After the Napoleonic Wars, the powers of Europe agreed to establish a new order intended to erase the legacy of Napoleon.
They called it a restoration of the old balance of power that had existed before the age of revolution.
In other words—the Congress of Vienna system.
Fearing that the spread of liberalism and nationalism might once again plunge Europe into chaos, the governments of the continent suppressed such movements with absolute determination.
Press censorship was considered an entirely reasonable measure.
Secret police arresting "subversive elements" was routine.
But once a spark spreads, it cannot simply be extinguished.
Suppressing it merely causes flames to rise elsewhere.
Ignoring the root cause while trying to bury the symptoms was nothing more than a temporary measure.
The ideas of liberalism had already begun to take root among the public.
Thirty years of suppressed anger meant that if a proper trigger appeared, the explosion could be enormous.
Of course, if the economy was thriving, these tensions would amount to little more than a storm in a teacup.
Large revolutions require the masses to rise.
And people whose stomachs are full and homes are warm rarely risk everything in rebellion.
Even the French Revolution of 1789 might never have occurred if French peasants had enjoyed three meals a day and warm beds at night.
The revolutions that would erupt in Revolutions of 1848 ultimately began with something far simpler:
economic crisis.
Starting in 1846, signs of crop failure began appearing.
By 1847 the crisis would peak, sending France's economy into free fall.
France was already in turmoil.
Industrialization was progressing rapidly, yet both workers and capitalists felt unfairly treated, fueling widespread resentment.
Then nationwide crop failures would ignite the countryside as well.
Farmers would explode with anger.
Under such conditions, how could the government possibly hold the country together?
But seen another way, this crisis could still be avoided—if France acted wisely.
Of course, the long-standing French spirit of waiting until a blade was already at the throat before taking action meant that without my help they would inevitably be beaten down and dragged from power.
Just as I expected, the French ambassador to London, Louis‑Claire de Beaupoil, Count of Sainte-Aulaire, arrived at Buckingham Palace completely unaware of why he had been summoned.
"Your Highness, it is an honor to be invited."
"The honor is mine," I replied. "It was a rather sudden invitation. How are you finding life in London?"
"Oh, very comfortable as always. Ha ha."
"I'm glad to hear it. And how is Minister François Guizot these days?"
"The minister is in excellent health. In fact, he recently sent a letter asking me to convey his regards should I have the opportunity to meet Your Highness."
At the moment Guizot was serving as Foreign Minister.
But within a year or two he would become Prime Minister of France.
And then—if history followed its usual course—he would be swept away by revolution.
His political career was hanging by a thread.
Though he himself had no idea.
"I didn't realize the minister still remembered me," I said with a smile. "I hear he's the leading candidate to become the next prime minister. I should send him a congratulatory gift when the time comes."
"I'm sure he would be deeply moved," the ambassador replied. "It would also strengthen the friendship between our nations."
"That would be most welcome. After all, though Britain and France fought many wars in the past, we are now among each other's most reliable allies."
"Our queen's empire has no intention of clashing with France again."
"Especially when we must cooperate to contain the power quietly expanding in the east—Russia."
According to Europe's timeless tradition, whenever one power grew too strong, everyone else united to knock it down.
At the moment, the target was Russian Empire.
Britain simply needed to encourage that atmosphere and rally Europe under an anti-Russian banner.
Historically, that tension would eventually lead to the Crimean War.
But during that conflict Britain had taken a leading role and suffered heavy losses.
France had suffered even more casualties—but British losses had been dramatically reduced thanks to the work of Florence Nightingale.
In any case, my policy for the British Empire was simple:
First—avoid wasting national power.
Second—avoid wasting national power.
Third—avoid wasting national power.
Even a great empire could weaken if it squandered its strength everywhere.
And someday the United States might rise as Britain's greatest rival.
Even if its path to the Pacific was temporarily blocked, the United States still possessed fertile farmland and ideal conditions for industrial expansion.
If Britain played world policeman recklessly, it might one day find itself overtaken.
And once that happened, even the Pacific could be lost again.
As long as I served as Prince Consort of Britain, I had no intention of watching that happen.
Even if it occurred after my death, I still wouldn't forgive it in the afterlife.
Which meant Britain needed someone else to carry the heavy burdens of continental warfare.
And France was the perfect candidate.
"Russia's expansion has become alarming," I said. "Your country is investing heavily in Vietnam, but both France and Britain—naturally—are nations that respect law and order. Building relationships in Asia takes time."
"Russia, however, simply attacks and seizes territory."
"Look at their war with the Qing Empire. They practically beat them senseless and seized Primorye by force."
"You're absolutely right," the ambassador said. "Unlike us civilized nations that respect law and—ahem—principle, Russia simply wages war and takes land."
Hearing myself describe Britain and France as law-abiding nations almost made my stomach twist.
Still, the ambassador coughed awkwardly as well.
At least they had a little conscience left.
"In that sense," I continued, "a stable France is essential for maintaining peace in Europe. Britain dominates the seas, of course—but Russia is fundamentally a land power."
"When it comes to fighting on open plains, we must defer somewhat to France's expertise."
"Oh, you flatter us," the ambassador laughed. "But yes, France does possess considerable strength in land warfare."
"The Royal Navy is the pride of Britain," I replied. "But whenever we fought France in the past, your army was always the greatest obstacle we faced."
"Many claim Russia now possesses the strongest army in the world. I disagree."
"No matter what anyone says, the tradition of French military power cannot be dismissed so easily."
Hearing Britain praise French military superiority naturally pleased the ambassador.
After all, recent comparisons had increasingly ranked France behind Russia.
To the French, such claims were outrageous—but public opinion was difficult to change.
"Exactly," the ambassador said eagerly. "Russia is all foam and no substance. They've been boasting about one victory decades ago ever since."
"Indeed. They've squeezed that story so dry there's nothing left."
"Oh, speaking of squeezing—recently I tasted boeuf bourguignon. Absolutely magnificent. If you're going to extract flavor, it should be done with elegance like that."
"Ha! Quite right. In cuisine, Russia and France aren't even in the same league."
"Exactly! That's why we hope France will remain strong and continue standing at the center of Europe."
"Britain, after all, is merely an island nation. Our influence on the continent is limited."
"Knowing Britain thinks this way reassures us greatly," the ambassador said warmly.
Yes, yes.
France, you are the hero of Europe.
So when disaster strikes, could you kindly rush forward like a hero and take the blows for everyone else?
Of course, even heroes struggle when hungry.
If France's internal politics remained unstable, it would hardly have the strength to confront Russia—or anyone else.
So my goal was simple:
stabilize France.
And make sure they owed Britain for it.
After flattering him enough to make even my own face burn, I finally introduced the real topic.
"Since we're discussing politics, you may have heard about the Chartists who recently demanded universal suffrage in Britain."
"Yes. I heard the situation became serious enough that Parliament even sought Your Highness's help. Your speech resolved the crisis almost immediately."
"Thank you. During that affair I met two young foreigners who had come from France to London."
"Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels."
"Have you heard of them?"
"Marx? Engels? Are they famous?"
Of course he hadn't.
The ambassador had lived in London for years.
If he had recognized their names, that would have been stranger.
Though it felt oddly surreal hearing Marx and Engels treated as complete nobodies.
"At the moment they're not famous," I said. "But they travel across Europe studying liberalism and revolutionary movements."
"They mentioned something I found… difficult to ignore."
"That is why I invited you today."
"You said they came from Paris. Did they do something there?"
"Not exactly."
"But they warned that something very serious may soon happen in France."
"However, since Britain intends to strengthen relations with your country, I could hardly ignore such a warning."
"So I conducted my own investigation."
In truth, I had spoken with them only yesterday.
There had been no time for investigation.
But what did it matter?
France collapsing in revolution was practically guaranteed.
"I see… Thank you for taking such trouble for France," the ambassador said politely.
Though judging from his expression, he clearly had no idea how serious things might become.
"That gratitude can wait until everything is resolved," I replied calmly.
"But I wonder whether Minister Guizot truly understands how severe the situation may be."
"Would you convey a message to him?"
"Britain believes there is a possibility of a second great revolution in France."
"And if assistance is needed, we stand ready to help."
"…What?"
"A… a great revolution?"
"Yes."
"The kind that produced Maximilien Robespierre."
The ambassador's face turned pale.
Even seasoned diplomats struggled to hide their shock.
That reaction alone revealed how terrifying the word "revolution" still was to France's ruling class.
Technically, the February Revolution wouldn't become another full-scale terror.
But a little exaggeration always improved the flavor of a story.
"You mean… revolutionaries are plotting something?" he stammered.
"Not necessarily a conspiracy," I said.
"But multiple conditions suggest that events could escalate rapidly."
"If Minister Guizot becomes prime minister next year, he may inherit a very heavy burden."
"So I wondered whether Britain might be able to help."
"If that is the case… please give us some time," the ambassador said hurriedly. "May I confirm matters with Paris and return later?"
"Of course."
The cheerful atmosphere vanished instantly.
The ambassador hurried from the room as if fleeing a fire.
Of course, no matter how hard Guizot investigated, he would find nothing.
No one could predict that catastrophic harvest failures would strike two years later.
Still, hearing the words "great revolution" from the Prince Consort of Britain would haunt them.
They wouldn't be able to dismiss it lightly.
Of course, if they wanted the full intelligence behind my warning…
they would have to pay for it.
My gaze drifted to the large world map hanging on the wall.
More specifically—
to Egypt.
If the price for saving the French monarchy happened to be the future ownership of the Suez Canal, which hadn't even been built yet…
that would be a bargain.
I had already instructed Nathan Mayer Rothschild to prepare the groundwork.
It would make an excellent bargaining chip.
More importantly, Marx and Friedrich would never witness a successful revolution.
Watching events unfold like this, they would eventually conclude that paradise could only be achieved through gradual systemic progress—not reckless revolution.
And once they reached that conclusion…
the real game would begin.
If someone was born with a mind as extraordinary as theirs,
they ought to dedicate it to serving humanity.
Yes.
That was only proper.
So in a hundred years, I would ensure that everyone who praised capitalism would also praise their names.
After all—
that was simply my way of taking care of my new subordinates.