Chapter 7

Landlocked Prussia, a European behemoth, suffered a glaring geopolitical vulnerability: a complete absence of Atlantic access. This absurdity was profoundly frustrating. Confined to the Baltic, a relatively small sea, the kingdom resembled a trapped animal, its naval ambitions stifled by its geographic limitations. The menacing shadow of Tsarist Russia, a formidable power capable of both land and sea dominance, loomed large. Prussia's navy, in comparison, was insignificant, a mere afterthought. To add insult to injury, powerful Sweden, a major Baltic player, further restricted Prussia's maritime freedom. This strategic disadvantage fueled a generations-long yearning for an Atlantic port and a contiguous land link to the wider European stage. This aspiration burned fiercely within William I, who relentlessly pursued this objective. His resolve was strengthened by Bismarck's insightful assessment: "The Netherlands, not only supportive in the Danish affair, have also pledged unwavering backing for Prussian annexation of Hanover." This alliance offered a pathway to Prussia's coveted expansion.

Astonishing! Prussia's incredulity was palpable. How audacious of the Netherlands to broach such a sensitive matter with such forthrightness, and then to relay it to Prussia itself! Were they unconcerned about the potential repercussions? Did they not fear Prussia airing their brazen pronouncements within the German Confederation, exposing the Netherlands' indiscretions and provoking a concerted attack? King William I, visibly perturbed, gazed at Bismarck with bewildered consternation. The question hung heavy in the air; Bismarck himself was poised to voice the same query. However, William IV of the Netherlands' enigmatic demeanor gave him pause. "It's perplexing," Bismarck mused, "our strategy was meant to remain a confidential exchange between the few of us. Yet, from my recent discourse with Pearson, it's apparent the Netherlands possesses an unnervingly thorough understanding of our intentions." Dismissing William I's stunned silence, Bismarck pressed on: "I harbor no doubt regarding the integrity of our three-person pact; therefore, only one conclusion remains: the new Dutch monarch possesses extraordinary strategic acumen. I propose, then, a strategic alliance with the Netherlands – a partnership that would bolster our collective might and, critically, furnish us with invaluable maritime expertise." He continued, his voice imbued with conviction, "The Netherlands boasts unparalleled familiarity with transatlantic navigation, far surpassing even the United Kingdom. A collaboration would allow our navy to absorb the hard-won lessons of the Dutch fleet, particularly their invaluable experience—both triumphs and defeats—gained in the four pivotal naval engagements with Britain. Such knowledge would be beyond price."

A clandestine pact between ourselves and Pearson necessitated a formal plea to the Royal Netherlands Navy. Our objective: rigorous naval training for the Prussian fleet, significantly bolstering the collaborative efforts of both navies. While William I and Prussia readily consented, the Prussian navy's diplomatic isolation proved a crippling impediment. Britain, preoccupied with safeguarding its maritime dominance, summarily dismissed Prussia's overture, recognizing the inherent perils of such a challenge to established naval power—a self-destructive pursuit. France, however, actively sought a Prussian-Austrian conflict. Diverting Prussian resources to a naval buildup was entirely counter to French interests; a powerful, seafaring Prussia would severely complicate Napoleon III's strategic designs. This surreptitious maneuvering among the three powers – subtly manipulating Austro-Prussian relations – would be fundamentally destabilized by naval involvement. Bismarck and his associates were acutely aware of France's machinations, yet they largely disregarded Napoleon III's posturing, viewing his antics with a calculated detachment, certain his reckless ambition would ultimately be his undoing. The burgeoning strength of Prussia, undeniable this year, overshadowed Austria's traditional hegemony within the German Confederation, a reality neither Austria nor William I could ignore. This undeniable shift in power fueled the enduring reputation of Bismarck's shrewdness and unyielding resolve, a subject of ongoing scholarly debate even among contemporary historians.

William I's ascension to the Prussian throne at sixty, following his brother William IV's demise, has been woefully misjudged. Few truly grasp the astute pragmatism of this seasoned monarch. He immediately implemented bold reforms, shrewdly leveraging the talents of Bismarck and Moltke—men of exceptional drive and ambition—to launch a series of ambitious initiatives. A glint of shrewd intelligence illuminated William I's aged eyes. His voice, resonant with the weight of experience, declared, "This was precisely our design." The scene shifts to Amsterdam, Netherlands. Prussia's calculated provocation, initiated last year, targeted the duchies of Holstein and Schleswig. This carefully orchestrated campaign, designed to generate a favorable climate for further action, sought to secure both domestic tranquility and international acquiescence. Prussia's strategy proved remarkably successful. Holstein's German populace enthusiastically embraced integration with Prussia. Simultaneously, the carefully manufactured tension in Schleswig—a skillfully deployed diversion—incited local resistance to Holstein's continued Danish affiliation, raising the specter of Prussian, even pan-German, intervention. This cleverly manufactured pressure persuaded many in Schleswig to urge Denmark to cede Holstein to the German Confederation, thereby escaping the impending conflict.

rederick VII of Denmark's reluctance, however, proved a strategic miscalculation. Bismarck's shrewdness, perhaps unexpectedly precise, catalyzed a momentous shift in Prussian power. This development propelled Prussia to an unprecedented apex of influence, exceeding even Bismarck's audacious expectations. Foreign Minister Heisbet Feng's eloquent summation held the assembled dignitaries captive: "In essence, the profound transformation of Prussia, initiated in 1861, under the formidable triumvirate of William I, Bismarck, and the elder Moltke, portends a future of unparalleled promise." Prime Minister Tolbeck, however, interjected, subtly challenging the narrative: "We mustn't overlook Albrecht von Roon. He is William I's true, unseen architect of power, the indispensable force operating behind the scenes." William I, unperturbed by the murmurs of doubt, murmured a private acknowledgment of von Roon's pivotal role: "Experience truly remains the ultimate teacher!" Von Roon, though a loyal servant—indeed, William I's most trusted confidante—remained a distinct force. His pervasive influence stemmed from his absolute command over the Prussian military: he personally trained the army's elite officers, shaped its logistical prowess, and commanded the unwavering loyalty of its troops. This bedrock of unwavering support empowered William I to grant Bismarck and Moltke considerable leeway; the ensuing triumphs and accolades were generously shared amongst the trio. Von Roon's monumental contribution extended beyond mere loyalty. During William I's regency, he masterfully overhauled the Prussian military structure, forging the very instrument of German unification. Rejecting the outdated, purely defensive reserve system inherited from the Napoleonic Wars, he implemented a revolutionary armament strategy tailored to the ambitious goal of German unification. This bold vision, meticulously executed, proved the cornerstone of Prussia's ascendance.

Prussia's military might in 1860 paled in comparison to its European rivals. A mere 140,000 soldiers stood in stark contrast to Austria's 310,000, France's 420,000, and Tsarist Russia's formidable 990,000-strong army. This glaring disparity rendered military reform a critical imperative for King William I's ambitious agenda. Six months into his reign, War Minister Roon presented a bold restructuring plan to the Prussian parliament. This proposal, unveiled at the parliamentary session in July of the previous year, called for a substantial augmentation of the standing army and a dramatic surge in military expenditure—from 9.5 million thalers annually to a significantly higher figure. The implications were profound: conscription would balloon from 40,000 to over 60,000 recruits, expanding the army from 92 to 147 regiments, and boosting troop strength from 140,000 to a more robust 210,000. William I staunchly defended Roon's plan, viewing military command as his inalienable authority. He defiantly declared his willingness to abdicate, echoing the example of William III of the Netherlands, rather than compromise his principles or accept parliamentary interference. He adamantly refused to relinquish the crucial three-year conscription term. The parliament, however, remained unconvinced. Undeterred by this legislative deadlock, William I secretly directed Roon to deploy the army to dissolve the legislature, thus establishing royal absolutism and preserving the integrity of the monarchy.

Against all expectations, the September election witnessed a remarkable resurgence of progressive support. Securing over half of the contested 250 votes, they decisively rejected the proposed military reforms. This setback spurred Fried to an audacious maneuver: he championed his associate, Otto von Bismarck – the Second Empire's envoy to France – a collaboration that ultimately yielded success. Seven arduous rounds of negotiation, skillfully navigated with Bismarck's assistance, finally resulted in the passage of the reforms. Bismarck's decisive actions, etched in the public consciousness as a symbol of "blood and iron," catapulted him to pan-European prominence, eclipsing even his Prussian and German renown. Tolbek's mention of Bismarck's name sparked a wave of retrospective admiration amongst those present. His contributions, upon reflection, undeniably justified such acclaim; the mere act of recommending Bismarck was a stroke of genius, setting him apart. "Indeed, Haysbet," a voice whispered conspiratorially, "the so-called 'Iron Triangle' is remarkably effective. But its true architects, Bismarck, Mooch, Von Rowan, and William I, remain cloaked in shadow, subtly orchestrating events from behind the scenes." A furtive aside followed: "Your Majesty, isn't this precisely what you require?" The speaker alluded to a monarch who, through relentless self-promotion and headline-grabbing pronouncements, resembled less a sovereign and more a celebrity, a modern-day equivalent of a US president. This explains his recent media reticence; yet, calculated appearances are vital to maintain public visibility. His next venture, a momentous personal undertaking poised to electrify Europe, is currently in the planning phase. While the grand unveiling is imminent, there's no undue haste. The abundance of eligible candidates – Princess Alexandra, eldest daughter of Denmark's Christian IX; Princesses Alice and Helena of Britain's Queen Victoria; Princess Alexandra Alexandrovna, daughter of Tsar Alexander II; and Princess Louise of Prussia's William I – allows for careful deliberation.