1835

The fallout from the death of Francis II was still spreading. The small states that had previously been on such close terms with Austria were now as drooping as frost-struck eggplants.

Many state governments had lost faith in Austria. After all, their ambassadors had reached the same conclusion upon meeting the new emperor and his Chief Advisor.

Emperor Ferdinand I was a good man, but he would likely be unable to govern this vast empire.

And the Chief Advisor, Mr. Karl von Slut, was a complete fool.

The new emperor and his empire would face one challenge and pressure after another in the days to come.

If we sided with Austria, we would have no choice but to face those challenges and pressures alongside them. That would not serve our country's interests.

Austria had completed 20% of its 1,400-kilometer railway construction plan. The line between Vienna and Moravia was finished, and construction had begun on the Semmering Railway, a project for the ages.

The Semmering Railway was expected to cost more than three times as much as an ordinary railway, but it was also of great importance. It would not only strengthen the connection between the coastal regions and Vienna, but also link them to Northern Italy, bringing the whole network to life.

The Prussians had frantically built two hundred kilometers of railway, though not on their own soil.

Meanwhile, Prussia's new economic advisor had proposed a new railway standard to the member states of the North German Customs Union.

The track gauge of these railways differed from Austria's. A wider gauge meant they could carry more cargo.

Friedrich List's real aim was to help Prussia confine Austria's influence to South Germany.

To be honest, Franz admired the economist from the bottom of his heart. He had actually come up with such a way to squeeze Austria out.

In fact, Austria still had ways to counter this, such as changing its own track gauge or forcing the members of the German Customs Union to build their railways to Austrian standards.

But either choice would damage Austria's reputation in the German Customs Union. More importantly, it would take a stable and powerful government.

The Regency Council had greatly undermined the Austrian government's efficiency. Count Kolowrat and Prince Metternich had not even realized Friedrich List's devious intentions.

That was hardly surprising, though. Neither Count Kolowrat nor Prince Metternich knew much about railways.

By the time Franz learned of the matter, the outcome was all but settled. There was little point in trying to remedy it now.

Friedrich List's scheme had shown Franz a new possibility for Austria's future.

Britain had already built more than 1,000 kilometers of railway, while France had nearly 300 kilometers.

In Russia, an Austrian engineer named Franz Gerstner, who was obsessed with railways, wrote a letter to Nicholas I.

The letter described an ambitious plan: he intended to build a railway linking Saint Petersburg and Kazan, strengthening the Tsar's control over Western Siberia.

The railway would stretch for more than 1,000 kilometers, a plan that seemed unbelievable to people of the time.

Yet it greatly intrigued Tsar Nicholas I, who thought the railway was a gift from heaven to Russia.

Tsar Nicholas I's vision was even more daring. He wanted railways to connect the entire great Slavic Empire.

Constantinople—Saint Petersburg—Kazan—Yakutsk (a Russian city in the Far East)—Alaska

To realize his grand vision, Tsar Nicholas I established a Railway Construction Committee.

Naturally, this met with fierce opposition from his ministers. The powerful refused to agree with the emperor and openly opposed building any railways in the country.

The staunchest opponent was Count Kankrin, the finance minister. In a report to the Tsar, he declared that the Ministry of Finance had not set aside a single kopeck for railways.

Russian experts also came forward one after another to back Count Kankrin.

They argued that trains carried too little freight—not even as much as three hundred horses—and that the Russian Empire had five million horses and mules, enough to handle any situation.

Moreover, Russia lacked coal. To power the trains, forests would have to be cut down, leaving ordinary Russians without firewood.

Russia's production of pig iron was far too low. Building a railway that long would require importing vast quantities of pig iron, plunging Russia's metallurgical industry into a bitter winter.

Duke Lyubay, Nicholas I's most trusted subordinate, went further, claiming the whole thing might be an Austrian plot to weaken Russia with railways and gain an advantage in the partition of the Ottoman Empire.

In the end, Nicholas I had no choice but to abandon his grand blueprint, but he did not lose heart.

Russia still had no railways.

In a single year, the Americans built more railway than the total length of France's network at the time: 400 kilometers.

American cotton production exceeded expectations, causing prices to fall.

But wheat harvests in both Britain and the United States had been bumper crops that year. After suffering losses, wheat farmers switched to growing cotton in droves.

Cotton prices had fallen, but demand remained strong overall. At least they would not lose money.

The revenue from land sales by the U.S. government that year was already enough to repay its debts, and a large fiscal surplus was expected the following year.

Saxony had ordered another 500 steam looms from Austria. With Austrian participation and the establishment of the German Customs Union, Saxony's tax revenue had nearly doubled.

This was not only because Saxony was Germany's textile center, but also because it was the biggest middleman in the German Customs Union.

Tensions between Prussia and Austria continued to mount, and Saxony, wedged between them, became the greatest beneficiary.

After all, merchants did not turn their backs on money. Friction between the two countries could not stop their merchants from doing business.

Austria's machinery industry had received a fair number of orders, but it was still barely alive. This was mainly due to British competition, since Britain had now allowed machinery exports.

Britain had begun manufacturing machinery much earlier than Austria, and its craftsmanship was naturally far more advanced.

Without the protection of the German Customs Union, and with Hanover refusing to join it, Austria's machinery industry would have drifted ever further toward agricultural technology, just as it had in history.

Because of internal turmoil, Austria increased military spending but reduced the size of the Austrian Army to 440,000.

For its own security, France added another 20,000 soldiers and gendarmes, along with several contingents of native troops, bringing its total forces to 530,000.

Prussia still had 200,000 troops. Russia had launched a war against its domestic nomads, but its forces remained at 600,000.

That year, both France and Austria began updating their weapons with more reliable new muzzle-loading percussion rifles.

France developed a new field gun: a lighter, more accurate four-pounder.

Austria, meanwhile, developed a notorious suicide machine. This cannon had a range and firepower far beyond those of other guns of the same caliber in its era.

But because Austria lacked the casting expertise and better materials needed to make cannons, this gun had a 20% chance of bursting—more thrilling than Russian roulette in later generations.

The Austrian Navy welcomed its fourth admiral in ten years. As before, he was not a career military man but a merchant who operated river shipping: Wallus Taaffe.

Austria's tax revenue reached 158 million Florins, higher than the 132 million Florins recorded at the same point in history.