??69: Chapter 30 Wellington and Peel’s Calculations
69: Chapter 30 Wellington and Peel’s Calculations
London, Westminster autonomous city, Whitehall, the Ho Office of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.
In the office of the Ho Office, Sir Peel sat in his office chair, holding a freshly printed copy of The Tis in his hands, while beside him lay a newly delivered copy of The Guardian, still damp with rainwater.
He ticulously read every word on the newspapers, yet the more he read, the more his hand trembled.
Finally, he slamd the newspapers onto the desk with a smack.
“Utter nonsense!
These people will stop at nothing to bring down the Cabinet!”
Just then, his private secretary happened to enter the room and was startled by the scene.
The secretary paused montarily before rembering his duty.
“Sir, the Duke of Wellington just sent a ssage, he has summoned you to 10 Downing Street.”
Just as the secretary finished speaking, a soaking wet head appeared behind him; Sir Peel imdiately recognized the familiar face as the Duke of Wellington’s personal ssenger.
“Sir, the Duke just sent
to inform you that you need not co to him, he will co here instead.”
No sooner had the ssenger finished speaking than a flurry of rapid footsteps in boots could be heard in the office’s main hallway.
The Permanent Under-Secretary of the Ho Office pushed past the two individuals in front of him, blurting out anxiously.
“Sir, the Duke’s carriage has already…”
Before he could finish, the Duke of Wellington’s irate voice filled the hallway of the Ho Office.
“Robert, have you seen today’s newspapers?
Those backstabbers are completely insane!
Why don’t they dare say these things to my face?
It’s always ‘inford sources say’ in every newspaper!
Do they really think that by omitting the word ‘Tory,’ I wouldn’t know who these inford sources are?”
The Duke of Wellington’s voice almost arrived as quickly as the man himself; he frowned as he glanced at the ssenger, private secretary, and Under-Secretary crowded at the office door and scolded discontentedly, “Don’t you have work to do?
Why are you all crowding here?”
The three n exchanged glances and each tried to justify themselves, “Your Grace, we were rely conveying your orders.”
“Conveying my orders?”
The Duke of Wellington was clearly livid as he retorted sarcastically, “I thought the Prussian reinforcents at the Battle of Waterloo were slow enough, but compared to you three, I think Marshal Bruegel was quite efficient.”
The three n gave an embarrassed laugh and quickly stepped aside to let the Duke into the office before gently closing the door.
The Duke of Wellington pulled a chair fiercely in front of the desk and sat down.
Seeing him in such a state, Sir Peel could only smile wryly and then stood up to approach the cabinet, asking, “Would you like so tea or maybe a bit of sherry?”
The Duke of Wellington waved his hand impatiently, “You decide.”
Hearing this, Sir Peel rely shrugged, then took out two stemd glasses and a long-stored sherry, pouring a portion for each of them.
The Duke of Wellington swirled his glass, first slling the golden liquid and then taking a gentle sip before comnting.
“A fine wine.
This flavor, it must be from the port of Saint Mary in Andalusia, right?”
Sir Peel smiled and nodded, “You certainly know your wines.”
Perhaps the wine had an effect, for the Duke of Wellington’s foul mood seed to have cald considerably.
He began, “If you had fought in the Peninsular War, you’d understand too.
From Lisbon in Portugal to Madrid in Spain, and then Toulouse in France, I wish I didn’t know wines so well.
Robert, do you rember what I told you?
Constant fighting is a terrible thing.
Even the most savage person, just throw him into a battlefield for a day, and he’ll pray to God not to let him fight even for another hour!
The Catholic Emancipation Act must be passed, and Great Britain must not descend into civil war.
Those opposition factions have no idea how important peace is, they rely clamor on mindlessly.
It’s only when a cannonball lands on their heads that they’ll realize what pain is.”
Sir Peel shook his head and said, “Your Grace, the extremists within our party are not as you think.
A considerable number of them believe that war is a good thing.”
The 22 years of the Napoleonic Wars had subjected Great Britain to a prolonged continental trade blockade, causing dostic grain prices to skyrocket and land rents to increase year after year.
Raising the land rent is easy; lowering it, however, is difficult.
Those accustod to a life of opulence, how could they possibly want to return to their forr way of living?
If it were not for their insistence on keeping the land rents high, how could this have led to such a large-scale ‘Swin riots’ these past few months?”
Hearing this, the Duke of Wellington couldn’t help but curse, “That makes
furious!
These people refuse to lower the land rents and won’t agree to further and the Corn Laws.
In the end, they even join the Whig Party in pushing the bla for the riots onto !
They’ve monopolized all the good words!
Now, the Whig Party has started proposing reforms again!
If the rotten boroughs are all abolished, I’d like to see how these people will get into the House of Commons ever again!”
Sir Peel could only press his temples and frown in thought upon hearing this, “This won’t do; a fraction of our party has begun to waver toward the Whig Party.
If we lose their support, we won’t be able to maintain an absolute majority in the House of Commons.
We must figure out a way to gain so people’s support.”
The Duke of Wellington began, “I’ve calculated a bit, with the passage of the Catholic Emancipation Act, we can now almost secure the support of all the mbers of Parliant from the constituencies of Southern Ireland, plus a portion of the moderate mbers from Northern Ireland.
We could likely secure at least 80 seats of the 105 in the House of Commons seats in Ireland.
Currently, about 200 seats from the Tory mbers in England, Wales, and Scotland are clearly willing to support us; added together, that’s 280 seats.”
Sir Peel frowned and shook his head, “But that’s still not enough.
I’m not worried about the House of Lords with you in charge.
However, the House of Commons has a total of 658 seats, and we need the support of 330 seats.
The key to whether the Cabinet can continue now lies in whether we can win over those mbers with a middle stance.”
Wellington sighed upon hearing this, “Robert, if not, I might as well reconcile with Hesketh.
Although he has been moving further away from the mainstream of the party in the last two years, he has never formally declared a break from the Tory Party.
Those mbers of Parliant who follow him, the Hesketh faction, might account for about thirty or so seats.”
Upon hearing this, Peel revealed a slight smile, “I didn’t expect you to be willing to bring up this matter voluntarily.”
“What else can I do?”
The Duke of Wellington said helplessly, “I can’t really be as the Manchester Guardian wrote about : tyrannical and totally ignoring philosophical principles, clinging to deep-seated prejudices, diocre in ability, yet stubborn in my views, can I?”
Sir Peel squinted with a smile, “So you’ve seen that too.
I thought with your temperant, you ca here today to have
order Scotland Yard’s police to censor them.”
“Censor?
I can’t be bothered with that.
Let them say what they want to say, the mouth is theirs, after all.”
The Duke of Wellington stood up and straightened his clothes, “Then it’s settled, I’ll go deal with Hesketh first, and the remaining ten or so seats will depend on your help, Robert.
I know you have a relatively good relationship with so of the Whigs, try to see if you can win them over.”
Sir Peel nodded, “I will find so interdiaries in a mont to see if there’s a chance to contact them.”
As soon as he finished speaking, suddenly, the office door creaked open, and his private secretary timidly poked his head through the door gap.
“Sir…”
Seeing his manner, Sir Peel couldn’t help but smile and preempted him, “Who has sent you to deliver a ssage this ti?”
“No, he is already downstairs.”
The Duke of Wellington laughed upon hearing this, taking a sip of sherry, “It seems you have improved, not so much nonsense anymore.”
Sir Peel asked, “Who has co this ti?”
The private secretary blinked twice, “The Police Superintendent from Scotland Yard, Mr.
Arthur Hastings, requests to see you.”
“Oh?”
Sir Peel and the Duke of Wellington exchanged a smile.
“Let him in.”
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