The Fox of France

Just as Armand had spread a new rumor—himself suddenly gone missing, perhaps imprisoned in the Bastille—a more astonishing piece of news arrived: the King's finance minister, Necker, had been dismissed and expelled from the country.

Necker's departure was seen as a sign that the King was about to crush the Third Estate's resistance, as he had served as France's finance minister twice.

During his first term as finance minister, he gained widespread favor among the common people of the city for opposing free grain trade. (Free grain trade would lead to inevitable price hikes, particularly in the face of recurring natural disasters, greatly harming the interests of the poorest of the poor.)

He introduced a method of keeping the national finances running through debt rather than raising taxes, which also pleased the wealthier members of the Third Estate.

However, in 1781, to defend his fiscal policies, he shockingly published the financial report of the French government, revealing the budget deficit and the lavish privileges of the nobility. The disclosure of these two figures caused a political storm. The sight of the astronomical expenses, especially by Queen Marie Antoinette, who had spent seventy-six thousand six hundred francs just redecorating her Trianon palace, and the Queen's gift of half a million francs to her favorite, Madame de Polignac, in just one year, angered the poor who had never even seen a single Louis coin in their lives, especially considering their empty rice bags.

So, Marie Antoinette, who had initially won the cheers of all of Paris when she became queen, was now called "Deficit Queen," and Necker, the cause of this uproar, was dismissed from his post.

However, as time went on, the fiscal deficit became more severe, borrowing became increasingly difficult (at the time, French government bonds had an interest rate as high as almost twenty percent, yet they still couldn't raise funds), and the debt repayment pressure became an insurmountable burden in the national budget. Meanwhile, the privileged class adamantly refused to pay taxes. (In this regard, it seems a bit similar to what's happening with the current government, doesn't it?) Louis XVI had no choice but to call back Necker. However, Necker was not a miracle worker; he couldn't just summon gold from thin air, and so they resorted to issuing assignats.

Necker had no choice but to propose taxing the privileged class. Then, the clergy and nobility used tradition as a shield, claiming that taxing the privileged class required authorization from the "Estates-General." The privileged class assumed that Louis XVI would never dare to convene the Estates-General, but they never expected that the desperate Louis XVI would indeed do just that.

In the Estates-General, Necker helped the Third Estate successfully increase their representation and gained the power to vote on fiscal matters according to the number of representatives, not by estate. To the people of Paris, Necker's dismissal meant that the King had decided to stand against the Third Estate. In their eyes, it was a signal that the King was preparing to suppress the people with force.

"We can't sit around and wait for the King's foreign mercenaries and those bandits to come slaughter and plunder us. We must stand up, take up arms, and wear our cockades for identification. We must defend ourselves, our wives, our children, and our property," a man delivered an impassioned speech in front of the Royal Palace.

"It's strange, isn't De Mûran usually stuttering? How is he speaking fluently today?" The person speaking seemed to be familiar with the speaker, De Mûran.

"Yes, De Mûran always struggled with his speech. He would even prefer to write rather than speak. Let's listen to what he has to say today," another person remarked.contemporary romance

"This dismissal is a warning for the patriots who will face a Saint Bartholomew's Day Massacre! And today, our friend Armand Lavache, the playwright who created the immortal 'Spartacus,' has disappeared! We all know what happened to him; he won't be anywhere else. He must have been captured by the King's spies and those hounds and taken to the Bastille!" the passionate De Mûran continued, pulling out two pistols from his green coat pocket. "Follow me; we will arm ourselves!"

The crowd responded enthusiastically.

"Let's go, let's go together!"

So they went together.

Where did they go? To a weapons store, of course. De Mûran led the people to the nearest weapons store. When the shopkeeper saw so many people approaching with such determination, he quickly tried to close the door. But De Mûran was faster; he took a step and reached the door, blocking it with the board that was about to close. Everyone rushed in.

"Are you a member of the Third Estate, a citizen of Paris?" De Mûran asked loudly.

"Of course, of course," the pale-faced shopkeeper answered.

"Good! The tyrant is plotting to crush the Third Estate with force, to plunder and slaughter Paris! Shouldn't you use your strength to defend the people of Paris?" De Mûran asked.

Everyone looked at the shopkeeper.

The shopkeeper, holding two pistols, looked around and replied in a shaky voice, "Of course... what you said... of course... I..."

"Good," De Mûran patted the shopkeeper on the shoulder and turned to the others, shouting, "You see, this citizen understands the righteousness! He is willing to support us, to join us! Come on, let's all arm ourselves! We must fight for Paris, for freedom!"

So, they all grabbed the weapons in the store. One person took a shotgun, another grabbed a spear... The shopkeeper watched, wanting to stop them but not daring to, and then De Mûran handed him a hunting knife. "Citizen, thank you for your generosity. Let's go, we will defend Paris together!"

The shopkeeper held the knife and, escorted by the others, headed towards the next block. After about half a street's walk, he began to realize something.

"Citizens, citizens! There's another weapons store to the right; many of us still don't have weapons. Let's go there to arm ourselves!" he shouted.

"That's right; we need weapons to stand against the tyrant! Open the door quickly!" someone yelled.

"Indeed, we must be armed to fight the tyrant! Open up!" another person added.

"I won't open today... This is all my hard-earned money; I can't just give it to you like this!" came the voice from behind the door.

"Are you siding with the tyrant, opposing the people?" someone scolded.

"Break down the door, we'll break it down!" another person shouted.

So, people started breaking the door down.

"Stop!" came the voice from inside. "If you don't stop, we'll open fire!"

However, the people didn't stop.

"Bang!" A gunshot sounded from inside, and one of the men trying to break down the door fell to the ground, clutching his leg.

The men immediately scattered.

"That damned fellow; he must be a supporter of the tyrant!" someone yelled.

"Kill such scoundrels!" more people shouted.

Several rifles were aimed at the door and fired haphazardly. The door was riddled with bullet holes. Someone sneaked around the side and gave the door a kick. The door was pushed open—those earlier shots had damaged the door's lock.

Everyone rushed inside and saw a middle-aged man trembling, trying to load his rifle. But his hands were shaking so badly that the gunpowder spilled outside the barrel. Upon seeing the crowd burst in, he dropped the rifle and turned to run. However, a spear pierced through his back, pinning him to the wall.

"Damn henchman of the tyrant!" one man cursed as he charged forward, grabbing the man's hair and waving a knife. He aimed the blade at the man's neck, but his technique was lacking. The first strike didn't sever the spinal cord. So, he continued to hack at the man's neck, and it wasn't until several more blows that he finally decapitated him.

The man lifted the bloodied head, just like Perseus had held the head of Medusa, and proclaimed, "Look, this is the fate of the tyrant's lackeys!"

"That's right, this is how the lackeys of the tyrant should end!"

"His whole family should be killed!"

Somebody called out, "Over there, it seems there are more people!"

The crowd moved towards the inner room, but the shopkeeper stayed behind. He heard someone crying, "Oh God, save us!"

Then another voice shouted, "Among these lackeys, there are women and children!"

"Kill them all! They deserve it!"

The result was a series of screams, and several people emerged from the inner room, their faces smeared with blood, triumphantly shouting, "Arm yourselves, defend Paris!"

In truth, people don't necessarily need to be drunk to become fanatical; they just need to be part of a large group with a noble cause.

"These lackeys and their whole families deserve to die!" someone shouted.

"Exactly, this is how the tyrant's lackeys should be dealt with!"

As the crowd's fervor grew, somebody else yelled, "Over here, it looks like there are more people!"

So, they all moved forward, leaving the shopkeeper behind. He heard the cries for help, and then there was silence. The atmosphere was heavy with tension.

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