Chapter 291: The French Navy, Part XVII: "Look, a submarine!"
“The utter inadequacy of our battleships is sufficient to illustrate that the hundreds of millions of francs wasted during the Empire, in spite of the precious directions furnished by the Committee of Inquiry of 1849-1851, had resulted in nothing but a magnificent organisation of impotency.”

- Georges Clemenceau, 1897

The fin de siècle-era idea of associating big warships with political conservatism had very little to do with naval strategy, and everything to do with politics. The premise was that big battleships akin of Napoleon III’s days were just another part of the useless imperial façade.

What caught the public imagination about this topic most vividly was the ideological debate itself rather than any dialogue about abstruse details of naval strategy. Politically France in 1900 had two navies: that of the liberal parliamentary philosophers, who supported the torpedo boats, and the reactionary conservatives who supported the battleships.

This culture war had been fought out in public between, respectively, the Journal des débats, Nouvelle revue, Revue des deux mondes and La Marine française on the one hand, and Le Temps and Le Yacht on the other.

The whole situation shared many features with the Dreyfus affair that polarised politics in the 1890s, but before the Pelletan scandal there had not been a cause célèbre to set it off.

The two camps had little desire for any kind of compromise. For the French critics of the Mahanian battlefleet, the battleship was the embodiment of the aristocratic structures of the admiralty, a sort of waterborne Versailles.

And for the radical proponents of Jeune École, it was self-evident that torpedo boats would break the iron grip of the battleship clique and bring forward a revitalising revolution of naval affairs.

Moving away from the battleships would undermine the culture of nepotism and favouritism in the Admiralty, and the communal life on smaller vessels would break down distinctions of social caste and technical specialty to the overall benefit of the navy’s efficiency.

Selling the torpedo boat as a naval “triumph of equality” appealed to the basics of democratic thought - but it also made it very difficult to admit that new naval technology was rapidly turning them obsolete.

The desire to break away from this deadlock explains a lot about the French naval politics of the era. Armored cruisers were acceptable for both camps, and hence the French had built a lot of them. In this political climate the compromise reached to implement de Lanessan Plan was viewed as an achievement by the moderates of both camps, and the reaction to attempts to discard it had been so fierce when Pelletan was briefly in office.

The search for a way out of this internal conflict had made the French willing to attempt unorthodox new solutions.
For Georges Leuguyes and other reformers, the submarines were therefore political warships: they represented first and foremost a political solution, a chance to redirect the energies of Jeune École towards a new goal that wouldn't be in such an obvious conflict with the idea of a battlefleet.
 
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Chapter 292: The French Navy, Part XVIII: Motley
The mockery the opponents of current French battleships heaped on them had the ring of truth.

Even the proponents of battleships were willing to concede that as it was, the French battlefleet was far from perfect.

Barbette ships from the late 1880s and early 1890s such as Brennus, Magenta, Marceau, Neptune and Hoche had doubtful military value against modern foreign designs. The flotte d’échantillons consisting of Masséna, Carnot, Jauréguiberry, Charles Martel and Bouvet were a little better, as their tumblehome design made them liable to capsize.

The best of the lot were the most modern vessels. Their design in the 1892 Programme had been entrusted to Alphonse Thibaudier, who had gained fame in designing the Yokosuka dockyard for Japan in 1867. The resulting Charlemagne class had been planned to be a homogenous battleship design based on the hull design of Bouvet. The main armament was placed on twin turrets at fore and aft of the ship, mimicking the gun layout at the British Royal Sovereign class.

As it was, the end result - Charlemagne, Saint Louis and Gaulois - was again a group of three nearly, but not quite, identical warships.

Each enclosed Société de Construction des Batignolles turret from Nantes traversed on bearings and contained two 305mm/40 calibre M1893/1896 guns, with a maximum range of 12 000 metres and a rate of fire of a round per minute.

In a most typical pre-1900 French fashion the final design differed from the blueprints enough to warrant a new classification: Iéna had new 164,7mm/45-calibre model 1893 secondary guns on board and starboard casemates, a better-quality armour belt from Harvey-type steel (resulting in an 80mm thinner design with weight saved for other purposes) anti-torpedo protection similar to the Majestic-class battleships of the Royal Navy a longer tactical range, and more powerful engines.

The design provided marked improvements to previous French battleship designs, being able to reach speeds of 18 knots. It was deemed good enough to serve as a basis of yet another further improvement and another single-class battleship type, Suffren, still under construction in 1902. Followed by the second two vessels, République and Patrie which were also being constructed, these were the current 1st-line battleships of note of the French battlefleet when Georges Leuguyes took office in 1902.

The Plan of 1900 had called for four more ships of the same class. These four future battleships were now called the Patrie-class, as the second ship of the design had already different from the original République blueprints enough to warrant a new classification.

After the brief stint of Pelletan Ministry, Georges Leuguyes attented the meeting of Conseil Supérieur de la Marine to discuss the future of the construction program of the 1900 Plan as one of the first things he did in office as the new Naval Minister. He was in for a shock.
 
Chapter 293: The French Navy, Part XIX: One′ up′
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Just before the meeting of the Conseil Supérieur de la Marine, the new Naval Minister went through the memorandum of the current situation through for the last time.

The Patrie-class had marked the end of a long hiatus of French battleship construction. While the French had sought to change the game instead of challenging the Perfidious Albion in their own terms, the British had been building more and more battleships to rule the waves. In a timespan of seven years before 1900, when the Royal Navy had commissioned no less than 32 first-class battleships - the French had authorised only five. Out of them, the three Charlemagnes of 11 000 tons, and the two "one-offs" - Iéna and Suffren - of 12 000 tons all had dutifully respected the politically established tonnage ceiling of 12 000. This had been the largest size for a warship that the opponents of "mastodons" had tolerated.

Now, after the crude awakening of Fashoda, such arbitrary limits were a thing of the past.
Emile Bertin, the new chief constructor, had been eager to test his ideas with larger designs. After receiving funding from the de Lanessan program of 1900, he had created a new battleship design with a deep armour belt backed by a cellular layer of multiple watertight compartments and torpedo bulkheads. With a firm focus to hail-of-fire type medium-range combat, the Patrie class was an excellent gunnery ship for the relatively short battle ranges for which it was designed.

But it had taken the French more than two years to proceed from conception to final design, and the naval technology had kept advancing with a steady pace.

The British had just laid down the first ships of the King Edward VII class in spring 1902. They were - correctly - seen as a direct answer to the Patrie-class, as well as the Italian Regina Margherita-class, which had also influenced the Patrie design. The King Edward VIIs were clearly designed for the calmer seas of the Mediterranean. With four 12-inch (305mm) guns, QF battery of ten 6-inch (152mm) guns and four 9.2-inch (234mm) guns mounted at the four corners of the ship, they were the new standard to match.[1]
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The Italian Regina Margherita-class had started the trend of arming the early 1900-era battleships of Mediterranean powers with massive secondary batteries.

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The French République-class answered the challenge of Italian design with an even larger, twin-turreted secondary battery.

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The British Edward VII-class, laid down after the Italian and French battleships, outgunned both older designs with her new 9.2-inch side guns.

This overwhelming challenge posed by Royal Navy kept the French naval designers from growing complacent.[2] The Patrie-class had been outgunned before it had been even fully completed, so clearly an urgent review of the existing construction was in order. But what was to be done?

1. William Henry White is not ill like in OTL during the initial design phase in 1901, so his idea of using 9.2-inch guns is implemented from the start.
2. In TTL the French battleship design work grew markedly sluggish and slow after they no longer attempted to compete with the British.
 
Oh boy, are we still getting the Dantons and libertes or will the french go for that fancy new concept that is right around the corner?
 
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What we are certainly not getting is St Mary Sue getting everything right from the first try.
Ah, so more semi-dreadnought than actual dreadnoughts, like the Austrian Radetzky-class? It would be a logical continuation of the usage of large-calibre secondaries.

Actually, did steam turbines get introduced to France? IIRC, they were deemed a necessity for dreadnoughts as the triple expansion engines were deemed insufficient for modern warships ... at least by the Royal Navy. I know the French had some native developments, but I'm not sure how widespread they were or how applicable to naval warships.
 
Ah, so more semi-dreadnought than actual dreadnoughts, like the Austrian Radetzky-class? It would be a logical continuation of the usage of large-calibre secondaries.
.
Thats basically the dantons in a nutshell. Big 9.4 inch secondary battery in 6 double gun turrets.

They would have gone for the full 12 inch layout but weight restrictions imposed by the design criteria (18000 tons max displacement) prevented it.
 
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Ah, so more semi-dreadnought than actual dreadnoughts, like the Austrian Radetzky-class? It would be a logical continuation of the usage of large-calibre secondaries.
This was the global OTL trend, and nothing has affected it yet by 1902.
Actually, did steam turbines get introduced to France? IIRC, they were deemed a necessity for dreadnoughts as the triple expansion engines were deemed insufficient for modern warships ... at least by the Royal Navy. I know the French had some native developments, but I'm not sure how widespread they were or how applicable to naval warships.
Correct observation.
I find it really unlikely that the French naval designers could do a similar friendly fact-finding mission to Parsons Marine Steam Turbine Company as they did historically.
Luckily for them, the French do have domestic alternatives they did not pursue in OTL because they did not have to.
Thats basically the dantons in a nutshell. Big 9.4 inch secondary battery in 6 double gun turrets.

They would have gone for the full 12 inch layout but weight restrictions imposed by the design criteria (18000 tons max displacement) prevented it.
The OTL design was based on the assumption that the 6km range would the future practical maximum range of effective naval gunfire.
 
Chapter 294: The French Navy, Part XX: Read the Memo
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Splendour.
The palace of Hôtel de la Marine never failed to impress visitors. It was at the same time a museum-like window to the glorious Imperial past, a busy hive of the day-to-day office work of modern military bureaucracy, and the proud throne of an institution that had grown lax and vainglorious at the turn of the century.

Georges Leuguyes knew that his first official meeting with the Conseil Supérieur de la Marine, CSM, would largely determine his career.

The men he was about to meet were like their palace - proud and prideful, but more at home in the past than in the hectic and rapidly changing modernity they were tasked to command and shape by their choices.

The new Naval Minister had done his homework. A lifelong interest to all matters naval had been a great boon, as well as guidance from de Lanessan, the previous Minister. He had also made inquiries of his own, regarding the key personnel of the CSM.

Vice-Admiral Touchard had followed the footseps of his father, Admiral Philippe Victor Touchard. Like his father, who had paved his path to the Admiralty, Charles Philippe was from Île-de-France, the heartland of the country. He had served in the navy during the Mexican intervention and had fought at the Siege of Paris.

Admiral Edgar de Maigret was an old sea dog, hero of Tonkin, and an experienced administrator with many committee positions. He often chaired the meetings of CSM.

Rear Admiral Ernest Marquer was from eastern Bretagne. A careerist officer with over 40 years of experience, he had served in the Pacific before gaining the prestigious position of Chef d'Etat-major général de la Marine, holding the office usually attached to higher ranks.

To Leygues, it was apparent that Marquer had been named to the post to act as a fall guy. In case the new radical administration should fall, none of the other admirals wanted to tarnish their name and future careers by being associated with it.

None of them were from the South. All of them had served under the old imperial regime. That would have to change. France deserved a navy that reflected her entire nation, and fresh faces were needed. But these things would have to wait. There were more pressing matters on the agenda.
 
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Chapter 295: The French Navy, Part XXI: Benchmarking
The actual meeting at the Salon of the Admirals went relatively smoothly. Georges Leygues was neither a technician nor a soldier.

Hence he had little to say to the initial details of the meeting. The news of the yet another new Royal Navy battleship class did create lively debate among the admirals present. The meeting was - in many ways - a chance for both the new Minister and the admirals to present their credentials and show their expertise.
It soon became apparent that what Georges Leygues stressed - much to the discomfort of the admirals present - were the timetables, budgets and implementation of existing and future plans.

Admiral de Maigret had proposed putting the orders for 164.7mm turrets and casemates on hold to allow time for further discussions, in order to consider two proposals:
  • Substitution of the current turrets with new 184.7mm Mle 1902 with improved performance characteristics compared to the older Mle 1894/96M
  • Replacement of all 164.7mm guns by ten 194mm guns in single turrets.
Georges Leygues politely listened, but then made it clear that this practice would harm the construction timetable. The fleet needed new battleships sooner rather than later, and dithering with the construction process should not be done lightly.

Without lecturing, he merely remarked to rest of the meeting how the great Colbert himself had demanded that his constructors "establish a theory on the subject of ship construction...so that all the designs are correct down to the foot and inch." Applying ship theory and firm standards had allowed the French naval administrators to centrally control the design and construction of ships, and deterred each dockyard and port from building and designing vessels as they saw fit.

Had not this process of standardisation been firmly fixed in the naval ordnance of 1765, with meticulous calculations for general standards of stability, speed, and sail plans? The standardised, centralised system of organisation and control over naval ship design and construction had been the norm a century ago. It had been only recently that the new civilian dockyards had created their own norms and design standards to meet the technical demands of the new age of steam, iron and steel.

What was needed was not a revolution, but a return to the good old days of time-proven French innovations adapted to needs of modernity.

Besides, the swift pace of the modern struggle for mastery of the seas was so merciless that every participant would have to either put up a maximum effort, or give up completely. The program of 1900 was just the beginning.

With the old admirals nodding in agreement, the new Naval Minister then proceeded with the agenda. The latest British, Italian, German and Austrian designs demanded a new response. But it would be pointless to set a goal to simply build a powerful ship on par with the ones currently in service.

The new design would have to be part of a general construction plan, basis for a future fleet. This was what the Germans were doing, with construction times that placed the current French naval industry into shame. Meanwhile the British seemed to have the luxury to meet each foreign design with a custom-tailored counterpart. Trying to one-up them would be pointless, and only continue the tradition of the fleet of samples.

That time was over, the new Minister declared. The Navy needed a clearly defined mission, and then standards and criteria to guide it there by a long-term construction plan that would actually be implemented instead of remaining a paper draft.

Right now it was the task of the CSM to set the specifics for future battleship design, so that Mr. Bertin and his design team could get to work. Georges Leygues encouraged everyone present to bring forward their initial views on the matter as a basis for future discussions.

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Vice Admiral Charles Philippe Touchard was the first to talk. He favoured a battery mixture of ten 10-inch guns and six 12-inch guns to counter the British focus on slower-firing 12-inch guns.

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Admiral Marie Edgar de Maigret wanted a balance between strength of the guns and the rate of fire. He agreed that the new 10-inch guns under development had tested well - a fact supported by Vice Admiral Aubert, the director general of artillery.

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Marquer played his role as the meeting secretary and chief of staff well, trying to find a consensus while being polite enough to keep the egos of the other old admirals in check.

After ceveral cigars and hours of discussion, the general pattern started to emerge. First of all, Leygues was not a man who summoned meetings just for polite discussion. He drove his agenda hard, and wanted concrete results and proposals before he was pleased. Secondly, he was willing to experiment and give room to people who had been able to convince him that they knew their business and were genuine experts and professionals.

This had become apparent during an awkward part of the meeting where Real Admiral d’Abnour had determinedly suggested a ship with a single-calibre 10.75-inch guns, and had briefly kept defending his idea despite the fact that other soon pointed out that no such guns currently existed. Leygues had again politely listened, and then the idea had been written down only to be never brought up again.

After the meeting was over and the tired admirals had left, Leygues stayed awake in his office. It was clear that the naval officers were in disagreement of the best possible future configuration. The men present had considered several possible armament schemes: four 12-inch guns and 12 10-inch guns, or six 12-inch guns and ten 7.5-inch guns.

What the admirals had all agreed on was that six 12-inch guns could hardly fit into the previously mandated tonnage limits.

For the next meeting they would review study of battleships under construction by other fleets. Britain, Germany, Italy and Austria would be the main focus, but the report should also include notes about the latest Russian construction, as well as latest news from US and Japan as potential inspiration for French efforts.

He also wanted to summon the Association des Cadets de Gascogne to a new meeting as quickly as possible. It was time to do some lobbying.
 
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Chapter 296: The French Navy, Part XXII: Port de la Lune
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The modern fleet was first and foremost a complex system; the end-product of a long chain of education, training, research, engineering, manufacturing and construction.

And in order to exist and operate effectively, it needed a robust network of private and public support and such a complex web of economical and political power made great amounts of public and private capital flow through the system, providing jobs, opportunities and votes.

Georges Leygues was a dedicated French patriot through and through. But for him it also meant that it was his duty as a Minister and a politician to present the interests of the entire nation and The French naval planning had neglected her South-Western regions for far too long.

Bordeaux was in an excellent spot. Located safely away from the immediate vicinity of Britain and close to the marvellous golf de Gasconha, the city had been one of the humming hubs of French overseas trade for centuries.

The workforce was there. The location was strategically suitable. Now it was only a matter of making investments for the future.
And that required dealing with the inefficient monopoly at the centre of French maritime industry. It was time to propose a mutually profitable deal.
 
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Chapter 297: The French Navy, Part XXIII: Krupp of France
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To say that the company and the state were close was an understatement. Even though things were no longer as close as they had been when old Eugène had been related by marriage to War Minister Leboeuf in 1870, the connections were still most intimate. After all, there were strong ties that bound the two together.

A 100-ton steam hammer, for example. The first of its kind in France, it had bought the company a virtual monopoly as a supplier of French navy in a time when new armoured cruisers had started to enter service en masse.

Lately the creator of this vast military-industrial empire had died, leaving the grandson of the original founder in charge. Just like their prime competitors across the Rhine, the Schneider family had made their fortune in the business of steel.

But since the railway and steel construction business had been so volatile, the company had expanded. Locomotives, bridges, iron-framed railway stations, railway track, river craft, steamboats, marine engines - and cannons.

Competing old companies like Bourges, Puteaux, Tarbes, Reuilles and Nevers out of their own business, Schneider had expanded their business with a determined series of mergers that ultimately landed them to a monopoly position in French gun construction with the purchase of the famed Canet works at Le Havre.

The company had a presence throughout the country. Around Bordeaux their business was focused on the Chantiers et Ateliers de la Gironde SA-Ets Schneider, a local shipbuilding subsidiary company. When Georges Leygues took office, his aim regarding his home region was clear: changing the regional focus of the maritime industries of France away from Brest and the Channel Coast southwards, to the Bay of Biscay and the Mediterranean coast.

Using the increased post-Fashoda naval funds to expand the radoubs and government-owned shipyards in general would have been a necessity in any case. The main impact of Leygues ministry was the early and determined drive to start this process sooner rather than later[1], using the measurements of largest current foreign battleships as the basis for the newest French drydocks.

While every major shipyard area in metropolitan France received new funding, Bordeaux benefitted the most. The new 250mx36m drydock complex included a large smithy and foundry, and had its own power station. With the new area fronted with concrete wharves, it provided berthing accommodation for the large vessels in the area. The Garonne river was dredged to create a deeper channel for larger vessels.
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The end result was a formidable new drydock and marine industry complex that employed a lot of people in the region, and provided lucrative business deals for Schneider in the process.

After the reforms, the French construction capabilities had expanded significantly, with the following geographical distribution:
Brest:
Pontaniou No. 2 (178m x 27m)
Pontaniou No. 3 (178m x 33m)
Laninon No. 8 (250m x 36m)
Laninon No. 9 (250m x 36m)

Toulon
Missiessy No. 1 (202m x 30.5m)
Missiessy No. 2 (202m x 30.5m)
Missiessy No. 3 (179m x 30.5m)

Bourdeaux:
Bassins à Flot (250mx36m)1

1: In OTL the Laninon No 8 and 9 expansion started in 1909. The Bordeaux drydock is the OTL Forme du Homet drydock from Cherbourg, constructed from 1908 onwards. Naturally using these funds earlier than OTL means that something has to be cut from TTL Naval Budget to make room for these investments.
 
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Also: with little fanfare, the March of Time is today 10 years old. Thank you for everyone involved in the project during the past decade, it's been a pleasure. With c. 30 upgrades annually, this TL has so far progressed 2,5 times faster than real life.
 
Also: with little fanfare, the March of Time is today 10 years old. Thank you for everyone involved in the project during the past decade, it's been a pleasure. With c. 30 upgrades annually, this TL has so far progressed 2,5 times faster than real life.
Well, time flies. Only a little more and this TL can join the ranks of the true long-running alternate history legends lime Swarm on the Somme and Operation Unicorn. Here's hoping we get to mark that anniversary as well.
 
Chapter 298: Finances, Part I: All 'Bout The Money
The choices made by the French navalist politicians at the beginning of the century can only be understood in the wider context of the French finances, and the international economy at large. This is especially true in the French approach to the changes in the general balance of power in Europe, and the way it initially deferred from her continental competitors.

The mean defense share and military burden the French voters and taxpayers were willing to bear depended a lot from the general public mood. As a result the French politicians were both caught along the flow of events as much as they sought to navigate and direct their course through it. Perceived threats were also great platforms for populist opportunists to rally the public behind the navalist cause.

And just like elsewhere in the world, the rapidly-growing middle classes also provided all Major Powers participating to the naval arms race established domestic audiences that were both jingoistic and eager to keep the competition up and patriotic (and wealthy enough) to help finance it through taxation.

Geopolitics-wise the first years of the century made France stand out in her willingness to keep up with the attempts to challenge the (statistically and relatively speaking) gradually declining but still firmly established British military hegemony. It was this long-standing ambition, more than any change in the financial means to actually achieve this goal, that explains the French initial willingness to maintain their naval expenditure.

The main motivation was still financial and strategically sound. The Mediterranean was vital for French economy as a link to her growing overseas empire, and there the Italian and Austrian challenges forced France to a naval arms race that was in turn interpreted in Britain as a challenge to the naval status quo.[1]

Meanwhile the French revenues were constrained. A potential way out in the form of a progressive income tax was opposed as hostile to the core Republican ideals of liberty and equality. Meanwhile the strong role of rentiers in French society meant that hostility to an income tax was deep as well. With nowhere else to turn for in their search for extra finances, the state thus kept increasing indirect taxation instead. This meant that the national debt also kept accumulating.[2]

One of the general trends of the era was the establishment of joint civilian-military advisory bodies and committees that sought to control and plan the use of military funding. The French followed the example of Britain and established a political body, Conseil supérieur de la défense nationale, when the international situation rapidly escalated in 1905. The Premier and ministers of Foreign Affairs, Finance, War, Navy and the Colonies were all present. Here the French leaders gathered around the same table to ponder their strategic vision for the new century.

Later history shows that the success - or in many cases, failure - of these bodies determined the future of Europe.[3]
1. The history of Anglo-French rivalry and the dispute over Suez Canal and Egypt made this dispute critical for British interests.
2. In OTL by 1913 France had slightly more than double the amount of national debt compared to Britain. Military outlays to the Ministry of War and the Ministry of Marine had led to a deficit of 794 million Fr by 1914.
3. In OTL the committee met only four times between 1906 and 1911, until it was reorganised with the stipulation that it would have to meet biannually in April and October.
Note that in Britain Chamberlain direct the CID towards a direction that focuses power to the Prime Minister, in Germany it starts out as a military regency council of sorts, and in Russia the Czar retains the final say.

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Now then, the money. Historically France benefited a lot from the decision to silently cease the naval arms race with Britain - but this decision also had a lot of geopolitical implications as well, and by 1914 France was regretting this decision and struggling to catch up with the other powers. Without the upheaval of the Russo-Japanese War the dynamics of the international system and the naval arms race are different. Thus a more organised French naval ministry can use the funding they have to achieve different results. They will nevertheless have to remain within similar financial constraints, while the Army-Navy struggle for funds is also largely a zero-sum game.
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source: Eloranta: Struggle for Leadership? Military Spending Behavior of the Great Powers, 1870—1913

OTL French naval spending per year, millions of francs.
1900372.95
1901 344.36
1902298.58
1903304.69
1904292.96
1905316.01
1906305.90
1907315.70
1908330.70
1909347.69
As a comparison. In OTL 1914 French naval budget was 600 million, including an extra budget of 268 million for new warships. Generally speaking the French naval rearmament suffered from a lack of vision and constantly changing naval ministers, which led to erratic spending and waste of funds.

In 1911 Paul Benazet stated that in the span of 1896-1911 Germany had expended £100 million her fleet and France had spent £152 million. In this time the German Fleet had risen to second place among the world’s navies while France had sunk to fourth place. Negligence, neglect and careless maintenance routines were to blame.

tl;dr - this is the money the French Navy had to spare.
 
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Finally, we move on from the military affairs, which I have never been that interested, to the political drama, which I always loved to read, watch and listen!
 
Chapter 299: Finances, Part II: De een Groten spart, hett twee verdeent
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From 1888-1913, Germany experienced an impetuous and triumphant upward movement in terms of economic progress and national wealth. The country's population had increased by over a third, and demand for labour had grown even faster than the population. Every factor of economic life, including productivity of workers, production, transportation, consumption, capital aggregation, investments, and saving-bank deposits, had seen an increase.

While the rich had grown richer, Germans of all walks of life were better off than their ancestors, with per capita income rising by 44% in 13 years (1900-1913) and real income of workers rising 31%. Consumption of beer, tobacco, candies, and meat had all steadily increased, and by 1910 the affluent upper middle class families were often eating six warm meals a day!

The institution overseeing this abundance, Reichsbank, was formally under the direction of the Reich Chancellor. He chaired a four-man Curatorium tasked to lead the institution. Out of this body, one man was named by the Kaiser, and three were named by the Bundesrat.

The Curatorium received quarterly reports from the Reichsbank Board of Directors, which was composed of a President, Vice President, and eight other Directors. The Reichsbank also had a Central Committee elected by Reichsbank shareholders, which had fourteen members, including leaders or representatives of leading German banks such as Deutsche Bank, Disconto-Gesellschaft, and Dresner Bank. The Central Committee and the Curatorium traditionally did not intervene in the policies of the Board of Directors, where decisions were made by majority rule.

Here President Rudolf von Havenstein, a tenacious administrator, had just recently risen through the Prussian Finance Ministry, stepping in from his previous assignment as the President of the Prussian State Bank in 1908. The new President had been a favourite of lately abdicated Kaiser Wilhelm II, but was also known as a "Jesuit in a frock coat" due to his chilly and arrogant personality.

The son of a wealthy Bavarian textile manufacturer, a doctorate in economics and a former director of the Anatolian Railway Company, he was irreconcilable to democracy and refused to bow to anything or anyone. His appointment can be seen as a part of the wider domestic political turn towards Zentrum and southern German states by new Chancellor Posadowsky-Wehner. His Vice President and colleague, Otto Georg Bogislaf von Glasenapp, was a typical Prussian bureaucrat from the apparatus of the Treasury Office.

Together these two men faced the vaunting task of steering the finances of the German economy towards modernity.
 
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