French-Style Economics
July 1788. As France's freak weather crisis spread across Europe, Spain and Portugal grew tense. They had entrusted their food supply to France while concentrating labor in cities to industrialize through handicrafts.
"Gonna have to roast locusts again...?"
After the hailstorm, Spain and Portugal anxiously wondered how much France would cut grain exports, preparing for the worst. But nothing happened. France exported 14 million mouths' worth of food to Spain and Portugal as planned.
"How the devil are they exporting this much grain?"
Spain and Portugal were baffled. Common sense said a 2cm hailstone wiped out crops entirely—yet France had endured up to 14cm hail and emerged unscathed. It made no sense.
"No need to sell only French-grown grain."
The exports included American grain mixed in.
"Customs officer. Famines usually block roads, starving even more people. But France is connected to the world right now."
A famine might seem vast on a national scale, but on a continental one, it was just a patch. Unless it was a global catastrophe like an asteroid strike or ice age, trade could solve it. Pre-modern states simply lacked the shipping or roads to make it work.
"Doesn't it cost a fortune?"
Even today, importing food to beat a famine could bankrupt a nation overnight.
"France isn't hurting for cash right now, is it?"
"Ah."
But France needed to run appropriate deficits with various countries—especially with America.
"Still, half came from our reserves. We can keep normal trade going at least through next year, so no worries."
America desperately needed its surplus with France too, so they sold whatever they could: wheat, rye, potatoes, South Carolina rice, and corn. Even without full federal unity, every state shared the massive trade deficit with France.
But America didn't reap one-sided gains. The famine was three months old, the trade deal nine. Factoring in potato harvests from August, they barely profited.
"That's for diplomats to hash out. Between us, it's about the money."
"Hmm..."
"Don't tell me—another default?"
That was America's side. Win or lose, Spain and Portugal had to pay up.
"No, really, this time it's not."
But they couldn't afford French food. It was inevitable. Both were has-beens, fifty years past their prime. Vast colonies offset small homelands and populations, but they squandered the potential—lacking the capacity to develop them.
France wasn't to blame; it was Spain's self-inflicted wound. They squandered Potosí silver on debt, not colonies. Prices skyrocketed at home, labor and materials grew expensive—dooming industrialization despite the empire. They paid off bonds but lost the ability to issue new ones.
Recently, joint Atacama saltpeter ventures with France kickstarted colonial development, but it was village-scale next to South America's expanse. Portugal? Brazil brimmed with potential—but only potential.
"Our handicrafts are advancing, though. We've got machines worth selling. One clock could cover ten sacks of wheat, right?"
Spain nurtured skilled-labor precision machinery to pay the debt: pocket watches, compasses, safes, levels—impossible to mass-produce with steam or crude machines.
"True, demand for gold and silver watches is rising..."
"Perfect timing. We're making gold watches with Brazilian gold and gems."
This dodged French ire—heavy industry like steel overlapped, so they pivoted to precision crafts.
"That's above our pay grade. We'll credit it against arrears for now."
Portugal sold raw colonial goods to Spain; Spain refined them into precision goods for France. It bound the trio into a bloc.
"Count Nunes, I've heard Spanish clocks are top-notch. We'll give you a fair price—pay with goods?"
"I'll check with the homeland."
They owed France mountains of debt. Grain was immediate, but post-famine, their light-industry focus meant relying on French steel anyway. Portugal-raws, Spain-light, France-heavy: it looked like Iberia becoming France's colony.
But contrary to their fears, France was generous.
"Your Majesty, since it's payment in kind for arrears, no need for full value. With the famine, goods' relative worth is low here—how about discounting?"
"Family sticks together. Balloon reports say the famine ends soon; no need to bully now. Nothing sadder than threatening with food."
Unlike the Foreign Ministry's skin-flaying schemes, Louis XVI's post-famine diplomacy bought Spanish precision machines at "family prices."
And it benefited all three.
"Shopkeep here? Looking for a new watch."
"Sir! Fresh stock just in. Pricey, but..."
In France, high import costs made expense a proxy for quality.
"I'm no pauper. Here on factory business from Paris, running six down south. Show me."
It ignited nouveau riche vanity.
"Spanish gold watch. Heard of it?"
"Aren't pocket watches best from England or Switzerland?"
"England, Switzerland... common stuff. But Spanish? Different. They birthed it desperate, buying our grain on credit. Special, so 40,000 francs."
"Sold."
Merchants spun tales of "Spain's last-ditch desperation sale," turning Spanish precision into elite luxury.
"Ah, Maxim. Long time."
"Antoine! Paris meetup. How's the southern mills? Wait—that watch?"
Latecomer Spain beat British reliability and Swiss design with Brazilian gems' flashy allure.
"Mills as ever. Spanish watch—40,000 francs, but worth it."
The bling spread by bourgeois word-of-mouth.
"Shopkeep? Here for a watch."
"Mr. Maxim? Got the perfect one: English silver, 800 francs, great value."
"No cheapies. Heard you have Spanish gold."
Bourgeois—not nobles or intellectuals—flaunted Spanish wares competitively.
"Sold to a southern factory man; out of stock. But... Spanish music box?"
"That'll do. Call when watches arrive."
This conspicuous consumption boomed Spain and Portugal too.
"Selling 1,200-franc cost for 40,000?"
"Local price. Import was 20,000 anyway. We got fair value."
"Fair, but such margins...?"
France's "family price" vaulted "Spanish machines" to British-Swiss tier overnight.
"Pay the arrears, then invest in colonies. Don't repeat past bond folly."
Spain's Carlos III embraced French hegemony for growth. Portugal followed.
"Those gems? All spinel. Topaz, aquamarine—dime-a-dozen."
"Local price. Low cost means can't sell high. Fair enough?"
"Fair, but rarity-wise, overpriced?"
Spanish watches glittered with Brazil's common spinel and blue topaz.
"Pay ours, time to develop colonies. At least while that Louis XVI lives, France won't crumble."
Portugal bent to French hegemony too.
French bourgeois fed vanity; Spain gained wages, brand; Brazil sold rocks dear. This was French economics.