Chapter 226: Some Rejoice, Some Grieve
December 10, 1788.
All of Paris shivered in the dry, cold wind. News of food shortages trickling in from other provinces made this winter feel exceptionally harsh.
Only the news of victory from North Africa offered a glimmer of cheer during this trying season.
The French populace was on the cusp of a national awakening, already feeling a deep connection to the nation's achievements and glory. For a time, every street and alley buzzed with fervent discussion.
When the Guards Corps returned to their Paris barracks, the area outside was thronged with people, who greeted them with cheers and enthusiastic smiles.
Concurrently, a grand celebration ceremony was being held at the Palace of Versailles.
Joseph, somewhat weary, stepped down from his rail carriage and immediately heard a tsunami of cheers. Looking up, he saw thousands of nobles lining both sides of the Versailles Palace square, stretching all the way to the palace gates.
He mustered his strength, waved to the crowd, and was met with another wave of enthusiastic applause.
Frankly, after more than two weeks of travel from Tunisia to Paris, all he wanted to do was sleep for a full day in a soft bed.
He glanced at the carriage behind him. Berthier, Joanne, several Police Intelligence Bureau agents, and Hilada, representing Tunisia, disembarked one after another.
The group was clearly unaccustomed to such a magnificent occasion, standing frozen for several seconds before being roused by a quiet prompt from a master of ceremonies. They quickly hurried to stand behind the Crown Prince.
The procession, with Joseph at its center, moved through the dense crowd. In the distance, the court orchestra began to play, followed by the roar of cannon salutes.
The noble ladies of Versailles harbored an even greater ardor and infatuation for the Crown Prince than before. His experiences in distant North Africa had slightly tanned Joseph's skin, making him appear more rugged and masculine, and adding an aura of mystery that absolutely captivated the young women.
Meanwhile, the gazes of the high-ranking nobles, those of significant standing, were markedly different from before.
Before the Crown Prince went to Tunisia, the region was rife with attacks on the French, a complete mess, and the cabinet had even considered abandoning this troublesome burden. But after the Crown Prince arrived, the situation in Tunisia quickly stabilized. Upon his return to Paris, he even brought a new province to France!
No one could possibly believe this was mere coincidence.
It was clear that the young Crown Prince possessed talent and skill far beyond his years.
Of course, it was also possible that Queen Marie had guided everything from behind the scenes, but the Crown Prince's flawless execution of her plans was equally not to be underestimated.
Regardless of whether it was the Queen's or the Crown Prince's methods in Tunisia, the prestige of the royal family had significantly increased as a result. At the very least, no one would now view the royal family with the mocking attitude they once held; on the contrary, those who praised and respected the Crown were growing in number.
Furthermore, those nobles who frequently frequented the Palais-Royal now found themselves in a fierce internal struggle.
They had watched the Duke of Orleans stumble at every turn, losing control of the High Court, media dominance, and the banking industry one after another.
Should they continue to side with the Duke of Orleans in the future? Or should they curry favor with the royal family as soon as possible, to secure their own retreat?
On the steps before the grand entrance of Versailles, Queen Marie gazed with eager anticipation as her son approached. Yet, with the Tunisian envoy present, she had to suppress the urge to rush forward and embrace him, merely exchanging greetings as per custom.
Hilada stepped forward from behind, bowed respectfully to the King and Queen, then presented Louis XVI with Haj Bey's signed application for Tunisia to join France.
Tunisia's integration as a French province had been decided ten days prior; this was merely a formality.
Louis XVI took a deep breath, gathered all his strength, and declared loudly, "I accept Tunisia's loyalty, and in the name of the King of France, I shall forever protect Tunisia and grant you peace and prosperity."
A thunderous cheer immediately erupted across the Versailles Palace square: "Long live His Majesty the King!"
"May our King's radiance forever shine upon Tunisia!"
"Praise God! Praise our King!"
However, the surging cheers made the habitually reserved Louis XVI increasingly nervous. It wasn't until the master of ceremonies leaned closer to remind him that he raised a hand to signal for silence, then invited the Tunisian representatives and others into the Palace of Versailles.
Following this, Queen Marie presided over the ceremony in the Hall of Mirrors for France's incorporation of the four North African provinces.
This was a suggestion Joseph had made to the Queen on his way back to Paris: to divide Tunisia into four provinces—Bizerte Province, Sousse Province, Kairouan Province, and Sfax Province.
Tunis City was incorporated into Sousse Province. The relatively barren southern regions belonged to Sfax Province. Henceforth, the name "Tunisia" would only appear as a geographical concept.
Joseph had worried himself sick over Tunisia's long-term peace and stability.
Dividing Tunisia into four provinces would, first, dilute the concept of Tunisia as a unified entity, to prevent anyone from using it to stir up separatism in the future.
Secondly, four Governors could balance and supervise each other, preventing the emergence of powerful overseas regional warlords. After all, the Ottoman Empire's cautionary tale was clear: as soon as the empire's power declined even slightly, the Janissaries immediately became de facto rulers in Tunisia.
Finally, communication and administrative capabilities in this era were very limited, making it difficult for one Governor to effectively manage the entire territory. Tunisia, it must be noted, covered 160,000 square kilometers, more than a quarter of France's total area! Though vast in size, Tunisia's population was relatively sparse, so appointing four Governors would generally be manageable.
The ceremony for integrating the provinces concluded, followed by the King and Queen's awards ceremony for those who distinguished themselves in North Africa.
Joseph stood somewhat awkwardly at the forefront, with Berthier, Joanne, Ishaq, and others to his right.
Queen Marie placed a wreath on her son's head, looking him up and down. She finally couldn't resist pulling him into a hug, whispering with concern, "My dear, I am so proud of you! Tell me, are you hurt? Did you get sick? Did you get used to the food in Africa?"
Joseph gently patted the Queen's back, nodding continuously. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly fine. I am a grown man, after all, and I'll often be traveling to various parts of the world. You don't need to worry about me so much."
"Alright, alright..." Queen Marie's eyes were a little moist, but the corners of her mouth curved upwards. "My Joseph will surely soar like an eagle, spreading his wings across the vast sky. And I will always be here waiting for you to come home."
Louis XVI also leaned closer, whispering, "Mm, me too."
The court master of ceremonies checked his watch, then let out a helpless cough.
Queen Marie quickly released her son, forcefully held back her tears, took a wreath from the master of ceremonies, and walked towards Berthier. "Your excellent performance in North Africa has astonished everyone. Please accept my and His Majesty the King's respect, Lieutenant Colonel."
Joseph, at the opportune moment, turned and whispered, "Mother, it should be Brigadier General now."
The Queen nodded. "Ah, yes, that's right. I heard about that battle; your contribution was enough to merit promotion to Brigadier General."
A smile flashed across Joseph's face. By convention, Berthier would ordinarily have been promoted to Colonel this time, but an exceptional promotion to Brigadier General was not out of the question. Seizing the moment while the Queen was pleased to confirm his rank would greatly benefit the future development of the Guards Corps.
After all, a Brigadier General could already command an entire local garrison, making it much easier in the future to expand the size of the Guards Corps or recruit officers.
After the Queen had placed the wreath on the last person and delivered a brief address, it was time for lunch.
Without allowing for argument, Queen Marie took Joseph's arm and walked towards the dining hall, showering him with questions about his well-being along the way. Clémentine, who had been eager to hear stories of the North African campaign from her cousin, fidgeted impatiently, unable to find an opportunity to interject.
The royal chef had specially prepared North African-style "Tajine" as the first course for lunch. In truth, he had agonized for a long time over whether this North African dish should be served as a soup or a main course, ultimately classifying it as a main dish due to its somewhat sparse broth.
Joseph, having eaten Tajine every few days while in Tunisia, was very familiar with it.
It was a dish slow-cooked in a clay pot, using generous amounts of spices and sauces, with beef, fish, tomatoes, and various vegetables—a hearty Eastern stew, and quite delicious.
When the French chef's Tajine was served, a servant opened the conical lid of the clay pot, and a rich aroma immediately wafted forth.
Joseph used his fork to pick up a piece of fish and put it in his mouth. The sauce-coated fish dissolved on his tongue, its seafood sweetness emerging. After a few casual chews, he swallowed it whole.
'It's infinitely more delicious than what the Tunisians made.'
'French chefs truly live up to their reputation!'
A thought suddenly occurred to Joseph: he could promote this dish in France to foster French acceptance of Tunisians.
But as he looked up, he suddenly realized that everyone else, except himself, was gazing fixedly at the Tajine, unmoving.
'Was this dish not to French tastes?'
Joseph was wondering this to himself when he saw the court master of ceremonies whispering something to the Queen. Only then did she awkwardly pick up a fork and reach into the clay pot.
The nobles below watched the Queen, then began to eat, following her lead.
Joseph couldn't help but sigh, 'I'd forgotten that at Versailles, one must follow strict etiquette for everything, including which utensils to use first and last, and which parts of the dish to eat in what order.'
So, facing an unfamiliar North African dish, everyone had been at a loss as to where to begin.
After the banquet, a celebratory ball followed—a Tunisia-themed ball.
Nobles, dressed in North African-style attire, danced gracefully to exotic music.
Joseph, as was his custom, stood in a corner, watching the fashionable Tunisian garments and inwardly estimating how much Paris's fashion designers had earned this time.
Some rejoiced, some grieved. While everyone celebrated happily, the military aristocracy appeared preoccupied.
"Who was it who said last time that Berthier's troops couldn't even enter Tunis City?" a middle-aged officer grumbled softly. "Yet he not only stabilized the situation in Tunisia but also defeated the Algerians!"
"I never thought those Algerians would be so incompetent. If we'd known that, we should have gone to Tunisia ourselves!"
General d'Astou frowned. "Berthier's reputation has greatly increased now. You know, he is a man of the Crown; if this continues, the royal family's influence in the army will grow even stronger!"
"Exactly, didn't the Moulins Legion side with the royal family?" the middle-aged officer added. "It was a direct order from the Queen, bypassing the Minister of War, and the Duke de Villars' army went to North Africa!"
The Marquis de Saint-Véran, who had just returned to Paris yesterday, bitterly interjected, "We absolutely cannot let this trend continue! Once the royal family no longer relies on our armies, they will discard us like old boots!"
Someone mumbled, "But what can we do? We have no means to rein in that Berthier."
Another voice, even softer, murmured, "Actually, cooperating with the royal family isn't entirely out of the question..."
The other officers immediately glared fiercely at the speaker. This was a matter of tacit understanding: by monopolizing the army, they effectively had free rein to squander France's military funds.
Handing over military command to the royal family would mean that the hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of livres in phantom pay, kickbacks from equipment procurement, and additional funds for campaigns, would all vanish.
More importantly, their descendants would likely be unable to inherit their high military ranks.
Their families might no longer be renowned.
"This is absolutely unacceptable!"
General d'Astou said in a stern tone, "We must unite. That Berthier is not impossible to deal with.
"Have you forgotten? His troops were originally part of the French Guards, while another part has now become Marrier's Corps. We can work to restore the French Guards' original structure, reincorporating both these corps into the French Guards, and appoint a high commander for the Guard.
"That way, if the royal family wants to mobilize Berthier's corps, they would have to issue orders through his superior commander."
"That's very feasible!" the Marquis de Saint-Véran immediately agreed. "As for the Moulins Legion, I recall it was previously commanded by Major General Villars, before the Duchesse de Villars suddenly reclaimed it."
The Major General Villars he referred to was the uncle of the Duchesse de Villars, Marie Emilie.
"We must exert our influence to support Major General Villars. His sixteen or seventeen-year-old niece is not a cause for concern."
"We also need to arrange for enemies to emerge whom Berthier cannot handle; only then will the royal family compromise with us."
"You are absolutely right, but something like the Algerians definitely won't work..."
...
Konstantiniyye.
Although Tunisia's decision to secede from the Ottoman Empire did not cause substantial losses to the Empire, it still created a massive stir within the Ottoman realm.
Especially with the war against the Russians going extremely unfavorably, this news became the final straw that broke the confidence of the empire's populace.
People in the streets and alleys whispered about the losses on both the northern and southern fronts, and pessimism spread rapidly everywhere.
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