Chapter 13: The Storm Clouds – 1790–1795
The French Revolution of 1789 sent shockwaves through Europe. Zeelandia, half a world away, felt the tremors. The monarchy, which had ruled peacefully for three generations, suddenly seemed fragile. Republican ideas circulated among the merchants of Port Victoria and the intellectuals of Koningstad.
Frits watched the developments with growing unease. He was an engineer, not a politician, but he understood that his kingdom's survival depended on staying out of European conflicts.
In 1792, a ship from France brought a passenger who would test Frits's resolve: Jean‑Paul Marat, the revolutionary journalist, was fleeing the chaos in Paris. He sought refuge in Zeelandia.
Frits received him in private, wary of the man's reputation. Marat was thin, his skin marked by a skin disease that forced him to soak in medicated baths, but his eyes burned with intensity.
"You have created a republic in all but name," Marat said, gesturing at the room. "A merchant king, a parliament, freedom of trade. Why do you keep the crown?"
Frits poured wine. "Because the crown gives us stability. My grandfather took a barren island and built a nation. My father secured its sovereignty. I am modernizing it. The people do not want a republic; they want prosperity."
Marat laughed bitterly. "Prosperity without liberty is a gilded cage. In France, we are tearing down the cages. Soon, all of Europe will follow."
"And when Europe tears itself apart," Frits replied, "Zeelandia will remain standing. That is my responsibility."
Marat stayed for six months, writing pamphlets that circulated among the radicals of Port Victoria. When he left, Frits quietly had the pamphlets collected and burned. But the ideas had taken root.
In 1794, the Dutch Republic fell to the French revolutionary armies. The Batavian Republic was proclaimed, and the House of Orange fled to England. Zeelandia suddenly found itself with a hostile neighbor—the Netherlands was now a French satellite.
Frits called a council of his advisors. Among them were Karl Brenner, now Minister of Industry; Admiral Jan van Speijk, commander of the small but growing navy; and Pieter de Vries, the old shipbuilder who had built the first vessels fifty years earlier.
"The French will demand that we recognize their puppet in Amsterdam," Frits said. "If we refuse, they may send a fleet."
Admiral van Speijk, a grizzled veteran of the last war, shook his head. "The French navy is a shadow of what it was. They are fighting on every front. They cannot spare ships for an island in the Indian Ocean."
Pieter de Vries, now eighty years old, spoke up. "But they can send privateers. They can encourage our enemies. We need to build our own defenses, and quickly."
Frits made a decision. "We will declare neutrality. We will trade with everyone and take sides with no one. And we will build a navy that can protect our waters."
That night, he wrote in his journal: Europe is mad. Let them tear themselves apart. We will build a future here, on our own terms.