Every event in the world has a cause and an effect.
Major events rarely arise from a single cause. More often, dozens of different factors intertwine.
And sometimes sheer misfortune piles on top of misfortune until everything finally explodes.
Among those causes, some can be controlled by human hands.
Others cannot.
Yet if one looks closely, many disasters occur when the consequences of human actions accumulate over time—until a natural catastrophe finally ignites the powder keg.
The French Revolution was no different.
It is commonly said that the revolution erupted because the contradictions of the old order—the Ancien Régime—had reached their breaking point.
And that is certainly true.
But strictly speaking, those contradictions were merely the accumulated causes. They were not the trigger.
When people rise in revolution, what fills their hearts is usually something much simpler:
We cannot live like this anymore.
That feeling—we cannot go on like this—is the real trigger that drives people into the streets.
In France, several years before the revolution broke out, droughts and crop failures swept across the country.
Historical records describe the disasters almost monotonously.
One year brought devastating drought.
The next year floods washed away the crops.
The following year brought drought again—followed by hailstorms.
Then, in the very year the revolution erupted, France was struck by record-breaking cold for the nineteenth century, and grain prices soared into the sky.
Even if the contradictions of feudal society had reached their limits, if ordinary people had been warm and well-fed, a nationwide revolution might never have occurred.
Of course, the accumulated resentment would still have remained.
Sooner or later, something would have ignited it.
And when that anger finally exploded, the French Revolution demonstrated just how powerful such an eruption could be.
Other European nations even sent troops in panic, fearing the revolutionary flames might spread to their own borders.
And what about France itself?
Even those who sympathized with revolutionary ideals eventually found themselves at the top of the political hierarchy.
And once people reach the top, they inevitably begin to think the same thing:
This must never happen again.
That simple fact was visible in the man sitting across from me now.
François Guizot, one of the figures who had helped shape the July Revolution, sat before me with poorly concealed anxiety.
"…It's been a while, Your Highness."
"Indeed it has. When was the last time we met? A few years ago, perhaps? Time seems to move faster every year."
"Since becoming Prince Consort, Your Highness has accomplished far more than when you were a minister. I once thought it would be difficult to wield political influence from such a position. It seems my judgment was rather short-sighted. Ha ha."
"You flatter me. I've simply been fortunate. But you mentioned you wished to discuss something regarding Joseon?"
Of course, that wasn't the real reason he had crossed the English Channel.
But it was the official pretext, so it had to be addressed properly.
And strictly speaking, the matter wasn't trivial.
After all, three French missionaries had indeed been executed during the Gihae Persecution in Joseon.
At the time, the most convenient excuse imperial powers used to invade Asian nations was the execution of missionaries.
Guizot nodded gravely.
"As Your Highness knows, Bishop Laurent-Joseph-Marius Imbert, Father Pierre Philibert Maubant, and Father Jacques Honoré Chastan were executed by Joseon. Our investigation shows that all three surrendered voluntarily, yet they were summarily executed. As the protector of Catholicism, France cannot overlook such an outrage."
"That is understandable," I replied calmly.
"Executing religious figures who surrendered does seem excessive. However, Joseon has historically applied the same punishment to its own Catholics. Perhaps they were simply maintaining consistency."
"If that is the case, then the problem is even more serious," Guizot said firmly.
"The Holy See has separated Joseon from the Beijing Diocese and recognized it as an independent mission territory. That means we have a duty to conduct pastoral work there."
"To fulfill the noble mission entrusted to us—the white men of Europe—by God himself."
Guizot clenched his fist passionately as he spoke.
I had to fight to keep my facial muscles under control to suppress a laugh.
Did he feel no shame saying such things?
When exactly had Jesus commanded Europeans to send missionaries into Asia—and then bombard the region with warships if those missionaries were executed?
If Jesus returned to earth, this would be the first speech he'd whip someone for delivering.
Still, I didn't contradict him.
Astonishingly enough, this was precisely the mindset that dominated nineteenth-century Europe.
The idea that later came to be known as the White Man's Burden.
The phrase itself had not yet become popular, but the concept already existed.
Most Europeans genuinely believed white civilization was superior.
Not because they consciously thought of themselves as racists.
But because they sincerely believed it.
Superior white civilizations had a duty to enlighten supposedly "less developed" societies.
Even many great historical figures believed this—and some carried out missionary or medical work with genuine good intentions.
So there was no point arguing.
Nothing I said would change his mind.
The only option was to nod politely and laugh inwardly.
"France's devotion to spreading the Gospel to the ends of the earth is admirable," I said.
"It reminds me once again that only France can serve as the steadfast shield of the European continent."
"Thank you for your understanding," Guizot replied.
"France would prefer a peaceful resolution with Joseon. Unfortunately, after executing our missionaries, we do not expect them to respond kindly."
"That is why Admiral Jean-Baptiste Cécille has already sailed with a squadron to deliver a warning."
"You sent warships?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Joseon will surely interpret that as a direct threat."
"A certain degree of pressure is necessary if we expect a proper apology. What we seek is a formal apology—and a sincere gesture."
"And there is no better gesture between nations than trade."
"…Could the British Empire mediate?"
So France still believed Joseon was within Britain's sphere of influence.
Even proud France couldn't act recklessly.
In truth, Guizot's strategy was clever.
Threaten Joseon with warships.
Then have Britain mediate.
That would make it much easier to force a trade treaty.
But Joseon was already territory I had quietly claimed.
There was no way I would allow France to gain a foothold there.
As I searched for a suitable excuse, Guizot smoothly changed the subject.
"However, for France to expand trade in Asia, our domestic situation must first be stable."
"I heard Your Highness recently obtained… troubling intelligence."
"Ah, I see you heard from the ambassador."
"Yes. Is it true that a revolution may occur?"
"I hesitate to say this," I replied slowly.
"But I believe the possibility is quite high."
Guizot's expression visibly changed.
But I had no intention of giving him the answer he wanted.
If he wanted the information—
he would have to pay for it.
"Of course, my information might still be wrong," I continued lightly.
"France's intelligence network is among the best in the world. I'm sure you're already taking precautions."
"And rest assured, I've told no one else."
"…Well…"
Guizot looked at me with an expression that clearly begged me to say more.
Then he clenched his lips.
"To be frank… our government has not discovered any such signs yet."
"If Your Highness possesses information, would you be willing to share it with us?"
"Really? I assumed France already knew."
"Well… the information isn't entirely certain. I would hate to embarrass myself if it turned out to be incorrect. Ha ha."
"If the information proves true," Guizot said quickly, "France is willing to pay an appropriate price. And if it proves false, that would only be good news for us both. You would lose nothing."
Exactly the answer I had been waiting for.
"…Very well," I said.
"If you insist, I will add one condition. I would gladly help you, Minister—but if I accepted no compensation, I might be criticized at home. I hope you understand."
"Of course. Asking for such valuable intelligence for free would be shameless on our part. What do you want?"
"If the information proves correct, the French royal family will owe the British royal family a considerable debt."
"But such obligations are uncomfortable for both sides."
"So let us settle everything with a single transaction."
I paused deliberately.
"I understand that Egypt is considering constructing a canal linking the Red Sea and the Mediterranean Sea."
"However, relations between Britain and Egypt are not particularly friendly."
"…Which means Britain cannot participate directly."
Guizot's eyes widened slightly.
"You mean…"
"Yes."
"Negotiate the canal project with Egypt. Then sell all the shares to the British royal household."
"We will purchase them at a fair price, of course."
"But the operating rights of such a canal would be enormously valuable."
"That may be so," I replied calmly.
"But if France attempts to build it alone, there will be enormous opposition at home. The project will be delayed endlessly, and costs will spiral."
"Would it not be simpler for us to purchase the shares instead?"
"Besides, this agreement only takes effect if my intelligence proves correct."
Guizot thought for a moment.
"…Very well. But we have one condition."
"When the canal opens, French merchant ships must receive the same treatment as British ones."
"That will not be a problem."
Historically, France had once been criticized heavily for discriminatory tolls.
Britain had actually operated the canal more fairly.
So granting equal treatment was hardly a serious concession.
"Then we should formalize the agreement," Guizot said.
"While we're here, I would also like to settle the matter of Joseon."
"I understand France's position. But we must first hear Joseon's explanation before mediating."
"That would take far too long—"
At that moment, someone knocked cautiously on the door.
"Your Highness, forgive the interruption. Urgent information has arrived."
"And there is also a message that must be delivered to the French minister immediately."
"…For both of us?"
Guizot and I exchanged puzzled glances.
Moments later, two officials entered and handed us separate documents.
If they had interrupted negotiations, the matter must be serious.
Perhaps something had happened in Joseon.
We both began reading.
No matter how shocking the news was, surely my composure would remain unbroken—
"Uh… what?"
"…What is this?"
Our bewildered voices echoed in the room at the same time.
I glanced up.
Guizot looked just as stunned.
"Minister," I said slowly, "this is quite an interesting report."
"Is it perhaps related to Admiral Cécille?"
"…Ah…"
Guizot's voice shrank almost to a whisper.
A moment ago he had been confidently discussing the opening of Joseon.
Now embarrassment and humiliation had drained all the strength from his tone.
"I suppose," I continued carefully, "it will be somewhat difficult to demand accountability from Joseon now. Wouldn't you agree?"
"…Yes."
I had to fight desperately not to laugh.
I looked down at the short message again.
—The French warship commanded by Admiral Jean-Baptiste Cécille sank after striking a reef while conducting a show of force near Joseon. The commander and crew are currently being safely protected by Joseon authorities.
I raised the paper to cover my mouth and took a deep breath.
"Joseon seems to have reflected deeply on the situation," I said.
"After all, they are kindly protecting the soldiers who arrived firing cannons in their waters. Ahem."
Guizot said nothing.
It was almost impressive.
France had worked so hard to build the prestige of Western powers by defeating Qing Empire.
And yet somehow…
they had managed to throw it away in a single moment.
I looked again at the line:
'Sank after striking a reef.'
My shoulders trembled.
I lowered my head, unable to hide the smile any longer.
Truly—
French élan was legendary.