Chapter 51
Chapter 51
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 051
Chapter Title: The Polish Crisis (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The throne of the King of Poland had always served as a powder keg for Europe.
Whenever the Polish crown fell vacant, regardless of the scale, disputes would erupt, and in severe cases, acts tantamount to war would break out frequently.
There were two main reasons for this.
Poland bordered Germany to the west and Russia to the north, sat squarely in the heart of Europe geographically, and its vast territory was mostly flat plains with scarcely any natural defenses.
In other words, whoever seized this land would secure a bridgehead from which they could easily push into any direction.
And the decisive factor was that the king of this strategically vital nation was elected rather than inheriting the throne hereditarily.
Thus, it was only natural for the Holy Roman Empire or Russia to intervene by backing candidates they could control.
The current King of Poland-Lithuania was Augustus II, Elector of Saxony.
He had deposed the previous king, Stanisław, and ascended to the Polish throne, but he failed to make the crown hereditary in his family.
"A man who's neither Polish nor Lithuanian wants to make the throne hereditary? Does the Wettin family of Saxony have no shame?"
"Boooo! We want a Polish king!"
If the Elector of Saxony had overwhelming achievements or if his heir, Friedrich August, had any real talent, it might have been different, but sadly, neither was remotely true.
Thus, the deposed former king Stanisław couldn't abandon his hopes either.
'If that bastard just dies, maybe I can return to the throne?'
After all, whether king or emperor, no one escapes the march of time—that's the truth of the world.
Stanisław was a full seven years younger than the Elector of Saxony, no less.
Hold on, just hold on, manage his health well, and an opportunity might come someday.
Stanisław Leszczyński continued his exile dreaming of a triumphant return, and in the meantime, he even managed to marry his daughter to King Louis XV of France.
The reason such a marriage was possible was that the French side judged the risk of the in-laws causing trouble would approach zero if Stanisław's daughter became queen.
However, Louis XV, who had recently begun ruling in earnest and was thoroughly enjoying wielding royal power, developed one complaint.
-I'm the highest Catholic king under heaven in France, yet my in-laws are penniless exiles from a minor kingdom without even a scrap of land? Does that make any sense?
Other kings benefited from their in-laws or at least got hefty dowries, so why should he suffer this loss?
Just look at François Étienne—he'd secured a fine future wife and was aiming for the imperial throne of the Holy Roman Empire. Fair?
If she were pretty or at least young, it might be tolerable, but the queen was a whopping seven years older than Louis XV.
Already enchanted by the Deer Park with its teenaged beauties, Louis XV felt no attraction whatsoever to his queen pushing thirty.
"Fleury, lately I find myself understanding François Étienne all too well."
"...You mean how he seized power by choosing the right fiancée? You've said that ten times already."
"No. It's why François accepted the infamous reputation of liking young girls to betroth a woman nine years his junior. I should have done the same!"
"Your Majesty, nine years younger than you would make the queen twelve years old right now."
Even if one liked young women, a twenty-one-year-old king parading around with a twelve-year-old girl would be... well, a bit much. No, a lot.
"Fleury, 'young' implies potential. François must have grasped this profound truth early on."
"...He'd deny it, but I understand what Your Majesty is getting at anyway."
"Exactly. So if his in-laws have any conscience, shouldn't they make bone-crushing efforts from now on to give me something in return?"
"Surely... you're thinking of the vacancy on the Polish throne? Indeed, reports say Augustus II's health is deteriorating lately."
He could have just said that from the start instead of rambling on about young girls and delaying comprehension unnecessarily.
When the current Elector of Saxony and King of Poland-Lithuania, Augustus II, passed away, the Polish throne would fall vacant.
The Electorate of Saxony would pass to Augustus III, but since hereditary succession in Poland had failed, if Stanisław gained the support of the Polish nobility, he could plausibly reclaim the throne.
But if that alone solved the problem, Louis XV wouldn't be confiding these secret worries to Fleury.
"Considering Polish public opinion, Stanisław's restoration as king shouldn't be difficult. But the odds of Russia or Austria sitting idly by are about as likely as Judas in heaven."
"I know that. That's why I want to attach conditions guaranteeing his safety. Any good ideas?"
"Stanisław is the legitimate king backed by the French royal family. Issue a declaration that attacking him will be seen as a challenge to the French crown."
"Will Russia or Austria leave him be then?"
Not that he truly didn't know the answer, but questioning if such a thing would work, Fleury immediately shook his head as if to say of course not.
"He'd be attacked and chased out again. Russia and Austria won't tolerate a government under French protection."
"Then... surely not?"
Louis XV was passive on major decisions beyond his personal pleasures, but he was no fool.
He instantly saw through what Fleury was proposing.
"...You're saying to build a casus belli for war?"
"Yes. Without war, Your Majesty can't achieve your goals, and this is a rare opportunity for us."
We could drive a wedge into this strategic chokepoint poised for expansion into Russia or the Holy Roman Empire.
And not through coercion, but by enthroning a king with full legitimacy.
To be blunt, Fleury didn't care who became king of Poland, but he could confidently say no better pretext existed to check Austria and Russia.
"...But won't war bring heavy losses to us too?"
"Pull in Spain and Sardinia. Britain and the Netherlands won't care much about Poland, so they'll likely declare neutrality."
"Spain has no real reason to pick a fight with Austria either..."
"Then Sardinia alone will suffice for now. Aim to secure advantageous footholds and negotiate from there."
"Negotiation goals: the Polish throne. If not... Lorraine?"
Louis XV nodded slowly, murmuring something between soliloquy and question.
"But didn't François say he'd sell Lorraine when the time comes... Do we really need to fight for it...?"
"Your Majesty, if I may boldly say, relying solely on the word of the current Duke of Lorraine, whose lifespan is uncertain, carries too much risk. What if he lives another twenty or thirty years?"
"......"
As the cardinal said, François's promise had no timeline, and a golden opportunity was at hand.
Right. He made a promise, but there's no law saying he must keep it.
No, as François himself said, a king is a being unbound by providence.
How could one bound by mere verbal promises be called a king?
Louis XV drew resolve from the advice he'd heard from François.
"Fleury, we'll do as you suggest. Convey our intentions to Sardinia and Spain. And instruct Count Polignac in Vienna to secure a firm commitment from Lorraine to sell within three years."
Polignac might negotiate well and change things, but Fleury wasn't so oblivious to the king's true intent.
The die had been cast.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Rumors that Elector of Saxony Augustus II's health was rapidly deteriorating spread across the Empire like wildfire.
In such cases, there were usually two options.
One: Desperately deny the obvious fact everyone knew, play dumb until it blew up, then take the hit.
The other: Since the rumors had spread far enough, abandon pride and immediately kneel and beg.
Surprisingly, Saxony's response was the latter.
"Your Highness Franz! Please help me just this once."
"How did you get here so fast?"
Emerging from the reconvened Privy Council meeting urgently held over Augustus II's health decline, the man waiting for me was Friedrich August.
The heir to the now-fallen Augustus II and future Augustus III himself.
Judging by his speed in reaching Vienna, he'd left Saxony the moment our courier departed—must be seriously scared shitless.
"Your Highness Franz, we're not on bad terms, are we? We... met at Prince Eugene's banquet before, talked at Archduchess Therese's birthday celebration, and Saxony and Austria are comrades in business together, right?"
"True. I see Saxony as a partner in leading the Empire."
"So please lend us your strength. At this rate, we might lose Poland right before our eyes."
From the Polish-Lithuanian perspective, Augustus III was seen as an utterly hopeless king who ruined the country.
In reality, he'd neglected Poland entirely, so failing to inherit the crown must be unbearable.
Who would welcome a situation where their father was king but they couldn't succeed him?
Especially when it wasn't just failure of succession, but the hated enemy Stanisław poised to return as Polish king—that had to be the most anxiety-inducing part.
But what did that have to do with me?
The thirsty dig the well, the hungry cook the meal— that's how it works.
The one with fire at their feet should come bearing terms first, not just beg for help outright. Who would extend a hand then?
Anyone who did would be either a con artist or a robber, guaranteed.
"Your Highness, as regrettable as it is, Poland-Lithuania is a sovereign independent state. How can we interfere if the Polish nobles elect their king legitimately?"
"That's why... I'm not asking for military force. There are other ways, the usual methods..."
"Ah, you mean bribing the nobles."
Most Polish and Lithuanian nobles had no desire to accept a German king.
But wave some gold coins in front of them, and suddenly Augustus III becomes the exception—that's the way of the world.
If we wanted, we could elect him via outright bribery, but was there any reason to waste blood money here?
Seeing him where it wasn't clear who held the upper hand, I kindly explained the situation.
"Your Highness, do you know? Brandenburg's Prince Friedrich will soon arrive in Vienna."
"...Pardon? Wh-why?"
"To discuss the wedding of his sister, Princess Wilhelmina, of course. But unfortunately, a major issue has arisen. His Majesty has summoned even the Russian ambassador for a thorough three-way talk."
Anyone not a fool would grasp what a three-way meeting excluding Saxony meant.
If we wished, the three of us could place someone entirely different—not the Saxon elector—as King of Poland.
"W-wait a moment, Your Highness. Aren't we comrades in business? If Saxony thrives, Austria benefits too..."
"Does Poland have a mirror glass workshop? I thought they were only in Saxony."
"Well... business can expand to Poland as it grows..."
"I see. We'll discuss it at the three-way talks. You'll say we purely wish to help Saxony out of goodwill."
Rushing to Vienna the moment trouble hit was admitting he couldn't handle it alone.
Then don't half-ass it—lay all your cards on the table.
"Your Highness Franz! No, of course we must show sincerity. But since we don't yet know what Austria wants, first to Your Highness Fran..."
"Good question then. I've already been granted full authority by His Majesty on this matter."
"...Pardon? Then..."
He didn't seem mentally prepared yet, so maybe give a hint?
"First, obviously, all support costs must be repaid in full. But if France backs Stanisław, it could mean war. Can Your Highness afford that?"
"Give us time, and we could manage installments..."
"Maybe you could, but would His Majesty, the Privy Council, or Brandenburg accept? But as you say, we're comrades. So, I'll take shares instead of cash."
"...Shares?"
Even after spelling it out, he doesn't get it?
Louis XV and Friedrich grasped hints instantly; pity poor Poland serving such a king.
"The shares in the mirror glass factory I invested in Saxony, and full rights to the artisans I've been training. In lieu of money."
"...Pardon?"
"If that's unacceptable, pay all war costs in cash. Your choice, Your Highness."
Of course, the glass artisans dispatched to Saxony had fully mastered Meissen porcelain production through numerous tech exchanges.
By now, even Augustus III's small, fragile brain should understand.
Time to reclaim everything I'd given.
With hefty interest, no less.