Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

Soda ash could indeed be called the "seasoning" of industrial production. Historically, the industrial production of soda ash marked the beginning of a new era in the chemical industry and had a further impact on the entire industrial sector.

And in that era, France, thanks to the latest achievements of the Lavoisier couple, had suddenly claimed the top spot in Europe's chemical industry!

Marianne suddenly remembered something and turned to her husband:

"Dear, I heard from Perna that His Highness the Crown Prince mentioned that he plans to grant you a baronetcy after the casein glue factory starts production?"

This kind of nobility title bestowed in actual service by the Royal Family belonged to the order of swords and was entirely different from those bought-and-worn titles despised by nobility. It was usually reserved to reward a very select few who had made significant contributions.

Lavoisier nodded with a smile:

"I was originally planning to surprise you, but it seems you have quite the insight."

Marianne immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, jumping and giggling like a young girl:

"Does that mean we'll be 'high society' in the eyes of others from now on, haha."

Lavoisier laughed and said, "But that would mean you have to socialize frequently with the ladies of the Palace of Versailles."

"I will hide in the laboratory, pretending not to have received the invitations."

Marianne winked mischievously, suddenly holding her husband tight and whispering shyly into his ear:

"Then, should we not hurry to address the issue of the baronet's heir?"

"Of course!"

Seeing that no one was beside them, Lavoisier lifted his wife in his arms and leaned in for a kiss...

November 2, 1789.

Today is Queen Mary's 34th birthday.

Historically, at this time, Marie Antoinette and her family were being escorted out of the Palace of Versailles by citizens of France to the dilapidated Tuileries Palace, which had been abandoned for many years.

But at this moment, she was sitting in her dressing room, listening to the orchestra play beside her, and surrounded by her makeup artists, hairstylists, and seven maids, excitedly preparing for her birthday gala gown.

Accompanied by a knock on the door, a maid ushered Brian inside.

The Chief Minister bowed to Queen Mary, who was sitting in front of the mirror, and began with praise:

"Your Majesty, has God concentrated all the world's grandeur and beauty solely upon you? You will undoubtedly render all the women of Paris breathless with envy.

"Hmm, Your Majesty, please forgive me for having to disturb you for a moment."

With that, he placed a document on the small round table beside her:

"This is the final draft of that treaty, which requires your signature as soon as possible. You know, it is to be formally signed at the port of Le Havre in five days."

"Thank you for the compliment." Queen Mary smiled and nodded, taking the quill and signing her name at the end of the document.

As for its contents, she had already learned the details from the Crown Prince a few days ago. The treaty was very advantageous to France, no, it was actually a lucrative deal indeed.

She inwardly exclaimed that her son was becoming more and more capable. This time, with only a minimal investment in the Far East, they had managed to make England cease its interference in North Africa. They even got England to promise to give up protecting that person who incited a rebellion in Corsica, along with some other gains she didn't quite understand...

She handed the document back to Brian, her gaze sweeping over the lively dressing room, and her smile grew even brighter. If it were not for Joseph handling these political affairs for her, might she still be discussing with the ministers how to deal with North Africa's troubles, and how could she enjoy the present ease and comfort?

Queen Mary watched Brian leave, then, facing the mirror, gestured and pointed to the golden birdcage the size of a coconut beside her, saying to the hairstylist:

"Can I put that on now?"

"Certainly, Your Majesty."

She flipped a small switch on the birdcage, and the mechanical nightingale inside fluttered its wings and poked its head out, emitting a "tweet tweet" sound.

"Ah! How perfect!" the hairstylist, waving a silk handkerchief, exclaimed from the side, "His Majesty the King's hands must have been blessed by the Lord!"

Indeed, this mainspring birdcage headdress was a birthday gift from Louis XVI to his wife—a fully automatic rotating, door-opening, life-like mechanical bird that could move its entire body and emit over a dozen sounds, its complexity far exceeding that of the most intricate clocks of the time.

Presently, from the direction of the Palace of Versailles came the melodious and cheerful sounds of music.

Rising to her feet, Queen Mary inspected her luxurious gown with satisfaction, then, bearing the slowly spinning birdcage, she made her way to the royal theater.

Meanwhile, as the Palace of Versailles celebrated the Queen's birthday, the Royal Navy of England's third-rate ship of the line, HMNZS Achilles, was sailing through the cloudy Bay of Biscay, bound for the distant Indian subcontinent.
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In an inconspicuous officer's cabin on the second deck, the Marquess of Wellesley lit his pipe and took a deep puff.

After stepping down as Foreign Minister, the absence of those who used to cozy up to him in an attempt to gain favor had given him a taste of rare tranquility.

He pulled out the map of the surroundings of Mysore that he carried with him, spread it out on the table, but his eyes briefly caught sight of a letter that had fallen from his pocket to the floor.

It was a letter from Governor Cornwallis in India, delivered to London just the day before yesterday, thoroughly detailing the military situation in India.

The Marquis of Wellesley couldn't help but frown, a sense of irritation and restlessness flooding his mind. He was reminded of the "rudimentary fortifications" built by the Mysoreans that Cornwallis had mentioned.

Before boarding the ship, he was confident that as soon as he arrived in India, the Mysoreans, who had lost French support, would be quickly defeated by him.

However, after a whole day of careful contemplation, he finally realized that there was no good method to deal with those "fortifications."

He was likely to suffer another defeat in India...

England.

London.

On the broad avenue northwest of St. James's Palace, a black carriage sped by.

Inside, a white-haired old man in his sixties looked at the young man across from him and couldn't resist saying:

"Wyndham, I still think that taking over as Foreign Secretary at this time is not a wise decision."

The young man, with deep-set eyes and a hint of Scottish features, was the new Foreign Secretary, Lord William Wyndham Grenville.

Grenville showed a candid smile:

"Uncle, you see, our Prime Minister must mollify the anger of the Whigs right now. And I'm afraid I'm his only choice."

After successive "strategic mistakes" by the Duke of Leeds and the Marquis of Wellesley, William Pitt Junior faced immense pressure from the Whigs in the Cabinet. Therefore, he planned to appoint a Whig as the new Foreign Minister as a compromise to the Whig Party.

But he played a clever trick by choosing a member of the Grenville family, which was allied with his own, and also his close friend, Lord Grenville.