then, as landed proprietors.
IX.
It was not to be expected that the Conservatives would accept this
defeat without any thought of seeking revenge. The aristocracy who
direct the party had supported all the costly proposals for augmenting
the military forces, in order to ensure Germany’s triumph in the next
war. Their sins now recoiled upon their own heads. From this time
forth, the landowners would suffer the common lot of taxpayers, and in
the grim struggle that they wage with such amazing vigour against an
ungenerous soil, would no longer be able to devote the entire surplus
of their income to the improvement of their farms. Their rout was due
to the growth of the Socialist vote, to the place won in the Reichstag
by Social Democracy, whose magnetic force was attracting both the
Christian Democrats of the Centre and the more advanced Liberals. The
problem now before them was this: should they submit to the domination
of the Left, or should they counteract it, and endeavour to build a
dam, once for all, against those Socialist floods that threatened to
sap the very foundations of the monarchy?
If we bear in mind the views that the Conservative party has in
common with the military aristocracy, making the two bodies scarcely
distinguishable; its ascendancy over the Imperial Government, whose
Chancellors, like Bülow, have called themselves Conservatives by blood
and tradition; its influence at Court; the dictatorial spirit of its
chiefs, actuated by the most diverse motives, Prussian patriotism,
class cohesion, material interests; and finally, the short space of
time that elapsed between the passing of the 1913 finance bill and
the declaration of war on Russia—if we bear all this in mind, we
shall come to the conclusion that the squirearchy took every advantage
of that narrow interval, brought great pressure to bear upon the
Sovereign, and decided him to precipitate the course of events.
The somewhat forced enthusiasm with which the introduction of the
Defence Levy was hailed in Berlin drawing-rooms was speedily quenched
after the Reichstag vote, and black looks appeared on all sides as
the first term for payment drew near. The growing burdens exacted by
the army and navy now made their weight felt everywhere, and caused a
general demand for some limit to the constant advance of armaments and
taxation. Yet the people saw no chance of relief except as the result
of a war. “... That the outbreak of hostilities may be looked upon as
a deliverance,” says the secret report already quoted. This was the
idea that was gradually making its way into the German mind. On the day
after mobilization, while having a talk with the Bavarian minister, I
expressed my surprise at the fact that the war-demonstrations of the
previous evening had been noisier in Munich than in Berlin. “Isn’t
it perfectly natural?” he replied. “We are crushed by a weight of
taxation, ordinary and extraordinary. The moment seems favourable.
France and Russia are not ready. The Bavarians think it better that war
should come than that the present intolerable state of things should
continue.”
Not only did the military clique make capital of this discontent for
the furtherance of their ends, but, we may surmise, the Conservatives
exploited it for a political purpose which is not hard to guess. A
successful war was the only way of stopping the downward rush of the
Empire along the democratic slope, and of regaining the mastery of the
Reichstag for the moderate parties. A victorious monarch, invested with
a halo of dazzling glory by his subjects throughout all Germany, could
allow himself anything. Was it not after a series of military triumphs
that Bismarck had overcome the last resistance of the separatists? But
the great man had made the mistake—a mistake for which his successors
paid dear—of introducing universal suffrage for the elections to the
Reichstag. Little by little, the popular vote was threatening to bring
forth a hideous monster, a Parliament in which the majority would be
led by the advocates of a social revolution. The Conservatives, in
spite of a promise made by the Emperor, had managed to prevent an
electoral reform for the Prussian Chamber of Deputies. We shall hardly
overrate the daring of their leaders, if we credit them with the
design of inducing William II., after the victory, to modify the 1871
constitution in a reactionary spirit.
A certain country, not strong enough to earn the respect of the
Imperial Government, had shown that it is possible to mitigate
the evils attendant on universal suffrage by means of minority
representation, compulsory polling, and plural voting. In Germany, a
reform involving one of these methods, or applying some other powerful
brake to the electoral car, would have been easy to introduce at an
auspicious moment. Even under a constitutional government, the bulk of
the German nation, with many of its cravings satisfied, and with a long
vista of world-wide supremacy and economic affluence before its eyes,
would have offered no resistance to the Hohenzollern who returned from
abroad with the laurels of a conqueror.
This, I admit, is a mere hypothesis, but there is nothing improbable in
it for one who knows the pugnacious bent of Prussian Conservatism.
Yet every medal has its reverse, even the one stamped in advance with
the effigy of William II., Emperor of Europe. If Germany emerges
humbled and weakened for many a long year from a conflict in which
the best-laid plans of victory will have been wrecked by unforeseen
elements, the scaffolding of her ambitions will come down with a crash.
When its rulers are called to account for their overweening confidence,
the German people—if we exclude the chance of a revolution, an idea
for which this country of innate discipline has little taste—will
probably demand a limitation of the Emperor’s power in the form of a
parliamentary system of real political liberty. In 1913, Count von
Schwerin-Lowitz, President of the Prussian Chamber of Deputies, said,
in a Conservative meeting at some rural centre, that the Prussians,
having been accustomed for centuries to feel themselves ruled by
the iron hand of their kings, and being quite satisfied with their
admirable officials, would never adapt themselves to the unstable
guidance of a full parliamentary system. That may be: but Prussia
proper—the Prussia that has known this “iron hand” for centuries—is
not such a very large part of Germany. Of course, Parliamentarism,
like every human institution, has its faults, great or small according
to the temperament of the race concerned. Yet these faults, even in
their worst form, seem trifling in comparison with the disasters
of a European war, caused by the whim, the ambition, or the bad
statesmanship of an autocrat. Few men will have done more harm to the
monarchical principle than William II., who poses as its champion and
knight-errant. Fortunately, the King of the Belgians, face to face with
this Cæsar born out of his time, has shown how a really modern king may
typify the soul of his people, a people resolved to fight to the death
in order to preserve its independence.
In countries with parliamentary institutions, the sovereign has to
reckon first and foremost with the feelings of the great mass, and
with a more active, more potent, and more enlightened public opinion.
With all due deference to German scribes, we may say that a world-war
of conquest and pillage would have been so unpopular in France and in
England, that in neither of those lands of freedom would the Government
have set such a war in motion. I feel convinced that the Germans,
delivered from the shackles of their present constitution, and governed
no longer by officials, but by responsible ministers owing their
position to popular suffrage, would return to their better nature, to
an ideal of progress on peaceful lines.