Chapter 102
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 102
Chapter Title: Sorting Things Out (2)
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A place that symbolized the British Empire's undisputed position as the strongest power in Europe.
Apsley House, the residence of the Duke of Wellington, the hero of Waterloo, was one of the centers of high society, even if it wasn't what it once was.
A major event was held almost every week, and the real powers of the House of Lords and the House of Commons still sought out the Duke.
As long as those who remembered Waterloo and those who had actually fought in it held high positions, the Duke's influence would never fade.
Although he had faithfully played the role of an honored elder since stepping down as leader of the Tory Party, the Duke of Wellington understood the current state of the British Empire better than anyone.
The conflict currently brewing in Parliament was no exception.
A clash between the old and new guards, a rare occurrence in the Tory Party.
Charles Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington's second son and the man at the eye of this storm, crossed the threshold of the mansion, summoned by his father for the first time in a long while.
Why was it that this place, which once seemed so majestic, now just felt like a nice house?
Perhaps it was because he, too, was now in a position to be called the head of a faction.
"It's been a long time, Father. I'm glad to see you looking well."
"Indeed. You look well yourself, which is a relief. I hear you've been busy lately. Is everything going smoothly?"
"There are no problems at all."
"No problems at all?"
Seeing the surprise on his father's face, he could guess why he had been summoned.
After all, at a time like this, what other topic could there be for a face-to-face meeting?
"Yes. Did the old fossils in Parliament come complaining to you, asking you to get your son in line? No, they wouldn't have the nerve to say that to your face, so they must have just beaten around the bush, badmouthing me."
"Now, now, 'old fossils'? These are men who have won five, six elections for our party to maintain their current positions."
"I'm something of a multi-term MP myself now..."
"But you still lack their years and experience. You'll only be thirty-three next year."
"Weren't you slated to be the commander of the Hanover expedition when you were my age, Father? The plan was scrapped, but I don't think my age can be considered so young."
Napoleon, the British Empire's nemesis, was only in his early thirties when he became First Consul for life.
Of course, he wasn't trying to be like Napoleon, but calling a man over thirty 'young' was just a frame created by old men who didn't want to give up their seats.
"True. You have many MPs who follow you, so you must have your own position. But don't you think it's too early to expand your power by creating discord with those who have contributed to the party for so long? You are still young. In no more than two elections, you will naturally rise to their position. But if you can't wait that long and make enemies of the party elders, you're only hurting yourself."
"Father, two elections is ten years. Of course, for a politician, patience is a virtue and haste is the path to ruin. But that doesn't mean wasting time by waiting indefinitely can be called the art of patience. Shouldn't a great politician show the boldness to seize an opportunity when it comes?
"So, you see this as an opportunity? Because I don't see it that way at all."
"I'm sorry, but that's because you've only been listening to them. What did they say? That they're worried I'm rushing ahead with youthful recklessness? That they're concerned I'll create unnecessary division in the party? That if I keep running this fast, I might trip and fall? They must have just spouted nonsense like that."
It's always the nervous ones who talk the most.
If they were truly in a position of strength, they wouldn't have come whining to his father; they would have tried to bring him to his knees themselves.
"Charles, I don't know what you're thinking, but you and the Prime Minister both know you can't deal a fatal blow to each other right now. If you just keep squabbling, it will only increase public fatigue. That will ultimately harm the entire party, which only serves to strengthen the Whigs."
"That's what one would normally think. The fact that you think so too is actually reassuring, Father. It seems I can proceed with my plans with peace of mind."
"...Don't tell me you're actually planning to take on the Prime Minister right now?"
"If I wasn't, I would have backed down. I must get the Canada Immigration Bill passed in its original form. They seem to have tried to derail it to tame me, but unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong strategy."
"Is the immigration bill that important? Is Killian involved by any chance?"
He wasn't just involved; Killian was the one who stood to gain the most from this bill.
But the Prime Minister, in his ignorance, had thrown cold water on it, which is what caused this whole mess.
Of course, his father, who didn't know the full extent of who Killian was, probably wouldn't think much of it.
In his father's mind, Killian was still just that bright, well-behaved young student for whom he'd written a letter of recommendation to Eton.
"I may be the one executing this, but Killian is the one who made all the plans."
"Don't tell me you're being played by that boy..."
"It's a mutually beneficial relationship. How can you speak of being used? I serve as Killian's shield, protecting him from threats, and in return, Killian makes me, his shield, shine brighter than anyone. This time is no different. What Killian wants is to establish his own position by utilizing Ireland and Canada."
"Then what do you stand to gain in the process?"
"Parliament."
At that single phrase, the Duke of Wellington's eyes widened.
To his stunned father, Charles Wellesley spoke of his promised future, dispelling the Duke's worries.
"Killian doesn't want to be held back by Parliament. So, it's only natural that someone who won't hold him back should take control of it."
***
While Wellesley was deep in conversation with the hero of Waterloo...
I was sitting face-to-face with a somewhat restless Robert Peel in the Prime Minister's office.
"The country seems to have gotten quite noisy while I was away in Ireland and Scotland."
"Indeed it has... haha."
"As soon as I returned, Mr. Wellesley came to see me. He said it seems quite clear that you are trying to keep him in check."
"No, that is..."
"The Canada Immigration Bill is essential for the smooth settlement of Irish immigrants. Can't you just make a grand concession for the sake of the national interest at this point?"
Robert Peel thought for a moment, then sighed deeply and shook his head.
"It's not something I can just do because I want to. As you know, the atmosphere within the party hasn't been great lately... In truth, the Canada Immigration Bill is merely a pretext, as you are well aware."
"I know. That's what makes it so absurd. If you're going to fight, can't you fight over some other bill? This is a matter concerning the livelihood of at least hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, of people."
"But surely there's no need to go as far as westward expansion. Canada's current territory is already quite vast... and it will only get larger now that we plan to unite Lower and Upper Canada."
"There are more than enough reasons to push westward. For the good of the British Empire, the bill must be passed in its original form. I believe I've explained this several times already."
It wasn't just about territorial expansion; Western Canada held significant deposits of coal, metals, and minerals.
Since oil wasn't in use yet, mentioning its reserves would be meaningless, but even without it, Canada was a golden land that we absolutely had to control.
Instead of developing it and expanding our territory as quickly as possible, they were obstructing it for the pathetic reason of a party power struggle. How could I not be furious?
"Well... the thing is, those madmen in the United States are bound to raise an issue..."
"There are ways to handle that. In fact, if we let the United States expand its territory without rhyme or reason, it will be a loss for us in the long run, not a gain. Shouldn't that be all the more reason for you to support my original proposal?"
"But still, there's the sentiment within the party..."
"Prime Minister. You are the leader of the Tory Party. You need to sort things out. If you keep on like this, the carriages will get tangled and inevitably collide."
It was both a strength and a weakness of the parliamentary system, but a Prime Minister was inevitably sensitive to their approval rating within the party.
A Prime Minister without the party's support could immediately become a lame duck or, even worse, face a vote of no confidence.
"That's what I'm trying to do, sort things out. If you and Wellesley would just take a step back and compromise this time, everything would be resolved amicably. I for one don't understand why you're being so stubborn."
"You're saying *we're* the ones being stubborn? Are you being serious?"
"...Still, they are your seniors who have been in politics for much longer. If MP Gove wins the next election, he'll be a seventh-term member. The same goes for MP Starmer. And MP Corbyn's family, including his father, has served our party for decades, winning nearly ten elections. There's a matter of face, you know."
"Then let them save face with another bill. If you back down now, I can do my best to appease Mr. Wellesley and we can put this all behind us. In other words, this is your last chance to turn back."
This was my final offer, a courtesy for the time we had worked together.
If he took it, I would arrange a graceful exit for them in due time. But if they couldn't shed the delusion that they were still on top, I would have no choice but to force them to face reality.
The Prime Minister paused, clicking his tongue, then turned to me with a twisted smile.
"Seeing you like this reminds me of when I first met you. It was at a party held when the late king was still alive. The Duke of Wellington introduced you. A very bright student, he said."
"Yes. I remember it as well."
"To think that young student is now standing before me, talking about last chances and pressuring me. How fast the world changes."
"It's not pressure, it's sincere advice."
"I'm afraid I have my own position and MPs who support me, so I cannot accept your advice. And don't forget. You are, after all, a minister in my cabinet. If I stumble, it won't be good for you in the end, will it? You still need the title of Foreign Secretary to finish the work you're doing, don't you?"
So, now that persuasion has failed, it's on to threats.
If he was going to say this much, then a conclusion had already been reached. There was no need to waste any more time here.
"I understand your point clearly. Still, could you perhaps try to persuade the others? I'll do my best to persuade Mr. Wellesley as well."
"I'll make an effort, but this time, you and Wellesley will have to be the ones to compromise. I've given you a lot of leeway until now, so I would appreciate it if you listened to your elders this time."
Leeway, my foot.
Was throwing impossible tasks at me, and then trying to ship me off to Asia to be stuck there when I actually succeeded, what he called giving me leeway?
If he had any conscience, he should have offered to back down this time, if only for my sake.
If he had, my anger might have subsided a little, but since he's come out like this, I have no choice but to give them the harsh lesson they have coming, do I?
Of course, Robert Peel's point that I needed to remain Foreign Secretary to continue intervening in Irish and Canadian affairs was true.
But why did he assume I couldn't continue as minister if he were to step down?
All I have to do is ask the new Prime Minister for the title.