Ruprecht

The German military had long held non-interference in politics as a matter of principle. In exchange, the army expected the same courtesy extended to itself — a compact of mutual non-interference. On the surface, the arrangement appeared well guarded by the aristocracy's sense of honor. In truth, it was nothing of the kind.

Germany's generals were exceedingly skilled at intervening in politics through the press. By explaining the necessity of war directly to the public, they sought to wrest the decision to open hostilities from the government and place it in the army's own hands. They waged equally vigorous campaigns of opinion to silence anyone who opposed war. For Prussian officers, political meddling through the newspapers was simply a way of life.

"If we are to cultivate a proper militarism in the citizenry, make known the necessity of the armaments our nation's survival requires, and crush the wickedness of socialism and liberalism so that the present authoritarian order may be preserved — then we must step forward. Who else will?"

The army not only published its own military weeklies but regularly submitted columns to the civilian papers, and cultivated sympathetic figures who would run editorials echoing the army's positions. It was, in all but name, a campaign of opinion-shaping. Prussian officers, however, did not consider it political interference.

"This is simply guiding a foolish public. It has nothing to do with politics."

So it was hardly unusual for a German general to place an article in a civilian newspaper. What stunned the world this time was not the act itself, but the content. The contribution, sent by the assembled generals of the German Army and signed only as anonymous, read as follows.

The army, which had been nursing its grievances against Bismarck for years, set its opposition in the open the moment Waldemar laid the groundwork. And the army's revolt handed an opportunity to everyone who already hated the Chancellor.

"Mad Junker, step down! We do not want your rule!"

"Bismarck must go!"

As the opposition began to gather, men inside the Reichstag itself started, one by one, to speak of forcing Bismarck from office. The wily old statesman saw the danger at once and moved with speed.

Bismarck added that the scale of the expulsions had been greatly exaggerated, and that the number to be removed this year would amount to no more than a few thousand. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was a deliberate step back.

"Do you take us for fools? That every last one of those deportees is stateless — that's nothing but your own claim."

"On that point, I am prepared to submit the relevant documents."

Bismarck did not fold all at once. He gave ground in careful increments, conceding just enough. To retreat outright would have collapsed his political standing, and might well have cost him his office. So he bought time, and while he bought it he sought out those among his principal opponents who could still be brought to terms, and set about winning them over. The army, the most conspicuous of his adversaries, was no exception. Bismarck went to his old comrade, Moltke the Elder, and asked him to check the military's revolt.

"Those fellows have all grown too thick-headed. It will not be easy."

Moltke declined, claiming the matter was beyond his control. But a man of his stature could not truly have lost his hold over the army. To persuade him, Bismarck offered a promise. Deals and compromise. For Bismarck, it was the most familiar work in the world.

"When the time comes, I shall dissolve the League of the Three Emperors. Will a pledge of that weight be enough to recover the army's support?"

Moltke's response was favorable.

"A promise of that order — I can at least put a word in with the younger men. But you will have to keep it."

"I keep my promises."

Bismarck was not lying. He had already concluded that an alliance so riddled with contradictions and fractures could not be held together much longer. Once the two giants had struck their bargain, the army shut its mouth the very next day, as though it had never opened it at all.

Having silenced the military, Bismarck turned to the work of splitting his remaining opponents.

"I say — you do still mean to stand at the next election, don't you? Or are you eager to see your subsidies cut?"

"Shall I have a photograph of you standing with the Reds printed across the front page of every newspaper?"

"Ah — that business about standing in solidarity with the Poles. You wouldn't mind if we made sure your voters heard about that, would you?"

Before his deft and practiced intrigue, the opposition failed to build any coalition at all.

"This is absurd. Everyone here opposes Bismarck — why can we not join our strength?"

"That's true enough, but if I stand next to you socialists the voters will get the wrong idea!"

"He's right. Let the Reds rub off on us and we ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only lose more ballots!"

"Forget it. How is anyone supposed to unite this ragbag?"

So long as no force gathered that could actually pressure the King, Bismarck's ouster was impossible. King Wilhelm I's confidence in his Chancellor ran far too deep for that.

"Hah. To throw away a chance like this. This is why there's no talking to liberals."

"You Reds are the ones who botched it."

"We can't talk to each other anyway. Just break it off."

Once the opposition lost the momentum of those first days, it concluded there would be no second chance, and the campaign to drive the Chancellor from office was, in all but name, abandoned.

The truth was that Bismarck's swift dismissal in the age of Kaiser Wilhelm II had, when one looked closely, no other cause than that the young Emperor disliked him. Had popular resentment or the voice of the Reichstag truly mattered so much, the Social Democratic Party — which spent so many years as the largest party in the imperial parliament — would surely have produced a Chancellor under the Kaiser at least once.

Waldemar had considered the possibility that things might go that way. Watching Bismarck resolve the crisis with such unexpected ease left him almost speechless.

At this rate I can't even teach the old man a proper lesson.

Forcing Bismarck a step back from the expulsion policy was, by any fair measure, lesson enough. But that was not what Waldemar had wanted. He had wanted Bismarck frightened.

There will be another chance.

The one consolation was that the affair had been settled quietly enough that he would not need to buy estates for the generals. Through the invisible collision between Waldemar and Bismarck, Germany took a step back from its expulsion policy. Russia and Austria, in turn, softened their responses. The anti-German feeling that had flared in Russia reached its peak and began to recede.

Alix, delighted by the news, put her relief into a letter.

I was the one who did that.

Still, Waldemar took what comfort he could from the fact that the matter had been more or less put to rest. And since the Polish expulsion had been roughly settled, he decided it was time to take care of a task he had been putting off: meeting Prince Ruprecht of Bavaria, the candidate for Sophie's husband. He arranged a journey to Munich, the Bavarian capital, without delay.

Munich, unlike Berlin, gave an impression of quiet and peace. A population of two hundred and sixty thousand was not so very small, but for the capital of a kingdom the city was far too modest in scale. Waldemar arranged to meet Prince Ruprecht at the Wittelsbach family's Munich residence.

The prince was a slender, elegant young man with sharply cut features — handsome enough that women would take a liking to him. To call him a pretty boy would have been a stretch, but not by much. Waldemar exchanged a light greeting. It would have been indelicate to bring up Sophie the moment they met, so he opened instead with the political weather of recent weeks. The instant Bismarck's name left his mouth, Ruprecht responded.

"That man is the one ruining Germany."

As befit a cadet of a kingdom that had suffered under Bismarck's heel, Ruprecht made no effort to hide his hostility. Waldemar disliked Bismarck himself, and the two found common ground at once. They spent a good half hour taking the Chancellor apart, chewing him over and thoroughly enjoying themselves, and by the end of it both felt they had built something like a friendship.

Ruprecht, deciding that he and Waldemar understood each other, even told him about his dissolute uncle — a story he did not ordinarily share. Secrets grow a friendship the more they are shared. Waldemar, for his part, offered his own love story, which was already the talk of Europe, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and worked to draw the two of them closer. Once they had talked of everything under the sun, there was nothing left they could not say. Waldemar asked, as a token of friendship, for a personal portrait. Ruprecht agreed at once.

"If you like, I'll give you ten."

The portrait, of course, was for Sophie. Waldemar sent it to Berlin by the fastest conveyance available, then spent the next several days loafing about Munich with Ruprecht, deepening the acquaintance. At last, after those days of waiting, a telegram arrived from Berlin.

Sophie's answer was brief. For Waldemar, it was more than enough. With her consent in hand, he did not hesitate. Out on a hunt with Ruprecht, he came straight to the point, the barrel of his gun still trained on a bird.

"Has Your Highness pledged your future to anyone?"

"I have not."

"In that case — what would you say to a princess of the direct Hohenzollern line?"

Waldemar let the intention of a marriage negotiation show itself.

"A princess of the direct Hohenzollern line?"

Ruprecht was startled that a match with a princess of the main line had come to him, a cadet of Bavaria.

"Of course."

For all his bewilderment, he did not refuse.

"It would be an honor. But my marriage is a matter I must discuss with my family."

"I am not asking you to decide here and now, of course."

Waldemar told the prince to consult his family as to whether he would come to Berlin and meet her. The proposal reached the Wittelsbachs soon enough. Ruprecht's family conferred among themselves and sent Waldemar a favorable answer.

Once Archduchess Maria Theresa — the true head of that household — had given her consent, there was nothing more to discuss. Two days later, Ruprecht boarded a train for Berlin with Waldemar. To the prince, who was a little uneasy, Waldemar explained that the Crown Prince and Crown Princess were not frightening people. He had played the tiger with Wilhelm, but he had never been particularly harsh with anyone else.

"Once you meet Sophie, I am certain you will be quite taken with her."

Waldemar had every confidence in the Sophie he had raised. Her looks had been carefully cultivated with the most advanced cosmetic techniques; so long as she kept her mouth shut, she was a beauty who could enchant anyone without fail.

Her personality is a bit free-spirited, that's the trouble — but that could be part of the charm, couldn't it?

Ruprecht did not believe everything Waldemar said. People always offered the pleasant words before marriage negotiations began. Holding to that thought, he entered the Crown Prince's palace and met the Crown Prince and Princess and their family. And when he actually saw Princess Sophie, Ruprecht found that her appearance was every bit as striking as Waldemar had claimed. It was a feeling of his eyes flying open.

Did that mean Sophie had only virtues? Of course she had her faults. Her temperament clashed in more than a few places with Ruprecht's own practical, unpretentious nature. From childhood, under Waldemar's influence, Sophie had loved to adorn herself and had a passion for splendor. Her personality grated on him — but her looks pleased him so thoroughly that he had no wish to abandon the courtship. After some inner conflict, he said that upon his return to Munich he would formally request the opening of marriage negotiations.

During those few days, the Crown Prince and Crown Princess also formed an excellent impression of Prince Ruprecht. The Crown Prince thought that if not for the matter of rank, Ruprecht would be a fine match for Sophie in every respect.

"What matters for Sophie is not a partner of suitable standing. It is a man she can trust."

When the Crown Princess insisted that the question of rank was of no importance, the Crown Prince — who had always been led by his wife — revised his thinking.

"If that is your wish, then let us negotiate."

With both sides agreed, the two families proceeded with the marriage talks at speed. The rumor spilled beyond the walls of the Crown Prince's palace in an instant.

"What? Princess Sophie is doing what with those Bavarians?"

"And that's a problem?"

Wilhelm II and Bismarck showed some inclination to intervene along the way, but when they saw how strongly Bavaria and Prince Ruprecht desired the marriage, both men stepped back.

"It's only a marriage to a cadet prince. How much can it really matter?"

The negotiations were concluded within a month. The two families agreed that Sophie and Ruprecht would be married the following year, in 1887, and that until then the pair would be treated as betrothed.

Once the talks were finished, Victoria, the Crown Princess, quietly summoned her son.

"I trusted you, and I let the negotiations go forward. That information of yours ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is certain, I trust?"

Victoria decided to trust her son's information, and to wait.