Steamship nationalism: Transatlantic passenger liners as symbols of the German Empire

Virtual monuments

There were several ways, quite apart from launch ceremonies, in which passenger liners were put before the German public as monuments to the characteristics and achievements of the empire. Steamship companies themselves became popular objects of German national pride in the late nineteenth century. HAPAG was instrumental in promoting and sustaining the idea that its enterprise, and commercial shipping in general, was central to Germany’s status as a maritime and world power. This message was conveyed through sophisticated publicity campaigns that were a major investment for all steamship companies. And HAPAG was particularly skilled in self-promotion; the company boasted advertising and publishing divisions that managed the production of posters, brochures and literature, and a bureau was established to direct communication with the press and the business community.

One important example of the manner in which HAPAG presented itself as a national institution and symbol of the German Empire is an official company history published in 1907. Here the firm stated that it not only stood at the centre of Germany’s maritime development but that its history was intimately bound up with that of the German state and the economic welfare of the entire nation. ¹¹ ‘The larger the company became,’ it explained, ‘the larger became its significance for the popular welfare and that of the state’. ¹² At the same time, HAPAG presented its role and successes as intimately connected with international politics, trade and economic development. This dual portrait was more widely disseminated to the German public through various types of print media, especially the wealth of advertising material that took the form of booklets, posters and newspaper advertisements. In all these forms, Germans were presented with the image of HAPAG as an historic enterprise that stood at the centre of their nation’s development, that projected German power and influence around the globe, and that opened the world to them. Thus when it was feared that the International Mercantile Marine Company might purchase a controlling interest in the company and in the North German Lloyd firm in 1901, the overwhelming response in the German press was negative. The Berliner Tageblatt, for example, stated that ‘steps must be taken at once to protect these lines from Americanization’. ¹³

Of course, HAPAG publicity also promoted particular vessels and the Imperator-class liners were the subjects of sophisticated advertising campaigns. As William Miller explains, the success of passenger liners of all nations ‘was determined to a great extent by early public-relations men’. ¹⁴ Much of this publicity, especially by British and German firms, construed the largest and most luxurious vessels as national monuments. Bernard Rieger has noted that it was common to promote passenger liners as illustrating the ‘competitiveness and dynamism of the national economies capable of creating these maritime wonders’. In this respect, ‘commercial public-relations drives and national enthusiasm reinforced each other’. ¹⁵ Writing of Cunard’s Mauretania in 1912, Frederick Talbot described it as ‘British in style, treatment and workmanship, solid and durable, so that it fulfils national traditions’. ¹⁶

HAPAG promoted its Imperator-class vessels in booklets, rich in illustrations, such as Dampfer Imperator: Das Grösste Schiff der Welt. ¹⁷ These often mustered a host of statistics to impress the reader with the size, luxury and technological sophistication of the vessels and the Herculean task of constructing them. Probably more widely disseminated were the posters and many postcards bearing images of the liners. Images often served to expressly construe them as national monuments in striking and memorable fashion: one pictured the Imperator standing on its keel next to Cologne Cathedral; another compared the ship to New York’s Woolworth Building. Such comparisons emphasized the modern aesthetic of the ship’s design as opposed to the historicism of many German national monuments. As scholars understand, the self-definition of Germany’s nationalistic middle classes depended not only on the consumption of art and history but also involved ‘the love of technology, consumption and material advance’. ¹⁸

The Imperator-class liners were also celebrated as national monuments in laudatory prose and poetry. In 1913, HAPAG published a small, but elaborate, commemorative album entitled Imperator Auf See. ¹⁹ It featured a collection of impressions and poems by various authors and representatives of leading newspapers who sailed aboard the ship on its maiden voyage to Southampton. Rudolf Denzel’s poem, Des Imperators erster Tag, claimed that German hearts were filled with pride by this expression of national power. For some authors this was due to the fact that the ship embodied the practical achievements of German industry and technology, while for others it represented a triumph of Kultur. While Dr Ernst Schultze saw the Imperator as a symbol of Germany’s engineering skill, Demetrius Hornicke described it as a ‘powerful prophet’ preaching confidence in the ‘mission of German power’ which triumphs over the ‘seamy side of the everyday’ and over ‘timidity, weakly self-denial and bourgeois dullness’. The Imperator was a triumph that reached those ‘clear heights from where the ideals of power and beauty shine over land and sea’. Max Lesser described the Imperator as expressing the character of the German people in a manner similar to Cologne Cathedral, Otto von Bismarck, the Palace of Sanssouci and Gerhart Hauptmann.

But it was through Germany’s newspapers that HAPAG reached its widest audience. As in Britain, there was a long history of reporting on commercial shipping in the German press. A large amount of coverage was afforded the Imperator-class liners, especially at the time of their launch and, for the Imperator and Vaterland, on the occasion of their maiden voyage. The greatest concentration of this coverage occurred in Hamburg. To be sure, many newspapers published only cursory accounts of events connected with the vessels, and much press coverage amounted to little more than an enumeration of technical details and the expression of astonishment at the size and luxury of the ships. Nonetheless, HAPAG’s vessels were greeted enthusiastically by the conservative and liberal press across Germany. As Rieger has emphasized, many newspapers ‘wrote about the new passenger liners in exactly the same terms as public-relations departments’, and journalists respected the vessels as national symbols. ²⁰ It was common to describe the Imperator, for example, as an awesome symbol of Germany’s industrial might, technological achievements and world-power status. ²¹

Popular magazines such as Die Gartenlaube, the Illustrirte Zeitung and Über Land und Meer also played an important role in disseminating ‘mental pictures of the nation’ especially to Germany’s middle classes. ²² All of these published articles on the development of the German merchant marine and technological developments as they applied to commercial shipping. ²³ For Die Gartenlaube, the Imperator was a wonder of the modern age, a powerful symbol of the nation’s achievements in industry, engineering and technology (see Figure 1). ²⁴ The Illustrirte Zeitung greeted the new HAPAG vessels with the publication of large photo spreads. ²⁵ To mark the Vaterland’s maiden voyage to New York, Else Grüttel emphasized that the world’s largest ship was built on the world’s largest stocks, with the world’s largest crane, and with the help of the world’s largest floating dock; it was a German ship, built in a German shipyard, for a German shipping company. ²⁶

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Figure 1.

The Imperator.

Finally, many Germans took the opportunity to see the ships with their own eyes. The Imperator was opened to public inspection at Cuxhaven on 28 May 1913 and was visited by 3000 people. ²⁷ It was reported that thousands of spectators cheered the Vaterland as it was towed out of Hamburg harbour on the afternoon of 25 April 1914 for trials on the North Sea. ²⁸ A similar event occurred on 14 May of the same year when ‘an enormous concourse of spectators lined the new “America” quays at Cuxhaven to wave good-bye’ as the Vaterland departed on its maiden voyage to New York. ²⁹ There it was greeted with great enthusiasm, The New York Times stating that ‘she fairly represents the genius of the German people, their enterprise and thrift, their determination to do in the best way possible whatever is worth doing’. ³⁰ This is precisely the message many Germans were already hearing about the Imperator-class liners as they were construed as national monuments in various types of print media.

Launch ceremonies and speeches

As Jan Rüger has recently emphasized, the 1890s saw the emergence of the ‘naval theatre’ in both Britain and Germany and the launch of warships became an important means by which the navy was put onto the public stage. Designed and stage-managed by political and naval authorities – but also influenced by the forces of popular media, consumerism, leisure and entertainment – the launch of a warship became an elaborate event to be consumed by tens of thousands of spectators. ³¹ They were also reproduced and restaged for larger audiences in newspapers, journals and, from 1897, on film. ³² In Germany, the Kaiser was instrumental in turning the launch of warships into major imperial pageants in which, as in Britain, ‘tradition, power and claims to the sea were demonstrated to both domestic and foreign audiences’. ³³ In effect, these vessels were celebrated as national monuments. As the ceremonies that accompanied their launch reveal, the very same can be said of the launch of the Imperator-class liners.

These events were large, lavish and carefully stage-managed pieces of public theatre. They physically gathered tens of thousands of Germans around giant symbols of national power; it is estimated that 40,000 people attended the launch of the Vaterland. ³⁴ Central to each ceremony was the address given by Hamburg’s mayor, usually the only speech made on these occasions. But we should note that the ceremonies were designed to appeal to the public desire for sensation and, as with the launch of battleships, first-hand accounts ‘convey a strong sense of visual fascination’. ³⁵ Extensive national and international press coverage – in which speeches were often quoted verbatim, and that frequently featured photographic illustrations – ensured that the rhetoric, but also the visual pageantry and symbolism of these occasions, was broadcast across Germany and the transatlantic world.

The ceremonies borrowed the customs and rituals that accompanied the launch of a capital warship. At the launch of the Imperator, for example, the Kaiser was the central actor in the drama; dignitaries from Hamburg and Berlin watched the event from a specially constructed Ablaufpavillon; male and female spectators were divided into separate tribunes; military societies were in attendance; and decorations were handed out as part of the celebration (see Figure 2). The influence of naval custom also extended to the content of the speeches delivered on these occasions.

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Figure 2.

The Kaiser leaving the stand after christening the Imperator, 23 May 1912.

The launch patrons for the Imperator, Vaterland and Bismarck were, respectively, the Kaiser, Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria and Countess Hannah von Bismarck, granddaughter of the Iron Chancellor. Christening took place from a platform (Taufkanzel) constructed at the bow of each vessel, and was preceded by a short address given by the Mayor of Hamburg, respectively Johann Heinrich Burchard, Carl August Schröder and Max Predohl. While each speech was different, I have chosen to deal with them thematically, not individually, in order to emphasize the deployment of particular themes across all three.

There was consistency in the very language that the speeches employed. As Rüger has emphasized with respect to the addresses given at the christening of warships, ‘they charged the ship with metaphors in which technology, masculinity and heroism merged with ideas of tradition and identity’. ³⁶ The same can be said of the speeches that preceded the christening of the Imperator-class liners. It may have been common to speak of them as sisters, but Hamburg’s mayors characterized the vessels as ‘massive’, ‘giant’, ‘colossal’, ‘mighty’, and even as having ‘a fighting spirit’. ³⁷ Mayor Schröder’s description of the Vaterland as ‘beautiful’, and his mention of ‘the beauty of its lines’ are atypical. HAPAG and the German Empire were also commended for their vigour, power, might and fearlessness as they struggled to develop themselves in the face of international challenges and competition. The celebration of these traits was closely tied to the theme of tradition and an elaboration of German identity. But what tradition and which identity were being celebrated?

On one level, all of the speeches were celebrations of HAPAG and its history. At the launch of the Imperator, Mayor Burchard recalled how the launch of the Hamburg, at Stettin in 1899, signified the beginning of an auspicious course for the company. ³⁸ Always open to new ideas, eager to innovate, future-oriented, and prepared to make bold decisions, HAPAG had built passenger steamers that met the highest standards for comfort and luxury. The company now competed successfully on the global stage with the lines of other nations. Mayor Burchard emphasized that HAPAG’s steamers now sailed to all major American ports, and to Arabia, Persia, East India, China, Japan and Africa. At the launch of the Vaterland, Mayor Schröder even provided statistics that emphasized the growth of the company since 1847; he asserted that, with sixteen million kilometres logged by its vessels in 1912, the line certainly now had the right to claim as its motto: ‘My Field is the World’. He also made the point that the ship would carry the fame of its builder, Blohm & Voss, around the world.

Celebrating HAPAG also meant celebrating the urban, commercial and industrial identity of Hamburg, and its historic role in Germany’s maritime development. The self-congratulatory aspect of the christening speeches might be described in terms of what several studies have shown: that it was easier for Germans ‘to assume a national identity mediated by the connection to their own Heimat or homeland’. ³⁹ This was especially the case for Hamburg; although its history after 1871 was one of ineluctable political and economic harmonization with the empire, the Free and Hanseatic City of Hamburg – which had existed as a republic for several centuries prior to 1871 – remained especially proud of its unique political, economic and cultural identity. HAPAG’s new steamers provided important opportunities for civic self-representation. ⁴⁰

It hardly needs restating that the city’s prosperity relied heavily on shipbuilding and international commerce, and that this was an important part of civic iconography. It is also well known that the building of the German navy found considerable resonance in Hamburg from the 1890s, especially as it was seen as a defender of overseas trade. As Rüger has noted, civic self-representation became central to the launch of warships in Hamburg’s shipyards: ‘festivities and functions, receptions and speeches, balls and dinners, visits and excursions … were organized and financed by local society’. ⁴¹ The city acquired special privileges at the launch of naval vessels, including the construction of a tribune solely for Hamburg senators. ⁴² In a similar fashion, local civic, middle-class and commercial interests and culture ensured the launch of the Imperator-class liners were celebrations of the important role played by Hamburg’s urban and industrial elite in the empire’s development.

As Mayor Burchard declared, the bold, innovative, forward-looking vision of HAPAG was also ‘the Hamburg and Hanseatic way’. Mayor Schröder recalled that the first HAPAG steamers to enter service in 1856 – the Hammonia and Borussia – displaced just over 2000 tons apiece and had to be built in Britain. But in 1913, Hamburg now built ships twenty-five times as large, and with 200 times as much hold space as the vessels commanded by Columbus on his voyage to America. It may have been, as Mayor Predohl envisioned at the launch of the Bismarck, that ‘the power of the Reich … swells the proud, tradition-true, Hanseatic sail’. But there was no doubting the sense of satisfaction expressed by Hamburg’s mayors in what the city itself had achieved. In this respect, the day of a launch belonged not just to HAPAG, but to Hamburg.

And yet if the Imperator-class liners were proud products of HAPAG and Hamburg, they were also touted as the pride of all Germany and as modern symbols of the nation. The ships were projected as national monuments; they were described as symbolic of what Germany had accomplished in concert, and as ‘embodiments of German strength’, as Mayor Predohl explained at the launch of the Bismarck. Their names, he said, ‘move the heart of the friend of the Fatherland’. Described as triumphs of German shipbuilding and technology, the liners were presented as testaments to the future-oriented vision of the nation. As Predohl insisted, ‘their construction and success symbolizes a national act, decided and brought to fruition by brilliant far-sightedness and energy’. The progress that facilitated the building of the Bismarck ‘was only possible on the solid foundation of the power of Kaiser and Reich, in a unified Fatherland’. As with the many monuments built after 1871 by the German state, local governments, and various private associations, the HAPAG steamers were presented as emblematic of a shared German identity; they were used to project an image of political consensus, social harmony and shared mission to Germans and the transatlantic world.

As was often the case with monuments built of stone, this image of a nation unified and dynamic in the present, and oriented to the future, was bound up with an equally sure vision of the German past. This was most explicitly the case at the launch of the Vaterland, when Mayor Schröder portrayed Germany’s expansion on the sea as the logical continuation of unification achieved on the battlefield. Given the vessel’s name and the year of its launch (1913), Schröder felt compelled to relate the history – mythologized as it was – of Germany’s struggle for nationhood. Looking back to 1813, he told of how ‘tired of long, onerous bondage, the Prussian people rose up; a king called and all, all came’. A desire for the existence of a German Fatherland was awakened beyond the borders of Prussia, and ‘the unified onslaught of the German people broke the French yoke’. Half a century later – when another ‘Napoleon threatened the borders of our Fatherland’ – north and south joined in ‘a mighty defense’ to achieve the unity that ‘our fathers once sought in vain’. Schröder hoped that the Vaterland would ‘be worthy of your heritage, be worthy of your storm-tossed homeland, be worthy of your beautiful name that is deeply engraved in our hearts’. After having recounted the history of a nation forged in war, Schröder immediately emphasized that the Vaterland would serve the cause of international peace. But the point to be made here is that the rhetoric, tone and content of Schröder’s address were germane to the dedication of any number of monuments built to commemorate German unification after 1871.

Competing interpretations of the German Empire’s nature and history received various forms of expression in the decades preceding the First World War; the history of the markedly bourgeois culture that sought to stamp Germany with its values, and represent the democratic-republican aspect of the empire’s heritage – in contradiction to official, imperial narratives – is well known. ⁴³ In light of this, we need to look more closely at the political, social and cultural image of Germany projected by Hamburg’s mayors through the medium of the Imperator-class steamers.

Mayor Schröder’s speech at the launch of the Vaterland projected an image of Germany united by tradition and experience. We recall that, in reference to the campaign against Napoleon in 1813, he used the expression ‘a king called and all, all came’. Yet from what we have seen so far, it would appear that that the speeches made by Hamburg’s mayors paid little attention to the Hohenzollerns; instead, they emphasized the middle-class contribution to the nation. At the launch of the Imperator, Burchard claimed the ship represented, ‘above all … the product of a flourishing, self-conscious German bourgeoisie’. All three addresses were, in large measure, celebrations of these middle classes, be it in the plaudits given to HAPAG; the tribute paid to Hamburg’s entrepreneurial spirit; the celebration of German shipbuilding, technology, industry, and commercial enterprise; the recognition of the Empire’s future-oriented vision; or, as we will see, the positive assessment of the way in which the new steamers would facilitate international trade and global economic growth.

We must also consider the fact that, at the launch of the Bismarck, Mayor Predohl described the vessel as a new monument to the Iron Chancellor. Erected all across Germany from the late 1890s, Bismarck memorials are seen by historians as counteracting official monuments celebrating the imperial monarchy. Jason Tebbe has noted that:

For the middle classes, those most responsible for these monuments on the local level, he [Bismarck] better represented the nation than the monarchy. The preference of Bismarck over Wilhelm thus reflected the clashing priorities of nationalism and the state in commemoration. ⁴⁴

In 1906, Hamburg had unveiled the largest and probably best known Bismarck memorial, and Mayor Predohl brought the HAPAG liner into dialogue with the giant granite image who ‘looks down on us here as the once legendary Roland in the service of his imperial lord’. Like Hamburg’s memorial, the Bismarck would be an expression of ‘the eternal thanks’ to the man ‘whose spirit and deeds prepared the first ground’ for the developments that led to the construction of such a ship. It would complement the city’s monument by carrying ‘the name Bismarck over the seas’.

As Mayor Predohl saw it, the names of all three HAPAG steamers expressed the fact that ‘imperial power, love of the Fatherland, and the counsel and deeds of the first chancellor’ were necessary prerequisites for the practical and applied energies that gave birth to achievements like the Bismarck. He emphasized that Germany’s first chancellor provided not only a model for statesmanship, but also for German business; a fact to which the very building of the Bismarck attested. Predohl spoke of the characteristics that made Bismarck great: realism, tenacity, clear understanding of the demands of the present, innovative thinking, confident action, and careful exploitation of success. Predohl’s understanding of Bismarck was not simply that of a Prussian Junker defending Germany’s pre-industrial elite, nor the Roland of Hamburg’s memorial serving his emperor by preventing the development of a liberal, constitutional state; he was a forward-looking statesman who presided over the unification of Germany and its bureaucratic, industrial, legal, financial and economic modernization. Indeed, one could be forgiven for thinking Predohl was describing not Bismarck, but Albert Ballin, the dynamic general director of HAPAG who was largely responsible for transforming a modest enterprise into the world’s largest shipping concern.

Thus, on the one hand, the launches of the Imperator-class liners reveal at least ambivalence towards dynastic rule in Germany; they give expression to a more popular, middle-class understanding of the empire’s socioeconomic constitution and history. And yet these modern tropes of nationhood bore the symbolism of imperial power, most obviously in the name Imperator that meant, as Mayor Burchard explained, that the ship was ‘inseparably bound with the Kaiser’s majesty’. Imperial iconography was also found in the form of the eagle perched on the Imperator’s bow, and the portraits that decorated its interior spaces, and those of the Vaterland. The Kaiser was the launch patron of the Imperator, and was present at the launch of the Bismarck, while the Vaterland was launched by Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria. The speeches made by Hamburg’s mayors were explicitly addressed to the Kaiser and Prince Rupprecht, and ended with salutes to, and cheers for, the royal guests. Some of the press coverage of the Imperator’s launch treated the Kaiser as the principal actor in the drama. Furthermore, Hamburg’s mayors heaped praise upon the Kaiser: while Mayor Burchard wished that the Imperator’s voyages would ‘be as sunny and successful as our Kaiser’s blessed life’, Mayor Predohl hoped that ‘halcyon days’ would be granted all three ships just as they had been granted to Germany ‘under the beneficent leadership of your majesty’.

But more particularly, all three speeches acknowledged the important role played by imperial power and the emperor in forging a strong nation, encouraging its maritime development and fostering its modernization. As Mayor Burchard explained, the coming-of-age of the German middle classes happened ‘under the protection of the Kaiser’. Wilhelm’s critical role in fostering the German Empire’s maritime development was particularly emphasized at the launch of the Imperator and the Bismarck. Burchard said the emperor would receive the praise of history for having ‘wedded all German people to the sea’. For all the attention that Mayor Predohl’s address gave to Bismarck, it also recognized the Kaiser’s involvement in, and importance for, the growth of German industry and shipbuilding. Recalling the young Prince Wilhelm’s insistence, in 1887, that HAPAG break with convention by building one of its new express steamers in a German, not a British, shipyard, Predohl described the move as ‘groundbreaking for the improvement of German shipbuilding’.

Ultimately, the speeches made by Hamburg’s mayors projected a complex image of the German Empire. In so doing, they mirrored a sense of German identity that was not singular, nor uniform, but constructed and coloured by a variety of differing perceptions rooted in specific social, cultural and political contexts. What is particularly interesting is that so many different facets of, and perspectives on, German identity are combined in these addresses. But while they offered a multi-faceted portrait of the German Empire, they also projected an image of social consensus, and the picture of a society with a shared sense of history and mission. Local history and identity was set within the context of national history and identity; the imperial monarchy and middle classes were described as working together to found, develop and modernize the nation. We might enumerate several reasons for this. On the one hand, this is exactly what many monuments did, especially the many murals painted in city halls across Germany after 1871. ⁴⁵ On the other hand, we are not dealing with monuments conceived as such, and intended to promote a partisan vision of the nation, but with the products of private enterprise, and a commercial venture that had close ties to the Kaiser. But we must also consider the fact that the launch of the Imperator-class liners was staged, not only for domestic, but also for foreign consumption. This shaped the image of the empire that these ceremonies projected.

At the launch of the Vaterland, Mayor Schröder recalled a national history marked by the struggle for self-realization. ‘On France’s blood-soaked fields’, he said, ‘a newly-united German Empire arose, that now powerfully protects its borders, and secures a position that demands respect for our Fatherland among the council of nations’. Schröder may have cast Germany as justified in throwing off the French yoke, and defending the Fatherland, but his account of national unity was unavoidably tinted by aggression. And yet an important note struck in each address was that of the peaceful intentions of the German Empire, and the productive role it played on the world stage. At the launch of the Imperator, Mayor Burchard was at pains to emphasize that while HAPAG expanded its services around the globe, it did not wish to displace the lines of other nations. On the contrary, it worked with them in a coordinated effort to increase the volume of trade, and more effectively apply the power of capital, thereby serving ‘the course of our vigorous age’. Mayor Schröder made the same point at the launch of the Vaterland, which he said would enter ‘into peaceful competition with the other nations … serve peaceful trade on the wide sea and more securely and closely bind the bonds of friendship between the peoples of the earth’. Special attention was paid to the manner in which the ships would foster relations between the United States and Germany. The Imperator, Burchard claimed, would also ‘bring two powerful continents closer together … facilitate the trade of two great nations’, and ‘serve the peaceful development of civilization’.

But if this characterization of the empire seems explicitly intended for foreign powers, it was also, inevitably, a mirror held up to Germans. The speeches provided them not only with a vague sense that ‘Germany’s standing abroad is tremendously elevated by these three ships and their success’, as Mayor Predohl claimed. It also provided them with a vision of the way their nation was embedded in the world, and how it participated in various processes of globalization. The addresses made at the launch of the Imperator-class vessels at least helped feed what was a ‘lively imagination of the world beyond the nation’, one that shaped ‘the national project right into the everyday habitus, mentality and world pictures of ordinary Germans’. ⁴⁶

German, English and American responses

It is safe to assume that many, if not most, of those who attended the launch of the Imperator-class vessels could not hear speeches given in the open air without the aid of microphones. Nonetheless, their messages were carried far beyond Hamburg. Some German newspapers reproduced the speeches verbatim. More importantly, much reportage sustained the treatment of the vessels as symbols of Germany’s industrial might, technological achievements and world-power status. Furthermore, the liberal and conservative press often spoke of unanimous enthusiasm for HAPAG’s Imperator-class passenger liners, just as their launch ceremonies had projected an image of social consensus, and the image of a society with a shared sense of history and mission. It is reasonable to assume that the various constituencies to which Hamburg’s mayors addressed their remarks – be it HAPAG, Hamburg’s business and commercial elite, the German bourgeoisie or the imperial monarchy – could look favourably on the speeches, and see the ships themselves as literal monuments to their role and achievements in the German Empire.

And yet, just as the German Empire was socially fractured, so enthusiasm for the Imperator-class vessels was far from unanimous. As Corey Ross has emphasized, what Germans heard in public addresses, or read in the popular media, was mediated by class, locality, gender and cultural milieu. ⁴⁷ Among the aristocracy and middle classes, there were those who thought that the Imperator was the embodiment of all the evils wrought by political, social and cultural transformation. ⁴⁸ Others felt it ‘appeared as a typical manifestation of the new Germany, with its huckstering, and obtrusive manners, more a snobbism than a symbol of German competence’. ⁴⁹ A small group of intellectuals found its interior decoration to be unrepresentative of the advanced state of modern German art and design. ⁵⁰

But it was among the working classes that enthusiasm for HAPAG’s new liners was most clearly absent. Jan Rüger has shown that, for whatever reason they attended the launch of warships, many workers agitated against naval enthusiasm. ⁵¹ Some of this discontent was acted out at launches. When the battleship Kaiser Karl der Große was launched in Hamburg on 18 October 1899, in the presence of the Kaiser and Mayor Johann Georg Mönckeberg, Blohm & Voss employees threw sandwiches at the company’s director. ⁵² Thus the launch of a warship could actually be ‘a site for the enactment of a “counter public” or Gegenöffentlichkeit’. ⁵³

The same was the case with commercial shipbuilding and the launch of passenger liners. The labouring classes that actually built the Imperator-class vessels were conspicuously absent from the addresses that accompanied their launch. Even if they could hear the speeches, it is clear that many workers did not respond enthusiastically. Indeed, a ‘quiet, but effective, show of opposition’ to the Kaiser marked the launch of the Imperator; police recorded that the ‘workers of the Vulcan shipyard did not lift their hats nor did they cheer when His Majesty passed’. ⁵⁴

We also need to consider reporting in the Social Democratic press as an indication, at least in part, of working-class responses. Bernhard Rieger has indicated that Social Democratic newspapers frequently remained silent about passenger liners; this tactic ‘allowed them to escape accusations of national betrayal and lack of patriotism without compromising their commitment to social-reform programs’. ⁵⁵ Vorwärts, Essen’s Arbeiter Zeitung and the Leipziger Volkszeitung did not report on the launch of the Imperator or Vaterland. But the Hamburger Echo was an exception and viewed the building of the Imperator through the prism of workers’ rights and labour relations. In contrast to the praise for the ship in the liberal and conservative press, the paper denounced the Imperator as an expression of class inequality. It reported that ten men were killed during the vessel’s construction and 100 were injured; ‘death has reaped a rich harvest amongst the workers’. ⁵⁶ The Echo also questioned the provisions made for the crew that was essential to the ship’s operation and, more to the point, resented the attempt of the launch ceremony to orchestrate observers as willing subjects, and to distract Germans from political and social problems.

Contradictory and even antagonistic German responses to the rhetoric and ceremony that accompanied the launch of the Imperator, Vaterland and Bismarck are hardly surprising. In fact, they serve to highlight the significance these ships assumed in the eyes of many Germans and the efficacy of the manner in which they were promoted to the German public. The number and range of responses to these vessels is a clear indication that the Imperator-class liners were seen by many Germans as monumental symbols of their nation whether or not they approved of its political, social, and economic character and development.

Many organs of the British press – both liberal and conservative, broadsheet and tabloid – followed the development of the Imperator, Vaterland and Bismarck with considerable interest. Much of this reporting clearly treated the vessels as national monuments put to sea by the German Empire. The dominant tone was one of admiration, congratulation and positive astonishment even in conservative dailies like The Times, Daily Telegraph and Morning Post. ⁵⁷ Reports marvelled at the industrial and technological progress that the German Empire had made since the 1880s and that the vessels embodied. ⁵⁸ The Sunday Times noted that German newspapers made the Imperator’s launch the occasion for reflection on the progress of German shipbuilding and confirmed that ‘they have ample cause for satisfaction’. ⁵⁹ The Daily Telegraph described its launch as a beautiful spectacle and acknowledged Germany’s supremacy in the construction of passenger liners. ⁶⁰

Much of the British press, however, was less than enthusiastic about the image of a strong, united and ambitious Germany, unified and expanded through war, and with a Kaiser at the head of a powerful military-industrial complex of which commercial shipping was part. Unsurprisingly, reporting on HAPAG’s new liners was accompanied by the expression of anxiety about the rise of German power in Europe, on the seas and around the globe. This was in spite of the fact that the peaceful intentions of the German Empire had been emphasized at their launches and that, as Mayor Burchard had stressed, HAPAG did not wish to displace the lines of other nations.

In Britain, particular concern was expressed about the potential eclipse of British mercantile supremacy on the Atlantic. Competition in commercial shipping, not all of which came from Germany, was a shock to Britons and conjured up the spectre of decline. ⁶¹ In 1900, The Times asked the following questions:

If, then, the Germans know how to build record-breaking Atlantic steamships and run them at a profit, have the English lost the art? Do the English lines mean to contend with the Germans, or do they leave them to their present supremacy on the Atlantic unchallenged? ⁶²

More portentously, HAPAG’s expansion around the globe was regarded in England as an encroachment upon British power and prestige. German developments in shipbuilding also raised the more general spectre of technological decline. And, as Rieger explains, Britons were particularly concerned about the potential military consequences of this decline. ⁶³

In fact, it was impossible for English commentators to treat the Imperator and Vaterland as distinct from Germany’s naval ambitions for several reasons: passenger ships in both Britain and Germany were designed for quick conversion to auxiliary cruisers in time of war; HAPAG vessels were frequently chartered as troop carriers; the firm was represented by the German government around the globe; and Ballin, who was a member of the Navy League and publicly expressed his support for the building of a navy, had a good relationship with the Kaiser which was reported on in the English press. ⁶⁴ Perhaps it is unsurprising that the Daily News announced that, in launching the Imperator and Vaterland, HAPAG had ‘declared war on the world … and if our claim to rule the waves is threatened, this threat comes not from the German dreadnoughts but from Herr Ballin’. ⁶⁵

The vast majority of English reporting was less alarmist and pugnacious. But where space was given to commentary, one of the responses to HAPAG’s new liners was patriotic posturing, and anti-German sentiment in different forms and to different degrees. Much of this reinforced an image of the German Empire as an inferior but nonetheless ambitious and sometimes pernicious rival to Britain and its empire. This was expressed in different ways and with varying degrees of intensity. Some newspapers simply added fuel to the fire of national rivalry by emphasizing that the Imperator and Vaterland were intended take the record for the fastest Atlantic crossing from Cunard’s Mauretania. ⁶⁶ The British press also exhibited considerable anxiety about the size of the Imperator and Vaterland. The colossal dimensions of both ships were repeatedly emphasized and they were constantly compared in word and image to British liners: the Imperator to White Star’s Olympic and the Vaterland to Cunard’s Aquitania. Some publications praised, but simultaneously deprecated, German innovations by setting them into a narrative that emphasized the pioneering maritime achievements of Britain. ⁶⁷ This was done with varying degrees of subtlety and some assessments, like that of Frederick Talbot, were bluntly disparaging. In Steamship Conquest of the World, which was published in 1912 and excerpted in the press, Talbot insisted that in the development of its passenger liners ‘the Germans have followed slavishly in British footsteps, but this is only in accordance with Teuton traditions. The German’, he explained, ‘is a magnificent copyist, but a poor pioneer’. ⁶⁸

The Anglo–German rivalry has traditionally and correctly been seen by historians of modern Germany in diplomatic, strategic and economic terms. In the opinion of contemporaries and many historians, ‘it was the naval question above everything else which exacerbated Anglo–German relations’, especially the building of a North Sea battle fleet in Germany from 1898. ⁶⁹ I believe historians need to direct more attention to the role played by commercial and passenger shipping in these relations and this rivalry. ⁷⁰ At the same time, recent scholarship on Anglo–German relations has correctly sought to nuance a long-standing concentration on rivalry with an emphasis on the various economic, social and cultural points of contact that informed these relations. ⁷¹ British newspaper reporting on HAPAG, its passenger liners and developments in German commercial shipping generally, also presents an image of positive intercourse between the nations that was in keeping with Mayor Schröder’s contention that the Vaterland would serve peaceful trade and help bind the nations together. ⁷² Clearly, we must be careful not to simplify the complex amalgam of multiple images of Germany that appeared in English newspapers. ⁷³ The particular point I wish to emphasize here is that the Imperator-class vessels, construed as monuments to German achievements and ambitions, played an important role in the manner in which Germany was presented to Britons through the medium of the press.

HAPAG and its liners were also frequently covered in the American press, especially from 1900. In fact, one German author claimed Americans were better informed about the details of the Imperator’s construction, outfitting and trial runs than were Germans. ⁷⁴ As in Britain, Americans were presented with multiple images of Germany that cannot be reduced to a simplified whole. The American press expressed dislike for the authoritarianism and militarism of the German state and was suspicious of its international ambitions. Not all reporting on the Imperator-class vessels was positive; some afforded certain journalists the opportunity to trade in caricatures and pejorative stereotypes, principally those about German efficiency and thoroughness. ⁷⁵ But what strikes a reader of the American press is that reporting on the Imperator-class liners was less coloured by anxiety about Germany’s growing status as a maritime and world power than was expressed in Britain. Instead, American newspapers often enthusiastically greeted the vessels as the products of a modern, progressive society and economy shaped by an industrious, forward-thinking middle class or, in short, as the products of a nation similar to itself (see Figure 3).

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 3.

The Imperator entering New York harbour, 19 June 1913.

Much of this reporting evinces a strong interest in German innovation. Coverage in The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal was dominated by praise for the Imperator as a feat of maritime architecture, engineering and modern technology. ⁷⁶ The Washington Post was especially interested in the Imperator as a wonder of modern engineering. It published illustrated excerpts from Scientific American that combined sober enumeration of technical detail – about the ship’s rudder post or funnels, for example – with unreserved astonishment at the scale of the vessel and its fittings. ⁷⁷ This fascination was also expressed in terms that presented the Imperator in relation to American monuments of different sorts and this was sometimes accompanied by arresting visual imagery. One image published in Scientific American, and reproduced in The Washington Post, showed the ship towering over the 750-foot bulk of the Woolworth Building in New York, then the world’s tallest skyscraper. ⁷⁸ The latter publication also chose the Statue of Liberty as a measure for understanding the size of the Vaterland. ⁷⁹ Just as the growth of individual German industries was cited daily in the American press as an example of German economic expansion and prosperity, HAPAG’s new liners were greeted as monumental symbols of the nation’s progress and modernity. ⁸⁰

To this image was added that of a peaceful nation shaped by its enterprising middle classes. American journalists seemed more willing than their British counterparts to grasp the hand extended by Mayor Burchard when he claimed the Imperator would ‘bring two powerful continents closer together’, ‘facilitate the trade of two great nations’ and ‘serve the peaceful development of civilization’. The New York Times described the Vaterland as ‘a mighty engine for the development of commerce and the promotion of peace’. It also said that ‘hearty congratulations are due to the German people for this new symbol of peace and industrial prosperity’. Furthermore, Albert Ballin was celebrated for his role in leading Germany to its ‘foremost place in the commercial and industrial world’. ‘Our country’, The New York Times suggested, ‘might well emulate his patriotic example’. ⁸¹

Conclusion

The scope of this article has required a limited focus on one aspect of the complex history of Germany’s passenger shipping before the First World War. Largely overlooked by scholars of modern German political, social, economic and cultural history, there is great potential in this subject to reveal much about the nature of the German Empire in its national, international and transnational dimensions. The history of passenger shipping informs our knowledge of the processes of industrial, economic and technological change that played such a significant role in shaping modern Germany. It also expands our understanding of the extent to which the empire participated in the various processes of globalization prior to 1914, and the degree to which it was embedded in the world.

More research is required to substantiate, expand and nuance the introduction I have provided to the role played by transatlantic passenger liners in the construction and contestation of German national identity, a subject of particular interest to historians. The same applies to an examination of the way these vessels provided Britons and Americans with important reference points for understanding or imagining the new nation. There has been a considerable amount of interest in Anglo-American perceptions of the German Empire, but little consideration of how the vessels that facilitated transatlantic communication featured, in their own right, as part of the phenomenon. By focusing on the Imperator-class liners, and examining a small sampling of the means and media by which they were presented to the German, English and American public, this article has shown why certain passenger steamships must be counted among the national monuments built by the German Empire.