Chapter 121: Toward the Rhine (4)
Chapter 121: Toward the Rhine (4)
London, England.
10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister’s residence.
“Well now. The Duke of Sutherland has done quite a fine job.”
Prime Minister William Pitt said this as he set down the letter that had crossed the English Channel from afar and lifted his teacup.
The French Navy had lost its strength. It might only be temporary for now, but if Britain used this opportunity well, it could become a foothold that allowed the Royal Navy to move freely as far as the waters just below the Italian Peninsula in the future.
It had been quite some time since his teatime dessert tasted this satisfying.
“Ah, come to think of it, what do the Admiralty and the First Naval Lord think?”
“Now that the French Navy has become little more than a name, the seas will practically be Britain’s stage alone for the next ten to twenty years, Your Excellency.”
The sixty-seven-year-old veteran who had survived countless battles, Samuel Hood, the First Naval Lord, spoke with a broad smile.
“Since France has yielded the Mediterranean to us, it seems we ought to give them something in return. What do you think, my lord?”
“Hm… I heard that France drove the Prussian army out of its territory this time.”
“That’s correct. A young colonel named Napoleon Bonaparte apparently accomplished quite a feat.”
“Napoleon Bonaparte… I should remember that name. In twenty years or so, that fellow will likely be leading the French army.”
The seasoned naval lord stroked his chin as he spoke.
War produces young heroes, and those heroes later become the pillars of their nations.
Hood himself became a hero at a young age during the Seven Years’ War and now commanded the massive British Navy.
Deciding to dwell on that name later, the naval lord continued.
“Putting that young man aside. If France wants anything right now, it is probably revenge, wouldn’t you say? French land burned and French people died. Naturally they would want to do the same to Prussian land.”
“Hm. A reasonable point, my lord.”
When Prime Minister William Pitt nodded, the naval lord rose from his seat and walked toward the map on the wall of the reception room.
He pulled a baton from inside his coat and tapped the border between France and the Holy Roman Empire.
“If we were to open the Holy Roman Empire’s territory leading toward Prussia, would that not be quite a fine gift for the French?”
“Opening the border… Would the justification hold?”
“In my opinion, it would be more than sufficient, Prime Minister.”
The vast territory between Prussia and France all belonged to the Holy Roman Empire. In other words, the Prussian army had only been able to invade France because the Holy Roman Empire opened the road.
Naturally, under the principle of diplomatic reciprocity, the road should also be opened when France marched to strike Prussia.
Of course, there was a significant difference between Prussia—who spoke the same German language—marching through imperial lands and France—who spoke French—doing the same.
But that was not Britain’s concern.
After hearing the naval lord’s proposal, Prime Minister William Pitt tapped the table lightly with his fingers before grinning.
“Well, as long as the French do not cross the Rhine River, there is no reason for us to interfere. The more continental powers fight among themselves, the more we benefit.”
“Indeed, Your Excellency.”
“I will send a letter to the Duke of Sutherland. Thank you for the excellent suggestion, my lord.”
“Ha ha, I merely did my duty.”
“Ah, come to think of it…”
“Hmm? Do you still have a question for me?”
Prime Minister William Pitt nodded.
“Who do you think would be suitable to appoint as commander of the Mediterranean detachment fleet this time?”
“Commander of the detachment fleet… Well, sending John Jervis there as detachment commander would be rather excessive.”
Jervis, who had previously served as commander of the Mediterranean fleet, was far too senior for a force that would consist of only a dozen ships.
Because of the Prime Minister’s question, the wrinkles on the naval lord’s forehead—already deep from age—furrowed further.
“Come to think of it, there is a young fellow I once took notice of. As it happens, he has been idle at home without an assignment. He would be perfect.”
“Oh? Really? What is his name?”
William Pitt’s face brightened.
“Horatio Nelson. Your elder brother, Lord Chatham, also knows him.”
William Pitt’s expression immediately crumpled.
“Ha! Isn’t that the half-wit who follows that drunken prince? How could a man obsessed with promotion possibly command a fleet?”
“Ahem. Lord Chatham says the man regrets his past conduct greatly. Why not trust him this once? The detachment fleet will not be particularly large anyway.”
“…I will think about it.”
In the end, Prime Minister William Pitt reluctantly nodded.
One week later.
“Yaaah!!! Uncle Maurice! Uncle William! I finally got re-employed!!!”
After loafing around for two full years in Norfolk, England, a certain man leapt about with joy upon receiving his new mission orders.
July 25, 1791.
Kingdom of France, Paris.
Champ de Mars.
[To His Excellency the Controller-General of Finance. Our Mediterranean fleet has departed from the port of Gibraltar and begun its movement. May good fortune accompany France’s future. — Duke of Sutherland —]
I carefully folded the letter delivered by a messenger from the British embassy and slipped it into my pocket.
Now that eighteenth-century Britain—the twisted villain of history—became our secret friend, all that remained was to wipe out those sausages who trampled France.
You understand, you southern sausages?
“What exactly do you think you’re doing!”
“What do you mean?”
“You crossed the border of our Holy Roman Empire! This is a clear military provocation and a violation of sovereignty!”
“Military provocation? Violation of sovereignty? I’m so dumbfounded I might start laughing.”
After hearing that a French reconnaissance unit crossed the border, Florimond Claude, the Holy Roman Empire’s envoy stationed in France, rushed here in a carriage.
I cheerfully ignored his protest and lit my pipe.
Wasn’t it you people who opened the border for the Prussians so they could invade France?
“Ambassador Florimond Claude. Let me speak as a Frenchman.”
“…What did you say?”
“If you don’t want to die together with Prussia, you’d better open the road to Kleve immediately.”
“Wh-what… This is a threat!”
“Well, interpret it however you like. More importantly, today is a good day. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interrupt.”
Leaving the Austrian behind, I stepped up onto the platform.
Those who rendered service deserved proper rewards.
I reached into the wooden box held by a non-commissioned officer and took out a medal.
Hmm. A medal awarded for smashing royalists, yet it bears the golden fleur-de-lis—the symbol of the royalists.
Is this what irony looks like?
If Deputy Robespierre saw it, he’d probably start shouting about changing the design immediately.
Actually… wouldn’t that make this extremely rare? A few hundred years later it might be worth a fortune.
If they decide to abolish it, I should quietly stash a few in a vault.
Even if not for me, it might help one of my descendants someday.
“Ahem. Your Excellency?”
“Ah, sorry. I was thinking for a moment. What is your name?”
“Yes, Your Excellency! Second Lieutenant Jean Lannes!”
I carefully pinned the medal onto the officer’s left chest.
“Second Lieutenant Jean Lannes, please continue to serve the people faithfully.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency, Controller-General of Finance!”
Starting with Second Lieutenant Jean Lannes, I moved down the line of soldiers and pinned a medal onto each chest.
Soldiers, junior officers, field officers.
One by one, the lilies drawn from the dark wooden box began to gleam gold under the bright summer sky.
“Colonel Napoleon Bonaparte. In recognition of your service in protecting the French people and Paris, you are awarded the Order of Saint Louis.”
“Yes, Your Excellency. Thank you!”
After attaching Napoleon’s medal, I leaned closer and whispered quietly.
“Wow, your mouth’s practically tearing from that grin.”
“Eh, is it that obvious?”
“Your smile’s practically caught on your cheekbones. How could it not be obvious?”
“Ahem…”
After Napoleon—the last of the field-grade officers—I walked toward the generals present.
Hmm. Perhaps from stress? His hair seems even thinner than before.
I should buy him a wig soon.
“Ah, the dignity of a hero. You look quite refreshed, General Dumouriez.”
“…Yes…”
“No, why are you so down? The hero of our National Guard who defended Nancy from sixty thousand Prussian soldiers! The protector of the French people! The Lion of Defense! General Dumouriez!”
“…Heh heh.”
Hmm. I heard rumors that he spent his entire life savings defending Nancy.
Judging from his half-deranged expression, it might actually be true.
A true patriot! A hero willing to sacrifice everything!
As I pinned the medal to Dumouriez’s chest, I spoke cheerfully.
“There now, General. Don’t look so gloomy. It’s a good day!”
“A good day… heh… heh…”
Dumouriez glanced at the shining medal on his chest, forced a bitter smile, and simply lowered his head to stare at the ground.
Next…
The two of us exchanged silent smiles.
“…Thank you for protecting our French people, Commander Lafayette.”
“A soldier who protects the people merely does what he must, Controller-General.”
I took out two medals. One I pinned onto Lafayette’s chest, and the other I placed in his hand.
“Please attach this one to General Kellermann yourself.”
“Haha. It feels more valuable than any medal I’ve received before. Even if it still bears the lily emblem.”
Commander Lafayette smiled faintly.
“Commander.”
“Yes, Controller-General.”
“I have cleared away every obstacle.”
Britain had been persuaded, and the border had been opened.
Now the only thing left was to charge north along the Rhine River.
“You only need to advance to Prussian Kleve.”
“I will carry out that order with pleasure.”
Commander Lafayette and I clasped hands.
July 30, 1791.
Kingdom of France, Metz.
At Metz’s city hall—where until just two months ago the Prussian flag of a black eagle on a white field flew—the tricolor of the Kingdom of France now hung.
“Excellent, gentlemen. You have all worked hard marching from Paris to Metz.”
A determined expression spread across every face gathered in the headquarters.
“General Kellermann will command the First Army. General Dumouriez will command the Second Army. I will personally lead the Third Army. Brigadier General Napoleon Bonaparte will take command of the Fourth Army and form the reserve. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Commander!”
“Let us repay those who trampled the land, waters, and people of France.”
At last, the sword of France rose toward the border.