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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 181
🕑 Added 2025-05-05 19:01:01 +0000 UTCChapter 181: “Convincing” the Jacobin Club
The following day.
Paris, second floor of the Royal Industrial Planning Bureau.
“So, you abruptly left last night just because you wanted to resign?” Joseph looked at the three before him and then smiled slightly. “I’m relieved to know your injuries aren’t serious.”
“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness.” Marat, leaning on a cane, bowed slightly. “And thank you for your trust. However, we’ve decided to leave the Investigative Bureau.”
Joseph paused briefly and then asked, “May I know the reason?”
Danton interjected eagerly, “We don’t want to associate with those filthy aristocrats!”
Demoulin added nervously, “And... and we don’t want to work for the Royal Family anymore.”
Hearing this, Joseph couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated. Most people resign due to a lack of promotions or raises, but these three had just been promoted and were now quitting instead.
Hmm, quite fitting for the Jacobin Club...
“I’m curious—what do you want, then?”
Marat replied firmly, “We want to remain forever loyal to the people of France!”
Joseph thought to himself, I must resolve this situation with the radicals once and for all. Otherwise, they’ll keep coming back to resign every few months.
Moreover, they are the leaders of the entire liberal faction. If he could win them over, it would significantly reduce the radical liberals’ hostility toward the Royal Family.
Recalling the argumentative tactics he had read on internet forums in his previous life, Joseph mused, These should be enough to handle 18th-century debates.
“Loyal to the people,” he said slowly, nodding. “So, you wish to make the people’s lives better?”
Marat considered this and found the logic reasonable. “That’s correct, Your Highness.”
“And for this goal, you intend to resign?”
“Yes...”
“Have you thought about who will monitor corrupt officials like Necker after you leave? Another group of corrupt officials? Do you think this will improve the lives of the French people?”
Marat and the others were momentarily stunned.
Joseph seized the opportunity to strike at the core of their beliefs. “I believe your hostility toward the Royal Family is unfounded.”
“No!” Danton, the youngest and boldest, immediately objected. “It’s precisely because the Royal Family indulges in pleasures, ignores the suffering of the people, and protects the interests of the aristocracy that the people are so oppressed!”
“Really?” Joseph asked calmly. “Do you think the people will be better off without the Royal Family?”
Marat, deeply influenced by Rousseau, almost instinctively recited one of his maxims: “Natural rights are inherent; all men are born free, and no one may restrict another’s freedom, not even a king—”
Joseph interrupted him. “Let me ask you, Marat, if all men are born free, can the rules established by our predecessors bind future generations?”
Marat was about to say “no” but suddenly froze. Wait, if they couldn’t, wouldn’t that mean someone uninvolved in creating societal rules could do whatever they wanted?
But if the answer was “yes,” wouldn’t that contradict the notion of being born free?
Joseph smiled slightly. “You see, the idea that all men are born free is inherently flawed. In reality, none of us—kings included—are truly free.”
Danton attempted to assist, quoting Rousseau: “Rousseau said we need to establish a reasonable social contract, and then everyone should adhere to it!”
Joseph immediately countered, “What exactly do you mean by a ‘reasonable contract’?”
This was a question even great minds in the 19th century struggled to answer. In fact, humanity had been grappling with this issue well into the 21st century. Marat and his companions, with only a rudimentary understanding of Rousseau’s theories, were bound to feel bewildered.
“Well...”
Demoulin hastily replied, “It’s... it’s the parliament. The people delegate their power to the parliament, and the parliament makes the rules!”
“Parliament?” Joseph asked with a faint smile. “And do you believe that once parliament gains power, it will automatically prioritize the people’s welfare?”
“Is there any doubt?”
“No, they will only act in their own interests,” Joseph replied, shaking his head. “Look at America. Their parliament implemented a land purchase policy requiring a minimum of 60 acres per transaction. Less than that? Not for sale. The poor? Sorry, they can’t buy land.
“Or take Switzerland, for instance. The rules of its cantonal parliaments serve only the warlords and wealthy merchants, making it easier for them to control cities and strip citizens of their last coins.
“I dare say, if such things happened in France, people would already be protesting outside Versailles. The king would be cursed a thousand times over and forced to amend those policies.”
“No, those are just isolated incidents—”
“Are they? Look at the U.S. Congress again. After passing oppressive laws, members retire after a term or two, leaving the problems to the next parliament. And, of course, the next group of legislators will do the same. They treat parliament as a mere tool. Only the king truly cares about the country because he doesn’t have a ‘next term.’”
Marat and the others hesitated, shaking their heads. “No, something must be wrong with what you’re saying!”
Joseph continued, “Human society has always been a structure of oppression. This is a fundamental and universal reality. The king is merely a symbol of this phenomenon, a prototype. Parliament is no different, nor are any other high-ranking institutions.
“The past we inherit may be narrow and outdated, requiring constant repair and improvement. But it has also brought us immense benefits. Every word we speak, every idea we hold, comes from those who came before us. The foundations of our lives—technology, wealth, and opportunities—are all their legacies. To view social structures purely as instruments of oppression is unreasonable.
“The Royal Family and the people are not enemies. They can work together for the common goal of advancing France.
“Indeed, France has many issues, such as the unjust privileges of the nobility and the exploitation of the poor by the rich. We must address these problems, but they are not caused by the king.
“Do you think that abolishing the monarchy will solve everything? No, it will only worsen the situation. Nobles and the wealthy will merely adopt new identities to continue their indulgence and oppression.
“Take a look at Paris. The people cheer for you, not for the idea of ‘loyalty to the people.’ Your actions have a far greater impact on their lives than words ever could.”
Joseph paused for a moment before concluding, “To be honest, I have been implementing reform measures on behalf of His Majesty the King all along.
“For example, the Investigative Bureau is part of these reforms. You’ve also seen the recent reforms in law enforcement, taxation, and finance. More reforms are on the way, and they will continue until all of France’s problems are resolved.
“Wouldn’t you like to join me in accomplishing this great endeavor?”
The room fell silent for a long time. Finally, Marat withdrew the resignation letter from the table, took a step back, and bowed solemnly. With a complicated expression, he said, “Your Highness, I hope to see a better and more just France.”
...
By May, the weather had become increasingly sweltering, resembling the midsummer heat of July and August.
It had not rained in three months, leaving vast stretches of foliage scorched yellow under the blazing sun. The parched ground cracked like thirsty mouths, yearning for the return of life-giving rain.
Yet, in the vineyards of the Lachaise Parish east of Bordeaux, a vibrant sea of green flourished.
Despite the scorching heat above, gentle streams flowed through the furrows beneath the grapevines.
Only three hundred paces west of the vineyard, a bronze steam engine rhythmically clattered, tirelessly drawing water from a tributary of the Garonne River to feed the irrigation channels.
The water coursed through carefully dug trenches, nourishing three and a half hectares of vineyard and sparing it from the drought’s devastation.
The vital machine, a 15-horsepower steam engine manufactured by the French United Steam Engine Company, was performing admirably.
To the south of the parish, in the surrounding farmland, another steam engine of the same model was working tirelessly to ensure the crops in the village survived the punishing drought.
A makeshift grass shelter stood beside the steam engine. Under its shade, two shirtless farmers reclined, squinting against the light as they rested.
Before long, a middle-aged man in a gray coat approached, accompanied by a group of carpenters. From a distance, he shouted sternly, “André! Aurore! Are you slacking off again?”
The two farmers scrambled to their feet, hastily throwing on their shirts. “No, no, Mr. Dietrich! We’ve been keeping an eye on it!”
Dietrich glanced at the steam engine and barked, “Do you know how much that thing costs? A full 13,000 livres! Without it, this parish’s entire crop would wither under the sun.
“If it runs out of water or coal and gets damaged, I swear I’ll have you both strung up on the church belfry!”
“Please, sir, don’t be angry. We promise we won’t doze off again,” André said as he grabbed a shovel, loaded it with coal, and hurried to the boiler. Aurore quickly opened the boiler’s hatch, letting André add the coal.
“You see? Everything’s fine now,” Aurore said, glancing at the water level in the boiler and smiling nervously at the parish steward.
Dietrich glared at them one last time, mentally resolving to assign another overseer to the site.
A month ago, as Dietrich stared at the village’s cracked fields, despair had gripped him.
The villagers had tried hauling water by cart, but the meager amounts they brought barely made a dent. If rain hadn’t come within five days, the parish’s potatoes would have been wiped out, followed closely by the wheat...
Then, their ordered water pump arrived. Purchased with a loan from the parish’s newly established Agricultural Bank, the machine arrived accompanied by technicians from Nancy, who installed it within two days.
Once the engine was fueled and ignited, water began flowing steadily from the Garonne, far surpassing what even a hundred horses could have transported. Within days, the village’s crops were saved.
Dietrich wiped the sweat from his brow and directed André and Aurore to help the carpenters unload the wooden planks from their cart.
André eyed the tall boards curiously. “Mr. Dietrich, are you building us a wooden house to rest in?”
Dietrich kicked him lightly and snapped, “Lazy fool, always thinking about resting!
“This is a protective shed for the steam engine.”
“A shed? What’s it for?”
“I don’t know.” Dietrich pointed at the grass shelter over the engine and explained, “It’s an order from the Governor. Every steam engine, water wheel, and windmill must be covered with sturdy wooden sheds.”
He shaded his eyes with a hand, gazing across the vast fields of wheat. “God willing, we’ll make it through this drought.”
...
Southeast of Paris, a burly man with a fierce countenance stepped out of the renowned technical institute. Waving dismissively to a gaunt young man following him, he said in a coarse voice, “See Viscount Donique home. Once he’s sober, tell him I’ll invite him back for some fun after we finish this business.”
“Understood, Mr. Imaneau. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Once the young man turned away, the drunken glaze vanished from Imaneau’s eyes. Moving quickly to his waiting carriage, he instructed the driver in a low tone, “To the Marquis’ residence. Quickly.”
As the carriage sped through the streets, Imaneau’s heart raced with excitement. From the tipsy Viscount Donique, he had just learned of an opportunity to amass incredible wealth—information about the man his employer loathed most.
Unbeknownst to him, another carriage had been shadowing his movements. After seeing him enter the Marquis de Ludo’s estate, the tailing carriage turned back. Inside sat none other than the previously inebriated Viscount Donique, who also happened to be the captain of the fourth team in the Intelligence Bureau’s operations division.
Behind the locked doors of his study, the Marquis de Ludo confronted Imaneau with a sharp gaze. “Is the information reliable?”
Imaneau nodded fervently. “Viscount Donique’s brother-in-law is an officer at the Bastille. He let it slip while drunk.”
A cold glint flashed in the Marquis’ eyes. “So, four nights from now, at ten o’clock, he’ll leave Paris?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Excellent. You’ve done well.”
After Imaneau departed, the Marquis summoned his butler to gather the heads of the banking guild.
In the same study, the Marquis gritted his teeth as he addressed the group. “Necker will secretly leave Paris four days from now. He may have secret police escorting him, but this might be our only chance to deal with him!”
Count Kappfeil’s eyes gleamed with menace. Clenching his fists, he growled, “No matter the cost, I’ll see him dead!”
As the group discussed their plans, the butler knocked on the door. “My lord, the Crown Prince’s envoy has arrived, requesting your presence at the Royal Industrial Planning Bureau.”
The Marquis’ heart sank. Could news of Necker’s escape plan have leaked?
Steeling himself, he left for the bureau, where he was soon ushered into the Crown Prince’s office.
After a brief greeting, Joseph smiled and motioned for him to sit. Producing a document, the Crown Prince asked, “I noticed from your bank’s records that you recently invested 2 million livres in the British automatic loom industry?”
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