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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 191
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 19:01:08 +0000 UTCChapter 191: The Rose of Versailles
On the second floor of the Palace of Versailles, Joseph was meticulously planning his activities for the coming days. The grand celebration for Louis XVI's birthday had attracted a multitude of royal families and political figures from across Europe, transforming the event into a veritable summit of European diplomacy. It was a golden opportunity to forge alliances and negotiate strategies to secure advantageous political standing for France.
Earlier that morning, Joseph had welcomed Carlos Antonio, the Spanish Crown Prince and future Carlos IV. According to the schedule, the Russian Crown Prince, the Sardinian Crown Prince, and the Polish Prince were all expected to arrive the following day.
Virtually every European nation had sent either royal representatives or special envoys. Friendly nations came to extend their congratulations, while less amicable ones sought to probe whether post-crisis France presented any exploitable vulnerabilities.
As Joseph pondered these matters, a chorus of voices calling "Madame Garland" echoed from the marble courtyard below.
Curious, he turned to Eymond and asked, “Who is this Madame Garland, and why is she so popular?”
Eymond, equally perplexed, glanced at a nearby maid, who stepped closer and whispered a few words into his ear.
Enlightened, Eymond turned back to Joseph and explained, “Your Highness, a singing and dancing competition is currently underway outside. Madame Garland is widely regarded as the likely champion. Ariel mentioned that she once studied under Mr. Haydn.”
“Haydn?”
“Franz Joseph Haydn, Your Highness,” Eymond clarified.
Upon further inquiry, Joseph learned that Haydn was a renowned musical master, famed for mentoring prodigies like Mozart and Beethoven. If Madame Garland was a junior disciple of Mozart, her victory seemed all but assured.
Realizing this, Joseph quickly sent Eymond to inquire about the betting situation surrounding the competition. The King’s Birthday Celebration Committee had organized a prize pool for both competitions, allowing anyone to wager on the champions, with successful bets receiving double their stakes.
Eymond soon returned with his report. “Your Highness, it appears that over half the participants have bet on Madame Garland to win.”
Trouble! Fixed odds had been a misstep. No wonder the nobility seemed so exuberant. Joseph massaged his temples, chastising himself for his carelessness. The singing and dancing competition would likely incur losses. The swordsmanship contest would need to compensate, or even the celebration's costs might not be covered.
At that moment, a petite figure entered. Dressed in a powder-purple gown with a bird-shaped coiffure, the young girl curtsied gracefully, her smile radiating mischief.
“Cousin, the swordsmanship competition is about to begin. Please take me to watch the duel,” she said cheerfully.
Joseph chuckled. “Don’t you want to watch the singing and dancing competition? I hear Madame Garland is a remarkable singer.”
Marie Clementine pouted and replied in her soft, coquettish voice, “There’s singing and dancing in the palace every day—it’s boring now. Swordsmanship is much more exciting. I want to see the duels.”
The little girl usually stayed by Queen Marie Antoinette’s side, but as the Queen was judging the singing competition, she had come to pester her cousin instead.
Helpless against her persistence, Joseph conceded.
As they stepped out of the main entrance, they encountered Carlos Antonio, the Spanish Crown Prince, who bore a faint resemblance to Louis XVI.
Although nearly forty, Antonio exuded a youthful purity and straightforwardness.
Upon seeing Joseph, Antonio stopped and offered a courteous chest salute. “It’s an honor to meet you, Crown Prince.”
The woman accompanying him, a somewhat plump noblewoman with yellowed teeth, lifted her skirt and curtsied in tandem.
Joseph promptly returned the greeting, his gaze lingering briefly on the woman. He quickly recalled details about her: Maria Louisa, the Spanish Crown Princess, notorious for her promiscuity and infidelity.
Her lovers ranged from servants and guards to Spanish officials—and even the French ambassador to Spain. Among them, the most infamous was Manuel de Godoy, a former guard whom she elevated to Spain’s Prime Minister.
When Antonio ascended the throne, his passion for hunting and mechanical inventions left governance entirely in Maria Louisa and Godoy’s hands. Their ineptitude and reckless decrees devastated Spain’s national strength, ultimately leading to Napoleon’s deposition of the Spanish Bourbon monarchy.
Joseph’s eyes swept past Maria Louisa to a red-faced guard trailing behind her. Civilians were only allowed near the palace square during the festivities, so guards weren’t necessary close to the palace. This man was undoubtedly Godoy.
Marie Clementine, as outgoing as ever, greeted the Spanish Crown Prince and his wife before warmly inviting them.
“Your Highness, my cousin and I are heading to watch the swordsmanship competition. Would you care to join us? It promises to be thrilling!”
Antonio hesitated, glancing at Maria Louisa. Seeing her nod slightly, he replied, “Thank you for the invitation. We would be delighted to join you.”
However, Maria Louisa interjected with a polite smile, “Your Highness, I would prefer to watch the singing competition. You and the Crown Prince may proceed without me.”
Joseph nodded calmly. “As you wish.”
This arrangement suited him perfectly.
...
As Joseph walked with Antonio and Marie Clementine toward the swordsmanship competition, his thoughts lingered on the Spanish royal couple. Carlos III, the current King of Spain, was a capable ruler, but his health had significantly declined. Joseph couldn’t recall the exact year of his passing, but it was imminent.
Once Carlos III passed, Antonio would inherit the throne as Carlos IV. Given the shared Bourbon lineage and Spain’s frequent conflicts with Britain over colonial interests, France and Spain were natural allies.
At present, Spain retained remnants of its former imperial glory, including vast American colonies and substantial gold and silver revenues. The Spanish navy, while only about a third the strength of the British navy, remained formidable.
For France to grow, it would have to break free of Britain’s maritime blockade, and an alliance with Spain’s fleet was essential. Historically, this alliance had come to fruition, with the Franco-Spanish fleet briefly matching Britain’s might. Unfortunately, it met its downfall at Trafalgar due to Britain’s brilliant naval commander, Nelson, and a string of poor fortune.
In this life, Joseph was determined to prevent such a tragedy. But first, he needed to rid Spain of the scourge that was Godoy, ensuring the nation could bolster its strength and support France.
Glancing at Antonio, Joseph remarked, “Your guard seems quite spirited.”
Antonio, who was shy by nature, responded quietly, “Oh, no, Your Highness. He’s not my guard—he’s Maria Louisa’s. His name is Godoy.”
Joseph’s suspicions were confirmed. He pressed further, “Is he just an ‘ordinary’ guard?”
Antonio hesitated. “I suppose he is. Why do you ask?”
Joseph suppressed a sigh. It seemed Antonio remained blissfully unaware of Godoy’s true role. Communicating with this introverted prince would require tact.
They soon arrived at the spacious grounds between the Palace of Versailles and the Trianon Palace, where the swordsmanship competition was being held.
The venue was significantly larger than the one for the singing competition. A temporary wooden platform had been erected, encircled by three-tiered seating capable of accommodating seven to eight hundred spectators.
By now, the stands were filled to capacity, with additional crowds of commoners gathered around the perimeter. Fortunately, the elevated platform allowed everyone a clear view of the action.
As royal guests, Joseph, Antonio, and Marie Clementine were ushered to the best seats—an enclosed section on the west side. From here, they watched two robust young noblemen ascend the platform. Each took a practice sword with padded tips, courteously clashed blades, and began their duel at the referee’s signal.
The two combatants were skilled and evenly matched. Their swift footwork, precise strikes, and flowing movements enthralled the audience.
Joseph, engrossed in the duel, turned to Antonio, intending to spark a conversation about swordsmanship. To his surprise, the Spanish Crown Prince was fixated on the large scoreboard.
One combatant landed a clean hit, prompting the referee to update the score. A servant pulled a lever, causing the scoreboard’s mechanism to click and display the new score: 1–0.
Delighted, Antonio exclaimed, “It’s automated! I knew it!” Turning to Joseph, he asked eagerly, “Who designed this? It’s ingenious—using a flywheel for stored energy to automatically change the score! Without it, someone would have to climb that high to update the numbers manually.”
Joseph smiled, tapping his nose. “That would be His Majesty the King’s handiwork.”
“Truly remarkable,” Antonio said with admiration. “I must meet His Majesty in person.”
Joseph suddenly recalled Antonio’s interest in mechanical inventions. This shared passion with Louis XVI presented an excellent opportunity.
Seizing the moment, Joseph shifted the conversation toward various mechanical innovations, from lathes and steam engines to carriage suspensions and early automated traction vehicles—the precursors to trains.
Over the next hour, Antonio listened with rapt attention, his eyes wide and animated. He gestured enthusiastically, declaring he had found a kindred spirit in Joseph, the Crown Prince of France.
When the conversation naturally shifted, Joseph carefully broached the subject of Godoy. “Antonio, don’t you find Godoy… peculiar?”
“Peculiar? Oh, perhaps his left eye isn’t the sharpest,” Antonio replied dismissively, waving a hand. “But let’s talk about that camshaft mechanism you mentioned earlier—how does it actually work?”
Joseph chuckled and shook his head. The Spanish prince’s obliviousness to Godoy’s insidious influence was worrisome. It would take a more direct approach to open Antonio’s eyes before Godoy gained unassailable power.
...
The current duel concluded, and the referee announced the next match. Two participants were summoned to the platform, but before they could ascend, a commotion erupted at the side of the arena.
“I’ve already registered! Why can’t I compete?” A clear, defiant voice rang out.
The source was Anna Solène, a fiery young woman holding a rapier. Her protests drew laughter from the audience as the referee sternly replied, “Miss, this competition is not for women. It’s against the rules.”
Unperturbed, Anna declared, “Swordsmanship recognizes skill, not gender. If I’m capable of wielding a blade, I have every right to compete.”
Her opponent, a visibly embarrassed nobleman, avoided her gaze and remained silent.
The referee, a well-regarded duke, grew increasingly irritated. “Guards, remove her from the premises!”
Before the guards could act, Joseph rose from his seat. He recalled Anna’s instrumental role in acquiring Britain’s advanced loom technology.
“Duke Saint-Simon,” Joseph interjected. “Perhaps we can overlook her gender. After all, a blade does not care who wields it—it only seeks its target.”
Anna offered Joseph a salute, tapping her chest with the hilt of her sword. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Despite his displeasure, Saint-Simon reluctantly relented, unwilling to contradict the Crown Prince publicly.
Anna confidently ascended the platform, pausing to address Joseph. “You’ve made the right decision, Your Highness. You’ve saved this competition’s champion.”
Lowering her voice, she added, “You might want to bet on me winning. I guarantee your payout.”
Joseph watched her determined expression and chuckled. Signaling to the betting officials, he raised his hand and indicated a five.
The official hesitated. “Your Highness, do you mean 500 livres?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Joseph replied. “Five livres.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. The minimum bet is ten livres.”
“Fine, ten it is,” Joseph said with a wry smile.
Anna, mistaking his signal, murmured to herself as she climbed the platform, “Only 500? Still, I’ll make sure you get that 1,000-livre reward, Your Highness.”
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