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King John

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This is the AAR thread for Thirst For Glory. A little late, but in time to catch the most exciting part of the game, the last one hundred years, in which we find out who comes out on top at last. This will be where we record how it happens.


For centuries, Europe has been racked by war and power struggles. Alliances have shifted, nations have risen and fallen, and blood has spilled from one generation to another. This struggle for supremecy has continued, culminating in the great war of 1828-1859, the War to End All Wars. In 1871, we have peace, but will it last?


The Prologue.

During the 18th century, great changes rocked Europe. First, Austria, the hitherto uber power of the continent, suffered a terrible defeat to Britain and France. On the waters of the north sea, a fleet of almost two thousand galleys was destroyed by British warships, allowing them to overwhelm the low countries with Marlborough at the head. With France's entrance into the war, defeat was the result for Austria, which had to cede large parts of the low countries.

Austria's ally, Sweden, suffered an equally disastrous defeat to Britain and Prussia, giving up its last hold on Northern Germany and Denmark. Sweden was no longer a major player in Europe.






The next few decades saw Britain cement its position in Europe. Through a deal with Austria, it achieved a free hand to disembowel Sweden and Spain as it saw fit. Sweden was vassalized in a lightning war, and Spain forced to give up a large chunk of mexico, including a cot. Britain was becoming a very powerful country.

Meanwhile Austria, still a force to be reckoned with, retook Genoa from France. An easy war, and then after some prosperous years of peace, directed its attention to Turkey again. Turkey had had an unofficial peace agreement with Austria, but then the Turks attacked Spain, which coincided with Britain's attacks. Austria intervened and beat the Turks badly, then had to peace.

This was because Prussia attacked Austria, along with France. Austria quickly made a light peace with Turkey and redirected its attention to these countries, but couldn't hold its own in light of Frederick the great. It gave up northern Bohemia and Luxenbourg. France gained nothing though.

Prussia then turned its attention to Spain for the second time since its earlier victory which gained it Poznan in the 17th century, invading Spain itself as well as Poland simultaneously. This war ended quickly, resulting in Prussia's acquisition of the rest of Spanish Poland.

Prussia was becoming a big problem. An alliance was therefore forged between France, Austria, and Russia to weaken the Prussians. They attacked, but the alliance didn't remain intact. France seperate peaced for Luxenbourg, Russia seperate peaced for Prussia, leaving Austria alone to deal with Prussia. Frederick again won the day, and Austria had to give up Baden and Alsace, the last Austrian holdings in Southern Germany.

The truce with Britain was over for Austria, and Britain took advantage, forcing the cession of the rest of the low countries to Britain. The OE also took advantage, gaining Ragusa and its lost islands back.


Prussia's momentum wasn't going to stop. It hit France with its full weight, and forced them to give up a large chunk of Belgium and Northern France, then coerced Austria into giving 14,000D for continued peace, and applied the same threats to Russia to regain Prussia. Finding itself in a position to fight France again, it turned France into its vassal. With fairly low centralization, Prussia was now undisputedly the strongest land power in Europe.

About this same time, Britain committed an act as questionable as any in history. It forced its vassal, Sweden, to give up its independence to become a province of the British Empire. Sweden had a massive empire, and a long and glorious history and culture(and had been a player nation, AI'd for a short time). When Britain inherited all this, it's power instantaneously grew to an insane amount. Naval support reached 2200, and income almost 800D a month, while it also expanded its collection of cots, so it now controlled, besides all Asian cots, two more in Africa and North America.

Austria having bought peace with Prussia, regained Ragusa and a couple islands from Turkey in a quick war, and then forged a naval alliance with Spain. They attacked Britain together, destroyed most of its fleet, and occupied its cots. The invasion of Britain itself failed though, and when Lord Nelson took command of the British fleet, the campaign began to unravel. They had to accept peace for the formerly Swedish African cot, Sicily and mexico with a cot.

Prussia fought a gentleman's war with Russia and gained its Baltic provs, Estland and Livland.


Austria tried to build as many galleys as it could after the British war, to keep up with Britain's naval programs. While this project was going on, it agreed to fight a "gentleman's war" with Prussia, which was supposed to last only a year or two. It ended up lasting over a decade, and costing Austria a terrible amount of money since it had to keep up ship production at the same time to keep pace with Britain. When Britain finally DOW'd and destroyed half the fleet, it was almost a relief because the maintenance costs had been so expensive. The African cot was immediately returned. While the German war continued. Blucher was killed right off the bat, but no side ever won, and eventually a wp was signed.

Then Britain attacked Spain and regained lands from her. France also attacked Spain and vassalized it. Thus, Spain was France's vassal, and France Prussia's vassal. Around 1820, Britain and Russia fought Germany(Tag was switched) to free France from the Prussian vassalage. Germany put up a stout defense, but couldn't prevail against such force. It broke the French vassalage, and had to give Livland and Estland back to Russia.

In the 1820s, Austria fought wars with France and the OE. VS France, it gained parts of central Africa and Marche. VS the OE, it took almost all of its Mediterranean islands, expanding its naval support. It hoped to become better competing with Britain navally by doing this.

Which amounts to the events that led up to the great war.




stats
 
After all this, in 1828, I decided to attack the Turks once more. Thinking it would be about as easy as the last OE-Austria war, I prepared my forces in the same way, loading about 200k on ships and preparing to invade with 200k in Hungary. Before DOWing, I sent my ultimatum to the OE, which was actually a question. "Would you mind selling that African cot, Dago?" The response, "The OE has declared War on us!" Dago was a little mad from when I annhilated his fleet of 700 warships in a surprise attack last war, and had been preparing for revenge since then.

I took it as a free war. My bb was getting up there, around 10, so lucky me. He had a tough position around Constantinople and Macedonia though, with about 500k stationed. I let off 25k in Athens, took the minimal fort, and then got back on the ship. I tried landing on his army when it went to retake the fort, but lost and no longer had enough men to accomplish anything in the Aegean. It looked easier to attack Egypt(which is a cot), rip off the warscore from there and just start stabhitting. So Radetsky took out about 60k guarding that province while another smaller force simultaneously landed in Delta prov, taking the minimal fort.

Meanwhile Erzerzog Karl's army in Hungary had been pushed back from his advance by the numerous Turkish forces, under the able command of a guy named Basgil. Initially taking Banat and Serbia, he had to move back to Pest rather than face his nemesis, 250k or so strong, with more on the way. I had to move Radetsky back, who helped to ebb the flow of Dago's forces, but not stop it entirely. He landed in Ragusa, lost a battle defending the prov against Basgil and retreated north into Dalmatia to be met by reinforcements. From there I marched him into Croatia, and then started chatting with HG, ordering Karl around, now in Maros and, I think, sending some merchants. The situation was stable enough.



Zegrab, Croatia, October 5, 1831.

"Quite a terrific show they are putting on", commented the general. Radetsky, commander of the 2nd Armee, was rather amused with the Turkish demonstrations, thought Wolfgang von Vollner, aide de camp.
"Why do you think they're doing that".
"It's obvious, Wolfgang. They want to draw us into battle. Basgil knows that when winter comes, he's finished. Supply lines are too long, and I assume they're not equiped for snow or cold weather. Our position is too strong, so he hopes to lure us into fighting. I like his tactic, putting on those parades as though to mock us. Poor bastard, it's not going to work, and he can't show us up by doing that, though I'll admit it is a handsome display".
So that was the tactic of the great Basgil. Wasn't it a little simple? By now everyone in the Austrian army was aware that Basgil, the Turkish commander, was not a dupe. The wily bastard had already gotten the better of them many times, times when victory seemed like a no brainer. Something doesn't seem right, there must be a surprise waiting for us.
He mentioned his concern to the general, who took him quite seriously. But, there was no weakness in their position. The enemy couldn't outflank them, because their right was protected by mountains, and their left secured by swamps. No Turk was coming that way. The 150,000 man 2nd army held a fortified position south of Zegrab near the Turkish border. Charged with defending against 200,000 Turks under the command of the great Basgil, the army was fairly comfortable, safe in the knowledge that supplies were in abundance, and that their defenses were strong. Was there really any need to worry? Radetsky had more sense than to shrug off a mind like Basgil's, so he raised the ramparts and created another redoubt within the camp, just in case.

It was the middle of October, and the campaigning season was coming to a close. Basgil had paraded his men ten times. His men had had a good time flinging unsults across camps for ten days, but general Radetsky was not about to budge. He tended to stick more to his command tent now. The same old show, the same old gibberish that was supposed to be insulting but which nobody could understand anyway. The troops were rather excited, they loved poking fun at the silly Turks, making such bravado when they'd soon have to break camp and go back to Constantinople in shame. A cadet named Ludwig von Wleber had led a skirmish on the outskirts of the Turkish camp last night and captured a standard, which was now on display, upside down. The Turks will either leave in a couple weeks, or give battle. Either way, it looked good.

That night, around four in the morning, Ludwig von Wleber was awoken by musket fire, loud musket fire. His battalion was stationed near the swamp on the left flank, along with four other battalions, which were all under attack. Ludwig dressed quickly, grabbed his pistol and sword and sprang out of the tent. The area directly east of him was lit up, filled with black outlines of figures firing, a cloud of smoke beginning to fog the night air. The smell of saltpeter. He discharged his pistol, and then joined his startled comrades as they battled the Turks.

Basgil had slowly but steadily created several pontoon bridges through the swamp, protected from Austrian view by the sheer denseness of the wood. One fifth of his soldiers worked diligently while their fellows had a merry time distracting the Austrians. In the dead of night after ten days of taunting, the bridges were set, and 60,000 soldiers moved through. The camp was practically undefended along this area. One hop over a small ditch, and they were in. Sentries sounded the alarm, but the paltry resistance of those who awoke in time was no match to the deliberate, organized assault of Turkey's veterans, who had labored ten days for that very moment. Radetsky sent battalions to help, but a bigger problem was making itself evident. Basgil's artillary had opened up, a prelude to full scale attack. There was no way to tell how much damage had already been done, so Radetsky made a quick decision- retreat. Under cover of Basgil's barrage, the army would swing on the swamp invaders, force them out of the way, and then beat a hasty retreat. However, this decision was anticipated. Basgil had 40,000 troops directed to the north of the camp, where they laid in ambush. Radetsky's forward battalions were broken up when they stepped into the Turkish line of fire. They couldn't see anything, and maintaining order was almost impossible. Radetsky, try as he did, could not hold his army together. What did escape was an army of refugees, not soldiers. About fifteen thousand men made it out in good order, out of 150,000. When he surveyed the loss, Radetsky wept, placed the command under von Vollner, and put a gun to his head.


I hadn't noticed Dago's army beginning its attack on Croatia from Serbia, being busy doing other stuff. When it began, I tried to see what was going on but by the time I was in a position to do something, the army had disappeared, "your army has been completed annhilated". Horror! Austria's right flank was wide open to the Turks, one of my two leaders dead, and Dago out for blood this time, not a limited peace. His leader was I think a 3562, without dp changes, which made him a 3671. Quite an ugly situation. Was this to be the beginning of the end for Austria?
 
Very very nice AAR KJ :) But you forget to mention about sneaky spanish attack on your islands ;) :D
 
HALNY (HAL) said:
Very very nice AAR KJ :) But you forget to mention about sneaky spanish attack on your islands ;) :D

Patience, all things will come to pass in time :). Your sneakiness has to wait another ten years or so.
 
Cadet Ludwig von Wleber had joined the Austrian army in 1828 at the onset of the 12th Austro-Turkish war, full of expectations and wild dreams. His mother, Matilde von Wleber had been so proud of him. That was before any of the fighting. When he left, he wrote to her every day.

It had been a week since the last letter came in, however. She clutched it to her chest as though it were to be her last rememberance of him, for she feared him to be dead. Having already read it over a dozen times, she read it again.


"Hello mother. Today, Radetsky spoke to the troops, and said the Turks aren't going to give us battle, isn't that a relief? Though I have to admit, me and the boys have been yearning for a confrontation these past weeks. The enemy has no honor, and every inch we give them only encourages them to ravage more of our countryside. I can only hope our cousins in Ragusa are safe...."

The Ragusan von Wleber's. A tear ran down her cheeck, for all of them had been rumored dead. What was happening to the family?

"The campaigning season will soon be over. With Christmas and winter on the way, it's likely that I'll be able to visit. Tell my brother and sisters I miss them, but don't worry about me. War is an adventure, not as dangerous as people think. Take care. Ludwig"


Since recieving this letter, rumor had it that a disastrous battle had taken place near Zegrab. Thousands dead, said the refugees, and since other reports had it that the Turks continued their northward march unimpeded, it could only be assumed that Radetsky's army was no longer in action. Where was Ludwig? A picture of her son sprawled out on a field with paled skin and stiff limbs flashed in her mind. She couldn't bear to think about it anymore. It had been days since she had had a decent night's sleep, and now finally she fell into a light, uneasy rest.


What awoke her later was footsteps.


Ludwig had been riding his horse as quickly as it could gallop,changing steeds every fourty miles or so. Quite a lovely countryside, but he hardly noticed on his hasty trek. Too many things on his mind. How was he going to explain matters in Vienna, or for that matter, what was he going to tell his family? He'd decided to visit the old estate in Steiermark where his mother and siblings were living. Stepping off his saddle, he crept in to the house. The servants, awstruck at this sudden homecoming, squirreled off to tell the baroness. The old butler, Manfred, opened the door.

"Hail, prodigal son! Welcome home".
Ludwig asked if his family was still there, and then came into the parlor.
The sound of frantic footsteps had already woken his mother, who had rings around her eyes. "Ludwig, is that you?"
"Yes, mother. I'm on my way to Wien. My horse is exhausted, and I myself am too tired to ride on tonight, so I'll rest here before setting off tomarrow. I suppose you've heard about Zegrab..."
A shadow passed over his face as he said it, like a bad dream that hadn't yet passed from memory. Was it still the adventure he wrote about in his letter? Matilde began to wonder if this would be her son's last visit, but pushed the thought out of her mind.
"The chamber upstairs is prepared. I wish you would stay longer though. You look exhausted".
But he couldn't. The war was in earnest, the Turks were coming. He had to get back quickly to present his official report from von Vollner.
 
King John said:
Patience, all things will come to pass in time :). Your sneakiness has to wait another ten years or so.

Ah yes, now I remember, it was later, after 1830.
 
Nice story about that young soldier and his mother, but I doubt Turks will care about this drama. However spanish monarch is very touched, please continue the story.
 
A Brief History of the Great War​

In the summer of 1841, the Ottoman warlord Ibrahim Bazgil Pasha and the Austrian Archduke Johan von Habsburg convened a peace conference in Austrian occupied Sarajevo. After more than a decade of fighting and nearly a million Austrian, Turkish and French casualties, the two hoped to arrange a general ceasefire. For all of June and the first half of July, they worked out an accord that would reestablish and maintain the status quo. It was to be ratified by the Sultan Abd al'Majid and Emperor Ferdinand IV on July 22nd.

A little after midnight on July 20th, three operatives of Her Majesty's Secret Service gained entrance to the White Fort and assassinated the Archduke, along with his dinner companions. Their objective had been to sabotage the peace process, but they overshot. At the table with the Archduke was a little known cultural attaché ostensibly serving as a translator. He was, as the British discovered only later, the Chief of German Intelligence in Austria-Hungary.

The next morning, German Intelligence, acting on its own, apprehended, interrogated and executed forty-seven British nationals in Sarajevo. On the strength of the dubious information they obtained, and against the wishes of the Austrians, they then stormed the Husrev-Beg Mosque. The Pasha’s son, Ahmed, was arrested as a coconspirator in the plot and smuggled through the Carpathians to Poland. On July 28th, the Law Diet in Berlin found him guilty of murdering a German official and the Chancellor had him shot.

The peace process collapsed. Three days later, Britain declared war on Germany.

The Great War had begun.

Causes

A series of cataclysmic accidents in 1841 are the proximate cause of the Great War. Had British agents known beforehand that a high-ranking German official was dining with the Archduke the night of July 20th, diplomats still working frantically to avert an open breach may yet have succeeded. Had German Intelligence not reacted with rash and brutal reprisals, the Austro-Turkish peace process could have gone forward in spite of the Archduke's death.

But the inescapable fact is that in both London and Berlin the fervor for war had been simmering for over a decade. Shifting alliances and the mounting military and industrial might of Germany and Great Britain made the penultimate confrontation of the Great War inevitable. It did not begin with Sarajevo in 1841 but a century and one year earlier with the Kongliche Army encampment in Magdeburg and a young, dashing prince named Frederick Hohenzollern.

The Eighteenth Century and the Legacy of Frederick the Great

IX-1693a.jpg

The Prince-Electorate of Brandenburg, 1693

The Electorate of Brandenburg's stormy history is a matter of great controversy among academics. Its first expansionary period, between 1570 and 1619, was followed by seven decades of military reversals, economic depression and international humiliation. By 1693, it had been reduced to a fiefdom of the Holy Roman Empire, surrounded on three sides by the Great Powers of Sweden, Austria and Spain. And yet, at its nadir, it found the strength and energy that would transform it into a Great Power in its own right and reshape the landscape of Europe forever.

Theories as to why and how abound. The Chancellor Otto von Bismarck regarded it as the natural expression of badly trampled German pride, something for which much evidence exists. Political and social criticism in Protestant North Germany had become fervent, melancholy and deeply confused. Radical ideas, amidst the poverty and disgrace, took a firm hold in the national imagination: Liberal reformers challenged the monarchy's insistence on absolute rule, its unaccountable ministers and brutally repressive tax collectors; the only popular, mainstream republican party in Europe during the seventeenth century arose in Brandenburg; above all, the Anabaptist movement flared up perennially in the poor, enserfed province of Kustrin and in 1688 claimed the life of King Frederick Wilhelm I. These otherwise divergent forces, as Bismarck put it, "conspired to greatness." They were held together by a "common German desire." It is no accident, certainly, that the creation of the Commonwealth coincided with the ascendancy of the Magyars, Czechs and Italians in the Holy Roman Empire, and most historians agree this played some part although they vary considerably over how large.

Other explanations are not as widely accepted. The Englishman Sir Edmond Smith proposed in a comprehensive study of Anglo-German relations published in 1827 that Brandenburg's rise was chiefly, even solely the result of English monetary and military support. This school, so-called British revisionism, was very popular in the Isles during the intense North Atlantic rivalry of the nineteenth century, but has since waned. On the Continent, even among traditional German rivals France, Austria and Russia, it never took hold and remains unconvincing today. At the far opposite end of the spectrum, the notion of Germanic Destiny was immediately dismissed for its unwillingness to account for the contributions of Poles, Baltic peoples and the French to the Commonwealth.

Ultimately, the most persuasive theory is a combination of Bismarck's conspiracy to greatness and a sudden, violent change of leadership in 1693. Not only was Frederick I an immeasurably more competent ruler than his father, he was succeeded by greater and greater Kings and Chancellors for the next two centuries. This is taken as an accident of history, at best a confluence of events and forces within Germany, but there are certain fringe elements, conspiracy theorists and maverick historians, who believe it was far from accidental. They postulate a new power-behind-the-throne, a cabal of puppeteers, a gray eminence abler by leaps than his predecessors. One who took his seat in 1693.


Whatever the means by which it was effected, change was fundamental, drastic and rapid. Frederick ordered an overhaul of the army that took three years and cost more than a million marks, much of it financed through a careful debt policy. By 1696, he had raised just under ninety thousand men and had another fifty thousand engaged in weekly training exercises. In this manner, farmers remained available to work the fields but were also prepared and fit for military service at a month’s notice. This was to be the foundation of modern conscription and mobilization.

Frederick’s new army was not merely for show. In late ’96, he stunned Europe by declaring war on the Kingdom of Spain. This enemy was carefully selected, Sweden judged too difficult logistically and Austria too strong for the short term. Spain was enormously wealthy and commanded a much larger, much more potent military, but it was limited by the distance between Poland and the home provinces, the unwillingness of Poles to fight in large numbers for their foreign oppressors and the adept leadership of Brandenburg’s Prince von Dessau. He rapidly overwhelmed the garrisons of Krakow, Poznan and Warsaw, and then engaged in a slow, cautious defense against the waves of Spanish reinforcements that marched through the Port of Danzig. Badly outnumbered and with only limited material support, for years the Prince pursued a strategy of maneuver and delay, draining large Spanish contingents through attrition, harassment and desertion.

In 1705, however, an abortive attack on Konigsberg gave the Prince his opening-he launched a brilliant offensive campaign down the Vistula, trapping and annihilating three Spanish armies in two months. He inflicted four times his own casualties and cleared Poland of enemy troops. In 1707, facing mass rebellions at home, the Spanish King relented and ceded the rich province of Poznan and a large indemnity in the Treaty of Danzig.

The conflict lasted over a decade. In its midst, the Holy Roman Emperor finally relented and granted Frederick leave to assume the long disused royal title of his house. On January 1st, 1701 he proclaimed the Kingdom of Prussia, still subject to the Empire but no longer a diminutive part of it. This, however, was to be the last token of friendship from Vienna-as the inevitable became clear in Poland, the Emperor forced the King to severely curtail his demands. He also declined an offer of alliance and a request for material aid, stating that it was “not in his interests at this time.” This choice had the intended effect on Prussia in the immediate term, but it was to have far profounder consequences for the Empire.

In 1710, Prussian envoys in London negotiated a treaty of mutual defense and aid. The English promised six million marks over the next decade, a sum they delivered and eventually expanded to over twenty million marks by 1760. These funds allowed Frederick’s successor, Frederick Wilhelm I, known to history as the Viking-Slayer, to devise a concerted and highly effective foreign policy that relied on a combination of deft diplomacy and a small but powerful army. Warm relations with the Russian Empire of Peter the Great and France, and a grant of neutrality from the Emperor, enabled the King in the 1720’s to take on a far more ambitious project than his father’s. With English financing and the fiscal policies he inherited, Frederick Wilhelm expanded the standing army to 12o,ooo with an active reserve of 8o,ooo. He then gained English naval support against the Swedes, who in turn were supported by the Emperor. A disaster off the Dutch coast left the Swedish navy in ruins, and Prince Dessau rapidly occupied the Baltic coastline and its German-speaking cities. An invasion force was prepared to cross the Sund when Sweden sued for peace, ceding Pommerania, Mecklemburg and Danzig to Prussia and Jutland to England.

Dessau’s fame grew rapidly. In 1725, he invaded the small but still sovereign states of the Rhineland, namely Koln, Kleves and Pfalz, all of which were annexed to Prussia by 1740. His most ambitious campaign after Sweden was conducted against Bavaria, a powerful south German state he subdued in two lightning strikes in 1731 and 1732. The entire Kingdom was annexed to Prussia by the Treaty of Munich, six months before the aging Prince succumbed to fever. By the time of his death, Dessau was renowned as the Lion of Prussia, among the finest Generals of the early eighteenth century and the architect of the new officer corps that was to make Prussia’s army the best in the world. In 1730, he was promoted from Marshal (of which, during time of war, there were at least five) to Lord Marshal of the Kingdom. It was tantamount to a Ministerial post, and granted its holder an authority subordinate only to the King’s, regardless of social rank. There would be only three Lord Marshals-after Dessau, Cristoph von Schwerin and Gerhard von Blucher. All would make profound and lasting contributions to their people.

After Munich, the 1730’s were an era of peace and prosperity. With its new Baltic ports, Prussia was able, for the first time in its history, to establish an independently solvent treasury. Frederick Wilhelm legalized monopolies of salt, iron and textiles in 1731, controlled by the part-English Danzig Trading Company. In 1734, he granted the first overseas charter to the DTC and over the next six years thirteen more were given to various Prussian enterprises, including its first ever joint stock company created in 1738. In 1740, just before his death, the King opened the Danzig Exchange, the first in Germany. This era of rapid economic growth was to be greatly accelerated by his son.

News of his father’s death reached Frederick at the headquarters of the Kongliche Army in Magdburg. There, he had been assigned a colonelcy of the hussars for less than a month. It was his first real command, and many in Prussia believed that he was not experienced nor strong enough to pursue his father’s aggressive foreign policy. Moreover, his temperament, deeply influenced by French humanism, seemed to run contrary to the harsh militancy of the Viking-Slayer. Newfound wealth and a growing current of liberalism led many to celebrate these conclusions. Even the aristocracy, long forced into Enlightenment by the dismal condition of the Electorate, hoped the young son would abandon the wars of his father. They crowned the learned, cultured Frederick on May 31, 1740, so confident their desire would be realized they hailed it as the first day of the Age of Eros. The Age of Love and Fertility. They were to be massively disappointed.

It did not take long for Frederick II to associate himself with another Greek God altogether. In 1742, he forced Sweden to cede Schleswig-Holstein, its last foothold on the continent. He then raised a standing army of 2oo,ooo with a reserve of 1oo,ooo, miniscule in comparison to the armies of the Great Powers but finally a force in its own right. In 1744, he made use of it-against the counsel of all his advisers and the wishes of the Prussian people-to defend France and the Ottoman Empire, hard pressed by his Austrian overlord. He searched for a legal pretext at the Imperial Diet and, when none could be found, quit the Empire altogether. An avalanche of criticism and a severe panic in Prussia’s markets did not deter him-France, he argued, was on the verge of destruction. Intervention was not merely his royal whim-it was a political necessity and a matter of principle.

He declared war in the summer and launched a two-pronged invasion concentrated at the key centers of Austrian authority-Vienna and Prague. Field Marshal Schwerin, promoted to Lord Marshal in 1746, took one army of 6o,ooo through Silesia and into Moravia, while his adjutant, General Heinrich, passed through Erz to the Sudetland with 5o,ooo. Frederick, at the lead of just over 1oo,ooo, led a rapid march against the main body of Austrians south of the Danube. He defeated the Austrian Field Marshal von Daun at Salzburg, encircling and destroying his left flank. He took Linz and Poltan in late July, leaving Vienna open to him. It fell on August 4th.

Schwerin, meanwhile, took Prague on August 18th and prepared to march on the Ostmarch. General Seydlitz occupied Baden and Alsace. Frederick again defeated a superior Austrian army under von Daun on August 16th. The next day, having already made peace with the Ottoman Empire and France, the Emperor signed the Treat of Vienna, ceding Erz, Upper and Lower Silesia and the city and hinterlands of Luxembourg to Prussia. The war and its aftermath stunned Europe.

The Holy Roman Empire, for two centuries the premier military power in Europe, and on the verge of total victory over its arch-enemies the Turks and the French, was utterly beaten, and by the weakest of its neighbors. While the superior equipment, logistics and organization of the Prussian army, achieved through the reforms of Frederick I and Frederick Wilhelm, played some role in its victory, there was no question whatever that it was the King’s personal command that won the day. Inexperienced, young and brash, he nevertheless crushed the finest General in Europe twice and felled its foremost army. He was a natural commander, a brilliant tactician and widely regarded as the greatest strategist in history. This, the first of his campaigns, revealed his basic genius-quickly and efficiently dismantling an opponent’s army, and then its infrastructure. He risked all, but wasted nothing. In his whole career, he was not to fight a war that lasted more than four years-his preparedness, organization and incomparable speed made him an indomitable force on the battle field.

But in 1744, he was not ready to rest in his triumph, far from assured. Before the year was out, he had brought his army back to full strength and, again, increased its size. He created a system of conscription and mobilization that remains the largest and most efficient in Europe, and doubled and then tripled Prussia’s national income. Politically, he strengthened his position and his expansionistic wars with a principle he called interventionism-not simple conquest, but the preservation of Prussia’s national integrity and the furtherance of its principles by force. In a series of treatises, he argued successfully for German unification to the exclusion of Austria, the liberation of the Poles and the French and the creation of a national order. Although deeply controversial, and dismissed even by admirers as mere fantasy, he accomplished every one of the goals he outlined philosophically in the 1740’s by the time he died.

His rhetoric, and the rapid expansion of Prussian fortunes, did not go unnoticed abroad, however. Despite Frederick’s personal intervention on its behalf, France’s conservative government was deeply suspicious of its German neighbor-a suspicion that culminated with the appointment of Zeithan, Duc de Geist, the Mad Minister. His short, bloody reign saw the abandonment of the policy of English alignment, established since the 1670's, in favor of a coalition against Prussia led by the Holy Roman Emperor. The very same Emperor who had so lately sought the destruction of the French state. In St Petersburg a similar move, concocted by the insane Elizabeth I, destroyed well over a century of friendship between the North Germans and their Russian neighbors.

The coalition, mighty on paper, was doomed by the erratic, mentally ill architects who drew it. Although Frederick was fairly certain he could hold off his enemies, and perhaps subdue them, he quickly realized that they could be divided and then defeated individually. To the craven Empress, he ceded East Prussia, and to the Mad Minister Luxembourg. He then launched a rapid and decisive campaign against Austria, one that secured Baden and Alsace to Prussia and removed Austrian influence from Germany altogether.

Frederick then turned his attention to those who had betrayed him. In Russia, Elizabeth died and was ultimately replaced by Catherine the Great, a German princess who restored East Prussia without mounting a costly and doomed defense. France, however, was not so reasonable. Although the Mad Minister had died a sudden, painful death precipitated by a rare syphilic disease he contracted from a Galapagos turtle, his successors refused to restore Luxembourg and Brabant, a province they had stolen from the English Crown. Frederick, seeing no alternative, ordered a young, impetuous and by all accounts brilliant General named Gerhard von Blucher to prepare an army to march on Paris. This he did, assembling 1oo,ooo men and some 6oo guns by 1765. The King himself swept through central France, destroying the Royal Army and installing Prussian garrisons from Lorraine to the Atlantic Ocean. After five months of heavy fighting, France capitulated, restoring Brabant and Luxembourg and ceding Artois.

Frederick, however, was not satisfied, and set upon a more decisive resolution, scheduled for the fall of 1771. Before this, however, he conducted a short, long overdue campaign against the Spanish. Field Marshal Bulow was sent to Poland, while he himself contemptuously crossed French territory, quartering his men in French homes and commandeering French grain, horses and munitions. He invaded Iberia in 1769 and, after six weeks, acquired the whole of Spanish Poland. Without missing a beat, he then turned his armies on France and, in less than two months, overthrew the French government and installed a provisional governor. A year later, France held its first general election, under universal suffrage, and proclaimed the First Republic, a state that was wholly, irrevocably dependent upon the German Commonwealth. It would remain so for fifty years.

Frederick spent the final half decade of his rule cementing Prussia’s own Republic, one he had devised over the course of forty years and that has proved the most enduring system of government in Europe. In 1745, he established the German Commonwealth, made up of the sovereign states he liberated from the Emperor and many of the dominions that had been internal to Prussia since 1695. It remained a loose association of countries under the protection of the Prussian Army until 1747, when plebiscites throughout Germany, including many held illegally in the Austrian Rhineland, voted overwhelmingly to establish a national government. In 1748, Fredrick convened a Congress at Berlin and compelled its members, the rulers of various German domains, to vote a National Convention. This was held between 1748 and 1749 in the city of Dresden and was elected by universal male suffrage The King did not attend for fear his presence would jeopardize the Convention’s independence, but granted it his full support and authority. He dispatched a Prussian delegation made up almost entirely of Poles in his place. They would hold more than a third of the votes, and in this manner the King ensured the Polish minority in Kustrin, Danzig Eastern Prussia and Poznan would not be ignored. The constitution that resulted was revolutionary. It abolished the nobility altogether, and turned the governments of the Commonwealth into Republics. Prussia itself would remain an absolute monarchy until the death of Fredrick II, whereupon its hereditary ruler would become simply the constitutional monarch of Germany. A unicameral legislature, the German Diet, would be solely responsible for originating national legislation, setting the levels of taxation and tariff and ensuring accountability in the King’s government. It would be elected by all propertied men aged twenty-five years. After Fredrick, the King himself would have limited powers as Head of State, principally those of appointment and veto. The primary functions of government would be carried out by his Chancellor and Foreign Minister, and command of the national German Army would pass to the Lord Marshal. Fredrick endorsed this constitution a week after it was passed, and the German Commonwealth was founded. It has come to include the Rhinelanders and the Free French of Artois, and has made great progress. The last traces of the titled aristocracy were abolished in 1763, and, in 1779, the King declared universal male suffrage in Prussia, putting strong pressure on the Diet to pass a similar measure for all of Germany. Revisions to this basic structure have been many and varied, but its principles would endure to the present day.

Frederick also undertook another round of army reforms in his last days, creating a new organizational structure that would facilitate the mass warfare of the nineteenth century and lasted until the Great War. The Commonwealth was divided into three departments, each one with its own army, levy, supreme commander and infrastructure: the first, the Department of Germany, consisted of Bavaria, Saxony, Wuzburg, the Rhineland, Artois, Hannover, Hesse-Kessel, Oldenburg and Bremen, and was headquartered in Koln. Its peacetime strength was 1oo,ooo, and its chief responsibility was safeguarding the Republic in France. Second was the Department of the East, made up by one half Poles, one quarter Baltic peoples and Lithuanians and one quarter Prussian Germans, and headquartered in Warsaw. It was responsible for protecting Poles in Turkish Galizien and Podlasia, and guarding against another Russian invasion. Its peacetime strength was 12o,ooo.

Lastly, the Department of Prussia, made up wholly of Prussian Germans, was stationed on the Elbe in Brandenburg proper. Frederick raised it in the final years of his life, and had hoped to bring its peacetime strength to 2oo,ooo. Prussia was not, however, capable of supporting such a vast standing army without enduring great economic loss-loss the King was unwilling to take. His principle had been austere frugality-wasting no lives, no equipment, no powder. And he had, it should be remembered, accomplished all he had accomplished with an army that was never larger than 3oo,ooo, and often much smaller, dwarfed by other European powers. Even in the last twenty years of his reign, when he’d had the ability to raise and finance a much bigger force, he kept Prussia’s military light and mobile. To that end, the Army of Prussia was 1oo,ooo strong, with significant artillery support and the day-to-day patronage of the very capable Blucher, made Lord Marshal in 1773. It was the principal army of the Commonwealth-the basis for any invasion of Austria or Russia and prepared to march east or west at a moment’s notice.

The Departments of Prussia and Germany comprised five divisions of twenty thousand men, each under the command of a Major General and two Brigadiers. The General Staff consisted of a Lieutenant General and Field Marshal, whose authority extended to all officers and soldiers of inferior rank in his Department. In the East, an additional division was devoted to the defense of the Baltic, but was otherwise organized identically. All three Departments were subject to the Diet and the Chancellor and in wartime the provisional authority of the Lord Marshal, an office that was effectively Gerhard Blucher until his death in 1820 and was abolished thereafter.

The structure and military might of the German Commonwealth when Frederick the Great was laid to rest made it the foremost power in Europe. Although it faced numerous setbacks in the following decades, it was a power built to endure. And one that would have extraordinary consequences across the globe.

More than any other man, the eighteenth century belonged to Frederick the Great. His campaigns, reforms, respect for national identity and sovereignty, liberalism and foreign policy shaped it, and the military infrastructure he built became the model for the mass conflict of the next. In a fundamental sense, he created the Great War, envisioned it, prepared Prussia and the Commonwealth for it, and set the rules by which it would be fought.

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The German Commonwealth, 1800
 
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The Triumvirate and Its Reforms

Following Frederick’s death, his son, Frederick Wilhelm II, himself already fifty, provided his people with the respite they had long desired. His rule was in the main a competent but inertial continuation of his father’s, and he left Prussia’s brief campaigns to Lord Marshal Blucher, who effectively managed the foreign and military policies of the country until 1797. A brief invasion of Austria resulted in a sizable indemnity and a sense of finality in Germany, that the overlordship of the Holy Roman Emperor was forever broken, but little else. The only serious confrontation transpired with Russia, and ended in an anticlimax as Blucher defeated Alexander Suvorov and seized Estland and Livland at the behest of Prussia’s burgeoning merchant marine.

1797, however, saw the ailing King's death and the ascension of a monarch far removed from his line. Frederick Wilhelm III was twenty-six when he took power, and filled with all his grandfather's ambition and none of his ability. He worshiped a great man who died when he was nine and whom he'd met him only twice. His first order of business, in keeping with the legendary liberalism of the Reformer, was to dismiss the rabidly conservative Lord Marshal Blucher from his service. He assumed personal command of the army, a decision that greatly hampered the able but politically timid Field Marshal Bulow. Subsequently, he placed the Chancellery, an office that had come to little in the years since its creation, in the hands of Christian von Haugwitz, who made use of it solely to extort and manipulate business interests in his native Bavaria. Worse, he installed the ideologues Heinrich Vose and Ludwig Beyme at the Foreign Ministry. In their fifteen years there, they effectively destroyed Prussia’s influence in Paris and, more importantly, its once vast popularity with the French people. The careful balance of liberal philosophy and pragmatism was abandoned in favor of a radical crusade that stoked the embers of revolution even among Prussian allies, while the Diet shunned many of the key diplomatic tools-subsidies, espionage, assassination-that had built the Commonwealth.

Economic expansion continued and even accelerated during this period. The upheavals in other sectors of the government did not extend to the interior ministry or the central bank, both of which were politically sacrosanct. Far moreso than the exiled Lord Marshal, whose gruffness and arrogance made him highly unpopular among people and the politicians in spite of his war record. But Frederick Wilhelm was not content with either ideological purity or booming markets-these were not the things, afterall, that had made his grandfather great.

In 1802, against the counsel of the Field Marshals, particularly von Bulow, who was himself not fond of Blucher but was well-aware of his own limitations, the confederal Diet and even Chancellor Haugwitz, the King declared war on Austria. The Diet then, without any alternative, rejected the declaration, and the Chancellor, who was constitutionally the head of government, ordered the three Departments to stand down. It was the greatest crisis of German democracy, which up to that time had been largely united. And, in the short term, it went to the monarchy.

Wilhelm, now without a legal declaration of war, simply drew up his armies and marched them into Austria. The legislature lacked the resources and stature to independently countermand the military, and since its creation the Chancellery had been an honorary office, even, in some sense, a disgraceful one, where statesmen were retired in a hollow glory once their usefulness had passed. It had authority on paper, but none in practice, and certainly none in the person of Christian von Haugwitz. The only man capable of executing the law and restraining the King, Gerhard von Blucher, contemptuously refused the Diet’s request and its offer of reinstatement as Lord Marshal. He was prepared, from his estates, to watch those who had deserted him twist in the wind.

It seemed, then, that the republic fashioned by Frederick the Great was to die a bloodless death at the hands of his worshipful grandson. But nothing and no man made a more vital contribution to the strength of the Commonwealth and its democracy than Frederick Wilhelm III. His disastrous ten year campaign against the Empire and its celebrated Archduke Charles shattered the royal potency and left him in disgrace. Two hundred thousand Germans were killed and several times that wounded and maimed, and at the end of it he was only able to extricate himself by threatening to recall Blucher to service. The war ended in a draw, but no German forgot that it was the King, against the will of his officers, the people and their elected representatives, who desired war and forced it upon both countries. That he managed nothing more than the status quo was a farce, and it stood as the first real defeat in one hundred and nineteen years.

Upon his return to Berlin, Frederick Wilhelm was aware that he would have to make compromises, but he soon discovered his subjects were in no mood to compromise at all. The Diet forced him to appoint two of its members, both well-regarded lawyers, to the government-August Hardenburg to the Foreign Ministry and Karl von Stein to the Chancellery. The former had long been a key post and Hardenburg was a member of the moderate Liberal Party that took its direction from a blend of reformist sentiment and realpolitick. They were anathema to him and he fought bitterly, if unsuccessfully, to withdraw the nomination. Stein he let pass, on the assumption that the Chancellery was little more than symbolic. Within a month, however, he was to be proven much mistaken in his priorities.

When Karl von Stein began his Chancellorship in 1812, he was nearing the end of his life and was acutely aware of it. At 63, he had been leader of the Liberal Party in the confederal Diet for eleven years, well-regarded as a broker of compromise and popular among the people, especially in the west. His service as Chancellor seemed a fitting end to a career that was, if not heroic, distinguished. But he had no intention of going quietly into the night, and he was determined to use the rare opportunity provided him and his few remaining years to fulfill the promise of Frederickean democracy and German unification.

Stein was cut in the traditional German liberal cloth-he had initially been elected to the Diet as a socialist from the hard left Emden District-and his agenda included an ambitious social welfare system and urban reform to cope with the changes wrought by the industrial revolution. He submitted comprehensive judicial reform bills to the Diet in 1813, 1815 and 1818, and abolished corporal punishment, torture and the death penalty for all but capital crimes and treason in 1821. Together with interior minister Reinhart Brum he liberalized the traditionally staid and highly regulated economy , abolishing internal Prussian tariffs in 1817 and Commonwealth tariffs in 1820. In the course of his thirteen year regime, he constructed seventy-seven primary schools, three new universities, the country's first modern school of medicine and sewers and plumbing in eight cities (Berlin, Dresden, Warsaw, Krakow, Lubeck, Frankfurt, Nuremburg and Munich).

This ambitious liberal program was not, however, his main priority. His first order of business was to reinstate Gerhard Blucher as Lord Marshal and to charge him with rebuilding and reinvigorating the army. Blucher's initial reaction was decidedly negative-von Stein had been among his most combative opponents in the Diet, and the Liberal Party was anathema to him. He declined-first in private and then, when Stein rashly called him before the Diet in Nuremburg in the hopes that a public call to duty would shame him into it, in a characteristically impolitic, thunderous oration. As far as its members were concerned, that was that. The cantankerous and increasingly bitter ex-General was not popular, and was rumored to be badly in debt in spite of his vast Junker estates and the enormous lifetime pension guaranteed him by the will of Frederick the Great. Seventy now, and in wretched health, he was of no use to the ruling Liberal Party or the King who had sacked him and now accused him of sabotaging the war effort to anyone who would listen-his wife and his chamberlain, and few others. They were content, after his vitriol in the Diet, to consign him to a quiet retirement and a perfunctory state funeral. von Stein, on the other hand, considered him the most important man in Germany and was willing to make virtually any concession to gain his alliance.

His reason was simple. It was true Blucher had no support left in either the Diet or the ruling elite, and the public was unwilling to canonize the battle ax until he was safely in the ground. But in the army, even after the beating it had taken and the deaths and retirements of most of his old officers, he was a demigod, the nearest thing to Frederick the Great on earth. He had, to his credit, never turned this power on the democratic government, nor on the King who dismissed him. It had been suggested often after 1780, in particular by his peers, but he was, despite his ego, a realist-the people would never support him, and all hope of restoring the aristocracy and the old order had been destroyed by his friend and mentor. With his help.

But now the democratically elected Chancellor of Prussia and the German Commonwealth asked him to do precisely that. von Stein was no fool-he knew the office he had carefully maneuvered into his hands was defunct, powerless. It had generated great surprise and puzzlement in his party when he took it rather than the far more powerful foreign or interior ministries. But he had been trained as a lawyer, and became highly versed in the 1749 constitution and the confederal statutes of government. Although Frederick’s strong rule and the influence of various leading men had guided the Commonwealth, actual legal authority was vested in the Chancellor and had been for sixty years. It was not the practical political tradition, but von Stein was convinced that a powerful man in the powerless office would elevate it to its intended role. All the pretense and infrastructure of law already existed-it merely needed the presumption of state. A presumption that could have come from the King, but he was intractable and increasingly isolated from real power, or from popular acclimation, but that was fickle and would take too much time. The elite of government and business, in particular the banking and civil bureaucracies, could have too, but they were content with the status quo. It was not that Blucher was the only possible partner-he was the only willing one.

In the Autumn of 1812, von Stein traveled to the General’s Baltic estate in East Prussia, far from the centers of power in Berlin and Nuremburg. There he laid out a plan for the radical reorganization of the German nation and the German state. Blucher would lend the full weight of the army to the Chancellor, instilling in it an obedience to that office before any individual man. von Stein, meanwhile, would integrate Prussia and the Commonwealth into a single, highly centralized Republic of Germany subject to the Diet and the Cabinet.

Blucher was deeply skeptical-a republic had never been to his tastes, and the structure made no accommodation for an aristocracy. But he was gradually swayed by the Chancellor’s intentions for the military. War with Austria had, to his mind, dishonored the nation and the army, and what was now proposed to him seemed to be the best, perhaps the only, means of preventing a repetition. More importantly, over the three weeks he spent with von Stein he came to regard him as an exceptionally capable man, one who would avoid needless wars but ruthlessly prosecute those he undertook.

After three weeks of difficult negotiations, they reached a compromise that preserved von Stein's essential plan but made significant concessions to the Junkers and Blucher's family, which had not originally been entitled to his royal pension following his death. The first Reform Bill was submitted to the Diet in emergency session on December 31st and included the first three stages of the agreed upon framework: First, the House Blucher and seven other formerly noble families were created peers of the Kingdom and granted permanent incomes. The Diet would only consent to this if the money was taken directly from the King's household treasury, a decision that deeply embittered the increasingly powerless and isolated Frederick Wilhelm. Second, the Diet was established, for the first time, as a separate and permanent institution with two regular sessions each year-a Spring term beginning March 1st and ending April 15th and an Autumn term beginning October 1st and ending November 1st. The power to convene the Diet at other times remained formally in the hands of the King, but was in effect transferred to the Chancellor. He could call a special session to consider a declaration of war or an increase in taxation deemed necessary in time of national emergency, but neither he nor the King could prevent or delay any regular session.

Originally, the first Reform Bill had redrawn the elective districts of the Commonwealth, abolished many of the distinctions between it and Prussia, made the Chancellorship a ten year post elected by a national plebiscite and further restricted the monarchy’s waning influence, but these matters were quickly dropped in the face of royal petulance and institutional resistance. It also proposed the establishment of a definite capital comprising the civil, legislative and military centers, rather than the widely scattered system then in vogue. The King, however, staunchly refused to move his court from Berlin, and the conservative parties threatened to quit the Diet if a capital was chosen to the exclusion of the monarchy. von Stein detested the city and its Prussian heritage, and believed the royalists were too powerful west of the Elbe, but he was unable to form a consensus candidate between Munich, Dresden, Koln and Nuremburg, and so ultimately he let the matter drop. The Diet would convene in Nuremburg during the spring and Dresden during the fall. The military would be directed from Berlin, as would Prussia and the royal estates, while the eastern and western armies would be headquartered in Koln and Warsaw. The bureaucracy would be headquartered mainly in Munich, Nuremburg, Konigsberg, Hamburg and Lubeck. The central bank remained in Berlin, but the stock exchange there had long been supplanted by Danzig and was now officially converted into a market for government bonds and precious metals. This, and the intractability of the legislature, greatly disappointed Blucher and von Stein.

But where it was unwilling to reform its own practices and electoral law, the Diet gave the Chancellor a free hand in creating a new executive. This third and largest proposal of the first Reform Bill empowered the Chancellery with all its constitutional privileges and duties, gave it supreme authority over the army and navy and foreign policy, permitted it to introduce legislation and convene the Diet, gave it near total control over the treasury as approved by the legislature and formalized the cabinet as a body subordinate to the Chancellor and accountable to the Diet, not the King. At this, the damning repeal of the monarch’s place in government, Frederick Wilhelm attempted armed resistance, but Lord Marshal Blucher detailed a division of “honor guard” to the royal palace in Berlin and rapidly suppressed all anti-democratic feeling.

The new cabinet included the interior minister, the president of the central bank, the Lord Marshal (vacant from 1820 to 1855, when it was abolished and replaced by the Minister of War), the minister for roads and canals (a catchall for an enormously powerful office that allocated funds for and directed the building of public works from rails to sewers to dockyards), the minister for public health and morals (devoted principally to hospitals and schools), the minister for trade and navigation (navy secretary after 1860), and the minister for Prussia, who effectively took over the government of that vital province from the King. The most important post, however, second only to the Chancellorship itself, was that of the Foreign Minister, who not only conducted diplomacy, directed the two ministers of the Commonwealth (to Great Britain and Russia), nearly a hundred ambassadors and thousands of diplomats, and allocated the nearly two and a half million marks spent on aid projects each year, but was also responsible for the administration of the frontier provinces and the “promotion of democracy abroad.” The second Reform Bill, passed in 1815, dealt exclusively with this office, putting into place proposals made largely by von Stein’s candidate in 1812-a twenty-six year old lawyer from Krakow named August Hardenburg.

The son of a domineering Polish woman and a German professor of philology at the University of Krakow, Hardenburg had been elected to the Diet on the strength of a brilliant legal career that had died almost immediately in the thunderous, imposing clamor of Nuremburg. It became apparent to the party leaders who had nominated him-and thereby ensured his election-that he was not quite what they expected. His victories in court had been the result of a savage intellect and capacity for work, not any charisma with judge or jury. When he arrived at the Diet, he was pushed aside and eventually slipped into the onerous task of cleaning up after Frederick Wilhelm as part of the war commission. In 1811, he was given a deputation at large to Vienna, and it was there, at the peace negotiations, that he first met Karl von Stein.

Neither an orator nor a natural leader, unconnected in politics, short, stout and unhandsome, possessing a slow, deliberate gait and speech, and in all things understated, one afternoon with him nevertheless convinced von Stein that he was not only suited to the job but the only man alive who could do it. Already in his meetings with Blucher, he made clear that he intended to appoint the young unknown at the first opportunity. Many, including Blucher, believed this was to keep foreign policy firmly in his own hands, but they were quite mistaken. von Stein wrote in a letter to his wife that August Hardenburg was the most gifted man he had ever met, and the most dangerous, and he believed that his nomination to the Foreign Ministry would be the greatest part of his legacy to the nation. It would be decades before this sentiment was realized in much of Germany, but the “quiet, unremarkable diplomat” was all too soon recognized for what he was by his enemies. Queen Victoria referred to him as “the devil’s shadow, difficult to see but cast over everything,” and Ibarhim Bazgil Pasha thought him “the evilest man in Berlin, and so the world.” He was the third, and weakest, member of the Triumvirate that ruled the Commonwealth until von Stein’s death in 1825, but he would outlive and in the end outshine the Chancellor and the Lord Marshal. He was Foreign Minister of Prussia from 1812 to 1828 and of Germany from 1828 to 1871. For fifty-nine years he guided and faithfully executed the foreign policy of his country, regardless of which party held power, what scandals rocked the government and what forces drove it. In many ways, to the rest of the world, he was Germany.

And he was quick to make his office his own. von Stein granted him a free hand in its organization, and championed whatever legislation was necessary to that end. In 1815, he insisted the office of Minister, to that time reserved for Germany’s fellow superpowers, Russia and Great Britain, be extended to the Holy Roman Empire, toward which he adopted a position that diverged radically from the past. A Minister had absolute authority to negotiate on behalf of the Commonwealth, non-operational command of all military forces in his jurisdiction, judicial authority over Germans living in his jurisdiction and the power to intervene on behalf of minority peoples, especially Poles and Lithuanians living in Russia and the French republicans. Ministers would later be posted to France (1832), the Ottoman Empire (1856) and Spain (1868), but Hardenburg also brought them closely under his control. And he deprived them of one essential power-any authority over or direct involvement in their Foreign Information Bureaus. The FIB, commonly known as German Intelligence and originally headquartered in Arras in an attempt to reestablish control over France, would be a major contributor to the Great War, as we’ve seen.

The Triumvirate did much to put the Commonwealth on par with the other Great Powers once again, and facilitated the structure that would eventually challenge them. Its members, and especially August Hardenburg, were the true heirs of Frederick the Great and the progenitors of another soldier-statesman who would transform the German nation-Otto von Bismark.
 
von Wleber reported to Vienna two days later, in drenching rains. Muddy, wet and cold, Ludwig had the shivers. He walked right into the capital and gave his report to the Imperial command.

Minister Alfred von Zinzendorf was there to recieve him. "Thank you, cadet". Reads the letter, then looks up, with a smile. "Quite a disaster. I hear however that you distinguished yourself through the thick of it. nice work".

Wleber was then dismissed. Other high ranking officials entered to discuss the situation. "We have the official report of Zegrab. Looks like Radetsky ruined the second army. Quite a mess."

"Where do the French stand?" Asked von Hoffstein, an old diplomat.

"Once they know our debacle is indeed a fact, they'll begin demanding concessions for peace, which knowing the French, will be more than we can accept. Then the French enter the war".







The defense of the empire fell on Karl. A large weight to carry even for an old campaigner like himself. The official report had arrived from von Vollner, all of 135,000 men lost, 500 artillary pieces captured and a straight shot to Wien for Basgil, that is, unless Karl could do something about it.

Not wasting time, he marched southwest to protect Pest. The battle that ensued there in the spring was a painful defeat, however. Basgil marched around to strike from the west, while Turkish reinforcements arrived from Serbia. The Austrians had to cut a retreat north, and then force march west to join with reinforcements from Vienna. The capital itself was now in jeopardy.

Karl couldn't keep up with the Turkish advance though. When he crossed the Danube, rather than going west to defend the capital, he went east, recaptured the Turkish border forts until he reached Pest, cutting off any Turkish supplies that would be coming that way. Vienna would have to hold without his help.


The 20,000 man garrison in Vienna believed Karl would come to their rescue. They fought tooth and nail against the Turks, and when the walls were breached, they retreated to their houses and prepared to fight in the streets. The grain stocks were burned. Turks left soon afterward, leaving only a small garrison. The city remained intact, while Basgil and his men went after Karl, who had after taking Pest back, returned with a strengthened force northwest to finally face Basgil.

The clash was horrific, with about 150,000 dead between the two armies. But of greater consequence to Turkish morale and the balance in the war was that Basgil, the titan that had shaken Imperial Austria's foundations, had fallen. It was a victory for Austria, which Karl followed up chasing the Turks all the way to Serbia.

The eastern front, though still in question, was under some degree of control, when the French became involved. In 1832, French forces crossed the border into Italy, forcing a withdrawal from the eastern campaign to shift forces to the west. Meeting the enemy near Vienna finally, Karl sent the French fleeing with very high casualties. They returned several times, and always sent running with the same result.

But even with such victories, the fighting power of Austria was wearing thin. There were simply not enough men to fill the ranks, and money was running low. Should the war continue too long, many weren't sure the empire would survive. By 1837, England was starting to object to the protracted fighting, blaming the emperor and insisting Austria accept Turkey's demands. A general embargo followed in 1838, cutting revenues down severaly and leading to famine in several provinces. The worst though was England's threat of entrance in the war. Such would've been a disaster. Germany was not going to stand and watch while this happened, though. In 1839, its armies surged into France, occupying border cities in a flash and moving on Paris. This happened in conjunction with Karl's Italian campaign, in which he pushed the French out of Italy altogether and then planned to drive into France itself. He suffered a stroke in Piedmonte though in february of 1840, and died soon after. Rather than carry on the attack, his successor chose to retreat, knowing he lacked the ability and experience to continue where Karl left off.
 
Zeitgeist said:
Excellent stuff, HG and KJ. Thanks.

indeed.I took my entire 5 mins in an internet cafe in salzburg just for read these nice AARs,2 days ago :p
 
btw,i dont remember to have controlled a 3671 leader
lolz
if i did,i would have got berlin in few months :rofl:

here ur "monster"

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development = no
morale = 7.000
historicalleader = {
id = { type = 6 id = 110352 }
name = "Basgil"
category = general
rank = 3
fire = 4
shock = 4
movement = 4
startdate = { year = 1832 month = july day = 12 }
deathdate = { year = 1844 month = january day = 1 }
}
inf = 16145.024
cav = 2406.805
art = 77.000
}
 
Dago said:
...

here ur "monster"

...

I see our austrian friend came back ;) Ciao Dago!