Chapter 99: Shine or Go Crazy (3) "Monarchs rule by the sanctity and authority bestowed by God. All people must look up to the monarch and follow."
The divine right of kings.
An ideal and a refrain endlessly chanted by countless European monarchs and kings since Louis XIV, who reigned as the Sun King.
If someone said that in the 21st century, in America they'd hear, "Who the hell do you think you are?" and get hit with 12-gauge shotgun pellets.
In France they'd hear, "Your Majesty King Louis! Sending one more up your way!" and be dragged to a guillotine displayed in a corner of the Louvre Museum and have their head cut off.
In other countries, they'd get their belly pierced by a bamboo spear if nothing else—either way, they wouldn't hear anything nice.
But in the 18th century, aside from a few "strange people," it was an era where everyone lived thinking, Isn't that obviously true?
In that kind of era, a neighboring country suddenly forces its monarch to abdicate?
And not by royalty, but by mere commoners?
Daring to trample the sanctity given by God?
The rulers of Europe felt deeply displeased.
Worse, the ink-stained types inside their own countries—Enlightenment thinkers, liberals, and the like—rode that mood and even spouted nonsense about learning from the barbarians of the New World, meaning America. To the monarchs, it felt like a mosquito had gotten in at dawn and was tearing the whole room apart.
The one who showed the most frenzied behavior was Russia's empress, Catherine II.
– My heavens, a revolution! If peasants gain knowledge and freedom, all the civilization we have built will collapse! Ah, how terrifying! Our Russian Empire believes that the civilized nations of all Europe must gather their armies and suppress the disturbances in France!
This sixty-year-old Slavic granny, acting as if the world were washing away even though Jesus hadn't returned, began spraying malicious spam mail day after day to Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, Sanssouci Palace in Berlin–Potsdam, and Buckingham Palace in London.
[♚♚EURO☆PEAN☆ALLIED♚♚ARMY♚♚ Let's all go hit France together now☜☜]
"...I understand what you are saying, but for our Holy Roman Empire, dealing with our internal troubles takes priority."
True to the Habsburgs—who ate Central Europe with looks, bloodline, and a smooth tongue—the Holy Roman Empire rejected Russia's demand with elegant diplomatic phrasing.
"Hah. With Frederick the Great gone, it looks like that snake of a woman Catherine, his contemporary, is nearing her time too. Russia's already fighting the Turk barbarians, and now she wants to start another war with France?"
"What shall we do, Your Majesty King Wilhelm?"
"It's not worth replying. Let the Duke of Brunswick humor her just enough. If more letters come with the same content, ignore them."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Prussia, faced with the flood of Russian spam mail, yanked out the mailbox in front of the house and carried it inside.
"Our British Foreign Office and Prime Minister William Pitt will not participate in any attempt that threatens the peace of Europe."
"We sent them away for now, but what should we do if those Russians come again? They are still an ally of Britain, aren't they?"
"If we carve up France, will that ally Russia remain an ally? Remember this: if there is a loser on the European continent, Britain becomes endangered. Now, enough of that—let's talk about Ireland. They're bringing up independence again. I'm starting to think we should just crush them with the marines. Since we already let the New World go independent, if our administration gets pushed back any further, it's only natural we'll lose power to the Whigs..."
Britain—the embodiment of evil and an extreme balance fetishist who traditionally and geopolitically wanted Europe split into multiple pieces—didn't even pretend to listen to Russia's nonsense.
But then.
Something happened in Bonn.
The incident where the Holy Roman Empire's central army suppressing the riot clashed with the demonstrators.
A historic incident caused by those rioters who blocked the path of the righteous imperial troops—troops that weren't even firing guns, only "peacefully" suppressing protests with bayonets—using Molotov cocktails.
If before it was merely the irritation of one mosquito flying around at night, the Bonn affair added the post-monsoon humidity on top of that.
When the sticky humidity after summer rains combined with the whining mosquito, the rulers' dissatisfaction and irritation blasted past the critical point and kept rising like it would pierce the sky.
"Archduke Karl! General Radetzky! Grant the two of them the authority to execute on the spot every subversive element within the Empire."
"Our Reichstag Imperial Diet also approves His Majesty the Kaiser's command!"
"Deploy the gendarmes and mounted police and crack down properly, Lieutenant Colonel Blücher."
"As long as I, Blücher, still live! Not only subversives—even a single shitty dog bastard trying to stir up trouble will not be able to threaten Prussia's safety, Your Majesty!"
"...Y-yes. You are always full of vigor. Good work."
"Prime Minister, what should we do?"
"For now, it would be best to monitor intellectuals closely—especially writers and university professors. Ah, and this magazine called Forbes or whatever. Register it as seditious literature and crack down hard. Have the Navy handle the enforcement by searching ships entering the ports."
"Understood, Your Excellency!"
In every country, censorship ran rampant, and surveillance began tailing intellectuals.
But one thing—no one was thinking about war.
"War? What war. Just keep a tight watch at the door and that'll be that."
They only wanted France to do whatever it wanted on its own, as long as it stopped bothering their countries.
Everyone thought that.
Except for one person: the Count of Artois, the royal who had fled France.
Late July, 1790.Kingdom of France, National Assembly at Versailles.
"This is no different from a declaration of war against our Assembly and our people!"
"Right! Right!"
"Do you know what Leopold II said?! 'The mutual non-aggression pact is now void'—that's what he said! If that isn't a declaration of war, what is? We must summon the National Guard at once and deploy them to the border!"
"Hah, this is why commoners mustn't do politics!"
"That means they don't want war—it's simple diplomatic phrasing, asking for a promise! Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"Deploy the National Guard? Go get permission from Guillaume, the Finance Minister you revolutionaries installed first! He'll say there's no money and pick our pockets again! Am I wrong?"
The Assembly was spending day and night interpreting the Declaration of Pillnitz, throwing everything else aside.
"What? What did you say about commoners? You fossil bastard—this time I really will cut you with my sword! Follow me to the courtyard!"
"Hah, like I'd be scared. Why don't you worry about not getting your fingers cut off?"
...Of course, along the way, they also threw in duels stemming from petty misunderstandings and differences of opinion.
"Enough!!!"
The one who stopped the loud Assembly from turning into outright chaos was Deputy Mirabeau.
"Everyone, please be quiet for a moment. Minister Lebrun, what do you think about this matter?"
"Well. 'Void mutual non-aggression pact' is quite an aggressive phrasing, yes. Still, from a diplomat's perspective, I don't believe those three countries have any reason whatsoever to be hostile toward France."
"...Good. Gentleman over there, I would appreciate it if you would go and bring Commander Lafayette."
A little later, Commander Lafayette entered the Assembly with a face that said he had no idea what was going on.
"What is this about, Deputy Mirabeau?"
"I won't speak at length, Commander. Please read what's written on this paper."
Mirabeau handed Lafayette the paper Lebrun had brought.
"Let's see... 'Declaration of Pillnitz.' Hm. The phrasing is rather aggressive."
"What do you think, Commander?"
"Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, Russia, Sweden. As far as I know, there is no situation where these four countries would need to be hostile to us."
"Then?"
"I think it is... aggressive diplomatic pressure, Deputy. If we declare that we will not interfere abroad, I believe all four nations will be satisfied."
"...Hm. Understood, Commander."
After giving Lafayette a small bow, Mirabeau addressed the deputies.
"Both the diplomat and the officer say this Declaration of Pillnitz is merely diplomatic phrasing. What do the deputies think?"
"If the experts say so..."
"We nearly botched things if we'd mishandled this."
"Good. And about this matter—let's keep it secret from the public. Even we were in confusion here; how much would citizens worry?"
At the same time,Versailles Palace, the War Room.
"...Is the Count of Artois actually a complete idiot?"
Does he even have a brain in his head?
Louis XVII frowned, holding the secret letter sent by the Count of Artois, commander of the royalist army stationed at the Dutch border.
The letter said:
[I will secure support from the Holy Roman Empire, Prussia, and Britain! Your Majesty Louis XVII should also widely announce across France that you will break free from the traitors in the Assembly and gather loyal subjects. – Your dear cousin and vassal, the Count of Artois –]
Artois's message translated cleanly for Orléans into:
[Hah! Die, Orléans!]
"You think those three countries are insane enough to support us?! Y-you—y-you stupid bastard!"
Veins began bulging across Orléans's face.
And what? Announce it across France? That he'll break free of the Assembly? Here, where enemies surrounded them on all sides?
Was Louis XVII planning to serve his own head on a plate?
By the last line of the letter, Louis XVII lost consciousness.
"...So what the Count of Artois is saying right now is..."
"That's right. Invade France at once! The commoner traitors are holding His Majesty and the late king captive!"
Who on earth begged a neighboring country to invade their own country?
The Duke of Brunswick barely held his throbbing head together and slowly asked again, looking at the royal—no, at the idiot—in front of him.
"In my personal view, the statement declared by Prussia, the Holy Roman Empire, Sweden, and Russia is nothing more than simple diplomatic phrasing."
"If you do not suppress the revolution now, those traitorous hordes will swarm your country in the future!"
"Hah... If so, then please bring a letter from Orlé... I mean, His Majesty Louis XVII, stating that he supports us. Without that, we cannot move the army."
"Haha, don't worry about that!"
The Count of Artois laughed loudly—louder and louder—without having any idea what would happen because of him.
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