Bertier, sitting opposite, pushed his “rook” forward three squares, hesitated, and then voiced the doubt in his heart:
“Your Highness, why do you care so much about the Bey of Tunisia? I mean, it might not be a bad choice to let the rioters vent their anger on him.”
Joseph moved his “queen,” saving his “knight”:
“Haji has worked with us after all, even if it was for revenge and to reclaim his beloved. Morally speaking, we should not just ignore him like this. Besides, although he doesn’t wield much actual power, he is still a symbolic figure in Tunisia. Various decrees are issued in his name from the Ksar Hellal Palace, and they are executed more swiftly.
If he were to die, who knows how long it would take for the locals in Tunisia to balance the interests of all parties and produce a government.”
What he didn’t say was that as Haji had little capability, he was easier to manage. If a Tunisian native with exceptional methods and strategies came to power, it would indeed be troublesome.
Bertier, holding a chess piece, nodded continuously:
“Your Highness’s concerns are indeed very necessary. I thought too simplistically.”
Joseph smiled and said:
“Additionally, having a Bey prevents the possibility of a military dictatorship from arising, and it facilitates the future merger of Tunisia with France.”
Bertier was somewhat surprised:
“You mean, Tunisia will not be a colony of France, but… a province?”
“I do have this intention. That’s why from the beginning, I’ve been promoting identification with France here.”
“But, Your Highness,” Bertier hesitated, “wouldn’t that cost be too high?”
People of later generations often think of colonies as places full of bloody oppression, with exorbitant taxes reaching the sky and everywhere people cannot make ends meet.
In reality, for the most part, colonies are only subject to some trade restrictions, such as being prohibited from buying certain goods or forbidden to sell to certain parties. The tax rates aren’t too high, for example, the various taxes in the United States before independence were even lower than in the mother country England.
The biggest difference between a colony and a non-colony lies in the investment—a colony’s taxes, no matter how low, end up being spent on the mother country. The colonies do not receive any construction funds, and there are no funds for disaster relief when trouble arises, inevitably leading to local resentment.
At the same time, if problems arise in a colony, the mother country can easily abandon it without any psychological burden.
Therefore, the investment in building a province is actually much higher than that in a colony.
Joseph looked at the chessboard, somewhat reluctantly using his “rook” to take the opposing “knight” and “pawn” and nodded:
“You are right. This means we will need to invest a considerable amount of capital into Tunisia, especially in the early stages.” He shifted his tone, “However, it’s also worth it. Tunisia is rich in natural resources and has fertile land; at the same time, it possesses excellently located harbors. If developed, we can quickly recoup our initial investment.
Moreover, in the future, it may become an important economic pillar for France!”
He was very aware of the significance of North Africa for France in later times. Even without proper development, North Africa had once been the foundation for France’s status as a great world power.
In the 20th century, the last respectable president of France, Chirac, once said, “Without Africa, France would descend into a third-rate country.”
At present, for France to compete with England, simply plundering resources from North Africa was completely unfeasible, as this region was nowhere as vast as England’s colonies in the Americas and India.
Since it couldn’t win in terms of quantity, it had to compete in quality.
To develop Tunisia into a core area for France, achieving a level of productivity close to that of European territories. Such a region’s contribution to national power would be incomparable to that of the Americas or the Far East.
Joseph looked at Bertier and continued:
“Do you know, compared to England, North Africa has an unparalleled advantage for our Spanish colonies—that is, it’s very close to us? Marseille and Bizerte Port are separated by only a relatively narrow Mediterranean. Starting from Corsica, even the slower ships take only three days to reach Tunisia, which is even shorter than the journey from Lyon to Paris.”
“The British are destined to lose America because orders sent from London take more than forty days to reach Philadelphia. Similarly, by the time the British learn of any trouble over there, it would be a month and a half later.”
“Mark my words, India will also break from England in the future, because it’s also a very distant place.”
“But Tunisia is different. As long as we firmly establish ourselves here, nobody can separate it from France’s embrace.”
In his mind, he added: unless there is an awakening of national consciousness here, leading to internal demands for independence. Therefore, while the storm of national awakening has not yet spread through Europe, it is imperative to quickly cultivate a sense of identity between France and Tunisia—then it will indeed be solid as a rock.
Of course, apart from identifying with the notion of “common ancestry,” encouraging more French people to relocate to Tunisia is the most reliable approach.
After all, Tunisia currently has a population of less than 1.8 million, of which several hundred thousand are of European descent. With the right immigration policies, it wouldn’t take many years for the region to become physically synonymous with common ancestry.
Bertier had previously only known the Crown Prince for his exceptional military and strategic insight and his dazzling political acumen. He had not expected him to have such a profound understanding of international dynamics as well. The words “blessed by the gods” came once again to mind.
Aside from that reason, he found himself at a loss to explain how a young Crown Prince could possess so many advanced perspectives and strategies.
His thoughts were turbulent, but his hands didn’t stop moving as he pushed the “pawn” forward several squares and softly said:
“Your Highness, General.”
Joseph inspected the chessboard and said with a helpless smile:
“It seems like a checkmate. Your chess skills are really amazing.”
“You are too kind,” Bertier replied as he tidied up the chess pieces, and casually mentioned, “Speaking of chess, a Hungarian named Kemperlen invented a machine called ‘The Turk.’ It’s a machine that plays chess. I played against it once and was beaten after only 14 moves.”
That amazing? Joseph’s first thought was “AlphaGo,” but he immediately dismissed the idea—how could there be artificial intelligence in an era when even the steam engine wasn’t perfected?
He then remembered seeing something about it on a forum. It was eventually exposed as a hoax—someone was hiding inside the machine, controlling the chess pieces with magnets.
So he gave the Chief of Staff a knowing wink:
“Lieutenant Colonel Bertier, I can tell you a secret to easily defeat that ‘Turk.'”
As they were speaking, Doctor Perna knocked on the door and entered, greeting each of them before nervously fidgeting with the hem of her dress:
“Your Highness, Commander, I’ve heard that many soldiers in the legion have recently come down with dysentery. Perhaps, I can be of assistance.”
In this era, female doctors were not at all accepted. Perna was only able to serve beside the open-minded Joseph. Having been unable to help with anything in Tunisia and having been taken care of by His Highness due to seasickness on the way there, she now wanted to do something to prove her worth.
Joseph nodded: “On behalf of the soldiers, I thank you, Doctor Perna. However, you will need to dress as a man first.”
“Yes! Thank you, Your Highness!”
…
Paris.
Royal Palace.
The Duke of Orleans, basking in the sunlight by the window, was leisurely reading the latest issue of the “Paris News.” The paper reported some events in Tunisia, although the specifics were unclear, it was said that the region had fallen into chaos, and fires of war were spreading everywhere.
Obviously, the inexperienced Crown Prince had messed things up!
He hummed a dance tune happily and glanced up to see his son passing in front of the window.
He felt something amiss with Philippe and quickly rubbed his eyes before calling his son over for a closer look.
Under the bright sunlight, there were large red bumps on his neck, and his left eye was also severely inflamed.
The Duke of Orleans immediately furrowed his brows and asked with concern:
“Philippe, are you ill?”
The Duke of Chartres replied with an unconcerned smile:
“Nothing serious, just the disease of the god of love, dear father.”
Upon hearing this, the Duke of Orleans was struck as if by lightning, freezing in place—the so-called “disease of the god of love” was a euphemism the nobility used for syphilis.