William of Germany

by Stanley Shaw

I suggested to his Majesty that an important and influential section of the German Press had placed a very different interpretation upon the action of the German Government, and, in fact, had given it their effusive approbation precisely because they saw in it a strong act instead of mere words, and a decisive indication that Germany was once more about to intervene in the shaping of events in Morocco. "There are mischief-makers," replied the Emperor,

"in both countries. I will not attempt to weigh their relative capacity for misrepresentation. But the facts are as I have stated. There has been nothing in Germany's recent action with regard to Morocco which runs contrary to the explicit declaration of my love of peace which I made both at Guildhall and in my latest speech at Strassburg."

His Majesty then reverted to the subject uppermost in his mind—his proved friendship for England. "I have referred," he said,

"to the speeches in which I have done all that a sovereign can to proclaim my goodwill. But, as actions speak louder than words, let me also refer to my acts. It is commonly believed in England that throughout the South African War Germany was hostile to her. German opinion undoubtedly was hostile—bitterly hostile. The Press was hostile; private opinion was hostile. But what of official Germany? Let my critics ask themselves what brought to a sudden stop, and, indeed, to absolute collapse, the European tour of the Boer delegates who were striving to obtain European intervention? They were feted in Holland; France gave them a rapturous welcome. They wished to come to Berlin, where the German people would have crowned them with flowers. But when they asked me to receive them—I refused. The agitation immediately died away, and the delegation returned empty-handed. Was that, I ask, the action of a secret enemy?

"Again, when the struggle was at its height, the German Government was invited by the Governments of France and Russia to join with them in calling upon England to put an end to the war. The moment had come, they said, not only to save the Boer Republics, but also to humiliate England to the dust. What was my reply? I said that so far from Germany joining in any concerted European action to put pressure upon England and bring about her downfall, Germany would always keep aloof from politics that could bring her into complications with a Sea Power like England. Posterity will one day read the exact terms of the telegram—now in the archives of Windsor Castle—in which I informed the Sovereign of England of the answer I had returned to the Powers which then sought to compass her fall. Englishmen who now insult me by doubting my word should know what were my actions in the hour of their adversity.

"Nor was that all. Just at the time of your Black Week, in the December of 1899, when disasters followed one another in rapid succession, I received a letter from Queen Victoria, my revered grandmother, written in sorrow and affliction, and bearing manifest traces of the anxieties which were preying upon her mind and health. I at once returned a sympathetic reply. Nay, I did more. I bade one of my officers procure for me as exact an account as he could obtain of the number of combatants in South Africa on both sides, and of the actual position of the opposing forces. With the figures before me, I worked out what I considered to be the best plan of campaign under the circumstances, and submitted it to my General Staff for their criticism. Then I dispatched it to England, and that document, likewise, is among the State papers at Windsor Castle, awaiting the serenely impartial verdict of history. And, as a matter of curious coincidence, let me add that the plan which I formulated ran very much on the same lines as that which was actually adopted by Lord Roberts, and carried by him into successful operation. Was that, I repeat, the act of one who wished England ill? Let Englishmen be just and say!

"But, you will say, what of the German navy? Surely that is a menace to England! Against whom but England are my squadrons being prepared? If England is not in the minds of those Germans who are bent on creating a powerful fleet, why is Germany asked to consent to such new and heavy burdens of taxation? My answer is clear. Germany is a young and growing Empire. She has a world-wide commerce, which is rapidly expanding, and to which the legitimate ambition of patriotic Germans refuses to assign any bounds. Germany must have a powerful fleet to protect that commerce, and her manifold interests in even the most distant seas. She expects those interests to go on growing, and she must be able to champion them manfully in any quarter of the globe. Germany looks ahead. Her horizons stretch far away. She must be prepared for any eventualities in the Far East. Who can foresee what may take place in the Pacific in the days to come—days not so distant as some believe, but days, at any rate, for which all European Powers with Far Eastern interests ought steadily to prepare? Look at the accomplished rise of Japan; think of the possible national awakening of China; and then judge of the vast problems of the Pacific. Only those Powers which have great navies will be listened to with respect when the future of the Pacific comes to be solved; and if for that reason only Germany must have a powerful fleet. It may even be that England herself will be glad that Germany has a fleet when they speak together on the same side in the great debates of the future."

Such was the purport of the Emperor's conversation. He spoke with all that earnestness which marks his manner when speaking on deeply pondered subjects. I would ask my fellow-countrymen who value the cause of peace to weigh what I have written, and to revise, if necessary, their estimate of the Kaiser and his friendship for England by his Majesty's own words. If they had enjoyed the privilege, which was mine, of hearing them spoken, they would doubt no longer either his Majesty's firm desire to live on the best of terms with England or his growing impatience at the persistent mistrust with which his offer of friendship is too often received.

There are more indiscretions than one in the interview, but the most important and most dangerous was the Emperor's statement that at the time of the Boer War the Governments of France and Russia invited the German Government to join with them "not only to save the Boer Republics, but also to humiliate England to the dust." Such a revelation coming from the Emperor ought, one would suppose, to have caused serious trouble between Great Britain and her Entente friends. That it did not is at once testimony to the cynicism of Governments and the reality and strength of the Entente engagement. In private life, if a fourth person confidentially told one of the three partners in a firm that the other two partners had invited him to join them in humiliating him to the dust, there would have been a pretty brisk, not to say acrimonious correspondence between the proposed victim and his partners. Governments, it appears, look on things differently, and so far as the public knows, England simply took no notice of the Emperor's communication. Possibly, however, the Emperor had put the matter too strongly and an explanation of some kind was forthcoming. If so, it must be looked for among the secret archives of the Foreign Office. It was at once suggested that the Emperor made the revelation expressly to weaken, if not destroy, the Entente. One can conceive Bismarck doing such a thing; but it is more in keeping with the Emperor's character, and with the indiscreet character of the entire interview, to suppose it to be a proof of deplorable candour and sincerity.

The excitement in Germany caused by the publication of the interview soon took the shape of a determination on the part of the Chancellor and the Federal Council, for once fully identifying themselves with the feelings of Parliament, Press, and people, that "something must be done," and it was decided that the Chancellor should go to Potsdam, see the Emperor, and try to obtain from him a promise to be more cautious in his utterances on political topics for the future. The Chancellor went accordingly, being seen off from the railway terminus in Berlin by a large crowd of people, among whom were many journalists. To Dr. Paul Goldmann, who wished him God-speed, he could only reply that he hoped all would be for the best. He looked pale and grave, as well he might, since he was about to stake his own position as well as convey a mandate of national reproach.