When I intimated to one of Ballin’s old friends that I intended to write his Life, he told me that this would not be an easy task, and that he hoped I would not forget to depict Ballin as the amiable charmeur to which side of his character so many of his successes were due, and which was the secret of much of his great popularity. The number of people who claimed to be his friends, both before and after his death, but especially when they were trying to get some advantage out of the company, was surprisingly large. They were, in fact, so numerous that such a claim, when put forward, was generally—and rightly—looked upon with a great deal of suspicion. Very often, when such self-styled friends were announced to him, Ballin would reply: “I do not know the man,” or “I do not remember him, but I may have met him.” Ballin may justly be described as a man of world-wide fame, and whenever he went abroad the papers eagerly followed his movements. In New York especially it required all his cunning and resourcefulness to escape from the reporters desiring to interview him.
Owing to his prominent position before the public he received an abundance of honours during his life. The many distinctions and presents which the Kaiser bestowed on him were a source of gratitude and delight to him, and he valued them because they were a symbol of the personal ties that linked him to the Kaiser; but the foreign decorations, of which he also received a great many, were of so little interest to him that he did not even trouble to have those of them replaced which once were stolen from him. It was a great disappointment to him, however, not to be able to recover the Japanese ornamental swords which were taken on the same occasion, and which he had always carefully treasured because of their high artistic value. They were a present from the Marquis Ito, whom Ballin had once helped to obtain an audience of the Kaiser—an audience which, he hoped, would lead to the establishment on a permanent footing of Germany’s relations with the Empire of the Mikado. It would appear, indeed, that, if the leaders of Germany’s political destiny had shown some more circumspection, the same friendly relations might have been brought about between Germany and Japan as were entered into later on between Great Britain and the latter country. Personal souvenirs, like those just mentioned, were prized so highly by Ballin that no persuasion would induce him to part with them, and even Professor Brinckmann, the Director of the Hamburg Museum for Arts and Crafts, who was one of the leading authorities on the subject of Japanese applied art, and who tried hard to secure possession of them for his museum, met with a flat refusal.
Every year Ballin spent at least six months, and often more, away from Hamburg, and during such absences the work he had to accomplish was not less, but rather more than that which he did when in Hamburg. Conferences followed upon each other in quick succession at all times of the day, and the time that was left was filled up by visits. Often the amount of work was so great that he had to get through a whole series of difficult problems in a single day. The number of visits he had arranged was always considerably augmented by numerous others not allowed for in his arrangements for the day; because wherever he went the news of his arrival spread immediately. He could never even think of travelling incognito. It is literally true that he was known to every hotel porter all over the world. He was in the habit of extending his hospitality twice a day to a larger or smaller number of business friends when he was travelling. At first his love of congenial society had prompted him to do this, but in after years he continued it because he wanted to secure some benefit for his company even in his hours of relaxation. Still, he was often quite glad when, late at night, he had come to the close of his day’s work, and when he could let the happenings of the day pass before his mind’s eye in the quiet solitude of his room, or, as he liked to express it, “to draw the balance of the day’s account.”
Even before 1900 the never-tiring energy of his mind and the excessive strain on his nervous system brought about a practically permanent insomnia which never left him either in Hamburg or on his travels. Only when he was on the sea, or was staying at his country house, did he obtain any relief; and at such times he could dispense with the drugs to the use of which he had become a victim more and more regularly and extensively as time went on. The fact that this habit did not entirely ruin his nervous system proves that he was possessed of an iron constitution, which only gave way under the huge strain caused by the war. When he saw that his life’s work had been broken to fragments, and when he felt that he had not enough strength left for a second attempt of such magnitude, even his immense nerve force collapsed under the blow.
The anxieties caused by the war—a war which he knew would be lost—weighed more and more heavily on his mind the longer it lasted. Outwardly he bore himself bravely and steadfastly, but his mind was full of dark forebodings, especially when he was by himself. If he had not had the unvarying sympathy of the faithful partner of his life, with whom he shared thirty-five years of mutual happiness, and if he had not always derived fresh consolation from his beloved adopted daughter and from his grandchildren, he would indeed many a time have felt very lonely. In spite of his apprehensions as to the result of the war, he yet remained faithful to the task of his life, and he hoped against hope. His ardent love of his work was constantly struggling with his reason, which foretold him the ruin of the Empire and in consequence that of German shipping.
This fact explains some apparent contradictions in his views and actions. What was the general public to think of a man who was watching the progress of the war with the greatest pessimism, whilst at the same time bringing all his influence to bear on the passing of a law which was to make possible the reconstruction of Germany’s merchant fleet, knowing that such reconstruction could only be achieved if the Empire which was to set aside the funds were to remain intact. In this matter, as in others, it was the intuition of the born business-man which guided him, or perhaps a sort of instinct which made him discover new ways when the old ones had failed. These forces of his mind had nothing in common with logical reasoning, and they prevented him from drawing the practical inference from the sentiment so often expressed by us during the war: “If the Empire falls to pieces, we shall all be ruined; and if the Empire becomes bankrupt, we shall be insolvent too.” Events have shown that this sentiment was not justified by facts. Empires and individuals may perish; but the nations, and their trade and commerce which are the outcome of their economic needs and of their geographical position, will outlast them.
Neither is it likely that the life-work of those men who have left their mark on their epoch will ever be in vain. There are two great achievements which, it appears, will always stand out like two pillars in the wreck of destruction that has fallen upon Germany, viz. Bismarck’s work of political unification, and—a necessary preliminary of it—the powerful economic foundations laid with incessant toil by the great industrial leaders of whom Germany had so many during the era of her prosperity.
Albert Ballin was one of the most gifted among their number, and the world-wide fame of his achievements has outlived his death. When, after five years of isolation from the rest of the world, Germany appeared once more amongst the nations, she did so with the knowledge that the foundations of the proud structure which Ballin had built up were still unshaken, and this knowledge has proved one of her greatest assets when she entered upon the task of reconstruction.
If German shipping is to flourish again, and if German steamers are now ploughing the oceans once more, credit is due to Albert Ballin. His work it is from which new life is emanating, and it is to be hoped that his spirit will continue to animate German shipping both now and in the future.
