Dreadnought

by Robert K. Massie

  Kiderlen had to do something. If he ignored the speech completely, France might decide that it had England’s backing and break off negotiations. And if he ignored Grey’s request to Metternich, the unpredictable English might encourage France to defy the German Empire. Britain had to be mollified in a way that did not seem a response to the Mansion House speech or to any other form of British pressure; nationalist opinion in Germany would never forgive that. Kiderlen decided to approach Grey confidentially and explain German objectives in Morocco.

  On Monday, July 24, Metternich asked to see Grey, saying that he brought news from Berlin. The Ambassador began by announcing that the Panther had been sent “to protect German interests67... the special cause was the attack of natives on a German farm.” Grey took him up on this point: “I observed that I had not,68 I thought, heard of this attack before. I had understood that the dispatch of the ship had been due to apprehension as to what might happen, not to what had actually happened.” Count Metternich admitted that he had not heard of the actual attack before, either. “I observed that there were no Germans69 in this region,” Grey continued. “Count Metternich said he had no information on this point.” The Ambassador assured the Foreign Secretary, however, that “not a man had been landed”70 and that no troops would be landed. Further, Metternich continued, “Germany had never thought of creating a naval base on the Moroccan coast and never would think of it.” Germany had no intention of taking any Moroccan territory. All she asked was compensation for France’s breach of the Act of Algeciras. Grey was satisfied and asked whether he could communicate what Metternich had told him to the House of Commons. Metternich said that he would ask permission from Berlin.

  Grey’s request, relayed by Metternich, made Kiderlen even angrier. The next day, Tuesday, July 25, the German Ambassador returned to see Grey with the answer from Berlin: Kiderlen would not permit the Foreign Secretary to announce in Parliament what he had been told in confidence. The reason was Lloyd George’s speech. “That speech had been interpreted71 without contradiction as having a tone of provocation for Germany and the German Government could not let the belief arise that, in consequence of the speech, they had made a declaration of intentions about Morocco”—this was how Grey reported his interview with Metternich. As to German negotiations with France: “If, after the many provocations72 from the side of France and her free-and-easy manner in Morocco, as if neither Germany nor a treaty existed, France should repel the hand that was offered to her by Germany, German dignity as a Great Power would make it necessary to secure by all means, and if necessary also, alone, full respect by France of German treaty rights.” Grey, angered by the barely concealed charge that he had conspired with his Cabinet colleagues to impugn German national honor, drew himself up to defend the dignity of the British government. Since the Germans “had said that it was not consistent73 with their dignity, after the speech of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, to give explanations as to what was taking place at Agadir,” Grey declared that it was “not consistent with our dignity to give explanations as to the speech of the Chancellor of the Exchequer.” The gunboat at Agadir, German intentions in Morocco, the Franco-German negotiations—all had now been subordinated to an affair of national prestige. The air was filled with tension; many—Lloyd George among them—thought that war was near.

  That same afternoon, about five-thirty P.M., Lloyd George and Churchill “were walking by the fountains74 of Buckingham Palace,” as Churchill recalled. Running after them came a messenger, asking that the Chancellor go immediately to see Sir Edward Grey. Churchill went too and together they found the Foreign Secretary in his rooms at the House of Commons. Grey, who had just walked over from the Foreign Office after his interview with Metternich, was pale. “I have just received a communication75 from the German ambassador so stiff that the Fleet might be attacked at any moment. I have sent for McKenna to warn him,” the Foreign Secretary told his colleagues. While they were speaking, the First Lord came in, listened for a few minutes, and then hurried away to send orders to the Fleet.

  Grey was alarmed; already that day he had sent a note to McKenna emphasizing that “we are dealing with a people76 who recognize no law except that of force between nations and whose fleet is mobilized at the present moment.” Four days before, on the twenty-first, The Times had announced that the German High Seas Fleet of sixteen battleships and four armored cruisers had put to sea and “vanished into the desolate wastes77 of the North Sea.”fn2 Grey’s warning to McKenna resulted in a general alert to the British Fleet. There were rumors, following the Times story, that the Germans might attempt “a bolt from the blue” against the Royal Navy. “Supposing the High Seas Fleet,80 instead of going to Norway as announced, had gone straight for Portland, preceded by a division of destroyers, and, after a surprise night torpedo attack, had brought the main [German] fleet into action at dawn against our ships without steam, without coal, without crews...”

  The First Sea Lord, Sir Arthur Wilson, evidently thought little of this alarm and left on July 21 for a weekend of shooting in Scotland. Winston Churchill found this shocking. “Practically everybody of importance81 and authority is away on holiday,” he complained to Lloyd George. As Home Secretary, Churchill had no responsibilities in the Agadir Crisis except a general one as a member of the Cabinet. Nevertheless, his blood was up. When, at the peak of the crisis, he learned that the navy’s reserves of gunpowder were unprotected, he plunged into action:

  “On the afternoon of July 27,82 I attended a party at 10 Downing Street. There I met the Chief Commissioner of Police.... He remarked that by an odd arrangement, the Home Office [which was Churchill’s responsibility] was responsible, through the Metropolitan Police, for guarding the magazines... in which all the reserves of naval cordite were stored. For many years these magazines had been protected without misadventure by a few constables. I asked what would happen if twenty determined Germans in two or three motor cars arrived well armed upon the scene one night. He said they would be able to do what they liked. I quitted the garden party.

  “A few minutes later I was telephoning from my room in Home Office to the Admiralty. Who was in charge?... An Admiral (he shall be nameless) was in control. I demanded Marines at once to guard these magazines, vital to the Royal Navy.... The admiral replied over the telephone that the Admiralty had no responsibility and no intention of assuming any; and it was clear from his manner that he resented the intrusion of an alarmist civilian Minister. ‘You refuse, then, to send the Marines?’ After some hesitation he replied, ‘I refuse.’ I replaced the receiver and rang up the War Office. Mr. Haldane was there. I told him that I was reinforcing and arming the police that night and asked for a company of infantry for each magazine in addition. In a few minutes the orders were given; in a few hours the troops had moved. By the next day, the cordite reserves of the Navy were safe.”

  Kiderlen was unaware of the movements of the British Fleet, but he knew from Lloyd George’s speech and from Metternich’s reports of his interviews with Grey that England was in earnest about France and Morocco. These manifestations of English “meddling” in German affairs may have been much resented in Germany, but they helped to focus the Wilhelmstrasse on the reality of the situation: if France was pushed into war by German pressure, England would fight beside its Entente partner. German objectives in Morocco or elsewhere in Africa were not worth a war with France, England, and probably Russia as well. Once Kiderlen grasped this, he began to moderate his demands, look for compromise, and speak in conciliatory terms.

  On July 26, Metternich received new instructions from Berlin, and on Thursday, the twenty-seventh, he again called on Grey at the Foreign Office. This time, Grey said, the atmosphere was “exceedingly friendly.”83 The German government had reversed its earlier position. Now, Metternich asked that Parliament be told that, while the Franco-German negotiations would remain exclusively Franco-German, they would not touch on British interests. Any territories exchanged would be exclusively Frenc
h or German, although Metternich requested that Grey not give M.P.’s any details. Further, the Ambassador said, if the British government could make a public statement saying that it would be pleased by a successful conclusion of the negotiations, this would have a beneficial influence. He meant, on France.

  This information was passed along in the House of Commons that afternoon, not by the Foreign Secretary, but by the Prime Minister. Asquith said: “Conversations are proceeding84 between France and Germany; we are not a party to those conversations; the subject matter of them may not affect British interests. On that point, until we know the ultimate result, we cannot express a final opinion. But it is our desire that those conversations should issue in a settlement honorable and satisfactory to both parties and of which His Majesty’s Government can cordially say that it in no way prejudices British interests. We believe that to be possible. We earnestly and sincerely desire to see it accomplished. The Question of Morocco itself bristles with difficulties, but outside Morocco, in other parts of West Africa, we should not think of attempting to interfere with territorial arrangements considered reasonable by those who are more directly interested. Any statements that we have interfered to prejudice negotiations between France and Germany are mischievous inventions without the faintest foundation in fact. But we have thought it right from the beginning to make it quite clear that, failing such a settlement as I have indicated, we must become an active party in discussion of the situation. That would be our right as a signatory of the treaty of Algeciras, it might be our obligation under the terms of our agreement of 1904 with France; it might be our duty in defence of British interests directly affected by further developments.”

  The Anglo-German phase of the crisis was over. The moderate German press was vastly relieved. “Peace or war85 hung upon Herr Asquith’s words,” wrote the Vossische Zeitung the following day. “His was perhaps the gravest responsibility of any statesman in recent years. It was a peaceful speech.” The Franco-German dispute was not resolved. But the speeches of Lloyd George and Asquith and the conversations between Grey and Metternich clearly established in the minds of both French and German negotiators that Britain hoped for a successful outcome to the talks and that Britain advised reasonable concessions by France to square its increased role in Morocco. But it was also established that where France dug in against what she considered excessive German demands, Britain stood by her side.

  From that point until the Agadir Crisis was finally resolved in mid-October, negotiations were exclusively Franco-German, conducted in Berlin between Kiderlen and the French Ambassador, Jules Cambon. Britain’s warning on Morocco had hedged German ambitions, but Kiderlen’s policy had to produce some fruit. The talks turned to compensation and Kiderlen demanded the entire French Congo. The French refused to surrender an entire colony; the government would not survive. France, feeling the presence of Britain behind her, became defiant. Pierre Messimy, the War Minister, announced that “we are not going to stand86 any more nonsense from Berlin... and we have the nation behind us.” There was talk of sending a French cruiser to Agadir. Both governments, in fact, found themselves tormented by the fierceness of their own public opinion. Grey observed from London: “The Germans at first87 made such huge demands on the French Congo as it was obvious that no French Government could concede,” he wrote later. “The fact was that both Governments had got into a very difficult position; each was afraid of its own public opinion. The German Government dared not accept little. Their own Colonial Party had got their feelings excited and their mouth very wide open. If the mouth was not filled—and it would need a big slice to fill it—there would be great shouting. The French Colonial Party would revolt if their Government gave up too much. Probably after a time the German Government was as anxious as the French Government to get out of the business by a settlement, but neither dared settle.”

  Kiderlen was trapped between France’s refusal to grant the sweeping compensation which would mask his failure in Morocco, and the vehement cries of German nationalists. Most German nationalists had little interest in the steamy equatorial forests of the Congo, “where the fever bacillus and the sand flea88 say good night to each other” and where the “only prospect of of profitable traffic [lay] in sand for our breeders of canaries.” They still wanted a piece of Morocco, and as they sensed this possibility ebbing away they trumpeted their impatience and frustration. “Has the spirit of Prussia perished?”89 demanded the Post. “Have we become a generation of old women? What has become of the Hohenzollerns?” France’s seizure of Morocco was said to be a military threat to the Reich; the French would use native soldiers to fill out the gaps in the French Army caused by a declining birthrate. (A German cartoon displayed a ragged file of apes and monkeys dressed in French uniforms parading past a French officer. The caption read: “The last class of reserves.”90) General Moltke, the Chief of the General Staff, was indignant. “If we slink out91 of this affair with our tails between our legs, and if we do not make a demand which we are prepared to enforce with the sword, I despair of the Empire’s future,” he growled.

  The Kaiser was skittish. As the crisis with England mounted, William—fearing war with Great Britain—nervously telephoned Kiderlen and Bethmann to report to him at Swinemünde. William complained that Kiderlen was going beyond the limits agreed on board the Hohenzollern. Kiderlen replied by drafting a letter of resignation. France, he insisted, would make a major offer only if she was convinced that Germany was serious. “I do not believe92 that they would take up the challenge but they must feel that we are ready for everything.” If that policy was unacceptable to his sovereign, he would resign. Bethmann had gone this far with Kiderlen and decided that he had to continue. If the State Secretary was allowed to resign, he said, he would submit his own resignation. William gave in. “The Kaiser was very humble93 in Swinemunde. Kiderlen returned very pleased,” said Kurt Riezler, the Chancellor’s personal assistant. But Bethmann, finding himself with almost no voice, was thoroughly unhappy. “Kiderlen informs nobody,94 not even the Chancellor,” reported Riezler. “Bethmann said yesterday he wanted to give Kiderlen a lot to drink in the evening in order to find out what he ultimately wants.” Meanwhile, William, stung by the contempt of the nationalist press, reverted to bombast. “I am not going to dance attendance95 on the French any longer,” he declared on August 7. “They must make an acceptable offer at once or we will take more, and that immediately.” On August 13, he spoke of using his sword. “We will insist96 upon our demands, for it is an affair of honor for Germany.” Unless the French gave Kiderlen whatever the State Secretary asked, William announced, he would “not be satisfied97 until the last Frenchman was driven out of Morocco—by the sword if necessary.”

  By August 16, Kiderlen and Cambon together announced that the situation was “grave.” Six French offers of territorial concession in the Congo had been rejected by Germany, and seven German proposals had been rejected by France. On the eighteenth, the talks in Berlin were suspended. Cambon went to Paris for further instructions. Kiderlen, inexplicably, departed on vacation for Chamonix in the French Alps. Frau Krypke accompanied him; they were met by the local French prefect, who had instructions from M. Caillaux to make the German couple as comfortable as possible. Apparently, Kiderlen had suspended the negotiations in the hope that the rising tension would compel the French to give in. In fact, the passage of time worked against the State Secretary. Cambon returned from Paris at the end of August, instructed to secure definite German acquiescence to a French protectorate in Morocco before he agreed to any further discussions of compensation to be paid in the Congo. With the French standing firm, Kiderlen’s confidence began to falter. Commercial barons such as Ballin, who had cheered the Panther’s spring in the beginning, did not approve Kiderlen’s demand for the entire French Congo with the consequent rumors of war. Nine weeks of fruitless bargaining had filled the air with suspense and exhausted the public patience. The Kaiser was impatient and fidgety. “What the devil will happ
en98 now?” he asked. “It is pure farce. They negotiate and negotiate and nothing happens.”

  The resumption of talks between the French Ambassador and the German Foreign Minister was scheduled for Friday, September 1. It was postponed with no reason given. Cambon was slightly ill, but Kiderlen failed to pass this news to the press. The result was a panic on the Berlin stock market on the morning of September 2. Although the talks began on Monday, September 4, there were runs on banks as nervous depositors withdrew their capital. Waves of selling orders came in from the provinces, and the day was known as Black Monday. During the week, the market rallied, then plunged again on Saturday the ninth. This was too much for Ballin, who told his friends that, thanks to Kiderlen, Germany was cornered: she would either have to go to war over an African swamp or back down and appear ridiculous. Under pressure from all sides, the State Secretary began to retreat. He agreed to recognize a de facto French protectorate in Morocco provided the word “protectorate” itself did not appear on paper. On October 11, a draft of the Morocco Convention was initialed by Kiderlen and Cambon. In return for her political protectorate (the term was not used), France pledged to safeguard for thirty years the principle of the Open Door in Morocco. By the twenty-second, the sacrifices France was to make in compensation had been agreed: 100,000 square miles of territory in the French Congo were ceded and added to the German colony of Cameroons. On November 4, the final Franco-German agreement was signed in Berlin. In over a hundred meetings, Kiderlen and Cambon had developed affection for each other. They exchanged photographs inscribed “A mon terrible ami”99 and “A mon amiable ennemi.”