The Kaiser and Kanzler sat comfortably in upholstered wooden chairs, on either side of a lampstand in the Kaiser’s library. Both men had smoking pipes in one hand, and papers in the other. They had been casually discussing various economic figures for the past hour and a half. There was much business to managing an empire the size of Germany. Yet, there was no pressing need to worry about most of it.
A gulf of silence occurred, suddenly. Caprivi had finished his report, and the Kaiser had answered his interrogatories. There was nothing left but to chat over pleasantries. Which was what alerted Caprivi to the fact that his friend and mentor… and sovereign, had something on his mind.
Taking a long draw on his pipe, Kaiser Friedrich exhaled heavily, blowing his moustache out as he did so. “How are our iron reserves, Leo?” Sensing the inadequacy of the question, he added, “Can we give up some small portion of our iron production? For…” Indeed, this would sound insane no matter how he explained it. No reason to keep it hidden. “Could we afford to forego a certain small number of our iron mines – say those near Gotha – without it harming the Empire too greatly?”
Caprivi coughed, and unconsciously brushed his hand over his own long, white moustache. Instead of answering, he began running various statistics through his mind, and referred to two of the pages in his hands.
To fill the space, Friedrich eventually chose to explain more fully. “As a young man, Leo, I made a noble promise from one prince to another.” Did that “noble” promise now seem too like a “foolish” promise? He gave Caprivi a steadfast look. “Now that I am Kaiser, I feel ob…” He visibly reconsidered, but then steeled himself and pressed on. “I intend to fulfill that promise.”
Caprivi had stopped rifling through his papers, and had really stopped considering the question at hand. He simply peered at his Kaiser, wide eyed, and weighed what he knew of the man. At length, he was sure that this sounded entirely in character for him. Not a foolish move.
Certain, now, that his Chancellor thought him a madman, Friedrich expounded in more detail. “It was 1851.” He leaned back in his chair and considered the intricate moulding on the ceiling while sucking hard on his pipe. “I had great hopes at that time of an alliance between Britain and Prussia. I maintained a certain degree of friendship… I flatter myself, perhaps. But yes, I think it was a friendship. With Prince Albert, the Prince Consort. And it was he who had the ear of the Queen.”
The Kaiser took another puff on his pipe, and went on as if remembering a day and an age that was long gone to dust. “The prince, whose family was of Saxe-Coburg, asked if I would see that his home were made free again, if I ever had anything to say about it. I promised. And now I do have something to say about it. I will keep my word… I must.”
“Mein Kaiser,” Caprivi began after another long, smoky silence. “This should most properly go through Prince van Rensselaer. This is a major decision with foreign policy implications. It should not be ours alone.”
“I do not wish to consult with Minister Rensselaer. This is my decision. Alone.” He set his lips, stubbornly. “You may inform him so that he may make preparations.”