Chapter 210: Britain's Traditional Ploy
"Hmph, thank you for saving Great Britain a grand total of 40,000 Pounds Sterling!"
As the Whig Party's "strongest firebrand," Charles James Fox snorted lightly, rising to his feet, and remarked sarcastically, "However, this small 'contribution' is far from enough to compensate for your and the Prime Minister's strategic blunders, which have led to our immense losses in North Africa."
He gestured to the hundreds of members of parliament seated behind him. "I believe the Tory Party must account for this to Parliament!"
The Tory Party was currently the ruling party in Britain.
However, they held no significant advantage in approval ratings over the Whig Party, largely due to King George III's particular favoritism toward William Pitt the Younger, who used royal influence to push Pitt into the position of Prime Minister.
The Whig Party had always resented this, and ever since Pitt the Younger took office, they seized every opportunity to attack the Tories.
The Duke of Leeds took a deep breath, thinking, 'It's here, as expected,' he thought, 'but thankfully, I discussed countermeasures with the Prime Minister yesterday. Now, it's time for my performance.'
He subtly glanced at the head of intelligence beside him, then raised a hand to interrupt Fox:
"My esteemed Member of Parliament, Mr. Fox, please ascertain the actual situation before rushing to accuse me."
"Yes," the Duke of Leeds nodded confidently. "The current situation in North Africa is entirely under the control of the Prime Minister and myself. We received reports long ago, fully aware of the French movements in Tunisia. Isn't that right, Mr. Butler?"
The intelligence chief immediately rose:
"Precisely. French activity was detected months ago."
Upon hearing this, the members of parliament murmured among themselves.
Of course, in reality, the Duke of Leeds and his colleagues knew nothing of France's Tunisian strategy until they read about the dramatic changes there in recent French newspapers. However, for politicians, lying was a fundamental skill.
"Control?" Fox scoffed disdainfully. "Do you mean standing idly by as the French reap enormous benefits in Tunisia?"
The Duke of Leeds immediately declared loudly:
"No, why would you assume the French have benefited? Quite the opposite, the current situation in Tunisia is the opportunity I have long awaited!"
Fox rolled his eyes at him:
"Did you have a drink before coming here? What nonsense are you spouting?"
The Duke of Leeds was unfazed, raising both fists and proclaiming passionately, "Right now, we have an opportunity to repay the French for everything they have done to us in North America!
"No one understands the grave dangers of colonial unrest better than we do. Tunisia is like a perilous swamp teeming with countless crocodiles, and the French have stepped into it like an inexperienced hunter.
"They only have 3,000 troops there. All we need to do is stir up those beasts, and we can bring them down!"
A member named James asked instinctively, "How do you propose to do that?"
The Duke of Leeds spread his hands. "Details of the operation cannot be disclosed yet. Everyone may apply to the Prime Minister for authorization to learn more."
This was standard practice. The British could uncover the inner workings of French cabinet meetings attended by only a few ministers, while France could easily obtain information from hundreds of British MPs. Therefore, specific plans were not discussed during parliamentary inquiries.
Fox exclaimed, "I'm not interested in the plan's content. I just want to know how much time your grand Tunisian plan requires and what results it can deliver."
"A year, no, perhaps even just a few months, and the French will be driven out of Tunisia," the Duke of Leeds declared confidently. "Alternatively, the French government will be forced to pour massive funds into the region, ultimately dragging down their finances."
The British MPs generally understood—managing colonies was incredibly expensive, especially when embroiled in a counter-insurgency, which yielded no profit and continuously drained resources. When the Americans fought for independence, Britain found itself in a similar predicament, and now, it was time for the French to experience similar hardship.
The Whigs finally paused their attacks, and Fox concluded with a threat:
"I look forward to your success. But if the Tunisian problem remains unresolved, I believe you should resign."
The Duke of Leeds smiled easily. "Of course, but that depends on Mr. Hollis's execution."
George Hollis was the British consul in Tunisia, and also a Whig.
Without waiting for Fox to respond, the Duke of Leeds immediately added, "Oh, and also, to better deal with the French in Tunisia, we will require some appropriations. Roughly 300,000 Pounds Sterling, perhaps..."
...
Gafsa, in southwestern Tunisia.
"These bastards!" Hollis, wearing a white turban and a light yellow Arab-style robe, cursed under his breath, enduring the scorching sun. "You fight for power in London, but you're gambling with my future!"
"Consul, what did you say?" A tall, middle-aged Englishman, similarly dressed, leaned forward from the opposite seat in the open carriage and asked.
"Ah... I was saying, it's fortunate that the Tunisians are wary of Europeans; it shouldn't be difficult to persuade them to oppose the French."
"Indeed, that's true," the tall, middle-aged man nodded. "And their Janissaries were just soundly beaten by the French, so they're bound to harbor resentment."
"And the newly installed Bey of Tunisia clearly lacks any real authority. All of this counts as good news for us."
The two chatted casually as they bumped along the rough road for another half an hour, until the carriage finally pulled up in front of a domed mansion on the southern edge of a town.
A Berber servant who came out to greet them received the silver coins Hollis offered, then bustled to usher them into the villa.
Inside, Hollis met Öküz, the highest-ranking commander of the Tunisian Janissaries in the area, equivalent to a mayor.
Seated on an exquisite woolen rug in the living room, Hollis exchanged pleasantries with Öküz in fluent Arabic before cutting straight to the point: "Pasha, the French disarmed nearly 10,000 Janissary warriors outside Tunis City! This is a complete humiliation for all Tunisian Janissaries! This insult must not be tolerated!"
Öküz nodded impassively, indulging him for the sake of the thousands of silver coins he'd brought, and agreed, "The navy provoked them, but they retaliated against the Janissaries. That is truly excessive!"
"Exactly! So we must retaliate fiercely against those Frenchmen!"
Öküz immediately shook his head. "How could my few men possibly defeat them?"
Hollis hastened to say, "Don't worry, you don't need to engage them directly. Simply ambush French merchant caravans now and then, burn French factories or houses under the cover of darkness, and so on.
"If the French send troops, you can claim complete ignorance and pretend to help capture the bandits. They'll leave quickly. They only have 3,000 men in Tunisia; they simply can't handle all these incidents."
He directly replicated all the tactics the British had encountered in America back then.
Öküz still seemed rather unenthusiastic. "But this still carries significant risk..."
Seeing his hesitation, Hollis had no choice but to pull out his trump card. "To support the Janissaries' revenge, I can offer you 2,000 riyals in funding."
A riyal is a gold coin slightly smaller than a Pound Sterling, and 2,000 riyals is equivalent to about 44,000 livres.
Seeing the Janissary officer's interest piqued, Hollis motioned to the accompanying Englishman. "This is Mr. Robert. He will come regularly to assess your progress in resistance and will leave you between 500 to 1,000 riyals per month."
Öküz immediately broke into a smile and pumped his fist. "I've been fed up with those Frenchmen for a long time! Don't worry, I'll make sure they pay!"
After leaving the Janissary officer, Hollis immediately hurried to a village outside the city to visit a large Berber tribe.
"Respected chieftain, you mustn't let the French deceive you," Hollis stated with a sincere expression. "They claim they're buying land, but they certainly won't pay.
"Moreover, the French possess a sinister magic that allows their cultivated land to drain the 'vitality' from nearby soil. If they plant crops here, it won't be long before your neighboring lands yield nothing!"
The light-skinned Berber chieftain frowned. "Is what you say true?"
"Absolutely true!" Hollis said. "For the future of your tribe, you must find every possible way to drive out those French settlers!
"I know this might bring you trouble, but a benevolent Pasha is willing to provide you with 200 riyals to compensate for any losses from conflicts with the French."
"But I heard the Bey has already ordered cooperation with the French..."
"Don't worry, the Bey's Janissaries have been crushed; you needn't fear them."
Before long, the British consul left the Berber tribe, heading to the next city to continue his important mission of stirring up trouble.
...
Tunis City.
Joanne, the French consul to Tunisia, adjusted his hat and walked into Qasr Khayr.
The current Bey, Haj, greeted him gleefully upon seeing him. "Mr. Joanne, your prophecy has come true! Younis's rebels were completely defeated a few days ago, and Khawja has led his army, pursuing the remaining hundred or so enemies into the southern desert."
"Congratulations, Bey," Joanne was not at all surprised.
After cutting off Younis's ammunition and financial supplies, the rebels' disadvantages in numbers and terrain became evident, and Khawja wore them down in less than a month.
Beside them, Hafsa, with a happy expression, instructed the maidservants to bring out fruits and drinks. She had officially married Haj a few days prior, and the two had finally become husband and wife.
After delivering the good news, Haj began to question Joanne about matters of taxation and official appointments. His personal abilities were mediocre, and he had no political foundation, with only about thirty servants. Currently, he relied entirely on the French army to maintain order, with even the palace guards managed by Paris Police Academy cadets. So, for any significant or minor issue, he would consult Joanne.
It wasn't until dusk that Joanne emerged from Qasr Khayr, immediately spotting Ameti, the recently appointed immigration officer, approaching him with an anxious expression.
"Is something wrong?"
Ameti briefly tipped his hat and urgently said, "Baron Joanne, a newly built workshop southeast of Bizerte has been burned down, and three people died."
Joanne immediately frowned. Dozens of attacks against French people had occurred in Tunisia recently. These were the more serious incidents; sporadic, unrecorded attacks were likely even more numerous.
"Have you found out who did it?"
"Not yet... You know, we are severely understaffed... By the way, I've heard rumors that Janissaries across the region are preparing to retaliate against us."
The two walked towards Joanne's residence across the street, talking as they went. Just as they reached the doorway, Ameti's assistant rushed up, shoving a letter into his hand, forgetting even to bow. "Sir, it seems a merchant caravan was looted in Sousse, and seven Frenchmen and three Sardinians were killed..."
Joanne's expression instantly grew solemn. "It seems I must report this to France."
...
Paris.
In a corridor of the Palace of Versailles, Joseph listened grim-faced as Joanne recounted the situation in Tunisia—the latter had rushed back to Paris yesterday because things were starting to spiral out of control.
"The Tunisian Janissaries are threatening to attack all French citizens?" Joseph frowned, looking at Joanne. "Have they begun to mobilize troops?"
"Not yet, no."
"Who is leading them?"
"It seems there's no clear leader either."
"Oh?" Joseph was somewhat surprised. "Without anyone calling for it, why would the Tunisian Janissaries act so uniformly? You just said that attacks are frequent almost everywhere in Tunisia."
Joanne said with a wry expression, "Your Highness, it's not just the Janissaries; it seems Berber tribes are also attacking French farmers who go out to cultivate land."
"Has the newly appointed Bey not issued a decree prohibiting attacks on the French?"
"He... Your Highness, in reality, his decrees are only effective within Tunis City, and that's only because Lieutenant Colonel Berthier's legion is stationed there."
'This situation is a bit troublesome,' Joseph thought, shaking his head inwardly. 'It sounds like we're about to get bogged down in a full-scale counter-insurgency.'
'That doesn't sound right,' he thought, his mind racing. 'If the Tunisian ruler has no real sway, and this region is far from any kind of national awakening, then spontaneous resistance to foreign forces simply shouldn't be happening.'
'It seems highly likely someone is inciting this from the shadows.'
'Who could it be? An influential Tunisian Janissary officer? Someone from the Ottomans? The British? Or the Algerians?'
He rubbed his forehead. 'Whoever it is, I need to stabilize the situation in Tunisia first.'
He asked Joanne a few more detailed questions about Tunisia, and by then, the two had reached the golden doors of the conference hall.
The guards on either side quickly opened the doors for him, then stood respectfully with bowed heads.
Inside the conference hall, several cabinet ministers had clearly already learned of the events in North Africa and were whispering among themselves.
Soon, Queen Mary also arrived. After everyone rose and bowed, the cabinet meeting, focused on the Tunisian issue, officially began.
First, Mirabeau, responsible for Tunisian immigration matters, rose to speak: "Evidently, news from Tunisia has spread throughout the country. Almost no one has applied to travel to Tunisia in the past week, and some who had arrived in Marseille awaiting passage have even begun to return home..."
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