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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 166
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 19:06:01 +0000 UTCChapter 166: Marat's Death Looms
Jefferson’s efficiency remained impressive.
Early the next morning, the proposal to collaborate with France in eliminating the Barbary pirates was submitted to the United States Congress.
The matter of purchasing two frigates was appended as an afterthought, seemingly with no intention of getting it approved by Congress.
...
Two days later, at the French Embassy in the United States.
Victor DuPont, the French ambassador to the United States and eldest son of the president of the French Chamber of Commerce, briskly entered an office on the embassy’s second floor. He raised his hat in greeting to the envoy reading by the window.
“Archbishop Talleyrand, I’ve just come from the U.S. Congress with some news...”
Taking the glass of water handed by a servant, he drank a couple of sips before continuing, “Most U.S. congressmen currently support funding to combat piracy, though they want to reduce the amount to $150,000. As for buying warships, they seem quite indifferent. A final vote might not happen until next week.”
“Thank you for the update, Mr. DuPont.”
Talleyrand closed his book nonchalantly, thinking to himself: Just as the Crown Prince predicted—getting these poor and stingy Americans to spend money won’t be easy. It seems I’ll have to approach that ‘Founding Father’ congressman. What was his name again?
He pulled a notebook from his pocket, where the Crown Prince’s instructions had been meticulously recorded.
“Ah, Hamilton.” He found the name and looked up at DuPont. “Could you arrange a meeting with Alexander Hamilton for me?”
“Of course, Archbishop Talleyrand.”
That afternoon, at a private residence in Philadelphia, Talleyrand had his meeting with Hamilton, the "Founding Father" leader mentioned by the Crown Prince.
Yes, America had gained independence in 1783, but five years had passed, and the country still lacked a unified government. The so-called Federal Congress was merely symbolic leadership, while actual affairs were decided individually by the legislatures of the thirteen states—essentially anarchy.
The state representatives were divided into two factions: the Founding Party and the Status Quo Party. Although the U.S. had drafted a constitution last year and established a direction for nation-building, the latter continued to obstruct progress vehemently.
After some brief pleasantries, Talleyrand suddenly sighed and said gravely, “Mr. Hamilton, to be frank, I deeply regret America’s current plight.”
“Oh? Why do you say so?”
“The people of the thirteen states paid a heavy price to win their independence, yet America remains fragmented to this day, without even a national government to lead it.”
Hamilton was momentarily stunned but nodded in agreement. “You’re absolutely right!”
“Those congressmen only care about their immediate interests, accusing those who wish to build America of seeking ‘centralization’ and ‘dictatorship’! Look at the Federal Congress—it doesn’t even have the power to levy taxes.”
Talleyrand echoed his sentiments: “The loose and feeble thirteen states inspire no fear, not even from Mediterranean pirates.
“If this continues, it won’t be long before Native Americans, Canadians, or even Caribbean pirates set their sights on you.”
Hamilton clenched his fists. “And yet, those people in Congress keep harping on the ‘dangers of centralization’... I think they’re just afraid of losing their own power in state legislatures.
“Without Shays’ Rebellion frightening them, America would still be a confederation to this day!
“Look at the world—all powerful nations have strong governments, preferably with a strong leader, like...”
The words “His Majesty, the King of France” were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter such an obvious lie. Instead, he said:
“...like Britain, France, or Austria. If America had a king now, we’d soon shake off our current poverty and backwardness!”
Talleyrand spread his hands. “Unfortunately, the Federal Congress needs to bolster its influence before you can form a government.”
Noticing Hamilton’s frustrated expression, Talleyrand’s eyes gleamed. “Only when facing a powerful enemy can internal unity be forged.
“As it happens, there’s currently an opportunity to strengthen the Federal Congress’s prestige, but your congressmen seem indifferent.”
“Oh? What opportunity do you mean?”
“Buying warships to join the French navy in combating the Barbary pirates!”
Seeing Hamilton’s confusion, Talleyrand quickly elaborated: “The purchased warships would belong to the Federal Congress.
“Imagine this: after the pirates are eliminated, will the headlines in American newspapers read, ‘The French helped us fight the pirates,’ or ‘Our warships went to the Mediterranean to eradicate the pirates’? Which do you think would inspire greater confidence in the Federal Congress among the American people?”
Hamilton’s eyes lit up. That’s it! A victorious foreign campaign would indeed be the best way to enhance national cohesion, even if the enemy were merely pirates.
The foolish and short-sighted congressmen had been trying to veto the warship purchase for days!
No, the warships must be bought. This was an excellent opportunity to promote the establishment of an American government. The more ships, the better—perhaps even enough to sink a pirate vessel.
However, when he thought about buying ships, his enthusiasm waned. “Archbishop Talleyrand, to be honest, the Federal Congress likely cannot allocate even a few tens of thousands of dollars for two frigates.”
When merchant ships were hijacked by pirates, the states would pool money to ransom the crew, yet they refused to contribute a cent to the Federal Congress during peacetime.
“Well...” Talleyrand pretended to think for a moment. “Perhaps I can find a way to help.”
“Oh? Do you mean France could offer a loan?”
“Not exactly.” Talleyrand leaned back in his chair. “I could try persuading the French government to accept cotton in exchange for the warships.
“But as for funding the anti-piracy campaign, if things aren’t handled well, I may have trouble advocating for you.”
Hearing that the warships could be acquired without cash, Hamilton immediately promised, “Rest assured, I’ll rally all the Federalists to get the proposal passed as soon as possible.”
“That would be ideal.”
Talleyrand then adopted a mysterious expression. “By the way, if I could secure a lower cotton import tariff for America, would you be interested?”
“Absolutely!” Hamilton nodded. Cotton was a vital American export, and increased trade with France would generate significant profits.
Talleyrand smiled. “However, this won’t be easy. I’ll have to navigate many complex relationships...”
“We can’t let you face difficulties alone. What would it take to make this happen?”
“Well, about $4,000,” Talleyrand replied with a radiant smile.
In reality, both the cotton-for-warships deal and the lower tariffs were part of Joseph’s established policy. To promote the development of the textile industry, a stable supply of raw materials was essential. Yet these plans had now become Talleyrand’s bargaining chips.
Hamilton, eager to avoid spending hard cash, agreed without hesitation: “As per your terms, Archbishop Talleyrand. I’ll apply for a special appropriation immediately.”
...
With Hamilton and the Federalists—referred to by Joseph as the “Founding Party”—working diligently, all proposals regarding the anti-piracy campaign were approved within three days.
Under Hamilton’s persistent efforts, the Federal Congress eventually decided to trade cotton for three frigates.
After Talleyrand signed a series of agreements with Jefferson and pocketed his $4,000 fee, he contentedly embarked on a ship bound for Russia.
In the ship’s cargo hold were 15,000 Charleville Model 1763 flintlock muskets.
The Americans had handed them over with remarkable promptness. Following their independence, they had disbanded tens of thousands of militiamen, leaving a large stockpile of firearms idle in warehouses. Using them to repay France’s favor seemed reasonable enough.
...
Lorraine Province, France
City of Toul
“So, this is what they call exile?”
Marat looked disdainfully at the vast estate before him, complete with a cream-colored villa resembling a small castle. Sneering, he remarked, “If only every poor person in France could be exiled in such luxury.”
He had always loathed dealing with bureaucrats, but for the sake of the French people, he resolutely approached the gate and rang the brass bell affixed to the fence.
Before long, a well-groomed nobleman in his fifties emerged from the cream-colored villa, smiling politely. “The weather is cold; please, have some hot cocoa to warm yourself.
“Oh, I’ve been away from Paris for so long that I hadn’t even heard of the Bureau of Public Integrity. I beg your pardon for my ignorance.
“Now, what brings you all the way here to see me?”
Marat glanced at the cup before him but didn’t touch it. He preferred the sharp bitterness of coffee, which could jolt his mind awake, to the sticky sweetness of cocoa.
“Viscount Carlonne, I’m here to inquire about Mr. Jacques Necker’s alleged embezzlement. Do you have any information you can share?”
Calonnehesitated briefly, then resumed sipping his cocoa with an air of indifference. “I’m not sure I understand your meaning. Mr. Necker is generally considered a man of integrity...”
“You need not feign ignorance.” Marat pulled out a stack of papers and placed them on the tea tray beside the cocoa cup. “These are copies of records from his tenure as Comptroller-General.
“Several loans show irregularities, particularly the first one he oversaw after taking office. The interest rate was exorbitantly high, and the bank handling it had ties to him.
“And here, and here...”
Calonneglanced at the documents but shook his head dismissively. “I’ve been out of politics for too long to make sense of these.
“If you suspect irregularities, by all means, continue your investigation. But why come to me?”
As he spoke, he turned toward the door, addressing a servant with sharp features and a vaguely Germanic demeanor. “Frederick, is something the matter?”
“Master Marvin asked what you’d like prepared for dinner,” the servant replied.
Calonnewaved a hand. “The usual will suffice.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once the servant had left, Marat spoke again: “Though I suspect corruption in these loans, obtaining concrete evidence is challenging—these are matters from over a decade ago. Take this 5 million livre loan, for instance. The high interest rate could be justified with all sorts of excuses.
“If you know anything, sharing it with me could help us send this embezzler to prison immediately!”
“You?” Calonnestudied Marat with a faint smile. “Ah, I remember now. You’re that journalist known for criticizing government policies.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Then you must already know Mr. Necker’s reputation. Besides, I truly have no knowledge of any wrongdoing.”
Marat’s assistant, Evans, grew impatient. “You claim not to get along with Necker—why won’t you help us bring him to justice?”
Calonneremained calm. “You must have heard baseless rumors. In truth, Mr. Necker and I enjoy an amicable relationship.”
After half an hour of fruitless discussion, Marat donned his hat and prepared to leave.
Calonnegestured toward the untouched cocoa. “Gentlemen, these are premium cocoa beans. Do not let them go to waste.”
Marat picked up the cup and drank its contents out of spite, finding the flavor far richer and sweeter than expected—a testament to the sugar that had been generously added.
He could rarely afford such luxuries.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Marat said, nodding briefly before departing with his assistant.
...
At a rural road outside Carlonne’s estate
Evans glanced back at the cream-colored villa, his expression downcast. “It seems we came here for nothing.”
Marat furrowed his brow and shook his head. “I trust the information from Vals. But why won’t Calonnetell us anything?”
“These shameless bureaucrats are all in cahoots. He must have accepted bribes from Necker to cover for him!”
“But Vals mentioned deep animosity between them... Perhaps Calonnesimply doesn’t trust us. We’ll return tomorrow.”
...
At dusk
Beside the orchard of Carlonne’s estate, Frederick, the servant with Germanic features, stood near a coal cart and spoke in a low voice. “That man even produced documents from Necker’s loan records, claiming there were irregularities. He mentioned a 5 million livre loan with exorbitant interest rates.”
“Marat?” the coalman muttered thoughtfully. “That name rings a bell. Isn’t he with the newly established Bureau of Public Integrity?”
The coal industry thrived in Lorraine, where coal was the primary heating source. Transporting coal was an essential trade, and coalmen were a common sight.
Frederick nodded quickly. “Yes, Calonnementioned that department as well.”
The coalman narrowed his eyes. “Could they have uncovered something about Mr. Necker? What did Calonnetell them?”
“I was sent away, so I didn’t hear much. But they spoke for over half an hour.”
The coalman’s gaze turned icy. “In that case, those two might know more than they should...
“Where are they now?”
“Felix followed them to Old Vance’s inn.”
The coalman waved his hand. “Good. You may return now.”
“Yes, Mr. Erich.”
When Erich drove his cart back to a shabby house in Toul, he barked at two burly men lounging on a bed. “Get up. We’ve got work to do.”
The two, who had been sleeping like the dead, sprang to their feet, swiftly pulling on boots and retrieving weapons—daggers and pistols—from the cracks in the wall. They tucked them into their clothing with practiced ease.
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