From The Eagle Rising: The Story of Prussia's Arrival On the World Stage, pub. 1989 by Professor Reinicke Herz
One of the overwhelming ironies of the 19th Century is how closely two adjacent European superpowers traveled over many decades. Ever since the days of Napoleon I, Prussia and Russia had remained, if not allies, then close collaborators.
Much of this was driven by personal politics – the rulers of Prussia and the rulers of Russia were, throughout most of this time, good friends. Deep personal ties often drew one monarch or the other to the assistance of the other in times of trouble. Both countries shared problems with minority populations who threatened to overthrow their overseers and go their own way. Neither empire could allow this, and they sometimes cooperated to achieve a solution (often a cruel one) that would work to the benefit of both governments. Frequently, this involved looking the other way while one power or the other (usually Russia, whose problems with minorities were so much further developed) used military force to impose internal order.
Prussia, having been occupied by three major world wars during the 19th Century, had found it necessary to focus their energies on developing strategies, tactics and technologies to assist in the waging of land warfare. Russia, meanwhile, acquired a thoroughly modern naval infrastructure. Prussia, whose far flung colonial outposts required a strong navy, lacked one. It was here that personal politics played a major role – one friend trusting another when geopolitical considerations might have dictated a more Machiavellian path.
Tsar Alexander III permitted Prussia to borrow the services of several top Russian naval architects for the purpose of improving the Prussian Imperial Navy. In return, Prussian industrialists assisted Russia in improving their railways into a more modern network.
A freak anomaly almost conspired, in the summer of 1891, to cast all this history of cooperation awry. In a simple, but reasonable, misunderstanding, Prussia became concerned that Russia was planning a surprise invasion. Kaiser Friedrich III made a personal visit to Tsar Alexander in order to head off a conflict.
Instead, the Tsar explained that Russia’s designs were not upon Prussia, but rather against Persia. The troop buildups noticed by German spies were simply mobilizations in order to undertake a massive invasion to the south.
But, also at this summit meeting of world leaders, Alexander III laid out for Friedrich III the nature of his concerns for Prussia’s future – the same concerns which ultimately did bring these longtime allies to blows.
The relationship between Alexander and Friedrich was an odd one. Friedrich was widely considered a liberal who wished to see a traditionally conservative empire liberalized. On the other hand, Alexander was a reactionary, who took a liberalized (socialized) country and tried to return it to the old ideal of absolute monarchy. Neither ruler was to realize his dreams. But the efforts of each brought both governments to about the same place on the political spectrum – a moderate-to-conservative constitutional monarchy – during their years as contemporaries.
By contrast, both Wilhelm II and Nicholas II were conservatives whose countries were too liberal for their tastes. The elder rulers’ differences united them, and the younger rulers’ similarities did the same.
The primary conflict was between Alexander III and Wilhelm II. Alexander regarded the young Crown Prince as a rash, unstable and idiotic man who should never be entrusted with the keys to power. Alexander, with some justification, believed Wilhelm would be a dangerous addition to the volatile combination of European movements, agendas and cleavages.
Alexander expressed many of his negative feelings to Friedrich at their meeting, and each point hit a raw nerve. First, the conservative Tsar objected to the democratic reforms the Kaiser had implemented in Germany. He then unwisely dwelt upon Friedrich’s ill health and the imminence of his son’s accession. Further, the Tsar went so far as to suggest that Wilhelm be forced to renounce his claims on the throne. Or, as an alternative, that Wilhelm (who, of course, was entirely of age to rule on his own!) be subjected to a de-facto regency, with a puppetmaster directing the affairs of government in ignorance of or contravention to the wishes of the future Kaiser.
Friedrich, the proud father who knew his son’s faults but still wished to support him, reacted with indignation, and some anger, to the Tsar’s incendiary complaints. From this point on, relations between these two great powers suffered.
Each generation of these countries’ rulers – father with father, and son with son – maintained such amicable personal relations. But the older generation clashed with the other, setting up a monumental battle.
In the end, it became another of the overwhelming ironies of the 19th Century that two countries with such strong records of cooperation could have come into conflict so abruptly and violently, as they did at the end of 1894.