How far the Emperor has helped to realize his own naval ambitions, and how far his efforts have actually told against them, it is very difficult to determine with anything like exactitude. His agitation for a bigger fleet has been open and unwearying, and outside Germany the idea is very prevalent that he not only contrived the naval policy of the Empire, but also, almost single-handed, generated the degree of popular support without which it could not have been carried out. This idea will be seen to be erroneous. The Emperor's influence upon his own people is very greatly overrated in other countries, and even the crisis of 1908, in which the storm of discontent which had long been gathering burst with full force upon his head, does not seem to have been properly understood outside Germany. On that occasion, the Imperial Parliament listened without a protest, without a murmur, as a Liberal deputy, slowly, deliberately, and with dramatic emphasis, spoke the following words: "In the German Reichstag not a single member has come forward to defend the actions of the German Emperor." The incident was without a parallel in the history of parliaments. Even the Conservative party, which has always gloried in being the chief prop of the throne, passed and published a resolution expressing the wish that the Emperor should "in future exercise a greater reserve in his utterances," and declaring that "arrangements must be made to prevent with certainty a recurrence of such improper proceedings." It may be remarked, in passing, that this blow fell upon William II. because he had confessed to having had Anglophile sentiments, and to having performed friendly services to Great Britain, at a time when the general feeling of the German people was one of hostility to this country. Nor was it without significance that when, after holding aloof from public affairs for several weeks, he at last emerged from the solitude of his palace at Potsdam, it was in England that he sought the recuperation and rest of which he stood in need.
The dismissal of Bismarck and the subsequent attempts of the Emperor to depreciate the life-work of the man to whom he owed the Imperial crown, were, of course, the principal causes of the spirit of opposition which flared up with such startling suddenness in 1908. The popularity of William I. was in no small measure due to his absolute trust and confidence in his Chancellor, and the abrupt ejection of this incomparable statesman from his office will never be forgotten or forgiven till the generation of his contemporaries has passed away.
These things go far to explain why it was that, in spite of the vigorous naval agitation of the Emperor, the German Fleet, as was pointed out in the Memorandum attached to the Bill of 1898, became weaker instead of stronger during the first ten years of his reign. From the day of his accession he had lost no opportunity of manifesting his interest in the fleet and his desire that it should be largely increased. Among his earliest acts as monarch was his unheralded appearance in admiral's uniform at a parliamentary luncheon given by Bismarck, to decorate one of the guests who had displayed sympathies and wishes with regard to the Navy similar to his own. Year after year, tables of diagrams, showing the disparity between the fleet of Germany and those of the leading naval Powers, and prepared, it is said, by the Emperor's own hand, were sent out over his signature to the Reichstag, the Government departments, and all public institutions where it was thought they might meet the gaze of appreciative eyes. At a soirée given at the New Palace at Potsdam in 1895, he assembled round him a group of members of the majority parties of the Reichstag, and lectured them for two-and-a-half hours on Germany's need of sea-power. Bismarck's eightieth birthday was then approaching, and the Emperor concluded his remarks by urging upon his hearers that they should seize the opportunity of "doing the founder of our colonial policy the pleasure of passing the sum absolutely required for the Navy." A couple of years later, he delivered a similar address after a dinner given to members of the Reichstag by the Finance Minister, von Miquel, illustrating his arguments with the diagrams of warships mentioned above. About the same time, an English illustrated paper published a picture of the foreign war vessels on the East Asian station. Among them, as the sole representative of Germany, was a small gunboat, which, as was pointed out in the accompanying text, was "under sail only." Against these words the Emperor wrote, "What mockery lies therein," and the picture, with this comment, was laid before the Budget Commission of the Reichstag, then engaged in the discussion of the naval estimates. Moreover, the monarch had himself recourse to the paint-brush, and exhibited in the Berlin Academy of Arts a picture of an attack by a flotilla of torpedo craft on a squadron of ironclads. No doubt he hoped in this way to arouse sympathy for his ideas in some who were not accessible to the ordinary methods of political persuasion. The "Song to Aegir," the Scandinavian Neptune, of which he composed the music, was probably also intended to have a similar operation.
But all these pleas and cajoleries had little or no positive result. Indeed, taken in conjunction with other phrases of the Imperial activity, they seem rather to have excited opposition in the breasts of the members of the Reichstag, who possibly considered themselves just as well qualified as the monarch to estimate the degree and appreciate the needs of Germany's maritime interests, and at any rate half-suspected that his efforts directly to influence their deliberations involved an encroachment on their constitutional privileges. The first naval estimates submitted in the new reign, which provided for the laying down of the unusually large number of four battleships, were got through the Reichstag without much difficulty, but when Admiral von Hollmann became Minister of Marine in the following year, he found that quite a different temper had taken possession of the Parliament. It was not only that the Emperor's general governmental acts had begun to stir up opposition; his oratorical flights in praise of sea-power and world-empire had also generated strong suspicions that he was urging Germany along a path which would lead her to ruin at home and disaster abroad. Hollmann's by no means exorbitant demands were branded both in the Reichstag and the press as "unconscionable," his programme as "boundless," and on every side were heard contemptuous and impatient references to "the awful fleet." For a decade the naval estimates were ruthlessly and recklessly cut down to, on an average, not far short of half their original figure, and finally, in 1897, the ministerial career of Hollmann was terminated by the unceremonious rejection of three out of the four cruisers which, in a special Memorandum, he had sought to prove were indispensable for the protection of the Empire's stake on the seas. And all this time the Emperor had never ceased to agitate, by word and deed, for the ideas which he had so much at heart and to which the Reichstag nevertheless showed itself so completely indifferent, if not actually hostile.
The change that came with the appointment of Admiral von Tirpitz to the Ministry of Marine was as complete as it was sudden, and it is to this very able man that we must look if we wish to find not only the intellectual author of German naval legislation, but the statesman who devised and directed the means by which it was popularized and passed through the Reichstag. The transformation which he effected was one both of policy and of method. The three rejected vessels which brought about Hollmann's fall represented a principle—that of "cruiser warfare." At that time the imperfectly-thought-out strategy of the German Naval Ministry was based on the two ideas of coastal defence and commerce destruction. Pitched battles between ships of the line on the high seas played a very secondary part in its calculations. In the programme which he submitted to the Reichstag, Hollmann laid it down that fifteen battleships would be sufficient for Germany's purposes, and those who are best qualified to form a judgment of the Empire's naval policy at that epoch are of opinion that this number was intended to be not merely a provisional, but a final estimate of the country's requirements in this type of vessel.
There are good reasons for supposing that in the Hollmann era no clear idea existed as to the problems with which Germany might be confronted in a naval war, and that his programmes were the product rather of vague general principles than of calculated odds and chances. In fact, one of his main difficulties with the Reichstag was his inability to justify his estimates by numerical demonstrations.
On the other hand, Admiral von Tirpitz's strength always lay chiefly in this, that he knew exactly what he wanted and why he wanted it. When he came into office, it was generally stated that he had years previously already laid before the Emperor a Memorandum embodying his conception of Germany's maritime needs, and how they could be satisfied, and it is certain that the main outlines of his policy were at any rate clearly sketched out in his head long before he was given an opportunity of carrying it out. He was recalled from the command of the East Asian Squadron to take charge of the Naval Ministry, and he seems to have employed his leisure on the homeward voyage in drafting a programme, which he had worked out in all its details before he took over his portfolio. In its very fundamental principles it was a reversal of that of his predecessor, for it was based on the idea, probably adopted from Mahan, that battleships alone are the decisive factors in naval warfare. As he himself put it in the Reichstag: "If we have a strong battle fleet, the enemy will have to defeat it before he can blockade our coasts. But in such circumstances he will, before he declares war on Germany, consider very carefully whether the business will cover its expenses and justify the risk." It was this principle of risk which he took as his standard of the Empire's naval requirements. From the literature which he inspired it is evident that he was one of those who believe that Germany was destined to occupy the position on the seas which now belongs to Great Britain. It was, however, impossible for a Minister of State to argue this belief in public, for the open confession of it would have at once produced incalculable complications in international affairs which would certainly not have contributed to its realization. Besides, the consummation which he wished for could in any case only be reached by gradual stages over a long period of years. The defensive formula which he invented was quite as effective for his immediate domestic purposes, and, as the sequel showed, was not appreciated abroad in its true and full significance. It was that "the German Fleet must be so strong that not even the greatest naval Power will be able to enter upon a war with it without imperilling its position in the world."
It was only after a good deal of hesitation, and some resistance, in high quarters that Admiral von Tirpitz was able to make his view prevail. Even courtly panegyrists admit that at the commencement of his term of office deep-seated differences of opinion existed between him and the Emperor on cardinal points of naval policy. The monarch was then a firm adherent of the cruiser-war theory, and no doubt had been responsible for its adoption by his Ministry of Marine. It may be regarded as his most substantial contribution to the present strength of the German Fleet that he finally yielded to Admiral von Tirpitz's arguments.
In one other very essential respect the new Minister revolutionized the policy of his predecessor. In the Memorandum already referred to, Hollmann defined the needs of the navy only for the three succeeding years, and in the course of the debate on the estimates, he used these words: "Neither the Federated Governments nor the Reichstag will ever agree to be bound to a formal programme for years in advance. That is quite impossible, and even if both factors desired it, impossible, for the very simple reason that the art of war is changeable on sea just as it is on land, and that to-day no Naval Ministry can prophesy what we shall need ten years hence. It can only tell you what are our immediate requirements, and if the circumstances change, then our demands will change too. As to that there is no doubt whatever." Here again, Admiral von Tirpitz not merely modified, but diametrically reversed the policy of his predecessor, and, it may be added, of the Emperor. Starting from the conclusion that the main types of war vessel and their respective functions remain unaltered in principle throughout the ages, he induced the Reichstag to commit itself statutorily to a fixed warship establishment, a building programme of nearly twenty years' duration, and an automatic renewal of the units of the fleet when they had reached a prescribed age. This is the one absolutely new feature of German naval legislation, and it was undoubtedly the idea of the new Minister.