During the final death rattle of the old regime, a desperate and deluded Kaiser approached Generals Groener and Hindenburg with an insane plan to reconquer the rebellious cities by dispatching “picked troops to Verviers, Aix-la-Chapelle and Cologne, all with the most modern equipment, smoke bombs, gas, bombing squadrons and flame-throwers… They would be able to restore order.” Hindenburg said nothing. Looking rather solemn, General Groener answered: “Sire, you no longer have an army.” (R. Watt, The Kings Depart, p. 190.) Although the Kaiser could not stomach the bitter truth, he now counted for nothing. He was like the emperor without clothes, or in his case, without an army.
Wilhelm must have felt, as did his predecessor King Louis XVI and his mistress, Madame de Pompadour, après moi, le déluge [after me, the deluge]. But the disaster had already arrived. The next day, this sorry figure boarded a train to the Netherlands, where he remained, never to return. Up until 1914 he had rightfully been considered the most powerful monarch in the world. But the age of empire had abruptly come to an end.
Wilhelm’s irrational behaviour was the same as all those monarchs whose regimes were doomed. “The tsar procrastinates,” Leon Trotsky wrote in similar vein about the fate of the Russian monarchy. “He is still reckoning in days and weeks, while the revolution is keeping its count in minutes.” (L. Trotsky, The History of the Russian Revolution, vol. 1, p. 93.)
“Around me treason, cowardice, deceit,” wrote Nicholas II in his diary. (ibid., p. 99.) The same words had been uttered by Wilhelm as he departed the scene, and probably by Louis XVI for that matter. They all headed towards the abyss “with the crown pushed down over their eyes.” (ibid., p. 102.)
By comparison, these events constituted the comic opera of the German Revolution; more seriously, official government communications were breaking down, especially outside of the capital. Power was slipping away from the once all-powerful central authorities. On 8 November, while the Kaiser was still dithering, the Ministry of War dispatched a distressing report to the increasingly isolated and feeble government of Prince von Baden:
9:00 a.m.: Serious riots at Magdeburg.
1:00 p.m.: In [the] Seventh Army Corps Reserve District rioting threatened.
5:00 p.m.: Halle and Leipzig Red. Evening: Düsseldorf, Halstein, Osnabrück, Lauenburg Red; Magdeburg, Stuttgart, Oldenburg, Brunswick and Cologne all Red.
7:10 p.m.: General officer commanding Eighteenth Army Corps Reserve at Frankfurt deposed. (R. Watt, p. 186.)
The Revolution overturned everything in its wake. On 7 November, in the capital of Bavaria, the King was forced to flee and a republic under the leadership of left socialist Kurt Eisner was declared. At about 10 o’clock in the night, Eisner and his new council, escorted by some sixty armed workers, marched into the Landtag, the state parliament, and called for order. He announced:
The Bavarian revolution is victorious. It has put an end to the old plunder of the Wittelsbach kings. Now we must proceed to build a new regime… The one who speaks to you at this moment assumes that he is to function as the provisional prime minister. (A. Read, p. 36.)
Nobody lifted a finger. No one uttered a word. The next day, the city awoke to red flags flying over the public buildings and churches, with posters proclaiming the new socialist republic.