It was one of those days when a layer of cloud obscured the sun until it was just about to set. And then the orange globe spread its light laterally across the landscape, creating long, gentle shadows as it journeyed finally to rest for the night.
Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm was tired. So was his aide, Major Leo von Caprivi. So were the sixty-thousand other cavalrymen and their horses, who had been on campaign with the Kronprinz for 15 long, agonizing months.
The depression where they had stopped to camp for the night was cluttered with countless dingy gray tents that had once been white. The horses were tethered to forage lines and nipped at the spring grasses to tamp their hunger. Many of the soldiers gathered around camp fires, heartily enjoying the opportunity for rest, and even the soupy stew they were forced to endure in the absence of more adequate provisions this far from their lines of supply. Others had collapsed into bedrolls after a few bites of biscuit, too exhausted even to eat dinner with their comrades.
The 3rd Corps, after their victorious campaign in Baden, had headed south through the Austrian Alps into Tyrol and Styria and then south into Slovenia. They were near enough now to the Adriatic Sea that they had caught occasional glimpses of the sparkling waters at long range, and suffered from humidity on cold days and hot.
They had bypassed the Austrian port of Trieste two weeks ago, the Kronprinz favoring the capture of the port of Fiume for strategic reasons. But his aide was always welcome to suggest alternatives, and it was one of these they were discussing.
"Personally," the Kronprinz explained, "I would rather hold a Croat port than an Italian port. Our allies in Piedmont would argue that Trieste is rightfully theirs, and I would prefer not to have to tell them no. God knows that I hope, in the aftermath, we can prevent the unification of Italy. There's no telling what they might do if ever they bucked our control and challenged us as one nation." He was mindful of Caprivi's Italian roots, but also knew as surely as with his previous aide de camp where his loyalties resided.
"In my studies of history," Caprivi said, "I have found that it is usually the oppressed nations that have the stronger ethnic identity. Therefore, I might suggest the Croatians might prove harder to manage than the provincial Italians we would find in Trieste."
Their attention was drawn away from the discussion at hand when a cadre of a dozen horsemen crested the hill along the road. The leader of the group apparently sighted the Kronprinz, as they immediately headed straight for the command tent. As they neared, Friedrich Wilhelm was surprised to recognize Count van Rensselaer, who waved in friendship.
Dismounting and handing his reins to one of his bodyguard, Rensselaer approached the Kronprinz and bowed. Not so deep as he would bow to the Kaiser, but very reverential. "Your Highness, I bring very good news, and I wished to convey it to you in person."
(These pictures bracket the Kronprinz' current age of 35)
The Kronprinz wondered what news would be so good as to require personal delivery by the Foreign Minister. And further, what on earth could draw him this far from his duties in Berlin!
"Your Highness, I have just days ago concluded a peace treaty with Austria in Prague. Our war here is over."
"What?!" Friedrich Wilhelm exclaimed, in not so happy a tone as Rensselaer would have expected from a reluctant warrior.
"The Austrians have bowed to our control of the South German Federation lands, have agreed to never again contest our right to leadership of Germany, and have made some territorial concessions."
"But we have been hurrying for months to establish a right to an Adriatic port!" the Kronprinz protested. "I've lost men in this endeavor! Have we secured our rights to a southern port?"
Rensselaer had expected the Kronprinz would have complicated questions, which is why he wanted to meet with him in person. "Your Highness, I have much to explain. Could we perhaps go in out of the chill?" The sun now gone behind the forest, it was getting colder. The command tent was the only tent in the field with flaps that extended to the ground.
"Of course." The Kronprinz led Rensselaer and Caprivi inside, where a map table took up much of the available space. Rensselaer settled himself on Caprivi's cot while Caprivi stood. The Kronprinz sat in his camp chair.
"With this peace, Your Highness, we have secured our control of all of the South German Federation, save a rump Bavaria, surrounding Munchen."
"Which was secured at the time I left Augsburg, to the best of my knowledge." That tone of voice reminded Rensselaer of the Kronprinz' father. Reputation in Berlin held that the Kronprinz was not very quick witted. But Rensselaer reminded himself that this was the hero of several major battles, and that commanders without presence of mind didn't tend to succeed over and over.
"Yes... Of course, Your Highness. But now the Habsburgs have agreed never again to lay any claim to those lands, which is a pledge of historic import. They have also ceded to us the provinces of Plzen and Ried, which improves the defensibility of our border."
The Kronprinz stood, abruptly. "We have pushed the Austrians back on every front, and driven further than in our first war... And all we claim is two provinces?!" He glanced at Caprivi, who remained conspicuously impassive. He peered back skeptically at Rensselaer, who had just concluded that he would have to conduct this conversation from a standing position. "What happened to our war aims, dating back to the last war, of taking ownership of all the lands of the German people? I passed by entire boroughs of Germans in Maribor just days ago!"
"Please rest assured, Your Highness, that these matters were taken into consideration." Rensselaer's hand gesture was calming... or perhaps defensive. "But at length, our conclusion was that it would be most prudent to..."
"Prudent?" Friedrich Wilhelm challenged. "That doesn't sound like my father."
Rensselaer took the conversation back a step. Indeed, this was the same conversation he had had with the Kaiser. "I advised the Kaiser that for every German citizen we remove from the Habsburg Empire, we pour more water on their foundations. To freeze in winter, and crack in summer. By taking all the German population of the Empire for ourselves, we would seal the doom of the Habsburg Dynasty."
"So? They stabbed us in the back. What is their value to us?" Remarkably similar to his conversation with the Kaiser, Rensselaer thought. For all the bad blood between them, Friedrich Wilhelm was truly his father's son.
"We would see an independent Hungary, an independent Ukraine, an independent Poland... none of which would endear us to our friends the Russians."
"And what is so wrong with self determination? Why shouldn't the Ukrainians have their homeland, or the Poles, for that matter." This was his wife talking, Rensselaer thought. This, certainly, had not come up in his conversation with the Kaiser.
"But you must recognize, Your Highness, that a revolt of Austrian Poles would join with the revolt of Russian Poles... and would necessarily end with a revolt of the Prussian Poles. Which is something that the Kaiser knows we cannot risk. Not, certainly, at a time when they are already causing death and bloodshed across much of Russia. And it would only serve to empower the Turks, who would need no invitation to set up for themselves new dominions among the weak countries that would remain... It could mean a return to the rivalries of the Crusades."
Friedrich Wilhelm was jolted by his sudden realization that he was upset that the fighting -- and the dying -- was done! He shook his head, and counseled himself that anytime he was away from his wife for two long, as he always was on campaign, he began to revert to the militaristic Prussian that he knew he was at heart.
The Kronprinz returned to reality. "Of course. You are right." He seemed to visibly let go his spirited resistance. "I am sure this will work out for the best." He looked at Rensselaer. "And I am confident that you have done your utmost for the future and the security of the Empire. Thank you."
Rensselaer gave him a polite bow. "I appreciate your praise, Your Highness. More than you can know."
"And we have another enemy..." he trailed off for just a moment. Had he just referred to the English as the enemy? "Another enemy to fight." Immediately, he turned to Caprivi. "Leo, what is the quickest route from here into France?"
Caprivi, who had been listening carefully, had also been peering at the map on the table and working through this in his mind for the past two minutes. "I believe that would take us through some familiar territory," he responded quickly. "Through the mountains of northern Italy."
"Well," the Kronprinz sighed, and looked out the tent flap at the flickering campfires. "We can't move right away. We will need at least a day's rest. God knows we've needed it for weeks. Inform the command staff," Friedrich Wilhelm directed Caprivi, "the soldiers need not be roused until dawn in the morning. And at that time I will have a special announcement."
"Ja wohl, Hoheit (Highness)!" Caprivi acknowledged.
The Kronprinz stopped him. "And Major! Don't tell them what it is. Or no one will get any sleep tonight!" They all chuckled.
That night, Friedrich Wilhelm found himself, awkwardly, looking forward to the next war with Austria, when they could finally create a grand empire of all Germany, with access to the Mediterranean and secure from all enemies. He stamped down such thoughts. War will come, he thought, if war must come. There is no excuse to lust after it. He stilled his heart with difficulty, and attempted to get some sleep. It finally came when he turned his thoughts to Victoria, his dear, brilliant, indomitable wife.
Kronprinz Friedrich Wilhelm was tired. So was his aide, Major Leo von Caprivi. So were the sixty-thousand other cavalrymen and their horses, who had been on campaign with the Kronprinz for 15 long, agonizing months.
The depression where they had stopped to camp for the night was cluttered with countless dingy gray tents that had once been white. The horses were tethered to forage lines and nipped at the spring grasses to tamp their hunger. Many of the soldiers gathered around camp fires, heartily enjoying the opportunity for rest, and even the soupy stew they were forced to endure in the absence of more adequate provisions this far from their lines of supply. Others had collapsed into bedrolls after a few bites of biscuit, too exhausted even to eat dinner with their comrades.
The 3rd Corps, after their victorious campaign in Baden, had headed south through the Austrian Alps into Tyrol and Styria and then south into Slovenia. They were near enough now to the Adriatic Sea that they had caught occasional glimpses of the sparkling waters at long range, and suffered from humidity on cold days and hot.
They had bypassed the Austrian port of Trieste two weeks ago, the Kronprinz favoring the capture of the port of Fiume for strategic reasons. But his aide was always welcome to suggest alternatives, and it was one of these they were discussing.
"Personally," the Kronprinz explained, "I would rather hold a Croat port than an Italian port. Our allies in Piedmont would argue that Trieste is rightfully theirs, and I would prefer not to have to tell them no. God knows that I hope, in the aftermath, we can prevent the unification of Italy. There's no telling what they might do if ever they bucked our control and challenged us as one nation." He was mindful of Caprivi's Italian roots, but also knew as surely as with his previous aide de camp where his loyalties resided.
"In my studies of history," Caprivi said, "I have found that it is usually the oppressed nations that have the stronger ethnic identity. Therefore, I might suggest the Croatians might prove harder to manage than the provincial Italians we would find in Trieste."
Their attention was drawn away from the discussion at hand when a cadre of a dozen horsemen crested the hill along the road. The leader of the group apparently sighted the Kronprinz, as they immediately headed straight for the command tent. As they neared, Friedrich Wilhelm was surprised to recognize Count van Rensselaer, who waved in friendship.
Dismounting and handing his reins to one of his bodyguard, Rensselaer approached the Kronprinz and bowed. Not so deep as he would bow to the Kaiser, but very reverential. "Your Highness, I bring very good news, and I wished to convey it to you in person."
The Kronprinz wondered what news would be so good as to require personal delivery by the Foreign Minister. And further, what on earth could draw him this far from his duties in Berlin!
"Your Highness, I have just days ago concluded a peace treaty with Austria in Prague. Our war here is over."
"What?!" Friedrich Wilhelm exclaimed, in not so happy a tone as Rensselaer would have expected from a reluctant warrior.
"The Austrians have bowed to our control of the South German Federation lands, have agreed to never again contest our right to leadership of Germany, and have made some territorial concessions."
"But we have been hurrying for months to establish a right to an Adriatic port!" the Kronprinz protested. "I've lost men in this endeavor! Have we secured our rights to a southern port?"
Rensselaer had expected the Kronprinz would have complicated questions, which is why he wanted to meet with him in person. "Your Highness, I have much to explain. Could we perhaps go in out of the chill?" The sun now gone behind the forest, it was getting colder. The command tent was the only tent in the field with flaps that extended to the ground.
"Of course." The Kronprinz led Rensselaer and Caprivi inside, where a map table took up much of the available space. Rensselaer settled himself on Caprivi's cot while Caprivi stood. The Kronprinz sat in his camp chair.
"With this peace, Your Highness, we have secured our control of all of the South German Federation, save a rump Bavaria, surrounding Munchen."
"Which was secured at the time I left Augsburg, to the best of my knowledge." That tone of voice reminded Rensselaer of the Kronprinz' father. Reputation in Berlin held that the Kronprinz was not very quick witted. But Rensselaer reminded himself that this was the hero of several major battles, and that commanders without presence of mind didn't tend to succeed over and over.
"Yes... Of course, Your Highness. But now the Habsburgs have agreed never again to lay any claim to those lands, which is a pledge of historic import. They have also ceded to us the provinces of Plzen and Ried, which improves the defensibility of our border."
The Kronprinz stood, abruptly. "We have pushed the Austrians back on every front, and driven further than in our first war... And all we claim is two provinces?!" He glanced at Caprivi, who remained conspicuously impassive. He peered back skeptically at Rensselaer, who had just concluded that he would have to conduct this conversation from a standing position. "What happened to our war aims, dating back to the last war, of taking ownership of all the lands of the German people? I passed by entire boroughs of Germans in Maribor just days ago!"
"Please rest assured, Your Highness, that these matters were taken into consideration." Rensselaer's hand gesture was calming... or perhaps defensive. "But at length, our conclusion was that it would be most prudent to..."
"Prudent?" Friedrich Wilhelm challenged. "That doesn't sound like my father."
Rensselaer took the conversation back a step. Indeed, this was the same conversation he had had with the Kaiser. "I advised the Kaiser that for every German citizen we remove from the Habsburg Empire, we pour more water on their foundations. To freeze in winter, and crack in summer. By taking all the German population of the Empire for ourselves, we would seal the doom of the Habsburg Dynasty."
"So? They stabbed us in the back. What is their value to us?" Remarkably similar to his conversation with the Kaiser, Rensselaer thought. For all the bad blood between them, Friedrich Wilhelm was truly his father's son.
"We would see an independent Hungary, an independent Ukraine, an independent Poland... none of which would endear us to our friends the Russians."
"And what is so wrong with self determination? Why shouldn't the Ukrainians have their homeland, or the Poles, for that matter." This was his wife talking, Rensselaer thought. This, certainly, had not come up in his conversation with the Kaiser.
"But you must recognize, Your Highness, that a revolt of Austrian Poles would join with the revolt of Russian Poles... and would necessarily end with a revolt of the Prussian Poles. Which is something that the Kaiser knows we cannot risk. Not, certainly, at a time when they are already causing death and bloodshed across much of Russia. And it would only serve to empower the Turks, who would need no invitation to set up for themselves new dominions among the weak countries that would remain... It could mean a return to the rivalries of the Crusades."
Friedrich Wilhelm was jolted by his sudden realization that he was upset that the fighting -- and the dying -- was done! He shook his head, and counseled himself that anytime he was away from his wife for two long, as he always was on campaign, he began to revert to the militaristic Prussian that he knew he was at heart.
The Kronprinz returned to reality. "Of course. You are right." He seemed to visibly let go his spirited resistance. "I am sure this will work out for the best." He looked at Rensselaer. "And I am confident that you have done your utmost for the future and the security of the Empire. Thank you."
Rensselaer gave him a polite bow. "I appreciate your praise, Your Highness. More than you can know."
"And we have another enemy..." he trailed off for just a moment. Had he just referred to the English as the enemy? "Another enemy to fight." Immediately, he turned to Caprivi. "Leo, what is the quickest route from here into France?"
Caprivi, who had been listening carefully, had also been peering at the map on the table and working through this in his mind for the past two minutes. "I believe that would take us through some familiar territory," he responded quickly. "Through the mountains of northern Italy."
"Well," the Kronprinz sighed, and looked out the tent flap at the flickering campfires. "We can't move right away. We will need at least a day's rest. God knows we've needed it for weeks. Inform the command staff," Friedrich Wilhelm directed Caprivi, "the soldiers need not be roused until dawn in the morning. And at that time I will have a special announcement."
"Ja wohl, Hoheit (Highness)!" Caprivi acknowledged.
The Kronprinz stopped him. "And Major! Don't tell them what it is. Or no one will get any sleep tonight!" They all chuckled.
That night, Friedrich Wilhelm found himself, awkwardly, looking forward to the next war with Austria, when they could finally create a grand empire of all Germany, with access to the Mediterranean and secure from all enemies. He stamped down such thoughts. War will come, he thought, if war must come. There is no excuse to lust after it. He stilled his heart with difficulty, and attempted to get some sleep. It finally came when he turned his thoughts to Victoria, his dear, brilliant, indomitable wife.
