Chapter 584: The Carrot Dangling Before the British
"This gentleman is the founder of the Society of Friends of the Blacks," Talleyrand explained with a touch of resignation. "You can guess his agenda from the name alone.
"He even traveled to America intending to lead a movement to liberate slaves there. Of course, under the watchful eyes of American militias, he accomplished nothing and returned to write a book titled Notes on the Southern Blacks of America.
"I firmly believe no one is better suited to handle the task in Saint-Domingue than he is."
The following day, Joseph enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before preparing to depart for Brittany.
The previous afternoon, he had met with Brissot. Sending him to Saint-Domingue seemed to significantly increase the chances of success.
As Talleyrand had noted, Brissot was a fervent abolitionist. Upon hearing Joseph's plan, he had been so moved that he wept openly, even pledging to contribute 30,000 francs of his own money to support the "noble endeavor."
Considering Brissot was unemployed, this was essentially his entire savings.
Furthermore, Brissot's sharp mind and quick thinking allowed him to offer immediate improvements to Joseph's plan—indicating that he had already contemplated similar ideas.
For added assurance, Joseph tasked the intelligence bureau with dispatching two agents to accompany Brissot to Saint-Domingue.
As Joseph's convoy reached Alençon, the intelligence bureau reported that Brissot's party had already set sail for the Atlantic.
London.
As the last rays of sunset faded, several uniformed men in black hats raised long wooden poles tipped with flames, inserting them into the glass enclosures atop lampposts.
Within ten minutes, bright white light illuminated the area around London's City Hall, making it as radiant as a ballroom.
The crowd of hundreds burst into cheers:
"Oh, it's almost as bright as daytime—how marvelous!"
"I hope all of London will soon be lit by these lamps."
"It will be. The newspapers said the gas streetlamp project will be completed by the end of the year at the latest."
"God, that would be wonderful!"
London's Lord Mayor, Herbert, stepped forward, delivering an impassioned speech under the glow of the gaslights.
Standing slightly behind him, Flash Company's manager, Steller, frowned and muttered to the elderly nobleman beside him:
"To be honest, Mr. Pierce, this wasn't exactly what His Highness had in mind. He specifically instructed us to minimize expenses…"
"This was a necessary expenditure," replied the man in the black hat—none other than Viscount Carona, currently using the alias "Pierce."
He gestured toward the gas lamps surrounding City Hall.
"Think of it as the carrot in front of the donkey. And it's not like we paid much for this; the subcontractors handled most of the work."
Steller remained dissatisfied. "But the equipment on the other end of the pipes came from our budget."
"Only 5,000 francs," Pierce replied with a smile. "It'll soon make us millions."
Meanwhile, the Lord Mayor's speech continued, drawing cheers from the crowd. None of them realized that the massive distillation workshop at Flash Company—its retorts and other equipment—was just a collection of hollow iron shells.
The gas for these 30 lamps was actually supplied by a set of glass vessels and pipes hidden in a small adjacent building. These experimental devices, purchased from the University of Paris, were connected underground to the streetlamps.
This setup was sufficient for demonstration purposes, though unlike industrial gas production, the equipment could only process refined coal, making the costs ten times higher.
Nevertheless, it was convincing enough for Londoners. From the outside, the workshop appeared to be bustling, with glowing furnaces and thick smoke billowing from the chimneys. Everyone believed it was continuously producing gas.
Steller shrugged.
"Perhaps this isn't so bad after all. Otherwise, I'd have no idea how to explain the delays."
According to the original agreement, the gas streetlamp project should have been completed a month ago.
However, both Parliament and City Hall reluctantly accepted the delays, as Flash Company had faced continuous misfortunes from day one. The deadline had been extended to December.
Of course, Flash Company would have to pay substantial penalties for the delays, deducted from the final payment after project completion.
Still, the successful lighting of the first batch of streetlamps sparked widespread interest across London.
Major newspapers published articles, many accompanied by illustrations of the illuminated City Hall.
The topic dominated conversations in salons and street corners alike. People debated which streets would be lit first, and which would be last, with everyone eager to know the details.
Property values in London even began to rise in response.
Much of this enthusiasm was orchestrated by Carona. Bribed journalists dutifully published glowing "press releases," while salon attendees casually brought up the subject to stoke excitement.
Amid the growing hype, Flash Company announced that gas lamps for personal use had been developed. Once the streetlamps were operational, households could apply to have gas lines installed in their homes.
Jim Heyman had just returned home and was about to hang his coat when his wife hurried over with a flyer in hand.
"Dear, this is such a great deal—you have to see this!"
"What is it?" Heyman asked, taking the paper. He realized it was a Flash Company advertisement and frowned.
"Did you buy a newspaper?"
"No, they gave it out for free," his wife said proudly. At the time, paper was expensive, and no one gave out flyers—Flash Company was setting a precedent.
Curious, Heyman read the flyer. It extolled the virtues of gas lamps, emphasizing their convenience. Not only could they light homes, but the gas could also be used for cooking, heating bathwater, and warming rooms.
"This sounds amazing! How much does it cost?" Heyman asked.
His wife eagerly turned the flyer over.
"Look, here it is. Flash Company is offering a special deal: if you buy a gas lamp now, they'll install the gas line for free. Later, you can also use it for a gas stove!"
"Buy a gas lamp?" Heyman scanned the price list and winced. One gas lamp cost 8 pounds!
His monthly salary was only 2 pounds and 5 shillings. Buying just one lamp would require saving every penny for three and a half months.
"No way, it's far too expensive!"
His wife immediately complained, "I heard Mr. Brook say that gas line installation might cost 10 pounds in the future. If we miss this opportunity, we might never afford gas lamps for the rest of our lives!"
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