Paris.
Versailles Palace.
"Eight companies raised less than 9 million francs in total?" Joseph frowned at Minister of Finance Gaudin.
The latter had just reported that the eight newly established companies in the Rhineland, including the Potash Fertilizer plant, had raised only 8.8 million francs after being listed in Amsterdam for a month and a half.
He knew perfectly well how much cash those Dutch financial titans had in their hands. Even ordinary people there had some savings, having benefited from thriving maritime trade. Yet they clearly were not very keen on investing in the Rhineland.
Gaudin explained, "Your Highness, some of these factories have not even been completed yet. Besides, the Dutch seem more willing to invest in British industries or domestic shipping."
Joseph leafed through the report submitted by the Minister of Finance. When he reached the section on "publicity," he could not help shaking his head.
"Tell a story. How many times have I said it? You need to know how to tell a story.
"You simply dryly state that the company owns a Coal Mine in Cologne and how much annual profit it can generate. That certainly will not interest anyone. You must begin with the origins of this Coal Mine. For example, thousands of years ago, God spilled His inkwell there, turning it into a coal seam over a thousand meters thick. Later, Mr. Estrie found clues in his ancestors' notes and indeed discovered the Coal Mine in Cologne. Now French nobles have fallen in love with Honeycomb Briquette stoves. The fashion in Paris is to hold salons around such fires, and Honeycomb Briquette sales double every four months. Then add a tale of Parisian ladies publicly bidding against one another for the last basket of coal for their respective salons, until that coal finally