Chapter 177: Sleeping Lions (7)
Chapter 177: Sleeping Lions (7)
“Minister, hurry. Answer my question.”
“W-why are you doing this?”
My arm… my arm hurts so much.
Wasn’t this man lying in a coma just moments ago? Where is all this strength coming from?
Startled, I tried to pull my arm free from Mirabeau’s grip, but the harder I struggled, the tighter his grip became.
“I said answer me!”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Did you secretly smoke opium behind the doctors’ backs or something? What kind of nonsense are you suddenly talking about! At least explain why you’re doing this!”
“Because if I die, I have no idea what will happen to this country’s future!”
Chairman Mirabeau shouted at me, almost like a desperate madman.
“Four years ago, the reason I willingly appointed you as Finance Minister was because you were the only person who truly understood how the world works! Isn’t that right?!”
“What are you talking about…”
“Everyone except you is a lawyer, a judge, or a priest! They spend their lives buried in books and documents. Their ideals are lofty, but they lack the ability to bring reality up to those ideals.
Emmanuel Sieyès, Maximilien Robespierre! Yes, both of them are good people! But being a good person does not mean having the ability to create a good world.
Those desk-bound scholars who have spent their entire lives shuttling between courtrooms and their law offices—do you think they could sustain this country without you?
No! Absolutely not! Even people who share similar views cannot agree on every detail. Eventually small conflicts will arise, and the seeds planted by those conflicts will begin destroying everything we worked so hard to build.”
Just as a scab needs time to heal over a wound, a political system also needs time.
Time accumulates into stability, and stability accumulates into tradition. Only then does the system become something no one beneath it can casually overturn. Wasn’t that “tradition” the reason the people endured twenty years of incompetence under absolute monarchy?
The revolutionary government had existed for only four years.
If someone pointed out, “That is unconstitutional,” the accused could still stab the other in the stomach and say, “Don’t push that law on me—it hasn’t even been around for ten years yet.”
That was the current reality.
In such circumstances, expecting mature parliamentary politics without preparation was the kind of fantasy only someone with flowers growing in their head could believe.
Political intrigue. Slander. Terrorism. Social chaos. The collapse of public order.
After listing these terrifying possibilities that made one’s skin crawl, Mirabeau looked straight into my eyes.
“And do you know what lies at the end of such disorder?”
“……”
“When the entire world is burning, the masses will follow the one who possesses the military power capable of providing them safety and protection.”
As he spoke, a bead of sweat ran down Mirabeau’s nose.
“Whether that ends up being the Bourbon royal family… or someone who burns the Bourbons and becomes a second Clovis, it will happen. I’d wager my own coffin on it.”
…Wait, that sounds exactly like Napoleon Bonaparte.
But perhaps I was overwhelmed by his intensity. I could not bring myself to say anything and simply continued listening.
“The second Clovis will unite followers by giving them confidence through his achievements and reputation. Do you know what such a ruler needs to maintain power?
Endless victories and reports of triumph. Those are the only means by which that regime can survive. I cannot even imagine how many lives will be lost to maintain those endless victories.”
Mirabeau sighed before continuing.
“…We have already shed much blood, Minister. So much blood. At the Bastille, at Valmy, at Amiens—too many French people have died.”
He could not bear to see more innocent blood spilled.
“…If you’re that worried about the future, why not tell the people and the deputies? Why struggle with this alone?”
“Minister. There is nothing more hollow than the last words of a dead man.”
Mirabeau smiled bitterly.
“Of course, until the day I am buried in the Panthéon, I will warn everyone with all my strength.”
However—
“Even if I do that, if an age of chaos arrives, the very people who rose at the Bastille to resist oppression will eventually entrust themselves to a military dictator. Of course, that will happen after I am dead and lying in my coffin.”
Then he continued.
“In my view, the person closest to becoming such a dictator is Guillaume de Toulon—namely, you.”
“…Me?”
Even though I asked in disbelief, Mirabeau nodded.
“Of course. You and your friends are all soldiers, aren’t you? In our government, aside from Commander Lafayette, no one understands military affairs as well as you.”
“Well… yes.”
“Emmanuel de Grouchy, commander of the dragoon regiment. François Mathieu, deputy commander of the Capital Defense Regiment. Napoleon Bonaparte, Toulon Regional Commander. They are all your friends, are they not? And there are also your old classmates scattered throughout the regions.
If you wished, you could mobilize troops right now, attack Versailles, detain the deputies, seize the crown, and establish the Toulon Dynasty.”
Well… that was technically true.
But I had absolutely no intention of launching a coup or making any grand decision to “save the nation.”
Getting caught up in coups was something I had already experienced enough times for one lifetime.
Mirabeau now held my hand gently and spoke again.
“But if such a crisis arrives, the only person who can stop it is also Guillaume de Toulon—you. So promise me, Minister. Promise that you will not abandon this country, its people, or the revolution.”
Just moments earlier Mirabeau had gripped me with terrifying strength, yet the man before me now felt less like the vigorous Mirabeau and more like an old man trembling in fear.
I nodded.
“I promise.”
“Thank you, truly. Now this old man can depart with a lighter heart.”
“Why do you keep talking about dying? You seem perfectly healthy.”
No matter how old someone might be in France, I grew up in a place where people believed words could become reality. Hearing such talk felt extremely uncomfortable.
“Think of it as the ramblings of an old man.”
I fell silent for a moment before speaking again.
“…Earlier you said the last words of the dead are meaningless. Even if I promise you now, isn’t it possible that I might change my mind after you pass away?”
“Minister.”
“Yes.”
Mirabeau smiled.
“I trust my eyes. You are a good man.”
“Earlier you also said Robespierre and Sieyès were good people.”
“…Let me correct that. You seem like the type who would refuse a position like king or dictator simply because it requires far too much work.”
Ah, that I could accept.
After all, the fundamental truth of human society—the alpha and omega—is to work less and earn more.
“Well then. Thank you for coming to see this old man. Travel safely on your trip. I will coordinate matters here until you return.”
“When I come back to Paris, I’ll bring plenty of wine from Toulon.”
“I look forward to it!”
“Oh, right. Someone once said something interesting: ‘The only thing we have to fear is not the future, but fear itself.’”
“Fear itself, is it… Whoever said that must have been a very wise person.”
With that, I shook Chairman Mirabeau’s hand in farewell and left the hospital room.
It was a long journey from Paris to Toulon.
[Reinforcements are desperately needed. Especially cavalry. If you don’t send cavalry, I cannot carry out operations. I won’t do it. If anyone complains, tell Guillaume to come slit my belly himself.]
—Toulon Regional Commander of the National Guard, Brigadier General Napoleon Bonaparte—
“Hm. Napoleon must be having a hard time.”
“What does he say?”
“He wants reinforcements.”
“Infantry? Artillery?”
“Cavalry.”
“What? Are we planning to announce to all of France that war has begun?”
National Guard infantry lieutenant colonel François Mathieu shook his head.
“…Grouchy, what if we detach the dragoon regiment under my command?”
“If the citizens see dragoons parading through the streets with all their black decorations, I’m sure they’ll be delighted. Don’t you think, Colonel Grouchy?”
“…Hmm.”
If cavalry were moved from Paris to Toulon, civilians would certainly notice and panic like before.
“But we can’t simply refuse his request.”
“And if we remove troops from the capital, the deputies will grow anxious.”
“What a headache.”
Grouchy stroked his chin.
The Russian army was not weak.
But neither was it an enemy to underestimate.
They needed troops with real combat experience.
Everyone at headquarters turned their eyes toward one man.
Commander Lafayette, who had been studying the map, finally spoke.
“Colonel Grouchy.”
“Yes, Commander.”
“You remember those Poles who came earlier?”
“The exiles?”
“Yes. I heard many of them were light cavalry.”
“……”
“What do you think about sending them?”
“…I will contact them immediately.”
“Greetings, Poniatowski. We come from the French National Guard.”
“What business do you have?”
“I understand that the Poles who came with you served as light cavalry.”
“That is correct.”
“I will speak frankly. The Russian Empire is threatening France.”
The exiled soldier fell silent.
“So you are saying you require the assistance of us Poles.”
“That is correct. Will you refuse?”
“No. I cannot miss the opportunity to avenge my homeland.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Józef Poniatowski, from this moment you and your men are officially incorporated into the French National Guard under the name Polish Volunteer Corps.”
“What would you have me do?”
“Report to Brigadier General Napoleon Bonaparte, Regional Commander of Toulon.”
The exiled officer silently nodded.
Kingdom of Spain under the Bourbon dynasty, capital Madrid.
Prime Minister Manuel Godoy, now twenty-eight years old, filled his glass with champagne and drained it in one gulp. If he did not drink, he felt he might lose his mind.
“…Shit. This is bad…”
The handsome prime minister muttered to himself in an empty room.
After emptying two more glasses, he groaned again.
“Now… what do I do? What do I do? What do I do?”
But the clock continued ticking indifferently.
Eventually Godoy forced himself to walk toward the palace.
“Heh, hehe! Spain’s pride, the prime minister, has arrived! I wish to hear your opinion!”
“…Your Majesty.”
“Is… is the preparation complete?”
“…The preparations to attack Saint-Domingue are nearly finished.”
“T-that is good news! Once preparations are complete, punish those insolent blacks!”
This was truly, truly bad.