In the World War. Graf Ottokar Theobald Otto Maria Czernin von Chudenitz
the most satisfactory one. The Republicans, who apparently glorify the majesty of the people, really mean themselves. But in the long run a people will always recognise that form of government which soonest can give it order, work, prosperity and contentment. In ninety-nine per cent. of the population the patriotism and enthusiasm for one or other form of government is nothing but a matter of material considerations. They prefer a good king to a bad republic, and vice versa; the form of government is the means to the end, but the end is the contentment of the people governed. Nor has the liberty of those governed anything to do with the form of government. Monarchical England is just as free as Republican America, and the Bolshevists have demonstrated ad oculus to the whole world that the proletariat exercises the greatest tyranny.
The war that was lost swept away the monarchs, but the Republics will only be maintained if they can convince the people that they are more successful in satisfying the masses than the monarchs were, a proof which—it seems to me—the German-Austrian Republic, at any rate, has hitherto failed to give.
The conviction that these questionable statements not only are false but also objectionable and criminal errors; that the Divine Will has placed the monarch at his post and keeps him there—this conviction was systematically imprinted in the German people, and formed an integral part of the views attributed to the Emperor. All his pretensions are based on this; they all breathe the same idea. Every individual, however, is the product of his birth, his education and his experience. In judging William II. it must be borne in mind that from his youth upwards he was deceived and shown a world which never existed. All monarchs should be taught that their people do not love them; that they are quite indifferent to them; that it is not love that makes them follow them and look up to them, but merely curiosity; that they do not acclaim them from enthusiasm, but for their own amusement, and would as soon hiss at them as cheer them. The loyalty of subjects can never be depended on; it is not their intention to be loyal, but only contented; they only tolerate the monarchs as long as they themselves are contented, or as long as they have not enough strength to abolish them. That is the truth, a knowledge of which would prevent monarchs from arriving at unavoidably false conclusions.
The Emperor William is an example of this. I do not think there is another ruler who had better intentions than he had. He lived only for his calling—as he viewed it. All his thoughts and longings were centred round Germany. His relations, pleasures and amusements were all subservient to the one idea of making and keeping the German people great and happy, and if good will were sufficient to achieve great things William II. would have achieved them. From the very beginning he was misunderstood. He made statements and gestures intended not only to win his listeners but the whole world, which had just the contrary effect. But he never was conscious of the practical effect of his actions, because he was systematically misled, not only by those in his immediate presence, but by the entire German people. How many millions, who to-day fling curses at him, could not bow low enough when he appeared on the horizon in all his splendour; how many felt overjoyed if the Imperial glance fell on them!—and none of them realise that they themselves are to blame for having shown the Emperor a world which never existed, and driven him into a course which he otherwise would never have taken. It certainly cannot be denied that the whole nature of the Emperor was peculiarly susceptible to this characteristically German attitude, and that monarchs less talented, less keen, less ready, and above all, less impregnated with the idea of self-sufficiency, are not so exposed to the poison of popularity as he was.
I once had the opportunity of studying the Emperor William in a very important phase of his life. I met him at the house of a friend in the celebrated days of November, 1908, when great demonstrations against the Emperor occurred in the Reichstag, and when the then Imperial Chancellor, Prince Bülow, exposed him. Although he did not allude to the matter to us with whom he was not familiar, the powerful impression made upon him by these events in Berlin was very obvious, and I felt that in William II. I saw a man who, for the first time in his life, with horror-stricken eyes, looked upon the world as it really was. He saw brutal reality in close proximity. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he felt his position on his throne to be a little insecure. He forgot his lesson too quickly. Had the overwhelming impression which prevailed for several days been a lasting one it might perhaps have induced him to descend from the clouds to which his courtiers and his people had raised him, and once more feel firm ground beneath his feet. On the other hand, had the German people often treated the German Emperor as they did then it might have cured him.
A remarkable incident which occurred on this occasion is characteristic of the way in which the Emperor was treated by many of the gentlemen of his suite. I had opportunity, while waiting at a German station restaurant for the arrival of the next train, to watch and study the excitement of the population at the events in Berlin, which bore signs of a revolutionary character. The densely crowded restaurant re-echoed with discussion and criticisms of the Emperor, when suddenly one of the men stood up on a table and delivered a fiery speech against the head of the Government. With the impression of this scene fresh in my mind, I described it to the members of the Emperor's suite, who were just as disagreeably affected by the episode, and it was suggested that nothing should be said about it to the Emperor. One of them, however, protested most energetically and declared that, on the contrary, every detail should be told to the Emperor, and, so far as I know, he himself probably undertook this disagreeable task. This case is characteristic of the desire to keep all unpleasantness from the Emperor and to spare him even the most well-founded criticisms; to praise and exalt him, but never to show that he was being blamed. This systematic putting forward of the Emperor's divine attributes, which in reality was neither due to love of his personality nor any other dynastic cause, but to the purely egotistical wish not to get into disfavour themselves or expose themselves to unpleasantness; this unwholesome state must in the long run act on mind and body as an enervating poison. I readily believe that the Emperor William, unaccustomed to so great an extent to all criticism, did not make it easy for those about him to be open and frank. It was, nevertheless, true that the enervating atmosphere by which he was surrounded was the cause of all the evil at his court. In his youth the Emperor William did not always adhere strictly to the laws of the Constitution; he subsequently cured himself of this failing and never acted independently of his counsellors. At the time when I had official dealings with him he might have served as a model of constitutional conduct.
In the case of so young and inexperienced a man as the Emperor Charles it was doubly necessary to uphold the principle of ministerial responsibility to the fullest extent. As according to our Constitution the Emperor is not responsible to the law, it was of the greatest importance to carry out the principle that he could undertake no administrative act without the cognisance and sanction of the responsible Ministers, and the Emperor Francis Joseph adhered to this principle as though it were gospel.
The Emperor Charles, though full of good intentions, was devoid of all political training and experience, and ought to have been brought up to understand the principles of the Constitution. This, however, had never been taken into consideration.
After my resignation in April, 1918, a deputation from the Constitutional and Central Party in the Herrenhaus waited on the Prime Minister, Dr. von Seidler, and pointed out the importance of a severely constitutional régime, whereupon Dr. von Seidler declared that he took upon himself the full responsibility of the "letter incident."
This was quite preposterous. Dr. von Seidler could not be responsible for events that had occurred a year before—at a time when he was not Minister—apart from its being an established fact that during his tenure of office he was not aware of what had happened, and not until after my resignation did he learn the Imperial views on the situation. He might just as well have accepted responsibility for the Seven Years War or for the battle of Königgrätz.
In 1917 and '18, when I had certain official dealings with the Emperor William, his horror of an unpleasant discussion was so great that it was a matter of extreme difficulty to impart the necessary information to him. I recollect how once, at the cost of the consideration due to an Emperor, I was compelled to extract a direct statement from him. I was with the Emperor Charles on the Eastern front, but left him at Lemberg and, joining the Emperor William in his train, travelled with him for a couple of hours. I had certain things to submit to him, none of which was of an unpleasant nature. I do not know why it was, but