The Fox of France

The French Council of State did propose relevant bills, more than just one. The first proposal requested the French government to publicly condemn the atrocities of the British government.

This particular bill didn't stir much attention. Criticisms between the French and British governments had become customary over the years. Periodically, the French government condemned the British for disrupting free trade, and reciprocally, the British government accused France of meddling in their internal affairs. So, condemnation was routine. According to the norm, after the condemnation, business continued as usual.

However, this time seemed different. The Council of State proposed another bill, urging the establishment of a "Human Rights Review Committee" to annually assess human rights situations in other countries and periodically publish related reports. The French government could then act against these countries based on these reports.

Though the bill left ample room for ambiguity, not mandating immediate actions, it provided a pretext for the French government to investigate various British goods at any time and impose temporary punitive tariffs. Supposedly, these temporary tariffs were to aid those "persecuted by tyranny."

In theory, the decision to impose these taxes remained uncertain. If deemed unnecessary by the French government, they might opt not to enforce them. There was a possibility that every year, during the release of the human rights report, France could brandish these special tariffs to intimidate the British into making favorable concessions, without actually acting upon them.

However, this time, the French appeared to be earnest. Immediately after the Council's approval of the bill, Joseph Bonaparte announced a fifteen percent special tariff on British textiles entering France, intended to assist the "persecuted British textile workers."

Joseph declared that any British textile worker could visit the French embassy or consulate in Britain, pass a "Basic French Exam," and receive funds for a ticket to leave Britain for continental Europe. (These funds, naturally, sourced from the increased tariffs on British textiles, or more bluntly put, from the British themselves.) Upon arrival in Europe, they could access relatively favorable loans from the Bank of Louisiana to cover the costs of travel to Louisiana and settlement. (Apparently, these funds were co-sponsored by the warring Spanish and Mexican republics.)

Subsequently, the Paris municipal authority renamed the street where the British embassy was located to "Textile Workers Street" and the small square in front of the embassy to "Collier Square." Additionally, they erected statues of Collier, president of the Textile Workers Union, and other victims right in front of the British embassy. Renowned Italian sculptor Antonio Canova reportedly took charge of this task, having left Rome to come to Paris.

Indeed, when the Paris City Hall made this decision, the European response was rather peculiar.

The British government vehemently protested, threatening to rename the street of the French embassy in London to "Louis XVI Street." Paris City Hall responded, "London's issues are none of our concern," while Joseph stated, "We don't intervene in British internal affairs."

Among the other European nations, the Rhine Federation and the Dutch Republic naturally applauded—their disdain for British textiles had long been known. Austria, Prussia, Spain, and Russia remained silent fundamentally because they didn't desire the complications that unions brought to their territories.

However, in the eyes of most European intellectuals, France's actions were deeply moving. Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, the famed German playwright, praised France, claiming they upheld the most genuine ideals of the revolution, deserving to be the beacon and hope for all of Europe and the world. He also expressed his intent to create a drama to commemorate the great struggle of British textile workers.

Following Schiller's statement, renowned composer Beethoven expressed his desire to adapt Schiller's work into an opera.

Of course, Beethoven was occupied at the moment, having just accepted a commission from France to compose a suite for the revived Olympic Games.

Apart from these figures, numerous artists, including those from Britain, staunchly supported France's stance.

However, the French move caused headaches for the British. Although the "Textile Workers Union" seemed to have been dismantled, both the police and textile guild members knew that things weren't that simple. Aside from President Collier, none of the other union representatives had been apprehended. Intelligence suggested some representatives had sought refuge in French embassies or consulates. Yet, under these circumstances, the British couldn't directly enter French diplomatic premises to arrest them—doing so would imply war. Besides, if the issue with France could be resolved through war, why bother with this hassle?

Nonetheless, this provided an internal propaganda opportunity for the British—labeling these labor leaders as "traitors." Despite French protests, the British, through media censorship, at least appeared to control the situation on the surface.

Unexpectedly, signs bearing the name "Textile Workers Union" began appearing on the streets and alleys of London.

"Any findings from analyzing these leaflets?" Sir Shaw inquired. These sudden leaflet appearances had been stressing him. The "Textile Workers Union" continued its activities, now showcasing themselves to all of London, even all of England, through these leaflets. And in recent days, they continued to clandestinely guide strikes among textile workers. Certainly, by employing new workers and turning unemployed individuals into penal laborers leased to factories, the productivity of these factories had plummeted significantly.

This was natural; the efficiency of convict laborers couldn't match that of free workers. Lacking hope, they resorted to passive resistance, and even with the whips over their heads, being government slaves, they still had food. Moreover, they would resort to all means to sabotage machinery to have respite.

Thus, whenever possible, factory owners preferred free workers over government slaves.

Typically, in the standoff between workers and employers, workers were at a disadvantage. Especially after the recent trade fair, with major orders secured, factory owners could endure far longer than workers. Even if losing a few days, factory owners' losses were limited, possibly recouped by intensifying labor. But if workers missed a day's work, they'd face starvation. This unequal footing was one reason workers dared to provoke the police and interfere with the "Textile Workers Union."

However, the situation had begun to change. Firstly, these leaflets, plastered everywhere, had attracted the attention of so-called "charitable organizations." Consequently, these organizations set up porridge stalls in places like Petticoat Lane.

Some of these charitable organizations were created by brainwashed British individuals, while others were more troublesome, being funded by French sources. Rumors hinted at support from French and Dutch merchants. These merchants knew of the bulk of unfulfilled orders in British hands, a positive situation. Yet, if the strikes continued, the inability to fulfill orders would cripple England's textile industry. This scenario would be a massive victory for both Dutch and French textile merchants.

Hence, though emotionally these capitalists sympathized more with their British counterparts due to their own vested interests, they realized the significance of the absence of these Englishmen and thus contributed to stirring up chaos.

Of course, to ensure the disruption's success, to ensure the British refrained from violence and direct confrontation, they even enlisted a highly influential, meddlesome figure across Europe to oversee this matter personally.

This figure was none other than the notorious Pauline Bonaparte, an unforgettable figure for many in England.

In Petticoat Lane, amidst a group led by Jacques Gallant, former butcher turned Feechin,

a sudden commotion interrupted their planning meeting.

A commotion at such a time was alarming. In London's East End, the birthplace of the suffragette movement, residents were accustomed to disagreements. Even so, this ruckus was different. This wasn't a mere argument. This was a significant gathering, which indicated trouble.

The sudden appearance of red-coated constables and their skirmish with a mob marked a peculiar occurrence in the heart of London's East End.

"Get back! Get back!" shouted the constables, struggling to push back a throng of agitated individuals.

Suddenly, a loud voice pierced the air. "Hold! Stand your ground!" The source of this assertive voice remained unseen.

The crowd parted, revealing a tall, imposing figure—Pauline Bonaparte.

"Stop this unnecessary confrontation. There's no need for this violence," she commanded, her voice resonating through the narrow streets.

The constables hesitated. Pauline's reputation was well-known, both for her connections and her fearlessness. Crossing her had never ended well for anyone in her path. Yet, they had orders. They couldn't afford to yield.

Meanwhile, the crowd murmured in excitement. Pauline Bonaparte's presence alone signaled something significant was underway. Some recognized her from past incidents; others had only heard of her notorious reputation.

Pauline surveyed the scene, her gaze coolly assessing the constables, the agitated crowd, and the general chaos. She had an air of confidence that could calm a tempest.

"Is this the resolution the British government has to offer? Suppressing dissent with force?" she spoke loudly, her voice projecting authority.

Her words seemed to strike a chord among the onlookers. A few raised voices joined her, echoing similar sentiments about the government's actions.

Pauline gestured to the constables. "You're here to protect the people, not intimidate them. There are better ways to resolve this. Why not let these people express their concerns?"

The constables exchanged nervous glances. It wasn't easy to dismiss Pauline's words, given her reputation and the stirrings of support from the crowd.

The situation hung in the balance. The constables stood their ground, uncertain of their next move. Pauline remained resolute, her unwavering presence a symbol of defiance against the authority.

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