The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 285

Chapter 285: Opening a New Curtain

It wasn’t due to cowardice, but the French Navy was genuinely no match for the British.

Years ago, in support of American independence, the French fleet forced itself into confrontations with the British in the Caribbean. The result was disastrous, leaving them battered and humiliated, losing much of their control over the Caribbean. In the end, to retain their sugar-producing colony of Saint-Domingue (later known as Haiti), they were compelled to trade vast expanses of North American territory to Britain.

Joseph would not repeat such a mistake in support of Mysore.

France’s interest in India was to drain British resources, not its own.

The nation’s foremost priority was industrial development. Steel, coal, textiles, steam engines, and other industries had already absorbed enormous initial investments. The economy needed continued funding for expansion; wasting money on wars could lead to stagnation.

Ultimately, France’s financial situation was simply dire. If it were as wealthy as Britain, Joseph wouldn’t mind going all-in for a grand confrontation in India.

Berthier suggested, “Your Highness, if we provide only limited support, what Mysore needs most is an excellent commander. Perhaps we could send Major Lefebvre or Lieutenant Colonel Davout to India.”

The Lieutenant Colonel Davout he referred to was André Davout, the commander of the Moulin Corps.

Joseph shook his head after some thought. While these two were competent commanders and more than capable of matching wits with Lord Cornwallis, the Mysore War had engulfed nearly all of India. The region’s distance and complexity made it exceedingly dangerous.

He wasn’t about to risk the lives of his trusted officers in India.

But then, who could be sent? The old noble officers were generally unremarkable in combat, and Joseph didn’t know them well enough to trust them.

Suddenly, a name came to mind. He turned to Berthier. “What do you think about sending the Marquis de Lafayette to Mysore?”

The Marquis de Lafayette, a French officer, had famously crossed the Atlantic in 1777 to join the American Revolutionary War. As a major general in the Continental Army, even George Washington treated him with the utmost respect. In 1780, Lafayette played a crucial role in the Battle of Yorktown, aiding the Americans in their ultimate victory over the British.

After returning to France, he was awarded the rank of brigadier general. However, his liberal views made him unpopular with the French military aristocracy, and he never rose to prominence. It wasn’t until the outbreak of the Revolution that he became commander of the National Guard, effectively the highest military position in France at the time. Despite his moment of glory, his ambitions and insistence on protecting the king eventually caused a rift with the Jacobin Club, forcing him into exile.

Interestingly, Lafayette had previously clashed with Lord Cornwallis in America, never giving the British general an advantage. This would provide a psychological edge if he were to confront the British again.

After a brief discussion among the staff, Berthier cautiously remarked, “Your Highness, while there’s no doubt about the Marquis de Lafayette’s ability to command, he may be reluctant to undertake such a dangerous mission in the Far East...”

Berthier’s words were tactful. Lafayette had previously been reprimanded by the royal family for independently heading to America. Additionally, his strained relations with the military meant he was unlikely to heed orders from the General Staff.

Joseph, however, smiled faintly. “You can tell him this: if he helps Mysore achieve victory, as he once did in America, he will return to a promotion as Assistant Minister of War or even governor of a province. I trust he will accept the mission.”

Joseph understood Lafayette well—his hunger for power and ambition ran deep. Despite his years of struggle in America, his return to France had yielded little more than the rank of brigadier general.

Offering him a clear path for advancement would surely entice him.

Besides, what Joseph proposed was effectively an empty promise. While Mysore was indeed formidable, Britain was well on its way to becoming a global superpower. If Tipu Sultan could hold out for a few more years, it would already be an impressive feat. Victory was nearly impossible.

Of course, if Lafayette somehow managed to rally and defeat the British in the East, Joseph wouldn’t mind making him Assistant Minister of War. After all, such a feat would be tantamount to destroying one of Britain’s most vital sources of income.

Berthier quickly noted down the Crown Prince’s orders and nodded. “Understood, Your Highness. I will do my best to persuade the Marquis de Lafayette.”

Afterward, Joseph and his staff moved on to discuss military deployments in Tunis, continuing their meeting until dusk.

...

Returning to his chamber, Joseph collapsed onto his bed, too exhausted to even remove his clothes. After a grueling eight or nine days of travel back from Tunis, he was finally able to rest properly.

Perna exchanged a glance with Eymond before stepping forward to gently check the Crown Prince’s forehead and wrist. Assured he was not unwell, she and the maids carefully arranged him on the bed, covered him with a blanket, and quietly exited the room.

The candles were extinguished. As Joseph drifted into a deep sleep, he dreamed of a vast theater stretching across the European continent. Under the watchful gaze of divine beings, an enormous curtain slowly rose to reveal the stage...

...

Amsterdam, Netherlands.

The second floor of the temporary parliamentary building.

The Marquis of Wellesley, British Foreign Secretary, scrutinized the modest building. Turning to Dutch Speaker Campelen, he remarked, “I still prefer the Earl’s Castle in The Hague. It exudes a sense of majesty and solemnity.”

The “Earl’s Castle” referred to the former Dutch parliamentary building. After the Patriots gained control of the Dutch government, the parliament had been moved to Amsterdam. Due to the haste of the transition, the new parliamentary building had yet to be completed, and this structure was being used as a temporary office.

Campelen frowned slightly at the implied slight toward Amsterdam but quickly forced a smile. “The Hague is in the past, my lord. Soon, we will have a new parliamentary building that will rival the Earl’s Castle. In fact, it’s just two streets away.”

Wellesley chuckled indifferently and followed Campelen into the reception room, taking a seat on the sofa. “Perhaps your parliament won’t need to rush to build in Amsterdam.”

Campelen immediately thought of William V, who had been stripped of power. “What do you mean by that, my lord?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me.” Wellesley waved dismissively. “I merely mean that your parliament may soon have to consult with voters in the Southern Netherlands about a new location. Brussels, for example, is quite a suitable city.”

A flicker of unease crossed Campelen’s eyes. “What are you implying, my lord?”

“Brabant is in such turmoil. Does the Dutch Parliament have no plans to address it?”

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