Chapter 66: The British Ambassador's Story
A black carriage pulled up in front of the Palais-Royal.
A guard immediately stepped forward to stop it. "This is the Palais-Royal. State your name, please."
The coachman pulled out a small copper plaque from his person and flashed it. The guard instantly opened the gates and lowered his head, falling silent.
The carriage drove directly to the east side of the Palais-Royal and stopped. A person in a black robe, with their hat brim pulled very low, quickly ascended the steps and, with a familiar gesture, pushed the door open and entered.
The Duke of Orleans sat at his desk, contemplating something. Just as he was about to pick up his pen to write a letter, he heard his butler's voice from outside the door: "My lord, Mr. Hartley, the British Ambassador, has arrived."
"Show him in."
Moments later, the door swung open, and Hartley, dressed in black, greeted the Duke of Orleans with a hand over his chest, a wide smile on his face. "Ah, Philippe, my old friend! It's been a while."
The Duke of Orleans smiled and nodded. "My dear David! What brings you to my place?"
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Hartley got straight to the point. "Philippe, you know how it is; London always gives me trouble. And here in Paris, I can only rely on you, old friend."
"Well, you see, I want to publish a few things in the newspapers."
"Then you've come to the right place," the Duke of Orleans chuckled. "Tell me, is it a simple notice, or something more substantial?"
"Er, to be precise," Hartley spread his hands, "I want to publish some stories."
"Stories?"
"They are stories about Prussians," Hartley explained. "For example, Duke Schwarz of Prussia is vying with Count Fersen for Queen Mary's affections."
"Duke Schwarz? I wasn't aware there was a..."
The Duke of Orleans paused mid-sentence, then a knowing smile spread across his face. "Ah, I understand. Who cares if there's a Duke Schwarz or not, the point is the story about him and the Austrian harlot."
Hartley nodded. "You are truly a clever man. Furthermore, there's Baron de Ramos of Silesia, who is having a secret rendezvous with Princess Thérèse."
Silesia had by then been incorporated into Prussia. Princess Thérèse was Louis XVI's eldest daughter, Joseph's elder sister. Naturally, everything Hartley spoke of was fabricated out of thin air.
The Duke of Orleans casually added, "During Baron de Ramos's rendezvous, his female attendant caught the Crown Prince's eye, and rumor has it she's already pregnant."
Hartley's eyes lit up. "If you were a playwright, you'd be famous throughout Europe! Let's go with that then; please have these stories published as soon as possible."
All these matters concerned the royal family's reputation; without the Duke of Orleans' connections, they would never appear in print.
The Duke of Orleans smiled faintly. "This will be no easy task."
"That's precisely why I've come to bother you. Aren't you the one who calls the shots for the Parisian newspapers?"
The Duke of Orleans responded noncommittally, "A significant portion of the money I invested in the automatic loom industry in Britain is still under review."
Hartley nodded. "I can help you expedite that. You know how it is, government officials aren't exactly known for their efficiency."
The Duke of Orleans finally showed a satisfied expression. "Then I'll rely on you. As for your stories, they should be known to all very soon."
Before long, Hartley departed.
The Duke of Orleans immediately penned letters to the main newspaper offices he controlled. The primary purpose was to outline how to handle the Tax Bill, with a few concluding remarks about the British Ambassador's stories.
...
At three in the afternoon, Joseph's carriage departed from the Paris Police Academy, heading back to Versailles.
He now studied at the police academy two or three times a week, primarily focusing on tactical command, military surveying, and logistics in the elite class.
He knew well that as the Industrial Revolution deepened, the European continent would plunge into turmoil, with the redistribution of interests between old and new powers sparking endless wars.
He had to master sufficient military knowledge to guarantee France's safety and stability.
At this time, France had yet to acquire its future reputation for rapid surrender; it was, in fact, quite warlike. A king capable of leading France to victory would earn the love of all French citizens and wield supreme authority.
Even taking a step back, if he didn't personally lead troops into battle, he at least needed to know which wars could be won and which could not.
Therefore, he had to study basic military courses, and in turn, he could also impart knowledge to the military instructors at the police academy.
Military theories like artillery-infantry coordination, cavalry-artillery cover, concentrated artillery deployment, and even large-scale flanking maneuvers—all concepts that had yet to emerge—he couldn't teach them in exhaustive detail, but for the instructors, it was like opening the door to a new world.
Once they grasped the concepts and general direction, they could further refine and perfect them, then incorporate them into the army's training curriculum.
A few days prior, Dubois had arrived at the police academy to head the "Strategy and Tactics Research Department." Although he was surprised that a school training police officers would research strategy and tactics, he gladly accepted the position.
After reviewing Joseph's groundbreaking military theories, he fully understood the necessity of this research department. The military theoretical level of this police academy was undoubtedly far superior to that of the Paris Military School! He felt fortunate to have earned the Crown Prince's esteem and to have come to serve at this military academy—oh, no, he corrected himself, this police academy.
A "police academy" equipped with numerous warhorses, three 4-pounder cannons, and one 8-pounder cannon...
Joseph sat in the bumpy carriage, mentally noting the coil spring suspension he still hadn't found time to implement, and casually picked up the newspaper from the small table in front of him to read.
The recent publicity for the tax reform bill had been very effective; after only a few days, he could already hear people discussing the new tax provisions on the streets of Paris.
If this trend continued, it wouldn't be long before the great nobles of the Assembly of Notables would find it difficult to incite public opinion against the monarchy.
However, when he saw the front page of the Voice of the City, he couldn't help but frown. He had arranged to reserve three months' worth of advertising space in that newspaper, yet today's front page featured news of a noblewoman's murder.
He then picked up the Paris News, whose front-page headline surprisingly read: "The New Tax Bill: Archbishop Brienne's Arbitrary Attempt to Raise Taxes?"
Joseph's face darkened as he read further. The entire article was full of rambling, shifting goalposts, describing the Tax Bill as an arbitrary tax increase due to royal extravagance, which would lead to extremely negative consequences.
He slammed the newspaper onto the table. 'How could something like this pass news censorship?! What are those censors even doing...'
He quickly recalled that news censorship fell under the jurisdiction of the High Court. Since the High Court opposed the tax reform bill, it was only natural for them to turn a blind eye to such nonsensical articles.
Joseph then looked at the French Courier. As expected, its front page read: "High Court Refuses to Register! This May Be a Victory for Freedom!"
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