Chapter 495: High-Tech Industry
Fouché hesitated slightly. "Your Highness, nearly half of the pro-government factions in Corsica lean towards the Liberals. I'm afraid they might not readily follow Count Buttafuoco's command."
Buttafuoco belonged to the Old Nobility. Compared to the Restoration Organization, he detested the Liberals even more, those who constantly clamored for equality between nobles and common folk. Likewise, he was one of the Liberals' greatest enemies.
Joseph blinked, then said with firm resolve, "Then have Buttafuoco listen to the Liberals. Tell him that if he, the Liberals, and the 'anti-Paoli' faction can secure two-thirds of the seats in the Corsican parliament, I can appoint him Governor of Corsica."
In Corsica, two-thirds of the parliament members must agree for legislation to pass.
In reality, it wouldn't matter even if they couldn't secure that many seats. Most of the Liberals harbored nationalist sentiments, inherently at odds with the separatist Restorationists. Letting them tear each other apart would create an opportunity for Joseph's chosen candidates to rise.
Furthermore, having Buttafuoco involved with the Liberals would also allow him to rein them in at crucial moments.
Though Corsica was merely an island of about 200,000 people, it was rife with various political forces, making the situation exceedingly complex. Thus, until the early 19th century, it remained a 'state within a state' under French rule.
Joseph then instructed Fouché, "By the way, you also need to leverage Mr. Chalmers' influence within the Restoration Organization to quickly ascertain the true strength of the Corsican National Guard. Ideally, you should plant some of our own people within it."
He wasn't so naive as to believe that political maneuvering alone could fully resolve Corsica's separatist issue.
However, in that scenario, the Restoration Organization would lose its legal legitimacy in Corsica, and the populace would begin to oppose them.
At that point, dispatching troops to suppress them wouldn't entangle France in the quagmire of a Corsican 'people's war,' as Emperor Napoleon had experienced years ago.
Honestly, the Corsican National Guard, with its mere two thousand odd members, would be utterly incapable of standing its ground in open combat. And by having the Intelligence Bureau prepare in advance, the suppression process would be far smoother.
Only after enduring the baptism of true conflict could France exert absolute control over Corsica.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Fouché straightened his posture and accepted the order, just as Eman lightly rapped on the door from outside, reminding him, "Your Highness, according to your schedule, you are to inspect the gas distillation plant this afternoon."
"Very well, let's depart."
Joseph rose, motioned for Fouché to join him outside, and once they were in the carriage, he inquired about the situation in Tunisia and Tripoli.
It wasn't until they neared the gas distillation plant in Paris's northern suburbs that Fouché bid farewell and disembarked.
Joseph's convoy proceeded a bit further, where they found the factory manager, Delas; Murdoch, the patent inventor of the gas distillation method; Dupont, who had invested in the distillation plant; and the director of the Industrial Development Fund, among others, waiting by the roadside to greet them.
Moments later, music swelled around the carriage, and people carrying ribbons or bouquets gathered near the welcoming party. However, against the backdrop of the factory's crude wooden fence and the black smoke billowing in the distance, the scene appeared rather modest.
Joseph had initially not wanted them to hold a welcoming ceremony, believing it would be more practical to produce more gas with the time. However, when Delas later explained that it also marked the official commissioning of the distillation plant, Joseph no longer insisted.
Upon seeing the Crown Prince alight from his carriage, everyone bowed in unison.
Joseph, smiling, greeted everyone, then delivered a brief speech congratulating them on the official commissioning before entering the factory grounds, surrounded by the crowd.
Manager Delas walked beside him, eagerly explaining, "Your Highness, this plant can now distill 16 tons of coal daily, producing enough gas to power over 5,000 Gas Lamps, illuminating three-quarters of Paris's streets, as well as the entire Palace of Versailles!"
Joseph nodded with satisfaction. He recalled that during the World Expo, the pilot gas distillation plant could only supply over 800 Gas Lamps; half a year later, that number had increased fivefold.
This remarkable efficiency was thanks to his substantial financial investment and his personal oversight of the construction progress. It was, after all, the world's first gas distillation plant, with no prior experience to draw from, making such speed truly miraculous.
However, the gas lamp project in Paris alone saw government investment reach 2 million Francs, while investors like Dupont, who acquired shares in the gas lamp company, contributed another 1.6 million, bringing the total expenditure to a staggering 3.6 million Francs!
This was unavoidable; after all, Gas Lamps represented the cutting-edge technology of their era, comparable in technical sophistication to later companies like Boeing or Airbus, so the cost naturally wouldn't be low.
Yet, such a substantial investment was undoubtedly worthwhile. Apart from the Gas Streetlights elevating the image of Paris and all of France, thereby significantly increasing its attractiveness for talent and investment, the real estate profits alone generated by the street lighting project would be enough to recoup the investment and even turn a hefty profit.
Delas then looked eastward, a wide smile on his face. "Your Highness, the second phase of the distillation plant is expected to be completed by early next year. By then, not only will all of Paris be able to use Gas Lamps, but nearby towns like Antoine will also have an ample gas supply."
"Oh, and Lyon," he added, "the distillation plant there should officially begin production around October..."
Led by Delas, Joseph and his entourage rounded a massive coal pile, easily three stories high, to see ahead large workshops constructed from stone and wood. Within, they could vaguely discern the metal retorts glowing a dull red under fierce flames.
Thick black smoke billowed from the funnels atop the buildings, staining the nearby sky a deep gray.
Dozens of workers filled wheelbarrows with coal from the colossal pile, then grunted and pushed them into the workshops. Inside, others continuously shoveled coal into the furnace beneath the retorts. Technical staff stood nearby, constantly checking furnace temperatures and various instruments.
All the workers there were blackened from head to toe with coal smoke, and beads of sweat constantly rolling down their bodies carved out fine white streaks, making them look as if they were wearing Juventus team jerseys.
Eman vigorously fanned Joseph, trying to ward off the rolling heat waves emanating from the retorts, when he suddenly heard a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz from behind him. "Viscount Eman, might I... excuse myself for a moment?"
Joseph, hearing this, turned to see his maid, her face flushed crimson, head bowed in embarrassment.
He suddenly realized that the workers here were all bare-chested—'in such scorching heat, wearing clothes would be pure self-torment'—and quickly gestured to her. "Very well, you can wait for us outside the factory."
"Yes, thank you, Your Highness."
Camelia hastily turned, gathering her ash-stained skirt, and scurried out.
Perna, clad in men's attire and walking close behind Joseph, glanced at her, then subtly lifted her chin as if in triumph.
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