Dreadnought
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The Colonial Secretary prevailed, in part because Lord Salisbury and Count von Hatzfeldt, both skeptical as to the value of Imperial visiting, were ill. In July 1899, Lady Salisbury had suffered a stroke. Lord Salisbury, attending at her bedside, was tired of the Kaiser, tired even of Hatzfeldt. The German Ambassador, whose emphysema was worsening, could no longer stand up to the daily bombardment of demands and complaints from Berlin which had to be communicated to the Foreign Office. When the Samoan crisis was at its peak, weeks passed during which the Prime Minister and the German Ambassador never met. Negotiations were conducted between Eckardstein and Chamberlain. In Berlin, the split in the British government caused the Kaiser further vexation. “Your government in England16 appears to have two heads, Lord Salisbury and Mr. Chamberlain, and the one will not do what the other wants,” he told Lascelles. “With Mr. Chamberlain the negotiations proceed smoothly... but what he agrees to Lord Salisbury refuses to sanction and so the affair is dragged out for months and months. I am not the King of Portugal and this treatment of the subject is evidence of very bad diplomatic manners.... I desire to remain friendly with England, but I have my duties as German Emperor to think of, and I cannot go on sitting on the safety valve forever.”
On November 8 Great Britain and Germany came to terms on Samoa. The Kaiser acquired Western Samoa and a naval base at Apia. The United States kept the islands it possessed with its naval station at Pago Pago. Britain withdrew completely from Samoa and in return received Tonga and the German Solomon Islands (including Guadalcanal). German claims against British territories in West Africa were dropped. Everyone seemed pleased. Eckardstein wrote Chamberlain that the Samoan agreement “abolishes every colonial antagonism17 between the two countries.” William cabled his grandmother that he was content with the settlement and she cabled back, “I AM EQUALLY PLEASED.”18 To Bülow, the Kaiser telegraphed “BRAVO! YOU ARE A REAL MAGICIAN GRANTED TO ME QUITE UNDESERVEDLY BY HEAVEN IN ITS GOODNESS!”19
The way was open for William to visit England.
It would be the Kaiser’s first visit to his grandmother’s country since August 1895, when Lord Salisbury had failed to appear for an audience aboard the Hohenzollern. For four years, although Meteor had continued to race at Cowes, the royal owner had not been present, nor had he been received by his grandmother at Osborne or Windsor. This upset William and, in the spring of 1899, he instructed Count Hatzfeldt to sound the British government about an invitation to the queen’s eightieth birthday at the end of May. Socially, the greatest obstacle was the Prince of Wales. Hatzfeldt asked Eckardstein to assay the current state of the Prince’s feelings towards the “Boss of Cowes.” Eckardstein met the Prince at the Marlborough Club and steered the conversation towards yachting. “Yes, the last few years20 have been quite tolerable at Cowes,” said the Prince. “No more of that perpetual firing of salutes, cheering, and other tiresome disturbances.” When Eckardstein made his appeal, the Prince relented. “Let him come,21 so far as I am concerned. But don’t let him make any bombastic speeches because the public over here won’t have it.” The visit was arranged for August. On July twentieth, the Empress Augusta broke her leg jumping her horse over a water obstacle. “I AM DÉSOLÉ,”22 telegraphed the Kaiser, asking if they might come later in the year. He was reinvited for mid-November.
With the invitation in hand, William seemed to forget that it was he who wanted to visit. At Cowes in August, Meteor again won the Queen’s Cup in the Kaiser’s absence, and the Prince of Wales rose at the Royal Yacht Squadron banquet to congratulate his nephew. The following morning, a quarrelsome telegram from William was posted on the Squadron bulletin board. Addressed to the Race Committee, it complained about the conduct of the race: “YOUR HANDICAPS ARE PERFECTLY APPALLING.”23 The Prince, staying aboard his yacht, sent for Eckardstein, who had a villa at Cowes. “It really is enough24 to make one despair,” said the Prince. “Here I am taking the greatest trouble to put the Kaiser straight with the British public after all that has happened of late years. And here he is beginning to throw mud again at us. You know very well what the effect is on the British of such complaints... how sensitive we are about our national reputation for fair play in sport. Besides... the best proof that our handicaps are fair is that his Meteor won the Queen’s Cup yesterday.” He shook his head and said sympathetically to the German diplomat, “I don’t envy25 that Sisyphus job you have with the Kaiser.”
Before the visit, a second disturbance agitated the Prince and his nephew. Running his eye down the list of German aides-de-camp accompanying the Emperor to England, the Prince found the name of Admiral von Senden, Chief of the Kaiser’s Naval Cabinet. Senden had made occasional trips to England and once, in the company of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, he had heard indiscreet remarks about the Kaiser. Senden returned to Germany and reported what he had heard. William wrote immediately to his uncle to complain. The Prince replied diplomatically that nothing of the kind had been said. But Senden the tale-teller became non grata.
Seeing Senden’s name, the Prince informed the Foreign Office that “the Kaiser could not26 possibly be accompanied on his visit by this person; he, the Prince of Wales, would absolutely refuse to receive such a potin.” Eckardstein hurried to Berlin, where the Kaiser answered, “If I go27 to England at all this autumn, I shall take who I like with me.” Eckardstein returned to England and pleaded with the Prince, who said, “I should be awfully glad28 to give way in this matter,” but asked Eckardstein to make a final effort: “Do try to get the Kaiser to leave him at home.” Eckardstein enlisted an ally, the German-born Duchess of Devonshire, who tackled the Prince of Wales at Newmarket. She arranged that the Prince withdraw his veto on condition that Senden apologize and agree not to accompany his master to Windsor or Sandringham. Eventually, Eckardstein was successful, although, he wrote, “It was not until29 shortly before the visit that I was able to forward to... Berlin the treaty concluded between the Prince and myself under which Admiral Senden was to be allowed to visit Windsor.”
The forthcoming Imperial visit was unpopular in Germany. In the press and the Reichstag, there was talk of the scandal of visiting England at the moment when British “Mammonism” was “trying to strangle the brave little Boers.” The Kaiserin, her leg now healed, urged Bülow to do something to prevent the trip: “I hoped...30 that the England visit was falling through. We really cannot go there.... I am afraid it will do the Kaiser any amount of harm in the country if we really go. Britain is only out to make use of us.” Tirpitz, shepherding his Second Navy Bill through the Reichstag, worried about a display of Anglo-German amity just at the moment he needed to characterize the English as enemies to gather votes. Holstein, who ascribed the Kaiser’s wish to make the visit to his unstable craving for the affection of his England relatives, worried what William might say once he was there. On the eve of the Kaiser’s departure, Holstein presented him with an aide-mémoire which, cushioned by flattery, recommended that his royal master say nothing:
“Beyond any question31 your Majesty is more gifted than any of your relations, male or female. Your relations, however, do not extend to you a respect commensurate with the brilliance of your qualities—quite apart from the powerful position held by the German Kaiser. The reason is that your Majesty has always met your relatives openly and honorably, has initiated them into your plans and hopes, and has thus provided them with the opportunity of putting obstacles in your way. This English journey offers your Majesty the opportunity of righting this topsy-turvy situation and winning for your Majesty at a stroke the authority which is properly due to your Majesty’s high qualities and great power. All that your Majesty need do to secure this is to avoid all political conversations.
“This applies above all to any talk with Lord Salisbury.... The impression made on him will be all the greater if your Majesty... at any meeting with him at Windsor or Osborne, merely disposes of him fairly quickly and with immaculate politeness, but with everyday small talk and no more, asking how hi
s wife is and so on.... The same reserve, combined with the utmost graciousness, is desireable with Mr. Chamberlain.... Mr. Chamberlain will try to rush matters.... If your Majesty, finding Mr. Chamberlain irrepressible, will just listen politely to him and then give him the reply that his suggestion merits careful consideration and that your Majesty will give your full attention to it, I have no doubt that the offers which Mr. Chamberlain will be ready to make by way of payment for German’s diplomatic cooperation and even for her firm neutrality, will grow in proportion as your Majesty exhibits quiet indifference.”
At noon on November 20,1899, the Hohenzollern edged alongside the Royal Quay at Portsmouth, where a special train waited to take the Kaiser to Windsor. On the platform at Windsor Station, the Prince of Wales, in a scarlet uniform, welcomed his nephew in the name of the Queen. The following night, Queen Victoria gave a formal banquet for 143 guests in St. George’s Hall. “The entire service32 was gold,” said Chamberlain, who was present. “All the candelabra and decorations [were] of gold, and three huge screens of velvet were covered with platters and every imaginable kind of piece in gold.” The Colonial Secretary estimated the value of this treasure at £2 million and described it as one of the magnificent scenes of his life.
With her guests assembled in the hall, the Queen appeared, borne in a litter by four turbaned Hindus. William walked beside the litter, showing affection and deference to his grandmother. When the Queen was seated, William took his place across from her. Bülow, sitting nearby, found himself curiously touched by the “ruler of the world empire,”33 who reminded him of “some good old soul of Hanover or Hamburg, as she carefully prodded the potatoes to find the softest, or cut the wing of her chicken.” After dinner, the Queen gave each guest her hand to kiss and then retired. The party broke up for conversation. William, ignoring Holstein’s advice, immediately walked up to Chamberlain. The two men talked for an hour. The Colonial Secretary reiterated his hope for an understanding between Britain and Germany. The Kaiser parried that Germany did not wish to disturb her excellent relations with Russia and reminded Chamberlain that Lord Salisbury’s Great Britain had no tradition of formal peacetime alliances. Nevertheless, the Kaiser bubbled with good feelings: the recent agreement over Samoa had been helpful, and further British concessions would win over even greater segments of German public opinion. The average German, the Kaiser explained, was touchy, dogmatic, and sentimental. The best way to deal with him was to avoid trying his patience and show him much goodwill. At the end of their talk, before going off to bed, the Kaiser clapped Chamberlain jovially on the back.
The Kaiser’s reception at Windsor was warm and, in his impulsive way, he responded. Enormously proud of his English family, he showed members of the German party around Windsor Castle, insisting that they admire the power of its massive battlements, the luxury of its appointments, the beauty of the paintings hung in its galleries, the charm of the gardens, the sweeping expanse of the Great Park. “From this Tower,”34 he proclaimed to his retinue, pointing at the Great Tower, “the world is ruled.” To Bülow, he confessed: “This is the finest reception and the most inspiring impression of my life. Here, where as a child I went along holding my mother’s hand and marvelling modestly and timidly at the splendor, I am now staying as Emperor-King.”
One afternoon, William visited the Queen. Alone together, the two—King-Emperor and Queen-Empress, grandson and grandmother—had their last conversation; fourteen months later Queen Victoria was dead. Afterwards, the Queen described their talk:
“William came to me after tea....35 We spoke... of the shocking tone of the German press and the shameful misrepresentations and lies about the war, which he greatly deplores. But he says it is due to the ‘poison’ which Bismarck ‘poured into the ears of the people’ that the latter had hated England and wished for an alliance with Russia. If he had not sent him away, he does not know what would have happened, and he became even worse latterly in his abuse, which his son [Herbert] continued. William himself wishes for a better understanding with us.”
There were notable absentees: throughout the Kaiser’s visit, Lord Salisbury remained at Hatfield. Lady Salisbury had died a few hours after the Kaiser’s arrival at Windsor. Count von Hatzfeldt was kept in Brighton by doctor’s orders. For diplomatic counsel during his visit, William relied on Bülow. In mid-September, Salisbury had told the Queen that Hatzfeldt had asked three times whether the German State Secretary might be invited. “Lord Salisbury has heard36 nothing but good of Monsieur de Bülow,” the Prime Minister told the sovereign, “and the German ambassador has pressed so earnestly that he should be invited that it is probably of some importance.” Bülow came and his satisfaction at having been invited increased when, after tea on the fourth day of the visit, he was received by the Queen in her small private drawing room. Speaking in German, she asked him to sit beside her and told him that she had always strongly desired friendship between England and Germany. She asked Bülow to do something to tone down the attacks on England in the German press. The average Englishman was slow and indolent, she explained, “but if he was blamed too much37 and, as he believed, too unjustly... he might finish by losing patience.” Bülow blamed it on “the immense harm38 that Bismarck had done by using all his influence to promote a bad feeling towards England.”
The key political interview of the visit occurred when Chamberlain called on Bülow in his Windsor Castle bedroom. Bülow had learned that he would not be seeing Lord Salisbury and had received a letter from the Prime Minister asking him to talk to Chamberlain instead, emphasizing that the views expressed by the Colonial Secretary would be his own and not binding on the Prime Minister or the Cabinet. When Chamberlain walked into his room, Bülow was struck by his appearance: “Joseph Chamberlain was39 then sixty-three years old, but I should have taken him for no more than fifty.” The Colonial Secretary impressed him as “an able, energetic, shrewd businessman, capable... of ruthlessness.”40 Chamberlain went straight to the point: England, Germany, and America should collaborate; by so doing, they could check Russian expansionism, calm “turbulent” France, and guarantee world peace. Bülow repeated what Chamberlain had already heard from the Kaiser: by formally aligning herself with England, Germany would antagonize Russia, with whom she shared a long frontier. What good could the British Navy do if the Tsar marched on Königsberg and Berlin? In any case, if eventually there were to be an alliance, it would have to carry specific, detailed guarantees, endorsed by Parliament. Chamberlain, like the Queen, asked that the anti-British expressions of the German press be restrained. Bülow retorted that the Kaiser and government did not control German public opinion. Chamberlain deftly reminded Bülow that, when the Prince of Wales had thanked his nephew for coming to England in spite of anti-British sentiment in Germany, William had loftily proclaimed, “I am the sole master41 of German policy and my country must follow wherever I go.”
In the aftermath, Chamberlain believed that he had achieved an important success; that he had been given a green light to campaign publicly for an Anglo-German alliance and that Bülow would support him in the Reichstag. Bülow afterwards maintained that although expressing a general appreciation of Chamberlain’s idea, he had pointed out the difficulties a German government would have in following a pro-British policy, let alone making a formal alliance. He flatly denied giving Chamberlain assurances that he would promote an alliance in the Reichstag.
The German party departed Windsor for Sandringham, where the Prince of Wales waited to receive his nephew. Bülow, charmed by what he saw, praised England, as “the land par excellence of beautiful manors.” Sandringham, “with its magnificent park...42 its fine oaks and beeches, its incomparably beautiful lawns, the rhododendron shrubs, the neat graveled paths and... hedges... fine stables... magnificent greenhouses... and kennels,” was the examplar. Bülow was astonished at the complete freedom of movement enjoyed by guests, so different from the regimentation imposed on the Kaiser’s guests. “One had only to appear43 at br
eakfast in the morning and there eat bacon, eggs, porridge and jam,” and on Sunday to “attend Divine Service.” Bülow’s exuberance deserted him, however, as he observed the Prince of Wales in conversation with his own sovereign. The Prince, he said, reminded him of “a fat, malicious tom-cat,44 playing with a shrewmouse.”fn1
While still in England, Bülow wrote his impressions of England and the English and sent them to Hohenlohe and Holstein: “British politicians45 know little of the Continent. Many of them do not know much more of Continental conditions than we do of the conditions in Peru or Siam.... The country exudes wealth, comfort, content, and confidence in its own power and future.... The people... simply cannot believe that things could ever go really wrong, either at home or aboard. With the exception of a few leading men, they work little and leave themselves time for everything.” William, leaving England, was pleased by his reception. “The visit...46 has gone off excellently,” he telegraphed to Berlin. “The consequences for the future will, in all human probability, be very satisfactory and favorable.”
On November 30, the day after the Kaiser and Bülow had sailed, Joseph Chamberlain, suffering a heavy cold, rose at a Unionist luncheon in Leicester to present his British version of the Anglo-German campaign for better understanding. “Any far-seeing English statesman47 must have long ago desired that we not remain permanently isolated on the continent of Europe,” he declared. Further, “It must appear evident to everybody that the natural alliance is between ourselves and the great German Empire.” Enlarging his vision, the Colonial Secretary spoke of “a new Triple Alliance between the Teutonic race and the two great trans-Atlantic branches of the Anglo-Saxon race which would become a potent influence on the future of the world.” Chamberlain’s speech evoked congratulations from Eckardstein. The Kaiser, basking in the glow of Windsor and Sandringham, wired his compliments. Holstein attacked the speech as “an incomprehensible blunder.”48 Bülow, surprised that Chamberlain had made his proposal public so quickly, described the speech as “a gaucherie, I believe unintentional, but still a gaucherie.”49 The Times icily rebuked the Colonial Secretary for using the word “alliance” and wondered why Mr. Chamberlain was trespassing into matters properly managed by Lord Salisbury. The Prime Minister said nothing.