Chapter 517: Purging the Corrupt Tax Farmers
Southern Suburbs of Paris
In the second-floor interrogation room of the National First Prison, a man with tattoos running from his neck to his arms sat with his head lowered, his expression tense. He spoke in a panicked tone:
"I swear, it was all Mr. Barna's idea!
"He arranged for the fake documents, and I only followed his orders to hand them over to the tax bureau!"
The officer across the table responded coldly:
"But the handover documents were all signed by you. Forging tax records can land you in prison for five to ten years."
"No…!" The tattooed man shuddered violently and quickly blurted, "I can testify against Barna! Oh, and my subordinates can back me up!"
"You're talking about Lecidien Malet de Barna, correct?"
"Yes, that's him!"
"Where is he now?"
"He should be on Corse Street..."
A nearby intelligence officer, who had been listening in, immediately gave a quiet order to his subordinate:
"Bring him in."
"Yes, sir!"
As the interrogation progressed, more and more senior tax farmers were implicated and added to the growing list of those being questioned.
At the same time, all assets belonging to the implicated tax farmers began to be frozen.
This was a ruling issued by the High Court. Given the clear nature of the forgery case and its inevitable ties to financial records, asset freezes were deemed entirely justified.
Elsewhere, local tax bureaus across France, in cooperation with the police, began sealing off regional tax offices and arresting nearly all the tax collectors employed by the tax farmers.
Unlike in Paris, where authorities were cautious about the public perception of mass arrests, local offices were far more aggressive. Their main concern was ensuring tax collection for the coming year. They preferred to arrest as many people as possible and sort out innocence later.
Within just two days, as confessions from senior tax farmers multiplied, the "forged tax documents" scandal began to entangle the top figures of the Tax Farmers' Association.
Inside a Carriage
Barlot, one of the Tax Farmers' Association's senior members, sat with a grim expression, staring at the bold headline in the Paris Gazette:
"Shocking! Tax Farmers Caught in Widespread Tax Document Forgery—Over 150 Arrested So Far."
He felt a crushing weight in his chest, a suffocating sensation of impending doom.
Just two days ago, he had been strategizing how to reorganize the tax offices in Reims, Champagne, and three other provinces once he secured their salt and alcohol tax rights. He had also planned to ramp up illicit liquor trade to maintain previous profit margins.
But then came the news that his two most trusted subordinates had been arrested for forging documents.
Barlot knew it was only a matter of time before he was implicated.
For someone like him, document forgery wasn't a major crime. Typically, a well-placed bribe of around 250,000 francs would secure his bail. Yet the inevitable court appearances and disruptions would still damage his other business ventures.
He envied peers like Morel and Godemid, whose enterprises were mostly based abroad. They could simply abandon their French operations and avoid getting embroiled in this mess.
Barlot, however, was a native-born Frenchman, with all his roots firmly planted in France. He had already stopped thinking about future tax farming opportunities and was now focused solely on surviving the current ordeal.
Versailles Palace
Stepping out of his carriage, Barlot hurried toward the palace gates, his head bowed.
In the office of the Finance Minister, he wore an expression of pleading desperation as he addressed Archbishop Brienne:
"Your Eminence, I truly had no knowledge of this scheme. It was entirely the doing of those beneath me...
"Of course, I bear some responsibility. I am willing to pay a fine for it."
Glancing at Brienne, he cautiously added, "Would 500,000 francs suffice? No, wait, 800,000 francs!"
Brienne remained silent, staring at his desk until Barlot nervously increased his offer to 1 million francs. Finally, the Archbishop looked up and said coolly:
"Barlot, the Tax Farmers' Association's actions have caused severe disruptions to national finances. To cover the shortfall in tax revenue next year, we have been forced to issue special government bonds."
"Government bonds?" Barlot echoed, momentarily confused before realization dawned. He quickly nodded.
"Ah, yes, funds must be prepared to address the chaos. Your Eminence, I am willing to purchase 3 million francs' worth of bonds to support you..."
Brienne shook his head slightly and held up one finger.
"1 million?" Barlot began but stopped mid-sentence, his voice rising in shock. "You're asking me to buy 10 million francs' worth of bonds?!
"That's outrageous! What's the return on these special bonds?"
"Three percent," Brienne replied. "One-year term."
Barlot's face turned pale.
If he used 10 million francs for tax farming, he could earn 3 million francs in profit. But these bonds? They offered a measly 300,000 francs in interest!
He stood abruptly, offering a stiff bow as he said, "I'll consider it," before turning to leave.
Later That Day
Other tax farmer magnates, including Morel, Borolé, and even Fourde, visited Brienne's office, each seeking to "apologize" and negotiate leniency.
All left with darkened expressions.
Evening at the Tuileries Palace
Joseph listened to Brienne's report and frowned slightly.
"Only Baron Pélier has agreed to buy 7 million francs' worth of bonds? The rest refused outright?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Brienne admitted hesitantly. "Perhaps 10 million francs per person was too high a demand.
"My calculations suggest we need about 100 million francs to meet next year's operational budget. If each major tax farmer contributes 6 million francs, that should suffice."
Joseph shook his head.
"You're only considering the cost of maintaining current government functions. If we want to build canals, lay timber railways, and fund other infrastructure, we'll need much more."
Brienne looked stunned. Stabilizing the fiscal system after such a significant tax reform was already a monumental challenge. The Crown Prince was actually planning ambitious public works on top of it?
Joseph paid no mind to Brienne's reaction. Stroking his teacup, he mused aloud:
"It seems we'll have to turn up the pressure on them."
Now that the forged document scandal had provided a solid pretext, Joseph saw no reason to go easy on the tax farmers. Historically, the Jacobins had sentenced the entire Tax Farmers' Association to death—a harsh punishment but indicative of their widespread corruption.
Onboard the Corvette Forêt de Merveilles
Standing on the deck, Napoleon gazed at the faint outline of Corsica's hills and let out a long sigh.
On a small table beside him lay an old copy of The Times, its report on Pasquale Paoli's scandal read to him countless times. The allegations of rape and corruption had shattered his lifelong admiration for the man.
He thought of Paoli's writings, which he had read with fervor in his youth, and shook his head.
"All that talk of fighting for the Corsican people, for freedom from foreign oppression—it was all a lie."
Turning toward the transport ships trailing behind the corvette, Napoleon took in the sight of two artillery companies and hundreds of infantry. This force would soon secure his position as commander of the Corsican military garrison.
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