Chapter 210: North African Development Plan
As the nobles in the Hall of Mirrors finished their bows and the murmurs of admiration faded, Queen Marie turned to Joseph, her expression filled with doting affection and pride:
"And my excellent son, Your Royal Highness, the Crown Prince! As everyone knows, the plan to send forces to North Africa to combat the Barbary Pirates was first proposed by him, and he offered many crucial suggestions for its implementation. Ultimately, we achieved this magnificent victory!"
'Yes, that's right. Mentioning her husband first was purely out of consideration for His Majesty the King's dignity. Her true intention from the very beginning was to praise her beloved son.'
She recalled her son's past achievements, a smile involuntarily gracing her lips—first, he proposed cooperating with America to fight the pirates, which saved France a significant sum and earned gratitude from both America and Russia.
Then, just last month, her son suggested mobilizing the newly formed Berthier Corps, or whatever it was called, to provide support in North Africa. She had initially thought it was to assist the navy, but she never expected this small corps of some 3,000 men to directly dismantle the pirates' stronghold. They even helped the young king of Tunisia reclaim his throne, securing immense benefits for France in Tunisia.
Yes, the Queen only knew that 3,000 men from the Berthier Corps had been sent to North Africa. As for the more than 1,100 police cadets, His Royal Highness the Crown Prince had funded their "vacation" abroad and hadn't reported it to her at all.
The nobles in the Hall of Mirrors immediately bowed to Joseph once more, a chorus of praise echoing through the hall:
"Your Royal Highness the Crown Prince will bring a bright future to France!"
"Praise be to the Son of Divine Favor!"
"Your Royal Highness is the embodiment of talent and wisdom..."
Even Joseph, having undergone nearly a year of "training" and now somewhat immune to such effusive flattery, felt goosebumps prickling his skin.
Beside him, Louis XVI proudly clapped his son's shoulder, looking even happier than when the crowd had praised him moments before.
The Queen, naturally, was no different. Only one thought resonated repeatedly in her heart: 'Such excellent judgment and talent from my son, truly worthy of my bloodline...'
The young noblewomen in the hall gazed at Joseph with even greater adoration and fascination. 'The Crown Prince was still the most outstanding, the most handsome, the most perfect dream lover!'
And, compared to last year, His Highness seemed to have gained something more.
'Indeed, he had clearly grown taller and more robust; even his Adam's apple was more prominent! Clearly...'
As the young women considered this, their cheeks instantly flushed crimson. His Highness had clearly "matured."
'So, what method could they use to be the first to entice him to bed? He didn't even have a formal mistress yet!'
They had already automatically disregarded Clementine, who was trying hard to appear feisty yet harmless beside His Highness. After months of observation, everyone knew that the little Tuscan princess merely seemed boisterous, but was actually quite amiable, and most importantly, lacked any cunning.
Thus, the young women's minds stirred with renewed ambition—the unspoken rule of Versailles was that a Crown Princess was one thing, and a mistress another. 'Surely, they could all come to an understanding...'
As the praises gradually subsided, Louis XVI, accompanied by Queen Marie, moved to the center of the hall and began the opening dance to Handel's "Water Music."
Among the nobles standing in the back row, a young nobleman in a brown coat gazed at the grand celebration, murmuring to himself in confusion:
"Is it really necessary to hold such a grand ceremony just because more pirates were caught? It wasn't like this before when we caught pirates..."
A middle-aged nobleman nearby overheard him and immediately corrected him:
"This celebration isn't just about eliminating pirates. You see, France spent almost no money, dispatching only three thousand soldiers, yet gained immense benefits in North Africa."
"Indeed," the stout man next to him nodded. "According to the reports, we will now be able to purchase land and establish factories in Tunisia. Moreover, France also enjoys Most Favored Nation treatment with Tunisia, meaning its import tariffs would be lower than those of any other country."
He chuckled, "It's safe to say, aside from lacking the power to appoint officials, it's practically a French colony."
The brown-coated nobleman's eyes widened. "I see! Then it truly deserves a grand celebration. Since the Seven Years' War, France has struggled to acquire overseas interests due to British interference!"
The stout man added, "And Tunisia is an excellent place, with fertile land, and it produces iron and olives, making it quite prosperous."
"It seems that in just a few years, it will bring substantial profits to France. Our Minister of Finance will surely be delighted."
"Ha! God save our King, God save France!"
"God save our King!"
Unlike most people in the hall, a small group of nobles with military backgrounds gathered near the orchestra appeared less than pleased.
A military officer whispered, "Does anyone know the origins of that Berthier Corps?"
The man beside him also lowered his voice. "Apparently, Berthier used to be under General Custine. Later, he was recommended by Breteuil and took a position in Paris. After the French Guards incident, he absorbed some of their personnel and formed this corps."
"It seems he must be quite wealthy, otherwise how could he have risen so quickly..."
An officer in his fifties with deep lines around his eyes interrupted him, his voice resentful. "I don't care about his resume, I just want to know how he dared to lead troops to North Africa without informing us?! I heard even Marquis Saint-Priest wasn't aware of his deployment!"
These military aristocrats had long formed a "community of interests," monopolizing military resources. Any large-scale military movement had to be discussed and approved by them.
Otherwise, either the troops wouldn't move, or the officers involved would be ostracized, or a campaign that should cost one million livres would end up costing five million without achieving victory.
"The royal family ordered the deployment directly," another officer stated. "It did not go through the Minister of War."
"How can this be allowed?!" the general with many lines around his eyes exclaimed, agitated. "We must not set this precedent! I mean, allowing the royal family to use military force as they please..."
Several people around him quickly urged him to be silent. Fortunately, the music was loud, and no other nobles overheard them.
Even putting aside political factors, if their men had been sent to fight in North Africa this time, they would have pocketed at least a million livres or more.
But with Berthier going behind their backs, that money was now down the drain.
The other generals nodded in agreement. "The royal family is trying to bypass us."
"We must prevent the royal family from controlling the army!"
However, a slightly younger officer waved his hand. "General d'Astou, you needn't be too anxious.
"It's just a small corps of around 3,000 men; they can't accomplish much.
"Just like this time, if they hadn't been lucky enough to stumble upon the Tunisian coup, with so few men, they wouldn't have been able to enter Tunis City at all.
"In the event of a truly large-scale campaign in the future, the royal family will still have to come to us. At that time, we can negotiate terms with the royal family regarding the Berthier Corps's allegiance.
Won't all our problems be solved then?"
After the King and Queen concluded their opening dance, Joseph, as was customary, began the second segment. His dance partner was, of course, Clementine.
It was still the simplest Sarabande. The two, with their obvious height difference, simply held their heads high, striking various poses while politely circling each other.
It was arguably the most awkward performance of the night.
When the dance ended, Joseph immediately escaped to a quiet corner. Soon, Mirabeau, who also disliked dancing, approached him to discuss investment plans for Tunisia.
Originally, this area should have been the responsibility of the Minister of the Interior, but Joseph knew Monnot's limitations. So, he had Mirabeau lead the planning, which would then be submitted directly to the cabinet for signing.
However, when Joseph heard Mirabeau mention "three to four years" and a "plan to send fifty thousand people to Tunisia," he couldn't help but frown slightly.
According to his vision, it would be best to harvest large quantities of grain from Tunisia by next year to alleviate France's food shortages. If there could also be a certain scale of industrial and trade revenue, that would be even better.
But if only fifty thousand people emigrated over three to four years, it would have almost no effect.
"Can we accelerate the pace and scale of this emigration?" he asked Mirabeau.
"Your Highness, this is the fastest plan we could devise after our research," Mirabeau replied with difficulty. "You know, although land prices in Tunisia are very cheap, buying large tracts of land still costs a lot of money. Furthermore, traveling to a foreign country incurs considerable travel and resettlement expenses, and there's no output for the first six months. Therefore, people without a certain amount of capital cannot go there at all.
"And few wealthy people are willing to leave France, after all, the North African environment isn't that comfortable. If the first group of people who go there make money, and news spreads back home, then more capable people will be willing to take the risk, but it will certainly take a long time to reach a significant scale."
Upon hearing this, Joseph fell silent.
'It seems I thought too simply.'
'The real world isn't like playing a game, where a simple mouse click makes hundreds of thousands of people immediately execute orders.'
'Asking every living person to take out their savings and risk it in an unfamiliar land is something most people are unwilling to do.'
'Could it be that the achievements in North Africa truly couldn't be converted into profits in a short time?'
He searched through all the examples of immigration in his mind and then, a brilliant idea struck him. 'A century later, wasn't America's unprecedented immigration movement the best model? He could completely adopt their Great Western Development Plan and create a Great North African Development Plan.'
Joseph organized his thoughts and said to Mirabeau, "Perhaps we can approach the problem from a different angle."
"You mean?"
"Since the rich are unwilling to endure hardship in North Africa, then let the poor go!"
Mirabeau paused, then shook his head. "Your Highness, that, I'm afraid, isn't very likely... The poor can't even afford the necessary travel expenses."
"The government will provide loan support," Joseph said, following the American method of old, adapted to France's current situation. "Travel expenses, seed money, farm tool money, and even living expenses for the first six months—all will be loaned by banks to French farmers. Do you think three hundred livres per person would be enough?"
"That, it shouldn't be needed, Your Highness. A little over two hundred livres would suffice. If we organize large-scale transport by fleet, it could be even less."
"Excellent," Joseph nodded. "As for the land, the banks will fund its purchase from the Tunisians and directly hand it over to the farmers for cultivation. After cultivating for ten years, the land will become theirs. During this period, they will only need to pay a portion of their harvest to the government annually.
"Tunisia's land is fertile; they will quickly be able to repay their loans with their harvests."
Mirabeau exclaimed in surprise, "Your Highness, but in that case, the government will have to spend a lot of money... tens of millions of livres, perhaps."
"It will be worth it!"
Joseph knew that the droughts of this year and next would lead to significant crop reductions. By mid-next year at the latest, an unavoidable famine would occur. At that time, the government would have to spend a lot of money purchasing grain for disaster relief.
It would be better to invest some money in Tunisia now; the increased grain harvest could equally cope with the famine. And this would be a stable food source—that region has abundant sunshine and rain, allowing for three harvests a year with minimal effort.
"It won't be long before Tunisia's rich resources recoup the initial investment."
Mirabeau pondered, then slowly nodded. Indeed, as His Royal Highness the Crown Prince said, if the French population in Tunisia increased, the region's abundant iron products, olives, and livestock could be developed due to market demand. These could then be sold throughout North Africa.
He suddenly thought of another question: "Your Highness, but with such a large investment, our treasury might..."
"I'll figure that out."
Joseph sighed softly. He mused that he could first establish a Tunisia Development Fund to attract private investment, though he wasn't sure how interested domestic capital would be in North Africa.
If all else failed, he could issue a batch of high-interest public bonds. Fortunately, France's national debt had been somewhat alleviated, and given the current financial situation, it should still be barely affordable.
However, that would cause the recently lowered national debt interest to rise again.
'Ugh, money, why is it so hard to earn?'
...
Britain.
London.
St. James's Palace, Parliamentary Hall.
"Clearly, the French have successfully deceived us," an bespectacled MP glanced at the Duke of Leeds, the Foreign Secretary, his tone laced with sarcasm. "We generously spent four hundred thousand pounds sterling to strengthen the coastal defenses of our completely unrelated North African 'neighbor,' Algiers, and supplied dozens of cannons.
"The result is that we can only watch as France reaps benefits in Tunisia almost equivalent to a colony."
The Duke of Leeds clenched his fist under the table. While these Whig Party members were enjoying luxury in their London mansions, he had been enduring the sea breeze and eating salted meat and sour wine every day in the Mediterranean.
Now they were leaping out to blame him!
His eye twitched, but he forced a smile. "James, you must be mistaken. It was three hundred and sixty thousand pounds sterling. I didn't spend the entire budget."
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